The first act is triumphant in its tone and expressive of the exultation of the Israelites at their victory over the Philistines. The second gives a story of the passions,—Saul's jealousy of David, the love of Michal, and the ardent friendship between David and Jonathan. The last act is sombre in its character, opening with the weird incantations of the Witch, and closing with David's grief over Saul and Jonathan.

The first scene opens in the Israelitish camp by the valley of Elah, where the people join in an Epinicion, or Song of Triumph, over Goliah and the Philistines. It is made up of a chorus ("How excellent Thy Name, O Lord"), which is a stirring tribute of praise; an aria ("An Infant raised by Thy Command"), describing the meeting of David and Goliah; a trio, in which the Giant is pictured as the "monster atheist," striding along to the vigorous and expressive music; and three closing choruses ("The Youth inspired by Thee," "How excellent Thy Name," and a jubilant "Hallelujah"), ending in plain but massive harmony.

The second scene is in Saul's tent. Two bars of recitative prelude an aria by Michal, Saul's daughter, who reveals her love for David ("O godlike Youth!"). Abner presents David to Saul, and a dialogue ensues between them, in which the conqueror announces his origin and Saul pleads with him to remain, offering the hand of his daughter Merab as an inducement. David (whose part is sung by a contralto) replies in a beautiful aria, in which he attributes his success to the help of the Lord alone. In the next four numbers the friendship of Jonathan and David is cemented, which is followed by a three-verse hymn ("While yet thy Tide of Blood runs high"), of a very stately character, sung by the High Priest. In a few bars of recitative Saul betroths his daughter Merab to David; but the girl replies in a very powerful aria ("My Soul rejects the Thought with Scorn"), in which she declares her intention of frustrating the scheme to unite a plebeian with the royal line. It is followed by a plaintive but vigorous aria ("See with what a scornful Air"), sung by Michal, who again gives expression to her love for David.

The next scene is entitled "Before an Israelitish City," and is prefaced with a short symphony of a jubilant character. A brief recitative introduces the maidens of the land singing and dancing in praise of the victor, leading up to one of Handel's finest choruses, "Welcome, welcome, Mighty King,"—a fresh, vigorous semi-chorus accompanied by the carillons, in which Saul's jealousy is aroused by the superiority of prowess attributed to David. It is followed by a furious aria, "With Rage I shall burst, his Praises to hear." Jonathan laments the imprudence of the women in making comparisons, and Michal suggests to David that it is an old malady which may be assuaged by music, and in the aria, "Fell Rage and black Despair passest," expresses her belief that the monarch can be cured by David's "persuasive lyre."

The next scene is in the King's house. David sings an aria ("O Lord, whose Mercies numberless"), followed by a harp solo; but it is in vain. Jonathan is in despair, and Saul, in an aria ("A Serpent in my Bosom warmed"), gives vent to his fury and hurls his javelin at David. The latter escapes; and in furious recitative Saul charges his son to destroy him. The next number is an aria for Merab ("Capricious Man, in Humor lost"), lamenting Saul's temper; and Jonathan follows with a very dramatic recitative and aria, in which he refuses to obey his father's behest. The High Priest appeals to Heaven ("O Lord, whose Providence") to protect David, and the first part closes with a powerful chorus, "Preserve him for the Glory of Thy Name."

The second act is laid in the palace, and opens with a powerfully descriptive chorus ("Envy, Eldest-born of Hell!"). In a noble song ("But sooner Jordan's Stream, I swear") Jonathan assures David he will never injure him. In a colloquy between them, David is informed that Saul has bestowed the hand of the haughty Merab on Adriel, and Jonathan pleads the cause of the lovely Michal. Saul approaches, and David retires. Saul inquires of Jonathan whether he has obeyed his commands, and in a simple, sweet, and flowing melody ("Sin not, O King, against the Youth") he seems to overcome the wrath of the monarch, who dissembles and welcomes David, bidding him to repel the insults of the Philistines, and offering him his daughter Michal as a proof of his sincerity.

In the second scene Michal declares her love for David, and they join in a rapturous duet ("O fairest of ten thousand fair"), which is followed by a chorus in simple harmony ("Is there a Man who all his Ways"). A long symphony follows, preparing the way for the attempt on David's life. After an agitated duet with Michal ("At Persecution I can laugh"), David makes his escape just as Doeg, the messenger, enters with instructions to bring David to the King's chamber. He is shown the image in David's bed, which he says will only enrage the King still more. Michal sings an exultant aria, "No, let the Guilty tremble," and even Merab, won over by David's qualities, pleads for him in a beautiful aria, "Author of peace." Another symphony intervenes, preluding the celebration of the feast of the new moon in the palace, to which David has been invited. Jonathan again interposes with an effort to save David's life, whereupon Saul, in a fresh outburst of indignation, hurls his javelin at his son, and the chorus bursts out in horror, "Oh, fatal Consequence of Rage."

The third act opens with the intensely dramatic scene with the Witch of Endor, the interview being preluded by the powerful recitative, "Wretch that I am!" The second scene is laid in the Witch's abode, where the incantation is practised that brings up the Apparition of Samuel. The whole scene is very dramatic, and the instrumentation powerful, although the effect, vigorous as it is, is made simply by oboes, bassoons, and strings, instead of by the brass instruments which other composers employ so vigorously in similar scenes. This scene closes with an elegy foreboding the coming tragedy.

The third scene opens with the interview between David and the Amalekite who brings the tidings of the death of Saul and Jonathan. It is followed by that magnificent dirge, the "Dead March," whose simple yet solemn and majestic strains are familiar to every one. The trumpets and trombones with their sonorous pomp and the wailing oboes and clarinets make an instrumental pageant which is the very apotheosis of grief. The effect of the march is all the more remarkable when it is considered that, in contradistinction to all other dirges, it is written in the major key. The chorus, "Mourn, Israel, mourn thy Beauty lost," and the three arias of lament sung by David, which follow, are all characterized by feelings of the deepest gloom. A short chorus ("Eagles were not so swift as they") follows, and then David gives voice to his lament over Jonathan in an aria of exquisite tenderness ("In sweetest Harmony they lived"), at the close of which he joins with the chorus in an obligato of sorrowful grandeur ("O fatal Day, how low the Mighty lie!"). In an exultant strain Abner bids the "Men of Judah weep no more," and the animated martial chorus, "Gird on thy Sword, thou Man of Might," closes this great dramatic oratorio.



Samson.

The oratorio of "Samson" was written in 1741, and begun immediately after the completion of "The Messiah," which was finished September 14 of that year. The last chorus was dated October 29; but in the following year Handel added to it "Let the bright Seraphim" and the chorus, "Let their celestial Concerts." The text was compiled by Newburgh Hamilton from Milton's "Samson Agonistes," "Hymn on the Nativity," and "Lines on a Solemn Musick." The oratorio was first sung at Covent Garden, Feb. 18, 1743, the principal parts being assigned as follows: Samson, Mr. Beard;[4] Manoah, Mr. Savage; Micah, Mrs. Cibber; Delilah, Mrs. Clive. The aria, "Let the bright Seraphim," was sung by Signora Avolio, for whom it was written, and the trumpet obligato was played by Valentine Snow, a virtuoso of that period. The performance of "Samson" was thus announced in the London "Daily Advertiser" of Feb. 17, 1743:—

"By subscription. At the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden, to-morrow, the 18th inst., will be performed a new oratorio, called Sampson. Tickets will be delivered to subscribers (on paying their subscription money) at Mr. Handel's house in Brooke Street, Hanover Square. Attendance will be given from nine o'clock in the morning till three in the afternoon. Pit and boxes to be put together, and no person to be admitted without tickets, which will be delivered that day at the office in Covent Garden Theatre at half a guinea each; first gallery 5s.; upper gallery, 3s. 6d."

The representation was greeted with extraordinary enthusiasm, and "Samson" soon became so popular that many had to be turned away; notwithstanding which, the ill-natured Horace Walpole could write, in a letter dated Feb. 24, 1743:—

"Handel has set up an oratorio against the opera, and succeeds. He has hired all the goddesses from the farces, and the singers of roast beef from between the acts at both theatres, with a man with one note in his voice, and a girl without ever an one; and so they sing and make brave hallelujahs, and the good company encore the recitative if it happens to have any cadence like what they call a tune."

The text, as we have said, was adapted from Milton by Hamilton, who says in his preface to the handbook, or libretto:—

"That poem indeed was never divided by Milton into acts or scenes, nor designed for the stage, but given only as the plan of a tragedy with choruses, after the manner of the ancients. But as Mr. Handel had so happily introduced here oratorios, a musical drama, whose subject must be scriptural, and in which the solemnity of church music is agreeably united with the most pleasing airs of the stage, it would have been an irretrievable loss to have neglected the opportunity of that great master's doing justice to this work; he having already added new life and spirit to some of the finest things in the English language, particularly that inimitable ode[5] of Dryden's which no age nor nation ever excelled."

