The Standard Cantatas Part 8

Its counterpart is found in the tenor recitative and spirited, dignified male chorus ("Son of Honor, Theme of Story"). The _denouement_ now begins. A contralto solo, declamatory in style ("In lofty Hall, with Trophies graced"), and a short soprano solo of a joyous character ("Thus while she sang") lead to the final number ("Gently, lo! the Warrior kneels"), beginning with full chorus, which after short solos for tenor and soprano takes a spirited martial form ("And on the Champion's Brow was found") and closes with a quartet and chorus worked up to an imposing climax.

The work is largely in narrative form; but this, instead of being a hindrance, seems to have been an advantage to the composer, who has not failed to invest his music with dramatic force that is remarkable. Mr.

Corder is credited with being an ardent disciple of Wagner, and his cantata certainly shows the influences of that school. It is throughout a vigorous, effective work, and gives promise that its composer will yet be heard from outside the English musical world.

COWEN.

Frederic H. Cowen, the favorite English song-writer, was born at Kingston, Jamaica, Jan. 29, 1852, and went to England at a very early age. His first teachers were Benedict and Sir J. Goss, with whom he studied until 1865. During the next three years he continued his musical education at the conservatories of Leipsic and Berlin, returning to England in 1868. His earlier works were an operetta called "Garibaldi," a fantasie-sonata and piano concerto, a few pieces of chamber music, and a symphony in C minor. These served to introduce him to public notice, and since that time nearly all of his works have met with remarkable success, among them "The Rose Maiden" (1870); music to Schiller's "Joan of Arc"

(1871); festival overture (1872); "The Corsair," composed for the Birmingham Festival of 1876; a symphony in F major and the Norwegian symphony, which have been favorably received in this country. His most important opera is "Pauline," which was produced in London with great success by the Carl Rosa company, Nov. 22, 1876. As a song-writer, Mr.

Cowen is also well known; many of his lyrics, especially those written for Antoinette Sterling and Mrs. E. Aline Osgood, the American singers, having obtained a wide-spread popularity.

The Sleeping Beauty.

"The Sleeping Beauty," written for the Birmingham Festival of 1885, the poem by Francis Hueffer, has for its theme the well-known fairy tale which has been so often ill.u.s.trated in music and upon canvas. It is a great favorite in England, and has also met with a successful reception in Paris, where it was brought out not long since by the Concordia Society of that city, under the t.i.tle of "La Belle au Bois Dormant," the translation having been made by Miss Augusta Holmes, herself a musician of considerable repute.

After a brief orchestral introduction, a three-part chorus (altos, tenors, and ba.s.ses) tells the story of the ancient King to whom an heiress was born when all hope of offspring had been abandoned, the gay carousal which he ordered, and the sudden appearance of the twelve fays, guardians of his house, with their spinning-wheels and golden flax, who sing as they weave:--

"Draw the thread and weave the woof For the little child's behoof: Future, dark to human eyes, Openly before us lies; As we will and as we give, Haply shall the maiden live; Draw the thread and weave the woof For the little child's behoof."

In beauty of melody and gracefulness of orchestration this chorus of the fays is specially noticeable. Its charming movement, however, is interrupted by a fresh pa.s.sage for male chorus, of an agitated character, describing the entrance of the Wicked Fay, who bends over the cradle of the child and sings a characteristic contralto aria:--

"From the gold of the flaxen reel Threads of bliss have been spun to thee; By the whirl of the spinning wheel Cruel grief shall be done to thee.

Thy fate I descry: Ere the buds of thy youth are blown, Ere a score of thy years have flown, Thou shalt p.r.i.c.k thy hand, thou shalt die."

Following this aria, the male chorus has a few measures, invoking a curse upon the Fay, which leads to a full chorus of an animated character, foretelling that there shall dawn a day when a young voice, more powerful than witchcraft, will save her; at the close of which the guardian fays are again heard drawing the thread and weaving the woof in low, murmuring tones, with a spinning accompaniment. It is followed by a trio (soprano, tenor, and ba.s.s), with chorus accompaniment, announcing the departure of the fays, and leading to a very melodious tenor solo, with two graceful orchestral interludes, which moralizes on what has occurred and closes the prologue.

The first scene opens in a hall in the King's palace, and is full of animation. A brilliant orchestral prelude leads to the full chorus in waltz time ("At Dawn of Day on the first of May"), which moves along with a fascinating swing, and closes in a very vigorous climax. At this point the King makes his appearance and expresses his joy that the time has pa.s.sed when the prophecy of the Wicked Fay could take effect, for this is the Princess's twentieth birthday. A dialogue follows between the King and his daughter, closing with a beautiful chorus ("Pure as thy Heart"), after which the dance-music resumes. Un.o.bserved the Princess leaves the banqueting-hall, glides along a gallery, and ascends the staircase to a turret chamber. Before she enters she sings an aria, of a tranquil, dreamy nature ("Whither away, my Heart?"), and interwoven with it are heard the gradually lessening strains of the dance-music, which ceases altogether as her song comes to an almost inaudible close.