The characters introduced are Samson; Micah, his friend; Manoah, his father; Delilah, his wife; Harapha, a giant of Gath; Israelitish woman; priests of Dagon; virgins attendant upon Delilah; Israelites, friends of Samson; Israelitish virgins; and Philistines. After a brilliant overture, closing, like that to "Saul," with a minuet movement, the scene opens before the prison in Gaza, with Samson blind and in chains. His opening recitative, setting forth his release from toil on account of the feast to Dagon, introduces a brilliant and effective chorus by the priests with trumpets ("Awake the Trumpet's lofty Sound"), after which a Philistine woman in a bright, playful melody invites the men of Gaza to bring "The merry Pipe and pleasing String;" whereupon the trumpet chorus is repeated. After the tenor aria ("Loud is the Thunder's awful Voice"), the chorus recurs again, showing Handel's evident partiality for it. The Philistine Woman has another solo ("Then free from Sorrow"), whereupon in a pathetic song ("Torments, alas!") Samson bewails his piteous condition. His friend Micah appears, and in the aria, "O Mirror of our fickle State," condoles with him. In answer to his question, "Which shall we first bewail, thy Bondage, or lost Sight?" Samson replies in a short, but exquisitely tender aria, "Total Eclipse: no Sun, no Moon, all dark amidst the Blaze of Noon,"—a song which brought tears to the eyes of the blind Handel himself when he listened to it long afterwards. The next chorus ("O first-created Beam") is of more than ordinary interest, as it treats the same subject which Haydn afterwards used in "The Creation." It begins in a soft and quiet manner, in ordinary time, develops into a strong allegro on the words, "Let there be Light," and closes with a spirited fugue on the words, "To Thy dark Servant Life by Light afford." A dialogue follows between Manoah and Micah, leading up to an intricate bravura aria for bass ("Thy glorious Deeds inspired my Tongue"), closing with an exquisite slow movement in broad contrast to its first part. Though comforted by his friends, Samson breaks out in furious denunciation of his enemies in the powerfully dramatic aria, "Why does the God of Israel sleep?" It is followed up in the same spirit by the chorus, "Then shall they know,"—a fugue on two vigorous subjects, the first given out by the altos, and the second by the tenors. Samson's wrath subsides in the recitative, "My genial Spirits droop," and the first act closes with the beautifully constructed chorus, "Then round about the starry Throne," in which his friends console him with the joys he will find in another life.

The second act, after a brief recitative, opens with an aria by Manoah ("Just are the Ways of God to Man"), in which he conjures Samson to repose his trust in God. It is followed by the beautiful prayer of Micah ("Return, return, O God of Hosts"), emphasized by the chorus to which it leads ("To Dust his Glory they would tread"), with which the prayer is interwoven in obligato form. From this point, as Delilah appears, the music is full of bright color, and loses it sombre tone. In a short recitative, she excuses her misdeed, and then breaks out in an aria of sensuous sweetness, "With plaintive Notes and am'rous Moan, thus coos the Turtle left alone." Its bewitching grace, however, makes little impression upon Samson, who replies with the aria, "Your Charms to Ruin led the Way." In another enticing melody, "My Faith and Truth, O Samson, prove," she seeks to induce his return to her house, and a chorus of Virgins add their entreaties. A last effort is made in the tasteful and elegant aria, "To fleeting Pleasures make your Court;" but when that also fails, Delilah reveals her true self. Samson rebukes her "warbling charms," her "trains and wiles," and counts "this prison-house the house of liberty to thine;" whereupon a highly characteristic duet ensues ("Traitor to Love"). An aria for Micah follows ("It is nor Virtue, Valor, Wit"), leading up to a powerful dissertation on masculine supremacy in a fugued chorus which is treated in a spirited manner, and in which we may well fancy that the woman-hating composer gave free rein to his spite:—

"To man God's universal law Gave power to keep his wife in awe. Thus shall his life be ne'er dismayed, By female usurpation swayed."

The giant Harapha now appears, and mocks Samson with the taunt that had he met him before he was blind, he would have left him dead on the field of death, "where thou wrought'st wonders with an ass' jaw." His first number ("Honor and Arms scorn such a Foe") is one of the most spirited and dashing bass solos ever written. Samson replies with the majestic aria, "My Strength is from the living God." The two solos reach their climax in the energetic duet between the giants, "Go, baffled Coward, go." Micah then suggests to Harapha that he shall call upon Dagon to dissolve "those magic spells that gave our hero strength," as a test of his power. The recitative is followed by an impressive six-part chorus ("Hear, Jacob's God") in the true church style. Its smooth, quiet flow of harmony is refreshing as compared with the tumult of the giants' music which precedes, and the sensuousness of the chorus ("To Song and Dance we give the Day") which follows it. The act closes with the massive double chorus ("Fixed in His everlasting Seat") in which the Israelites and Philistines celebrate the attributes of their respective deities and invoke their protection, and in which also the composer brings out with overwhelming effect the majesty and grandeur of God as compared with the nothingness of Dagon.

The third act opens with a dialogue in which Harapha brings the message to Samson that he must repair to the feast of Dagon to delight the Philistines with some of his feats of strength. Upon Samson's refusal, Harapha sings the threatening aria, "Presuming Slave!" The Israelites invoke the protection of God in the spirited chorus, "With Thunder armed," closing with a prayer which changes to wild and supplicating entreaty. Samson at last yields in a tender, pathetic aria ("Thus when the Sun"), which seems to anticipate his fate. In a song of solemn parting ("The Holy One of Israel be thy Guide"), accompanied by the chorus ("To Fame immortal go"), his friends bid him farewell. The festivities begin, and in an exultant chorus ("Great Dagon has subdued our Foe") the Philistines are heard exulting over Samson's discomfiture. Micah and Manoah, hearing the sounds, are filled with anxiety, and the latter expresses his solicitude in the tender aria, "How willing my paternal Love." But the scene suddenly changes. In a short, crashing presto the coming destruction is anticipated. The trembling Israelites express their alarm in the chorus, "Hear us, our God," and appeal to Heaven for protection. A Messenger rushes upon the scene and announces that Samson is dead and has involved the destruction of his enemies in the general calamity. Micah gives expression to his grief in the touching aria, "Ye Sons of Israel, now lament," followed by the Israelites in a sorrowful wail, "Weep, Israel, weep." A funeral march, in the major key, intervenes, full of tender expression of sorrow,—for which, after the first two representations Handel substituted the Dead March from "Saul;" and both marches are now printed in the scores for general use. As at first written, the oratorio closed with the effective chorus and solo, "Bring the Laurels;" but, as has been already said, a year afterwards Handel made a different ending. Manoah calls upon the people to cease their lamentation, and the funeral pageant is followed by the magnificent trumpet aria, "Let the bright Seraphim,"—a song worthy only of the greatest artists, both with voice and instrument,—and the equally magnificent chorus, "Let their celestial Concerts," which closes the great oratorio with triumphant exultation.

[4] "John Beard, a quondam chorister of the Chapel Royal, under Bernard Gates, and afterwards the greatest English tenor singer of his day, achieved one of his brightest triumphs in the part of Samson. His history was romantic. In 1732 he married the Lady Henrietta, daughter of James, Earl of Waldegrave, and widow of Lord Edward Herbert, second son of the Marquis of Powis. In 1759 he took as his second wife Charlotte, daughter of John Rich, the harlequin."—Rockstro.

[5] Alexander's Feast; or, the Power of Music.



The Messiah.

The "Messiah" represents the ripened product of Handel's genius, and reflects the noblest aspirations and most exalted devotion of mankind. Among all his oratorios it retains its original freshness, vigor, and beauty in the highest degree, in that it appeals to the loftiest sentiment and to universal religious devotion, and is based upon the most harmonious, symmetrical, and enduring forms of the art.

It was begun on the 22d day of August, 1741. The first part was concluded August 28, the second, September 6, the third, September 12, and the instrumentation, September 14. It is an illustration of Handel's almost superhuman capacity for work, that at the age of fifty-six he should have written his masterpiece in twenty-three days. The text was taken from the literal words of Scripture, and the libretto arranged by Charles Jennens, who, singularly enough, was not satisfied with the music which has satisfied the world. In a letter written at that time, he says:—

"I shall show you a collection I gave Handel, called 'Messiah,' which I value highly. He has made a fine entertainment of it, though not near so good as he might and ought to have done. I have with great difficulty made him correct some of the grossest faults in the composition; but he retained his overture obstinately, in which there are some passages far unworthy of Handel, but much more unworthy of the 'Messiah.'"

For two or three years prior to the appearance of the "Messiah," Handel had been harassed by cabals set on foot by rival opera-managers in London, who, by importing Italian singers, drew off the patronage of the nobility, and ultimately succeeded in reducing him to the condition of an insolvent debtor. While in this wretched plight an invitation came to him from the Duke of Devonshire, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, to visit Dublin. He eagerly accepted it, and in the correspondence which passed between them promised to contribute a portion of whatever might accrue from his music to charitable institutions, and also agreed to give an oratorio "for the benefit and enlargement of poor distressed prisoners for debt in the several marshalseas of the city of Dublin." He left London early in November, arriving in that city, after many delays, on the 18th. On the 23d of December he began a series of six musical entertainments, which was completed February 10. His success was so great that he was induced to begin a second series February 17, a fortnight before the close of which appeared the following advertisement:—

"For the Relief of the Prisoners in the several Gaols, and for the Support of Mercer's Hospital, in Stephen's Street, and of the Charitable Infirmary on the Inn's Quay, on Monday, the 12th of April, will be performed at the Musick Hall in Fishamble-street, Mr. Handel's new Grand Oratorio, called the Messiah, in which the Gentlemen of the Choirs of both Cathedrals will assist, with some Concertos on the Organ by Mr. Handel."

The first rehearsal took place on the 8th of April, in the presence of "a most Grand, Polite, and Crowded Audience," as we are informed by "Faulkner's Journal." The same paper, referring to the first public performance, which took place on Tuesday, April 13, 1742, says:—

"At the desire of several persons of distinction, the above performance is put off to Tuesday next. The doors will be opened at eleven, and the performance begins at twelve. Many ladies and gentlemen who are well-wishers to this noble and grand charity, for which this oratorio was composed, request it as a favor that the ladies who honor this performance with their presence would be pleased to come without hoops, as it would greatly increase the charity by making room for more company."

Gentlemen were also requested to come without their swords. "In this way," it is said, "the stewards" were able to seat seven hundred persons in the room instead of six hundred. The principal parts in the performance were assigned to Signora Avolio, Mrs. Cibber, and Messrs. Church and Ralph Roseingrane; and Mrs. Cibber's delivery of the aria "He was despised" is said to have been so touching that Dr. Delany, the companion of Swift, exclaimed, as she closed: "Woman, for this be all thy sins forgiven."

The "Messiah" was performed thirty-four times during the composer's life, but never upon a scale commensurate with its merits until the Handel Commemoration at Westminster Abbey in 1784, when the largest choir and band that had ever assembled before, with the renowned Madame Mara at the head of the soloists, first gave the "Messiah" to the world in accordance with the grand ideal of the composer. The orchestra was composed as follows: First violins, 40; second violins, 47; tenors, 26; first oboes, 13; second oboes, 13; flutes, 6; violoncellos, 21; double-basses, 15; bassoons, 26; double-bassoon, 1; trumpets, 12; trombones, 6; horns, 12; kettledrums, 3; double-kettledrum, 1: total, 242. The choir was made up as follows: Sopranos, 60, of whom 45 were choir-boys; counter-tenors (altos), 40; tenors, 83; basses, 84: making the entire number of singers 267. Of the performance of the band upon this occasion, Burney quaintly says:—

"Dante in his Paradiso imagines nine circles, or choirs, of cherubs, seraphs, patriarchs, prophets, martyrs, saints, angels, and archangels, who with hand and voice are eternally praising and glorifying the Supreme Being, whom he places in the centre, taking the idea from Te Deum laudamus, where it is said: 'To Thee Cherubim and Seraphim continually do cry,' etc. Now, as the orchestra in Westminster Abbey seemed to ascend into the clouds and unite with the saints and martyrs represented on the painted glass in the west window, which had all the appearance of a continuation of the Orchestra, I could hardly refrain, during the performance of the Allelujah, to imagine that this Orchestra, so admirably constructed, filled, and employed, was a point or segment of one of these celestial circles. And perhaps no band of mortal musicians ever exhibited a more respectable appearance to the eye, or afforded a more ecstatic and affecting sound to the ear, than this."

He is equally enthusiastic over the chorus; and of Madame Mara's singing of the aria, "I know that my Redeemer liveth," he says:—

"Her power over the sensibility of the audience seemed equal to that of Mrs. Siddons. There was no eye within my view which did not 'silently a gentle tear let fall,' nor, though long hackneyed in music, did I find myself made of stronger earth than others."

The oratorio is divided into three parts. The first illustrates the longing of the world for the Messiah, prophesies his coming, and announces his birth; the second part is devoted to the sufferings, death, and exaltation of Christ, and develops the spread and ultimate triumph of the Gospel; while the third is occupied with the declaration of the highest truths of doctrine,—faith in the existence of God, the surety of immortal life, the resurrection, and the attainment of an eternity of happiness.

The first part opens with an overture, or rather orchestral prelude, of majestic chords, leading to a short fugue, developed with severe simplicity and preparing the way for the accompanied recitative, "Comfort ye My People," and the aria for tenor, "Every Valley shall be exalted," which in turn leads to the full, strong chorus, "And the Glory of the Lord shall be revealed,"—the three numbers in reality forming one. The prophecy is announced, only to be followed by the human apprehension in the great aria for bass ("But who may abide the Day of His coming"), written in the Sicilian pastoral style,—a form of which, Burney affirms, Handel was very fond. The aria leads to the exquisitely constructed number, "And He shall purify," a fugued chorus closing in simple harmony. Once more the prophet announces, "Behold, a Virgin shall conceive," followed by the alto solo, "O Thou that tellest," which preludes a chorus in the same tempo. The next aria ("The People that walked in Darkness"), with its curious but characteristic modulations, leads to one of the most graphic fugued choruses in the whole work ("For unto us a Child is born"), elegantly interwoven with the violin parts, and emphasized with sublime announcements of the names of the Messiah in full harmony and with the strongest choral power. The grand burst of sound dies away, there is a significant pause, and then follows a short but exquisite Pastoral Symphony for the strings, which with the four succeeding bits of recitative tells the message of the Angels to the Shepherds on the plains of Bethlehem. Suddenly follows the chorus of the heavenly hosts ("Glory to God"), which is remarkably expressive, and affords sharp contrasts in the successive clear responses to the fugue. The difficult but very brilliant aria for soprano, "Rejoice greatly," the lovely aria, "He shall feed His Flock," originally written entire for soprano, in which Handel returns again to the pastoral style, and a short chorus ("His Yoke is easy"), close the first part.

The second part is the most impressive portion of the work. It begins with a majestic and solemn chorus ("Behold the Lamb of God"), which is followed by the aria for alto, "He was despised,"—one of the most pathetic and deeply expressive songs ever written, in which the very key-note of sorrow is struck. Two choruses—"Surely He hath borne our Griefs," rather intricate in harmony, and "With His Stripes we are healed," a fugued chorus written a capella upon an admirable subject—lead to the spirited and thoroughly interesting chorus, "All we like Sheep have gone astray," closing with an adagio of great beauty ("And the Lord hath laid on Him the Iniquity of us all"). This is followed by several short numbers,—a choral fugue ("He trusted in God"), the accompanied recitative ("Thy Rebuke hath broken His Heart"), a short but very pathetic aria for tenor ("Behold and see if there be any Sorrow"), and an aria for soprano ("But Thou didst not leave His Soul in Hell"),—all of which are remarkable instances of the musical expression of sorrow and pity. These numbers lead to a triumphal shout in the chorus and semi-choruses, "Lift up your Heads, O ye Gates," which reach a climax of magnificent power and strongly contrasted effects. After the chorus, "Let all the Angels of God worship Him," a fugue constructed upon two subjects, the aria, "Thou art gone up on high," and the chorus, "The Lord gave the Word," we reach another pastoral aria of great beauty, "How beautiful are the Feet." This is followed by a powerfully descriptive chorus ("Their Sound is gone out into all Lands"), a massive aria for bass ("Why do the Nations"), the chorus, "Let us break their Bonds asunder," and the aria, "Thou shalt break them," leading directly to the great Hallelujah Chorus, which is the triumph of the work and its real climax. It opens with exultant shouts of "Hallelujah." Then ensue three simple phrases, the middle one in plain counterpoint, which form the groundwork for the "Hallelujah." These phrases, seemingly growing out of each other, and reiterated with constantly increasing power, interweaving with and sustaining the "Hallelujah" with wonderful harmonic effects, make up a chorus that has never been excelled, not only in musical skill, but also in grandeur and sublimity. After listening to its performance, one can understand Handel's words: "I did think I did see all heaven before me, and the great God himself." This number closes the second part. It is worthy of note in this connection that when the oratorio was first performed at Covent Garden, London, in 1743, the whole audience, with the King at its head, arose during the singing of the "Hallelujah" and remained standing until it was finished,—a custom which is still observed, not only in England, but also in this country.

If the oratorio had closed at this point it would not have disturbed the unities; but Handel carried it into a third part with undiminished interest, opening it with that sublime confession of faith, "I know that my Redeemer liveth,"—an aria which will never be lost. It is followed by two quartets in plain counterpoint with choral responses, "Since by Man came Death," and "For as in Adam all die," in which the effects of contrast are very forcibly brought out. The last important aria in the work ("The Trumpet shall sound"), for bass with trumpet obligato, will always be admired for its beauty and stirring effect. The oratorio closes with three choruses, all in the same key and of the same general sentiment,—"Worthy is the Lamb," a piece of smooth, flowing harmony; "Blessing and Honor," a fugue led off by the tenors and bassos in unison, and repeated by the sopranos and altos on the octave, closing with full harmony on the words "for ever and ever" several times reiterated; and the final, "Amen" chorus, which is treated in the severest style, and in which the composer evidently gave free rein to his genius, not being hampered with the trammels of words.

Other oratorios may be compared one with another; the "Messiah" stands alone, a majestic monument to the memory of the composer, an imperishable record of the noblest sentiments of human nature and the highest aspirations of man.



Judas Maccabaeus.

The oratorio of "Judas Maccabaeus" was written in thirty-two days, between July 9 and Aug. 11, 1746, upon the commission of Frederic, Prince of Wales, to celebrate the return of the Duke of Cumberland from Scotland after the decisive victory of Culloden, April 16, 1746. The words were written by the Rev. Thomas Morell, D.D., a learned Greek scholar of that time, the plot being taken from the narrative of the exploits of the Jewish deliverer contained in the first book of Maccabees and in the twelfth book of Josephus' "Antiquities of the Jews." In his dedication, Dr. Morell says:—

"To His Royal Highness Prince William, Duke of Cumberland, this faint portraiture of a truly wise, valiant, and virtuous commander as the possessor of the like noble qualities is, with the most profound respect and veneration, inscribed by His Royal Highness' most obedient and most devoted servant the author."

To what extremes of adulation even a doctor of divinity may go, is well shown in Schoelcher's pithy comment: "This is addressed to a man who pitilessly murdered as many prisoners after the battle as his courage had slain enemies during the combat." It is but just to the composer, however, to say that the great success of this oratorio had little to do with the political causes which led to its composition. It was first performed at Covent Garden, April 1, 1747, and was repeated six times that year. Handel himself conducted it thirty-eight times with ever growing popularity, to which the Jews contributed greatly, as it glorified an episode in their national history.

The characters represented are Judas Maccabaeus; Simon, his brother; an Israelitish Messenger; and Israelitish Men and Women. The story may be gathered from the following summary of the plot as prepared for the Birmingham Festival of 1861:—

Part I.—Lamentations for the death of Mattathias (the father of Judas Maccabaeus and Simon), by whom the Jewish people had been roused to resist the cruelties and oppressions of Antiochus Epiphanes, the Syrian king, in his attempt to suppress their religion and liberties.—The divine favor invoked.—Judas recognized as leader.—Appeal to the patriotism of the people, and their response.—The value of liberty.—Preparations for war.—Pious trust in God, and heroic resolve to conquer or die.

Part II.—Celebration of the victories gained over the armies of Apollonius, the governor of Samaria and Seron, the Deputy Governor of Coelesyria, and the valor of Judas.—Renewal of war by a division of the Syrian array from Egypt, under Gorgias, and the despondency it occasions among the Israelites.—Judas again arouses the failing courage of the people, and they set out to meet the enemy.—Those who remain behind utter their detestation of the heathen idolatries, by which the sanctuary at Jerusalem had been desecrated, and their determination only to worship the God of Israel.

Part III.—Feast of the dedication at Jerusalem, after Judas and his followers had recovered and restored the sanctuary, and re-established the liberties of his country.—Return of Judas from his final victory over Nicanor and his confederates.—Celebration of peace, and national thanksgiving.