The second scene opens in the turret chamber, where the Wicked Fay, disguised as an old crone, is spinning. After a short dialogue, in which the Fay explains to the Princess the use of the wheel, she bids her listen, and sings a weird ballad ("As I sit at my Spinning-wheel, strange Dreams come to me"), closing with the refrain of the old prophecy, "Ere the Buds of her Youth are blown." The Princess dreamily repeats the burden of the song, and then, fearing the presence of some ill-omen, opens the door to escape. She hears the dance-music again, but the Fay gently draws her back and induces her to touch the flax. As she does so, the Fay covertly p.r.i.c.ks her finger with the spindle. She swoons away, the dance-music suddenly stops, and there is a long silence, broken at last by the Fay's triumphant declaration: "Thus have I wrought my Vengeance."

The next number is the Incantation Music ("Spring from the Earth, red Roses"), a very dramatic declamation, sung by the Fay and interwoven with s.n.a.t.c.hes of chorus and the refrain of the prophecy. A choral interlude ("Sleep in Bower and Hall") follows, describing in a vivid manner, both with voices and instruments, the magic sleep that fell upon the castle and all its inmates, and the absence of all apparent life save the spiders weaving their webs on the walls as the years go by:--

"The spells of witchcraft which enthrall Each sleeper in that desolate hall, Who can break them?

Say, who can lift the deathly blight That covers king and lord and knight, To give them back to life and light, And awake them?"

The answer comes in an animated prelude, through which is heard the strain of a horn signal, constantly growing louder, and heralding the Prince, who enters the silent palace, sword in hand, among the sleeping courtiers, knights, and ladies. After a vigorous declamation ("Light, Light at last") he pa.s.ses on his way to the turret chamber, where he beholds the sleeping Princess. The love-song which follows ("Kneeling before Thee, wors.h.i.+pping wholly") is one of the most effective portions of the work. His kiss awakes her, and as she springs up, the dance-music at once resumes from the bar where it had stopped in the scene with the Wicked Fay. An impa.s.sioned duet follows, and the work closes with the animated waltz-chorus which opened the first scene.

DVORaK.

Anton Dvorak, the Bohemian composer who has risen so suddenly into prominence, was born at Mulhausen, near Prague, Sept. 8, 1841. His father combined the business of tavern-keeper and butcher, and young Dvorak a.s.sisted him in waiting upon customers, as well as in the slaughtering business. As the laws of Bohemia stipulate that music shall be a part of common-school education, Dvorak learned the rudiments in the village school, and also received violin instruction. At the age of thirteen he went to work for an uncle, who resided in the village where the schoolmaster was a proficient musician. The latter, recognizing his ability, gave him lessons on the organ, and allowed him to copy music.

Piano lessons followed, and he had soon grounded himself quite thoroughly in counterpoint. At the age of sixteen he was admitted to the organ-school of Prague, of which Joseph Pitsch was the princ.i.p.al. Pitsch died soon after, and was succeeded by Kreyci, who made Dvorak acquainted with the music of Mozart, Beethoven, and Mendelssohn. The first orchestral work he heard was Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony," during its rehearsal under Spohr's direction. In 1860, being then in his nineteenth year, he obtained an engagement, with the meagre salary of one hundred and twenty-five dollars a year, as violinist in a band that played at cafes and dances. Two years later he secured a position in the Bohemian Opera House at Prague, then under the direction of Mayer, where he remained until 1871, in which year he left the theatre and devoted himself to teaching, with the prospect of earning two hundred and fifty dollars a year. These were hard days for the young musician; but while he was there struggling for a bare subsistence, he continued writing compositions, though he had no prospect of selling them or of having them played. About this time he wrote his "Patriotic Hymn" and the opera "Konig und Kohler." The latter was rejected after an orchestral trial; but he continued his work, undaunted by failure. Shortly after this he received the appointment of organist at the Adelbert Church, Prague, and fortune began to smile upon him. His Symphony in F was laid before the Minister of Instruction in Vienna, and upon the recommendation of Herbeck secured him a grant of two hundred dollars. When Brahms replaced Herbeck on the committee which reported upon artists' stipends, he fully recognized Dvorak's ability, and not only encouraged him, but also brought him before the world by securing him a publisher and commending him to Joachim, who still further advanced his interests by securing performances of his works in Germany and England. Since that time he has risen rapidly, and is now recognized as one of the most promising of living composers. Among his works which have been produced during the past few years are the "Stabat Mater," the cantata "The Spectre's Bride,"

three operas in the Czechist dialect, three orchestral symphonies, several Slavonic rhapsodies, overtures, violin and piano concertos, an exceedingly beautiful s.e.xtet, and numerous songs.