The first scene introduces the Israelitish Men and Women lamenting the death of the father of Judas in the sorrowful chorus, "Mourn, ye afflicted Children," which, after a duet for soprano and tenor, is followed by still another chorus in a similar strain ("For Zion Lamentation make"), but much more impressive, and rising to a more powerful climax. After a brief and simple soprano solo ("Pious Orgies"), the chorus sings the prayer, "O Father, whose Almighty Power," closing with a characteristic fugue on the words, "And grant a Leader." After a short recitative, Simon (bass) breaks out in the heroic and sonorous aria, "Arm, arm, ye brave," which has always retained its popularity, notwithstanding its antique bravura. It is followed by the chorus in the brief, but stirring number, "We come in bright array." Five arias, a duet, and two choruses, nearly all of which are now omitted in performances, being of the same general character, and mainly apostrophes to liberty, lead to the great chorus closing the first part, "Hear us, O Lord." It is intricate in its construction, but when properly sung resolves itself into one of the most vigorous and impressive choruses Handel has written.

The second part opens with the Israelites celebrating the return of Judas from the victories over Apollonius and Seron. An instrumental prelude, picturing the scenes of battle, leads directly to the great chorus, the best in the work, "Fallen is the Foe." The triumphant declaration is made over and over with constantly increasing energy, finally leading to a brilliant fugue on the words, "Where warlike Judas wields his righteous Sword;" but interwoven with it are still heard those notes of victory, "Fallen is the Foe," and the response, "So fall Thy Foes." The Israelitish Man sings a vigorous tribute to Judas ("So rapid thy Course is"). The triumphant strain, "Zion now her Head shall raise," is taken by two voices, closing with the soprano alone; but before her part ends, the whole chorus takes it and joins in the paean, "Tune your Harps," and the double number ends in broad, flowing harmony. In a florid number ("From mighty Kings he took the Spoil") the Israelitish Woman once more sings Judas's praise. The two voices unite in a welcome ("Hail Judaea, happy Land"), and finally the whole chorus join in a simple but jubilant acclaim to the same words. The rejoicings soon change to expressions of alarm and apprehension as a Messenger enters and announces that Gorgias has been sent by Antiochus to attack the Israelites, and is already near at hand. They join in a chorus expressive of deep despondency ("Oh, wretched Israel"); but Simon, in a spirited aria ("The Lord worketh Wonders"), bids them put their trust in Heaven, and Judas rouses their courage with the martial trumpet song, "Sound an Alarm," which, though very brief, is full of vigor and fire. After the departure of Judas to meet the foe, Simon, the Israelitish Man, and the Israelitish Woman follow each other in denunciation of the idolatries which have been practised by the heathen among them, and close with the splendid chorus, "We never will bow down to the rude Stock or sculptured Stone," in which vigorous repetitions of the opening phrase lead to a chorale in broad, impressive harmony, with which is interwoven equally vigorous repetitions of the phrase, "We worship God alone."

The third part opens with the impressive prayer, "Father of Heaven, from Thy eternal Throne," sung by the Priest. As the fire ascends from the altar, the sanctuary having been purified of its heathen defilement, the Israelites look upon it as an omen of victory and take courage. A Messenger enters with tidings of Judas's triumph over all their enemies. The Israelitish Maidens and Youths go out to meet him, singing the exultant march chorus, "See the Conquering Hero comes," which is familiar to every one by its common use on all occasions, from Handel's time to this, where tribute has been paid to martial success and heroes have been welcomed. It is the universal accompaniment of victory, as the Dead March in "Saul" is of the pageantry of death. It is very simple in its construction, like many others of Handel's most effective numbers. It is first sung as a three-part chorus, then as a duet or chorus of Virgins, again by the full power of all the voices, and gradually dies away in the form of an instrumental march. The chorus did not originally belong to "Judas Maccabaeus," but to "Joshua," in which oratorio it is addressed to Othniel when he returns from the capture of Debir. Handel frequently made transfers of that kind, and this was a permanent one; for the celebrated chorus is now unalterably identified with the work in which he placed it, and in which also the setting is still more imposing. A very elaborate chorus ("Sing unto God"), a florid aria with trumpet solo for Judas ("With Honor let Desert be crowned"), the chorus, "To our Great God," a pastoral duet with exquisite accompaniment ("O Lovely Peace"), and a Hallelujah in the composer's customary exultant style, close this very brilliant and dramatic oratorio.



The Dettingen Te Deum.

On the 27th of June, 1743, the British army and its allies, under the command of King George II. and Lord Stair, won a victory at Dettingen, in Bavaria, over the French army, commanded by the Marechal de Noailles and the Duc de Grammont. It was a victory plucked from an expected defeat, and aroused great enthusiasm in England. On the King's return, a day of public thanksgiving was appointed, and Handel, who was at that time "Composer of Musick to the Chapel Royal," was commissioned to write a Te Deum and an anthem for the occasion. The original score, a large folio volume in the Royal Collection, is headed "Angefangen Juli 17, 1743." There is no date at the end; but as the beginning of the Dettingen Anthem is dated July 30, it is probable that the Te Deum was finished between the 17th and 30th. Both works were publicly rehearsed at the Chapel Royal, Whitehall, on the 18th and 25th of the ensuing November, and formed part of the thanksgiving services on the 27th at the Chapel Royal of St. James, in the presence of the King and royal family.

The Dettingen Te Deum has been universally considered as one of the masterpieces among Handel's later works. Never was a victory more enthusiastically commemorated in music. It is not a Te Deum in the strict sense, but a grand martial panegyric, and, as Rockstro says:—

"It needs no great stretch of the imagination to picture every drum and trumpet in the realm taking part in the gorgeous fanfare of its opening chorus, while the whole army, with the King at its head, joins the assembled nation in a shout of praise for the escape which was so unexpectedly changed into a memorable victory."

Schoelcher, in his reference to this work, notes that Handel set the hymn of St. Ambrose to music five different times in thirty years, and always with new beauty and fresh color, though it is somewhat remarkable that he gave each time a plaintive character to the verse, "To Thee all angels cry aloud,"—a fact also observed by Burney, who says:—

"There is some reason to suspect that Handel, in setting his grand Te Deum for the peace of Utrecht, as well as in this, confined the meaning of the word 'cry' to a sorrowful sense, as both the movements to the words 'To Thee all angels cry aloud' are not only in a minor key, but slow and plaintive."

Burney further says, speaking of its performance at the great Handel Commemoration in Westminster Abbey in 1784:—

"As it was composed for a military triumph, the fourteen trumpets, two pairs of common kettledrums, two pairs of double drums from the Tower, and a pair of double-bass drums made expressly for this occasion, were introduced with great propriety; indeed, these last drums, except the destruction, had all the effect of the most powerful artillery."

The Te Deum contains eighteen short solos and choruses, mostly of a brilliant, martial character, the solos being divided between the alto, baritone, and bass. After a brief instrumental prelude, the work opens with the triumphant, jubilant chorus with trumpets and drums, "We praise Thee, O God," written for five parts, the sopranos being divided into firsts and seconds, containing also a short alto solo leading to a closing fugue. The second number ("All the Earth doth worship Thee") is also an alto solo with five-part chorus of the same general character. It is followed by a semi-chorus in three parts ("To Thee all Angels cry aloud"), plaintive in style, as has already been observed, and leading to the full chorus ("To Thee Cherubim and Seraphim"), which is majestic in its movement and rich in harmony. The fifth number is a quartet and chorus ("The glorious Company of the Apostles praise Thee"), dominated by the bass, with responses from the other parts, and followed by a short full chorus ("Thine adorable, true, and only Son"). The seventh number is a stirring bass solo with trumpets ("Thou art the King of Glory"), leading without break into a stately choral enunciation of the same words. The eighth is a slow and plaintive bass solo, usually sung by a tenor ("When Thou tookest upon Thee to deliver Man"), followed by a grave and impressive chorus ("When Thou hadst overcome the Sharpness of Death"). The next number is a trio for alto, tenor, and bass ("Thou sittest at the Right Hand of God"), closing with a beautiful adagio effect. A fanfare of trumpets introduces the next four numbers, all choruses, set to four verses of the hymn:—

"We therefore pray Thee, help Thy servants: Whom Thou hast redeemed with Thy precious blood. "Make them to be numbered with Thy Saints: in glory everlasting. "O Lord, save Thy people: and bless Thine heritage. "Govern them: and lift them up forever. "Day by day: we magnify Thee: "And we worship Thy Name! ever, world without end."

In this group of choruses the art of fugue and counterpoint is splendidly illustrated, but never to the sacrifice of brilliant effect, which is also heightened by the trumpets in the accompaniments. An impressive bass solo ("Vouchsafe, O Lord") intervenes, and then the trumpets sound the stately symphony to the final chorus, "O Lord, in Thee have I trusted." It begins with a long alto solo with delicate oboe accompaniment that makes the effect very impressive when voices and instruments take up the phrase in a magnificent outburst of power and rich harmony, and carry it to the close.



HAYDN.

Joseph Haydn, the creator of the symphony and the stringed quartet, was born at Rohrau, a little Austrian village on the river Leitha, March 31, 1732. His father was a wheelwright and his mother a cook, in service with Count Harrach. Both the parents were fond of music, and both sang, the father accompanying himself upon the harp, which he played by ear. The child displayed a voice so beautiful that in his sixth year he was allowed to study music, and was also given a place in the village church-choir. Reutter, the capellmeister of St. Stephen's, Vienna, having heard him, was so impressed with the beauty of his voice that he offered him a position as chorister. Haydn eagerly accepted it, as it gave him opportunities for study. While in the service of St. Stephen's he had lessons on the violin and piano, as well as in composition. When his voice broke, and his singing was of no further value, he was thrown upon the tender mercies of the world. Fortune favored him, however. He obtained a few pupils, and gave himself up to composition. He made the acquaintance of Metastasio, Porpora, and Gluck. His trios began to attract attention, and he soon found himself rising into prominence. In 1759, through the influence of a wealthy friend and amateur, he was appointed to the post of musical director and composer in the service of Count Morzin, and about this time wrote his first symphony. When the Count dismissed his band, Prince Paul Anton Esterhazy received him as his second capellmeister, under Werner. When the latter died, in 1766, Haydn took his place as sole director. His patron, meanwhile, had died, and was succeeded by his brother Nicolaus, between whom and Haydn there was the utmost good feeling. Up to this time Haydn had written thirty symphonies, a large number of trios, quartets, and several vocal pieces. His connection with the Prince lasted until 1790, and was only terminated by the latter's death. But during this period of twenty-eight years his musical activity was unceasing; and as he had an orchestra of his own, and his patron was ardently devoted to music, the incentive to composition was never lacking. Anton succeeded Nicolaus, and was generous enough to increase Haydn's pension; but he dismissed the entire chapel, and the composer took up his abode in Vienna. He was hardly established before he received a flattering proposition from Salomon, the manager, to go to England. He had already had many pressing invitations from others, but could not accept them, owing to his engagement at Esterhazy. Now that he was free, he decided to make the journey. On New Year's Day, 1791, he arrived in London. Success greeted him at once. He became universally popular. Musicians and musical societies paid him devoted attention. He gave a series of symphony concerts which aroused the greatest enthusiasm. He was treated with distinguished courtesy by the royal family. Oxford gave him the honorary degree of Doctor of Music. The nobility entertained him sumptuously. After a year of continuous fetes, he returned to Germany, where he remained two years, during a portion of which time Beethoven was his pupil. In 1794 he made his second journey to England, where his former successes were repeated, and fresh honors were showered upon him. In 1804 he was notified by Prince Esterhazy that he was about to reorganize his chapel, and wished him for its conductor again. Haydn accordingly returned to his old position, where he remained during the rest of his life. He was already an old man, but it was during this period that his most remarkable works were produced, among them the Austrian National Hymn ("Gott erhalte Franz den Kaiser"), the "Seven Words," the "Creation," the "Seasons," and many of his best trios and quartets. He died May 31, 1809, a few days after the occupation of Vienna by the French, and among the mourners at his funeral were many French officers. Funeral services were held in all the principal European cities. Honored and respected all over Europe, he was most deeply loved by his own countrymen, who still affectionately speak of him as "Papa" Haydn.



The Creation.

Haydn was sixty-five years of age when he undertook the great work of his life. It was begun in 1796, and finished in 1798. When urged to bring it to a conclusion more rapidly, he replied, "I spend much time over it, because I intend it to last a long time." Shortly before his final departure from London, Salomon, his manager, brought him a poem for music which had been compiled by Lydley from Milton's "Paradise Lost," for use by Handel, though the latter had not availed himself of it. Haydn took it with him to Vienna, and submitted it to the Baron van Swieten, the Emperor's librarian, who was not only a very learned scholar, but also something of a musician and composer. The Baron suggested that he should make an oratorio of it, and to encourage him, not only translated the text into German, but added a number of arias, duets, and choruses, particularly those of the descriptive kind. Several of the nobility also guaranteed the expenses of preparation and performance. His friend Griesinger writes:—

"Haydn wrote 'The Creation' in his sixty-fifth year with all the spirit that usually dwells in the breast of youth. I had the good fortune to be a witness of the deep emotions and joyous enthusiasm which several performances of it under Haydn's own direction aroused in all listeners. Haydn also confessed to me that it was not possible for him to describe the emotions with which he was filled as the performance met his entire expectation, and his audience listened to every note. 'One moment I was as cold as ice, and the next I seemed on fire, and more than once I feared I should have a stroke.'"

On another occasion Haydn remarked: "Never was I so pious as when composing 'The Creation.' I knelt down every day and prayed God to strengthen me for the work." That he sought this inspiration in his old age more than once, we may infer from another remark to Griesinger: "When composition does not get on well, I go to my chamber, and with rosary in hand say a few aves, and then the ideas return." It was first performed in private at the Schwartzenberg Palace, April 29, 1798; and Bombet, the celebrated French critic, who was present, says in one of his letters:

"Who can describe the applause, the delight, the enthusiasm of this society? I was present, and I can assure you I never witnessed such a scene. The flower of the literary and musical society of Vienna were assembled in the room, which was well adapted to the purpose, and Haydn himself directed the orchestra. The most profound silence, the most scrupulous attention, a sentiment, I might almost say, of religious respect, were the dispositions which prevailed when the first stroke of the bow was given. The general expectation was not disappointed. A long train of beauties, to that moment unknown, unfolded themselves before us; our minds, overcome with pleasure and admiration, experienced during two successive hours what they had rarely felt,—a happy existence, produced by desires, ever lively, ever renewed, and never disappointed."

The first public performance was given at the National Theatre, March 19, 1799, Haydn's name-day, and the next by the Tonkuenstler Societaet. On the 9th of March he conducted it at the palace of Ofen before the Archduke Palatine Joseph of Hungary. Its success was immediate, and rivalled that of "The Messiah." It was performed all over Europe, and societies were organized for the express purpose of producing it. In London rival performances of it were given at Covent Garden and the King's Theatre during the year 1800.

The oratorio opens with an overture representing chaos. Its effect is at first dull and indefinite, its utterances inarticulate, and its notes destitute of perceptible melody. It is Nature in her chaotic state, struggling into definite form. Gradually instrument after instrument makes an effort to extricate itself, and as the clarinets and flutes struggle out of the confusion, the feeling of order begins to make itself apparent. The resolutions indicate harmony. At last the wonderful discordances settle, leaving a misty effect that vividly illustrates "the Spirit of God moving upon the face of the waters." Then, at the fiat of the Creator, "Let there be Light," the whole orchestra and chorus burst forth in the sonorous response, "And there was Light." A brief passage by Uriel (tenor) describes the division of light from darkness, and the end of chaos, introducing a fugued chorus, in which the rage of Satan and his hellish spirits, as they are precipitated into the abyss, is described with tremendous discords and strange modulations; but before it closes, the music relates the beauties of the newly created earth springing up "at God's command." Raphael describes the making of the firmament, the raging of the storms, the flashing lightning and rolling thunders, the showers of rain and hail, and the gently falling snow, to an accompaniment which is closely imitative in character. The work of the second day forms the theme of "The Marvellous Work," for soprano obligato with chorus,—a number characterized by great joyousness and spirit. This leads to the number, "Rolling in foaming Billows," in which the music is employed to represent the effect of water, from the roaring billows of the "boisterous seas," and the rivers flowing in "serpent error," to "the limpid brook," whose murmuring ripple is set to one of the sweetest and most delicious of melodies. This leads the way to the well-known aria, "With Verdure clad," of which Haydn himself was very fond, and which he recast three times before he was satisfied with it. It is followed by a fugued chorus ("Awake the Harp"), in which the Angels praise the Creator. We next pass to the creation of the planets. The instrumental prelude is a wonderful bit of constantly developing color, which increases "in splendor bright," until the sun appears. It is followed by the rising of the moon, to an accompaniment as tender as its own radiance; and as the stars appear, "the Sons of God" announce the fourth day, and the first part closes with the great chorus, "The Heavens are telling," in which the entire force of band and singers is employed in full, broad harmony and sonorous chords, leading to a cadence of magnificent power.

The second part opens with the aria, "On mighty Pens," describing in a majestic manner the flight of the eagle, and then blithely passes to the gayety of the lark, the tenderness of the cooing doves, and the plaintiveness of the nightingale, in which the singing of the birds is imitated as closely as the resources of music will allow. A beautiful terzetto describes with inimitable grace the gently sloping hills covered with their verdure, the leaping of the fountain into the light, and the flights of birds, and a bass solo in sonorous manner takes up the swimming fish, closing with "the upheaval of Leviathan from the deep," who disports himself among the double-basses. This leads to a powerful chorus, "The Lord is great." The next number describes the creation of various animals; and perhaps nothing that art contains can vie with it in varied and vivid description. It begins with the lion, whose deep roar is heard among the wind-instruments. The alertness of the "flexible tiger" is shown in rapid flights by the strings. A presto ingeniously represents the quick movements of the stag. The horse is accompanied by music which prances and neighs. A quiet pastoral movement, in strong contrast with the preceding abrupt transitions, pictures the cattle seeking their food "on fields and meadows green." A flutter of sounds describes the swarms of insects in the air, and from this we pass to a long, undulating thread of harmony, representing "the sinuous trace" of the worm. This masterpiece of imitative music is contained in a single recitative. A powerful and dignified aria, sung by Raphael ("Now Heaven in fullest Glory shone"), introduces the creation of man, which is completed in an exquisitely beautiful aria ("In Native Worth ") by Uriel, the second part of which is full of tender beauty in its description of the creation of Eve, and closes with a picture of the happiness of the newly created pair. A brief recitative ("And God saw everything that He had made") leads to the chorus, "Achieved is the glorious Work,"—a fugue of great power, superbly accompanied. It is interrupted by a trio ("On Thee each living Soul awaits"), but soon returns with still greater power and grandeur, closing with a Gloria and Hallelujah of magnificent proportions.

The third part opens with a symphonic introduction descriptive of the first morning of creation, in which the flutes and horns, combined with the strings, are used with exquisite effect. In a brief recitative ("In rosy Mantle appears") Uriel pictures the joy of Adam and Eve, and bids them sing the praise of God with the angelic choir, which forms the theme of the succeeding duet and chorus ("By Thee with Bliss"); to which the answering choir replies with a gentle and distant effect, as if from the celestial heights, "Forever blessed be His Power." Again Adam and Eve in successive solos, finally uniting, join with the choir in extolling the goodness of God; and as they close, all take up the beautiful and majestic paean, "Hail, bounteous Lord! Almighty, hail!" As the angelic shout dies away, a tender, loving dialogue ensues between Adam and Eve, leading to the beautiful duet, "Graceful Consort," which is not only the most delightful number in the work, but in freshness, sweetness, and tenderness stands almost unsurpassed among compositions of its kind. After a short bit of recitative by Uriel ("O happy Pair"), the chorus enters upon the closing number ("Sing the Lord, ye Voices all"), beginning slowly and majestically, then developing into a masterly fugue ("Jehovah's Praise forever shall endure"), and closing with a Laudamus of matchless beauty, in which the principal voices in solo parts are set off against the choral and orchestral masses with powerful effect.