The Spectre's Bride.

The legend of the Spectre's Bride is current in various forms among all the Slavonic nations. The Russians, Servians, Slovaks, Lithuanians, and Poles all have poems in which the ghostly ride of the spectre and the maiden forms the theme. The German version, told by Burger in his famous ballad "Lenore," is best known; and Raff has given it a musical setting in his Lenore Symphony. In general, the story is the same. The Spectre comes for his Bride and she rides away with him through the night, amid all manner of supernatural horrors, only to find at the end that she has ridden to the grave with a skeleton. The Bohemian poem used by Dvorak is that of Karel Jaromir Erben, a poet who obtained a national fame by making collections of the songs and legends of his country during his service as Secretary of the Royal Bohemian Museum and Keeper of the Archives at Prague. In his version, unlike the German, the Spectre and his Bride make their grewsome journey on foot. The _denouement_ in the churchyard differs also, as the maiden is saved by an appeal to the Virgin. In the opening scene she is represented gazing at a picture of the Virgin, mourning the death of her parents and the absence of her lover, who has failed to keep his promise to return. His parting words were:--

"Sow flax, my love, I counsel thee, And every day remember me.

Spin in the first year, spin with care, Bleach in the next the fabric fair; Then garments make, when the years are three, And every day remember me.

Twine I that year a wreath for thee; We two that year shall wedded be."

She has faithfully followed the counsel. The three years have expired, but still no tidings have come. As she appeals to the Virgin to bring him back, the picture moves, the flame of the lamp upleaps, there is an ominous knock at the door, and the voice of the apparition is heard urging her to cease praying and follow him to his home. She implores him to wait until the night is past, but the importunate Spectre bids her go with him, and she consents. On they speed over rough bowlders, through th.o.r.n.y brakes and swamps, attended by the baying of wolves, the screeching of owls, the croaking of frogs, and the fitful glow of corpse-candles. One by one he compels her to throw away her prayer-book, chaplet, and cross, and resisting all her appeals to stop and rest, at last they reach the churchyard wall. He calms her fears with the a.s.surance that the church is his castle and the yard his garden, and bids her leap the wall with him. She promises to follow him, but after he has cleared it, sudden fear seizes her; she flies to a tiny house near by and enters. A ghastly scene takes place; spectres are dancing before the door, and the moonlight reveals to her a corpse lying upon a plank. As she gazes, horror-stricken, a knock is heard, and a voice bids the dead arise and thrust the living one out. Thrice the summons is repeated, and then as the corpse opens its eyes and glares upon her, she prays once more to the Virgin. At this instant the crowing of a c.o.c.k is heard. The dead man falls back, the ghastly, spectral crew disappear, and night gives way to a peaceful morning.

"All who to Ma.s.s at morning went Stood still in great astonishment; One tomb there was to ruin gone, And in the dead-house a maiden wan; On looking round, amazed were they, On every grave a garment lay.

"Well was it, maiden, that thy mind Turned unto G.o.d, defence to find, For He thy foes did harmless bind; Had'st thou thyself, too, nothing done, Ill with thy soul it then had gone; Thy body, as the garments were, Mangled had been, and scattered there."

Such is the horrible story which forms the theme of Dvorak's cantata. It was written for the Birmingham Festival of 1884, and the text was translated by the Rev. Dr. Troutbeck, from a German translation of the original poem made by K. J. Muller. It contains eighteen numbers, each of considerable length, of which eleven are descriptive, the barytone, with chorus response, acting the part of the narrator, and accompanied by instrumentation which vividly paints the horrors of the nocturnal tramp, even to the realistic extent of imitating the various sounds described.

It is unnecessary to specify each of these numbers in detail, as they are all closely allied in color and general effect. The music which accompanies them is picturesque and weird, increasing in its power and actual supernaturalism until it reaches its climax in the dead-house where the maiden takes refuge; and in these numbers the orchestra bears the burden of the work. The remaining numbers are almost magical in their beauty and fascination, particularly the first song of the maiden, lamenting her lover, and closing with the prayer to the Virgin, which is thoroughly devotional music, and the second prayer, which saves her from her peril. There are four duets, soprano and tenor, between the Bride and Spectre, and one with chorus, in which are recounted the episodes of the chaplet, prayer-book, and cross, besides the hurried dialogue between them as he urges her on. These, too, abound in quaint rhythms and strange harmonies set against a highly-colored instrumental background. The story is not a pleasant one for musical treatment,--at least for voices,--and the prevailing tone of the composition is sombre; but of the wonderful power of the music and its strange fascination there can be no doubt.