Haydn's last appearance in public was at a performance of the "Creation," which took place in 1808, when it was given in Italian under the direction of Salieri. Dies says of this remarkable scene:—

"On alighting from the Prince's carriage, he was received by distinguished personages of the nobility and by his scholar, Beethoven. The crowd was so great that the military had to keep order. He was carried, sitting in his arm-chair, into the hall, and was greeted upon his entrance with a flourish of trumpets and joyous shouts of 'Long live Haydn!' He occupied a seat next his Princess, the Prince being at court that day; and on the other side sat his favorite scholar, Fraeulein Kurzbeck. The highest people of rank in Vienna selected seats in his vicinity. The French ambassador noticed that he wore the medal of the Paris Concert des Amateurs. 'Not only this, but all the medals which have been awarded in France, you ought to have received,' said he. Haydn thought he felt a little draught; the Princess threw her shawl about him, many ladies following her example, and in a few moments he was completely wrapped in shawls. Poems by Collin and Carpani, the adapter of the text, were presented to him. He could no longer conceal his feelings. His overburdened heart sought and found relief in tears. When the passage, 'And there was Light,' came, and the audience broke out into tumultuous applause, he made a motion of his hands towards heaven, and said, 'It came from thence.' He remained in such an agitated condition that he was obliged to take his leave at the close of the first part. As he went out, the audience thronged about him to take leave of him, and Beethoven kissed his hand and forehead devoutly. His departure completely overcame him. He could not address the audience, and could only give expression to his heartfelt gratitude with broken, feeble utterances and blessings. Upon every countenance there was deep pity, and tearful eyes followed him as he was taken to his carriage."

He lived but a short time longer, but long enough to witness the success of his scholar, Beethoven, in the same year.



The Seasons.

"The Seasons," written two years after "The Creation," was Haydn's last oratorio. The music was composed between April, 1798, and April, 1801. It is not an oratorio in the strict sense of the term, as it partakes of the form and qualities, not only of the oratorio, but also of the opera and cantata. The words were compiled by Baron van Swieten from Thomson's well-known poem of "The Seasons," but it was a long time before he could persuade Haydn to undertake the task of composing an oratorio on the subject. His old age and infirmities made him averse to the work. He was greatly annoyed by the text, and still more so by its compiler, who insisted upon changes in the music which Haydn testily declined to make. He was frequently irritated over the many imitative passages, and it was to relieve his own feelings and vary the monotony of the sentiment that he introduced the rollicking bacchanal chorus in the third part. He expressed his feelings to a friend in the remark: "My head was so full of the nonsensical stuff that it all went topsy-turvy, and I therefore called the closing fugue the 'drunken fugue.'" Notwithstanding his many objections, when once he started, he worked hard,—so hard, indeed, that this continuous labor induced brain-fever and intense suffering, and he never entirely rallied from its effects. A weakness followed, which constantly increased. To one friend he remarked: "The 'Seasons' have brought this trouble upon me. I ought not to have written it. I have overdone;" and to another: "I have done; my head is no longer what it was. Formerly ideas came to me unsought: I am now obliged to seek for them; and for this I feel I am not formed." It is a sad picture, that of the old composer sitting down to work in his seventieth year, distrustful of his own powers, with an uncongenial text before him; but no indications of age or weakness are to be found in this music, which from its first note to the last is fresh, original, bright, and graceful,—a treasure-house of ideas to which subsequent composers have gone time after time when they would write of Nature or attempt to picture her moods.

The "Seasons" was first performed at the Schwartzenberg Palace, Vienna, April 24, 1801, and was repeated on the 27th and on the 1st of May. On the 29th of May Haydn himself conducted it in public at the Redoutensaal, for his own benefit. Though some of the critics disparaged it, and Beethoven was not overpleased with it, it met with a great popular success, and Haydn himself was delighted with the work that had cost him so much trouble. Bombet, the French critic, who was present at the first performance, says of it:—

"The best critique that has been given of the work is that which Haydn himself addressed to me when I went to give him an account of the performance of it in the Palace Schwartzenberg. The applause had been universal, and I hastened out to congratulate the author. Scarcely had I opened my lips when the honest composer stopped me: 'I am happy to find that my music pleases the public; but I can receive no compliment on this work from you. I am convinced that you feel yourself that it is not the "Creation;" and the reason is this: in the "Creation" the actors are angels; here they are peasants.'"

The work is divided into four parts,—Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter,—and the characters introduced are Simon, a farmer; Jane, his daughter; Lucas, a young countryman and shepherd; and a chorus of Country People and Hunters. A vivacious overture, expressing the passage from winter to spring, and recitatives by Simon, Lucas, and Jane, who in turn express their delight at the close of the one season and the approach of the other, lead to the opening chorus ("Come, gentle Spring, ethereal Mildness, come"),—a fresh and animated number, which is familiar to every one. Simon trolls out a pastoral aria ("With Joy the impatient Husbandman"), full of the very spirit of quiet, peace, and happiness,—a quaint melody which will inevitably recall to opera-goers the "Zitti, Zitti" from Rossini's "Barber of Seville," the essential difference between the two pieces being that in the latter the time is greatly accelerated. This aria is followed by a trio and chorus ("Be propitious, bounteous Heaven"), a free fugue, in which all beseech a blessing upon the sowing of the seed. The next number is a duet for Jane and Lucas, with chorus ("Spring her lovely Charms unfolding"), which is fairly permeated with the delicate suggestions of opening buds and the delights of the balmy air and young verdure of spring. As its strains die away, all join in the cheerful fugued chorus, "God of Light," which closes the first part.

After a brief adagio prelude, the second part, "Summer," opens with a charming aria by Simon ("From out the Fold the Shepherd drives"), which gives us a delightful picture of the shepherd driving his flock along the verdant hillside, then leaning upon his staff to watch the rising sun. As it appears, it is welcomed by trio and chorus with the exultant shout, "Hail, O glorious Sun!" As noon approaches, the music fairly becomes radiant. A series of recitatives and arias follow, bringing out in a vivid and picturesque manner the oppressive, exhaustive heat and the longing for rest and shade, leading at last to an ominous silence as the clouds begin to gather and the sky darkens. A short recitative prepares the way. A crash of thunder is heard upon the drums: it is the prelude to the storm-chorus ("Hark! the deep tremendous Voice"), which has been the model for nearly all the storm-descriptions written since Haydn's time. It is worked up to a tremendous climax of tumult and terror, of pouring rain, flashing lightning, and pealing thunder. At last the tempest dies away, and in the trio and chorus, "Now cease the Conflicts," night comes on, with its song of the quail,—which Beethoven subsequently utilized in his Pastoral Symphony,—the chirp of the crickets, the croaking of the frogs, the distant chime of the evening bells, and the invocation to sleep. Of the frog episode, Nohl says:—

"He particularly disliked the croaking of the frogs, and realized how much it lowered his art. Swieten showed him an old piece of Gretry's in which the croak was imitated with striking effect. Haydn contended that it would be better if the entire croak were omitted, though he yielded to Swieten's importunities. He declared afterwards, however, that the frog passage was not his own. 'It was urged upon me,' he said, 'to write this French croak. In the orchestral setting it is very brief, and it cannot be done on the piano. I trust the critics will not treat me with severity for it. I am an old man, and liable to make mistakes.'"

After a quaintly melodious prelude the third part opens with a terzetto and chorus ("Thus Nature ever kind rewards"), an invocation to virtue and industry, and a quaintly sentimental duet ("Ye gay and painted Fair"). The next number, an aria by Simon ("Behold along the dewy Grass"),—which gives us a picture of the hunter and his dog pursuing a bird,—prepares the way for the great hunting chorus ("Hark! the Mountains resound"), one of the most graphic and stirring choruses of this description ever written. The whole scene,—the vales and forests resounding with the music of the horns, the finding of the quarry, the flying stag outstripping the wind, the pack at fault, but starting in again as they find the scent, the tally-ho of the hunters, the noble animal at bay, his death, and the shouts of the crowd,—are all pictured with a freshness and genuine out-door feeling which seem almost incredible considering Haydn's age. This remarkable number is separated from its natural companion, the bacchanalian chorus, by a recitative extolling the wealth of the vintage. This chorus ("Joyful the Liquor flows") is in two parts,—first a hymn in praise of wine, sung by the tippling revellers, and second, a dance tempo, full of life and beauty, with imitations of the bagpipe and rustic fiddles, the melody being a favorite Austrian dance-air. With this rollicking combination, for the two movements are interwoven, the third part closes.

A slow orchestral prelude, "expressing the thick fogs at the approach of winter," introduces the closing part. In recitative Simon describes the on-coming of the dreary season, and Jane reiterates the sentiment in the cavatina, "Light and Life dejected languish." In Lucas's recitative we see the snow covering the fields, and in his following aria, "The Traveller stands perplexed," a graphic tone-picture of the wanderer lost in the snow is presented. At last he espies the friendly light in the cottage. "Melodious voices greet his ears," and as he enters he beholds the friendly circle, the old father telling over his stories of the past, the mother plying the distaff, the girls spinning, and the young people making the night merry with jest and sport. At last they join in a characteristic imitative chorus ("Let the Wheel move gayly"). After the spinning they gather about the fire, and Jane sings a charming love-story ("A wealthy Lord who long had loved"), accompanied by chorus. Simon improves the occasion to moralize on the sentiment of the seasons in the aria, "In this, O vain, misguided Man," impressing upon us the lesson that "Nought but Truth remains;" and with a general appeal to Heaven for guidance through life, this quaint and peaceful pastoral poem in music draws to its close. It was the last important work of the aged Haydn, but it has all the charm and freshness of youth.



LISZT.

Franz Liszt, the most eminent pianist of his time, who also obtained world-wide celebrity as a composer and orchestral conductor, was born at Raiding, Hungary, Oct. 22, 1811. His father was an accomplished amateur, and played the piano and violoncello with more than ordinary skill. He was In his ninth year Liszt played for the first noblemen encouraged him to continue his studies, and guaranteed him sufficient to defray the expenses of six years' tuition. He went to Vienna at once and studied the piano with Czerny, besides taking lessons in composition from Salieri and Randhartinger. It was while in that city that his first composition, a variation on a waltz of Diabelli, appeared. In 1823 he went to Paris, hoping to secure admission to the Conservatory; but Cherubini refused it on account of his foreign origin, though Cherubini himself was a foreigner. Nothing daunted, young Liszt continued his studies with Reicha and Paer, and two years afterwards brought out a one-act opera entitled "Don Sancho," which met with a very cordial reception. The slight he had received from Cherubini aroused popular sympathy for him. His wonderful playing attracted universal attention and gained him admission into the most brilliant Parisian salons. He soon became known as the "wonder-child," and was a favorite with every one, especially with the ladies. For two or three years he made artistic tours through France, Switzerland, and England, accompanied by his father, and everywhere met with the most brilliant success. In 1827 the father died, leaving him alone in the world; but good fortune was on his side. During his stay in Paris he had made the friendship of Victor Hugo, George Sand, Lamartine, and other great lights in literature and music, and their influence prepared the way for his permanent success. Notwithstanding that he was in many senses a Bohemian and a man of the world, he had a strong religious tendency. For a time he became deeply interested in the doctrines of Saint-Simon; but his adherence to that system did not last long. He speedily returned to the Roman Church, and some years afterwards went to Rome, at the suggestion of the Pontiff took orders, and set himself about the work of reforming the church music,—a task, however, which he soon abandoned; too many obstacles stood in his way. He expected to become Capellmeister at the Sistine Chapel; but, as he himself said: "I was thwarted by the lack of culture among the cardinals; and besides, most of the princes of the Church were Italian." The Abbe was soon in Germany again, where he resided until the close of his life. From 1839 to 1847 he travelled from one city to another, arousing the most extraordinary enthusiasm; his progress was one continued ovation. In 1849 he went to Weimar and accepted the post of conductor at the Court Theatre. He made Weimar the musical centre of Europe. It was there that his greatest compositions were written, that the school of the music of the future was founded, and that Wagner's operas first gained an unprejudiced hearing; and it is from Weimar that his distinguished pupils, like Von Buelow, Tausig, Bendel, Bronsart, Klindworth, Winterberger, Reubke, and many others date their success. In 1859 he resigned his position, and after that time resided at Rome, Pesth, and Weimar, working for the best interests of his beloved art, and encouraging young musicians to reach the highest standards. Few men of this century have had such a powerful influence upon music, or have done so much to elevate and purify it. His most important works were the "Divina Commedia" and "Faust" symphonies, the twelve symphonic poems, the six Hungarian rhapsodies, the "Graner Mass," the "Hungarian Coronation Mass," and the oratorios "Christus" and "The Legend of the Holy Elizabeth." Besides these he wrote a large number of orchestral pieces, songs, and cantatas, and a rich and varied collection of pianoforte solos, transcriptions, and arrangements. He died July 31, 1886.



The Legend of the Holy Elizabeth.

The oratorio, "Legend of the Holy Elizabeth," was written in 1864, and first produced Aug. 15, 1865, upon the occasion of the twenty-fifth anniversary of the Conservatory of Pesth-Ofen. The text is by Otto Roquette, and was inspired by Moritz von Schwind's frescos at the Wartburg representing scenes in the life of the saint. A brief allusion to her history will still further elucidate the story which Liszt has treated so powerfully. She was the daughter of King Andreas II. of Hungary, and was born in 1207. At the age of four she was betrothed to Ludwig, son of the Landgrave Hermann of Thuringia, whom she married in 1220. After his death, in 1227, she was driven from the Wartburg and forced to give up the regency by her cruel and ambitious mother-in-law. After long wanderings and many privations she retired to Bamberg, where her uncle, the bishop, dwelt; but shortly afterwards her rights were restored to her. She renounced them in favor of her son, Hermann II., and died in 1231. Four years later she was canonized at Marpurg by order of Pope Gregory IX. Her life was devoted to the relief of the poor and suffering.

The characters introduced in the oratorio are Saint Elizabeth, Landgrave Ludwig, Landgrave Hermann, Landgravine Sophie, a Hungarian Magnate, the Seneschal, and the Emperor Frederick II. The last three roles are usually assigned to Ludwig, thus reducing the number of solo-singers to four. The work is laid out in two parts, each having three scenes corresponding in subjects with Von Schwind's six frescos. The first describes the arrival of Elizabeth at the Wartburg, and the welcome she receives. In the second she is married, and her husband, Ludwig, has succeeded to the throne. His devotion to knight-errantry leads him from home. During his absence a famine breaks out, and Elizabeth in her devotion to the sufferers impoverishes herself and incurs the wrath of her mother-in-law, the Landgravine Sophie. While carrying a basket of bread and wine one day to the victims of the scourge, she is met by her husband, who has unexpectedly returned. Amazed at the absence of her attendants, he questions her, and she excuses herself with the plea that she has been gathering flowers. Doubting the truth of her statement, he snatches the basket from her. She confesses her falsehood; but upon examining the basket it is found to be full of roses. The Lord has performed a miracle. Overcome with remorse for doubting her, Ludwig begs her forgiveness, and the two join in prayer that the Lord may continue His goodness to them. The third scene opens at Schmalkald, on the borders of Thuringia, where Ludwig has assembled his knights and nobles who are to accompany him to the Holy Land. They declare their allegiance to Ludwig as their leader, and he calls upon them also to swear fealty to his wife. After a sad farewell Ludwig rides away at the head of his Crusaders. The fourth scene opens with the news of Ludwig's death. The Landgravine claims the castle as her inheritance, compels Elizabeth to abandon the regency, and drives her out in the midst of a furious storm. In the fifth scene we find her at a hospital which she has founded, and notwithstanding her own troubles and sufferings still ministering to others in like affliction. This scene closes with her death, and in the last we have the ceremonies of her canonization at Marpurg.

The first scene opens with a long orchestral introduction, working up to a powerful climax, and based mainly upon a theme from the old church service, which is Elizabeth's motive, and is frequently heard throughout the work. An animated prelude which follows it introduces the opening chorus ("Welcome the Bride"). A brief solo by Landgrave Hermann ("Welcome, my little Daughter") and another of a national character by the Hungarian Magnate attending the bride intervene, and again the chorus break out in noisy welcome. After a dignified solo by Hermann and a brief dialogue between Ludwig and Elizabeth, a light, graceful allegretto ensues, leading up to a children's chorus ("Merriest Games with thee would we play"), which is delightfully fresh and joyous in its character. At its close the chorus of welcome resumes, and the scene ends with a ritornelle of a plaintive kind, foreboding the sorrow which is fast approaching.

The second scene, after a short prelude, opens with Ludwig's hunting-song ("From the Mists of the Valleys"), which is written in the conventional style of songs of this class, although it has two distinct movements in strong contrast. As he meets Elizabeth, a dialogue ensues, including the scene of the rose miracle, leading up to a brief chorus ("The Lord has done a Wonder"), and followed by an impressive duet in church style ("Him we worship and praise this Day"). The scene closes with an ensemble, a duet with full choral harmony, worked up with constantly increasing power and set to an accompaniment full of rich color and brilliant effect.

The third scene opens with the song of the Crusaders, an impetuous and brilliant chorus ("In Palestine, the Holy Land"), the accompaniment to which is an independent march movement. The stately rhythm is followed by a solo by the Landgrave, bidding farewell to Elizabeth and appealing to his subjects to be loyal to her. The chorus replies in a short number, based upon the Hungarian melody which has already been heard. Elizabeth follows with a tender but passionate appeal to her husband ("Oh, tarry! oh, shorten not the Hour"), leading to a solo ("With Grief my Spirit wrestles"), which is full of the pain of parting. A long dialogue follows between them, interrupted here and there by the strains of the Crusaders, in which finally the whole chorus join with great power in a martial but sorrowful style. As it comes to a close, the orchestra breaks out into the Crusaders' march,—a brilliant picture of the knightly pageant, the time gradually accelerating as well as the force, until it reaches a tremendous climax. The trio of the march is based upon a religious melody which was sung in the time of the Crusaders; but the remainder follows the Gregorian intonation. The chorus once more resumes its shout of jubilee, and the brilliant scene comes to an end. So vividly colored is this music that one can well fancy the sorrowful Elizabeth as she stands gazing at the band of knights, with Ludwig at their head, slowly riding away, pennons fluttering in the breeze, and lances and mail glittering in the sunlight.

In the fourth scene a slow and mournful movement, followed by an allegro ominous and agitated in style, introduces the Landgravine Sophie, the evil genius of the Wartburg. The tidings of the death of Ludwig have come, and with fierce declamation she orders Elizabeth away from the castle. The latter replies in an aria ("O Day of Mourning, Day of Sorrow") marked by sorrowful lamentation. Sophie again hurls her imprecations, and a very dramatic dialogue ensues, which takes the trio form as the reluctant Seneschal consents to enforce the cruel order. Once more Elizabeth tenderly appeals to her in the aria, "Thou too art a Mother." Sophie impatiently and fiercely exclaims, "No longer tarry!" The scene comes to an end with Elizabeth's lament as she goes out into the storm, which is vividly described in an orchestral movement, interspersed with vocal solos. These have little bearing upon the subject-matter, however, which is mainly described by the band with overwhelming power.