FOOTE.

Arthur Foote, a rising young composer of Boston, whose works have already made more than a local reputation, was born at Salem, Ma.s.s., March 5, 1853. While at Harvard College he studied composition with Prof. J. K.

Paine, and after graduation determined to devote himself to the musical profession. He studied the piano-forte and organ with Mr. B. J. Lang of Boston, and soon made his mark as a musician of more than ordinary promise. Among his published works which have attracted favorable attention are various songs and piano compositions; pieces for violin and piano, violoncello and piano; a string quartet; trio for piano, violin, and violoncello; and "Hiawatha," a ballad for male voices and orchestra.

A suite for strings, in ma.n.u.script, has obtained the honor of performance at the London symphony concerts (January, 1887), and an overture, "In the Mountains," also in ma.n.u.script, was played by the Boston Symphony Orchestra in February, 1887. He is now living in Boston, where he is engaged in teaching the piano and organ.

Hiawatha.

"The Farewell of Hiawatha," for barytone solo, male voices, and orchestra, modestly styled by its composer a ballad, is a cantata in its lighter form. Its subject is taken from Longfellow's familiar poem, and includes the beautiful close of the legend beginning with the stanza:--

"From his place rose Hiawatha, Bade farewell to old Nokomis, Spake in whispers, spake in this wise, Did not wake the guests, that slumbered."

The composer has made use of the remainder of the poem without change, except in repet.i.tions demanded by musical necessity and in the omission of the seven lines immediately preceding the final words of farewell, which does not mar the context. A short orchestral introduction, _andante con moto_, followed by a chorus of tenors and ba.s.ses in a few bars, recitative in form and sung pianissimo, lead to a barytone solo for Hiawatha ("I am going, O Nokomis") of a quiet and tender character. A graceful phrase for the violoncello introduces another choral morceau relating Hiawatha's farewell to the warriors ("I am going, O my People") a melodious combination of sweetness and strength, though it only rises to a display of energy in the single phrase, "The Master of Life has sent them," after which it closes quietly, and tenderly, in keeping with the sentiment of the text. The remainder of the work is choral. The westward sail of Hiawatha into the "fiery sunset," "the purple vapors," and "the dusk of evening" is set to a very picturesque accompaniment, which dies away in soft strains as he disappears in the distance. An allegro movement with a crescendo of great energy introduces the farewell of "the forests dark and lonely," moving "through all their depths of darkness,"

of the waves "rippling on the pebbles," and of "the heron, the Shuh-shuh-gah, from her haunts among the fen-lands." The last division of the chorus is an allegro, beginning pianissimo and closing with an exultant outburst:--

"Thus departed Hiawatha, Hiawatha the Beloved, In the glory of the sunset, In the purple mists of evening, To the regions of the home-wind, Of the Northwest wind Keewaydin, To the Islands of the Blessed, To the kingdom of Ponemah, To the land of the Hereafter!"

The work, which was written for the Apollo Club of Boston, is not a long one, nor is it at all ambitious in style. The composer has evidently tried to reflect the quiet and tender sentiment of the farewell in his music, and has admirably succeeded. Poetic beauty is its most striking feature, both in the instrumental parts, which are well sustained, and in the vocal, which are earnest, expressive, and at times very pathetic, of this pretty tone-picture.

GADE.

Niels W. Gade was born at Copenhagen, Oct. 22, 1817. His father was a musical-instrument maker and intrusted his early education to the Danish masters Wershall, Berggren, and Weyse. He made such good progress that he soon entered the royal orchestra of that city as a violinist and began to be known as a composer. His first important work, the overture "Nachklange von Ossian," obtained a prize from the Copenhagen Musical Union and also secured for him the favor of the King, who provided him with the means for making a foreign journey. Prior to starting he sent a copy of a symphony to Mendelssohn, which met with the latter's enthusiastic approval. He arrived at Leipsic in 1843, and after producing his first symphony with success, travelled through Italy, returning to Leipsic in 1844, where during the winter of that year he conducted the Gewandhaus concerts in the place of Mendelssohn, who was absent in Berlin. In the season of 1845-46 he a.s.sisted Mendelssohn in the same concerts, and after the latter's death became the princ.i.p.al director, a post which he held until 1848, when he returned to Copenhagen and took a position as organist, and also conducted the concerts of the Musical Union. In 1861 he was appointed Hofcapellmeister, and was honored with the t.i.tle of Professor of Music. Since that time he has devoted himself to composition, and has produced many excellent works, especially for festivals in England and elsewhere. Among them are the cantatas "Comala,"