The fifth scene opens with a long declamatory solo by Elizabeth,—full of tenderness and pathos, in which she recalls the dream of childhood,—closing with an orchestral movement of the same general character. It is followed by the full chorus ("Here 'neath the Roof of Want"), which after a few bars is taken by the sopranos and altos separately, closing with chorus again and soprano solo ("Elizabeth, thou holy one"). The death-scene follows ("This is no earthly Night"). Her last words, "Unto mine End Thy Love has led me," are set to music full of pathos, and as she expires, the instrumentation dies away in peaceful, tranquil strains. A semi-chorus, which can also be sung by three solo voices ("The Pain is over"), closes the sad scene, the ritornelle at the end being made still more effective by the harps, which give it a celestial character.

The last scene opens with an interlude which gathers up all the motives of the oratorio,—the Pilgrim's Song, the Crusaders' March, the Church Song, and the Hungarian Air, and weaves them into a rich and varied texture for full orchestra, bells, and drums, forming the funeral song of the sainted Elizabeth,—the same effect, and produced in the same manner, which Wagner subsequently used with such magnificent power in the dirge of Siegfried. It is followed by a solo from the Emperor, "I see assembled round the Throne,"—a slow and dignified air, leading to the great ensemble closing the work, and descriptive of the canonization of Elizabeth. It begins as an antiphonal chorus ("Mid Tears and Solemn Mourning"), the female chorus answering the male and closing in unison. Once more the Crusaders' March is heard in the orchestra as the knights sing, "O Thou whose Life-blood streamed." The church choir sings the chorale, "Decorata novo flore," the Hungarian and German bishops intone their benedictions, and then all join in the powerful and broadly harmonious hymn, "Tu pro nobis Mater pia," closing with a sonorous and majestic "Amen."



Christus.

"Christus, oratorio, with texts from the Holy Scriptures and the Catholic Liturgy," as Liszt entitles his work, was finished in 1866. At the outset the composer selected the "Hymn of Praise" and "Pater Noster" from Ruechert's "Evangelical Harmony;" and upon these and one or two other detached numbers for a background, he built up a series of religious events connected with the offices of the Church according to the Vulgate and its Liturgy. These events are laid out in three divisions,—"The Christmas Oratorio," "After Epiphany," and "The Passion and Resurrection;" the separate parts of which are as follows: (1) The Introduction. (2) Pastoral and Vision of the Angels. (3) Stabat Mater speciosa. (4) Song of the Shepherds in the Manger. (5) The Anointing of the three Kings. (6) Hymn of Praise. (7) Pater Noster. (8) The Establishment or Foundation of the Christian Church. (9) The Storm on the Lake. (10) The Entry into Jerusalem. (11) Tristis est anima mea. (12) Stabat Mater dolorosa. (13) Easter Hymn. (14) Resurrection of Christ. The motive of the work is announced in Saint Paul's words to the Ephesians: "But speaking the truth in love, may grow up into him in all things, which is the head, even Christ."

The long instrumental introduction is constructed upon a theme representative of a text from Isaiah, "Resound, ye Heavens above," many times repeated, and leading to a pastoral which prepares the way for the angelic announcement to the shepherds. This announcement is made in the simple collect music by a soprano solo, and replied to by a female chorus, first accompanied by string quartet, and then by full orchestra, and leading to the full chorus, "Gloria in excelsis," a series of mighty shouts, closing with a stately Hallelujah and a return of the orchestra to the pastoral movement. The next division is the old Latin hymn, "Stabat Mater speciosa," the Virgin at the cradle of our Lord,—a six-part chorus in church style, accompanied by the organ, with solo variations interspersed through it, and characterized by a lofty feeling of devotion, especially in the "Inflammatus" and the majestic final "Amen." The remaining numbers of the first part are entirely instrumental, including the "Shepherd's Song at the Manger," a pastoral full of beautiful effects, and "the Three Holy Kings," a march which is majestic in its style and broad in its rhythm, and full of characteristic color. The two numbers close the part in a brilliant and jubilant manner.

The second part opens with the "Seligkeiten" ("Hymn of Praise"), a grand declamatory solo for baritone, accompanied by a six-part chorus, which, like the next number, was written by Liszt in his younger days and utilized in its present setting. The hymn is accompanied by organ throughout, and is followed by the "Pater Noster," also with organ,—a fervent, almost passionate, offering of prayer by the precentors and congregation, closing with a mighty "Amen." In the next number—the founding of the Church ("Tu es Petrus"), beginning with male chorus—the orchestra resumes its work. The voices move on in stately manner until the words, "Simon, son of Jona, lovest thou me?" are reached, when the full chorus comes in with imposing effect. Of this number, Nohl says in his fine analysis of "Christus:"—

"The perishable, sinful world in all its aspects is here contrasted with an undoubting faith in an everlastingly constant higher ideal, to give it this name. That it is the spirit of the subject, not its mere perishable husk, is shown by the nature of the melody, which rises to the most powerful expression of the final victory of this spirit of love. Now again the full orchestra joins the double chorus; for the world, the whole world, is meant."

The next scene, entitled "The Wonder," is purely instrumental, and is a marvellous picture of the storm upon the lake, which Nohl also characterizes with reference to its inner meanings:—

"The ninth scene is a marvel. 'The storms rage in contention,'—not the storms of the sea, but the storm of desires to which the weak of faith are exposed. It is not the outward marvel or superstition that is to be strengthened, but the faith of human nature in itself and its higher power and destiny. Hence the actual inner tranquillity when, after the raging orchestral tumult, 'a great stillness' succeeds Christ's words, which is ingeniously introduced with the motive of the 'Seligkeit,' because such inner purity alone bestows upon mankind effective power over the savage forces of the world."

"The Entrance into Jerusalem," a graphic instrumental prelude, introduces a "Hosanna" for full chorus, followed by a "Benedictus" for mezzo-soprano with chorus,—a splendidly constructed number, which closes the second part in a style full of beauty and majesty.

The third part opens with the sorrowful scene, "Tristis est anima mea," Christ's sad words in the walk to Gethsemane,—an unutterably pathetic solo, with an accompaniment which is a marvel of expressive instrumentation. The next number is the old Middle-Age hymn, "Stabat Mater dolorosa," in which Liszt has combined voices and instruments in a manner, particularly in the "Inflammatus," almost overpowering. Solos, duets, quartets, choruses, orchestra, and organ are all handled with consummate skill. It has been aptly characterized as having the dimensions of the "Last Judgment" in the Sistine Chapel. After the great hymn is ended, another begins. It is the old Easter song, "O Filii et Filiae," written to be sung by boys with harmonium,—a joyous, sunny chorus, dispersing the gloom of the "Stabat Mater." The last scene, "The Resurrection," is a powerful and massive chorus, full of mighty accords, typical of the final triumph of Christianity, and closing with a majestic "Amen" built up on the opening motive of the original introduction. "It is," says Nohl, "a cycle of scenes such as only the victorious mastery of the subject by inward perception can give, and such as only the artist can draw who dominates all the conditions apart like a king, and has reconciled his soul with the absolute truth and power of the Eternal."



MACFARREN.

George Alexander Macfarren, one of the most prominent of modern English composers, was born in London, March 2, 1813. He began the study of music in 1827 under the tuition of Charles Lucas. Two year's later he entered the Royal Academy of Music, and in 1834 became one of its professors. The latter year dates the beginning of his career as a composer, his first work having been a symphony in F minor. During the next thirty years his important works were as follows: overture "Chevy Chase" (1836); "Devil's Opera," produced at the Lyceum (1838); "Emblematical Tribute on the Queen's Marriage" and an arrangement of Purcell's "Dido and AEneas" (1840); editions of "Belshazzar," "Judas Maccabaeus," and "Jephthah," for the Handel Society (1843); opera "Don Quixote" (1846); opera "Charles II." (1849); serenata "The Sleeper Awakened," and the cantata "Lenora" (1851); the cantata "May Day," for the Bradford Festival (1856); the cantata "Christmas" (1859); the opera "Robin Hood" (1860); the masque "Freya's Gift" and opera "Jessy Lea" (1863); and the operas "She Stoops to Conquer," "The Soldier's Legacy," and "Helvellyn" (1864). About the last year his sight, which had been impaired for many years, failed. His blindness did not however diminish his activity. He still served as professor in the Royal Academy, and dictated compositions,—indeed some of his best works were composed during this time of affliction. In 1873 appeared his oratorio, "St. John the Baptist," which met with an enthusiastic reception at the Bristol Festival of that year. In 1875 he was elected professor of music at Cambridge, to fill the vacancy occasioned by the death of Sterndale Bennett, and in the same year was also appointed principal of the Royal Academy of Music. In 1876 his oratorio "The Resurrection" was performed at the Birmingham Festival, and in 1877 the oratorio "Joseph" at Leeds, besides the cantata "The Lady of the Lake" at Glasgow. Grove catalogues his other compositions as follows: a cathedral service, anthems, chants, psalm-tunes, and introits for the Holy Days and Seasons of the English Church (1866); "Songs in a Cornfield" (1868); "Shakspeare Songs for Four Voices" (1860-64); songs from Lane's "Arabian Nights," and Kingsley's and Tennyson's poems; overtures to "The Merchant of Venice," "Romeo and Juliet," "Hamlet," and "Don Carlos;" symphonies, string quartets, and a quintet; a concerto for violin and orchestra; and sonatas for pianoforte alone, and in combination with other instruments. As lecturer, writer, and critic, Sir George Macfarren also holds a high place, among his important works being "Rudiments of Harmony" (1860), and six Lectures on Harmony (1867); also Analyses of Oratorios for the Sacred Harmonic Society (1853-57), and of orchestral works for the Philharmonic Society (1869-71), besides numerous articles in the musical dictionaries.



St. John the Baptist.

The oratorio "St. John the Baptist" was first produced at the Bristol Musical Festival in 1873. The libretto was written by Dr. E. G. Monk, and is divided into two parts,—the first styled "The Desert," and the second "Machaerus," to correspond with the localities where the action is supposed to take place. The incidents described are John's preaching to the people, the baptism of Christ, and the events which begin with Herod's feast and close with the execution of the Prophet. One of the best of the English critics, speaking of the libretto, says:—