Essentials in Music History

BY

THOMAS TAPPER

LECTURER AT NEW YORK UNIVERSITY AND AT THE INSTITUTE OF
MUSICAL ART, OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK

PERCY GOETSCHIUS

INSTRUCTOR AT THE INSTITUTE OF MUSICAL ART, OF THE
CITY OF NEW YORK

This Digital Edition by Jonathan Kulp

NEW YORK:

CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

1917

Copyright, 1914, By CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS

Printed in the U. S. A.

To

FRANZ KNEISEL

PREFACE.

The object of this work is to present, as the title states, the essential facts in the history of music. To the text, which aims to accomplish this, illustrations have been added that are intimately related to the subject-matter of the chapters in which they appear.

It is hoped that the book will appeal to the music-lover as a simple and naturally consecutive recital of the growth of the art of music as one distinct manifestation of the development of human thought. But it is also intended that the volume shall interest and benefit the student. For the purposes of individual or classroom instruction the book will be found to provide sufficient material for one year’s work. When time and opportunity permit of collateral reading and research, suitable texts may be selected from the lists given in Chapter XLII (page 329 et seq.)

A bibliography of the subject of music history and its collaterals (aesthetics, biography, and criticism) will be found in Chapter XLII. This list of titles constitutes a practical basis for the formation of a private or school library. For the excellence of this list, and the privilege of including it in this volume, the authors are indebted to Mr. Frank H. Marling, of New York City.

In Chapter XLIII there will be found selected examination papers in music history set by various schools and colleges. These will provide the student with the best evidence as to the requirements in such tests. They may also be taken as models for the preparation of original examination papers.

In the preparation of this work the authors have enjoyed access to authoritative sources in English, French, and German, and are particularly indebted to the following authorities:

Geschichte der Musik of A. W. Ambros, A. von Dommer, Franz Brendel, Emil Naumann, August Reissmann. John Hawkins, General History of Music. Charles Burney, General History of Music. W. J. von Wasielewski, Geschichte der Instrumentalmusik im 16. Jahrhundert. F. J. Fétis, Biographie universelle des musiciens. Gustav Schilling, Universal Lexicon der Tonkunst. Carl Engel, Music of the Most Ancient Nations and Musical Instruments. Sir George Grove, Dictionary of Music and Musicians. Oscar Bie, Das Klavier und sein Meister. J. B. Weckerlin, Les Chansons populaires du pays de France. Dr. A. Möhler, Geschichte der alten und mittelalterischen Musik. Hermann Ritter, Allgemeine Encyklopädie der Musik Geschichte.

New York,

September, 1914.

ESSENTIALS IN MUSIC HISTORY

CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION

Of the practice of music before the dawn of civilisation we know nothing. Of its practice by primitive peoples of to-day we have the records and observations of travellers and explorers; these, while of interest from the ethnological point of view, are totally without value in their bearing upon what the critic and music lover recognise as music. Neither the ancient nations nor existing primitive tribes have contributed anything to the art of music, as we practise it, that is in the slightest degree significant.

The history of music, then, must deal primarily with what we recognise as its artistic product. Of this product we have the exact written and printed record in music itself, extending back only a few hundred years. All attempts at presenting the music of ancient nations in our present-day notation are pure conjecture. From the theoretical treatises that have come down to us, some of them amazingly elaborate and detailed, it is impossible to determine what tone successions and combinations “fell with delight upon the ear.” In the Bible, in Plato’s Republic, in the Anabasis of Xenophon, music is referred to in terms that indicate how important a part it must have played in daily life. But the tones which Jubal produced from the “organ,” the “ancient songs” that the Greek children sang in school, the martial strains that cheered the Ten Thousand, the songs of the sailors of the Ægean Sea are gone for ever. What we do know of music in ancient times is that it was given an honoured place both in domestic and ceremonial life, but of the music itself not the faintest echo can reach us.

It may be surmised that the first vague expressions of musical impulse were the vocal utterances of elementary emotional states that have existed from the beginning of human life on the earth. These utterances were not what we should now accept as music; they were differentiated but little, if at all, from the tones of birds and animals. It was not until human self-consciousness was considerably developed that these utterances began to proceed from an inner emotional impulse and became to some extent the more or less appropriate reflection of a definite phase of conscious feeling—of an intelligence capable of defining the necessary structural co-ordination and refinement of detail.

It may be safely assumed that none of the so-called music of ancient and of primitive races was elevated very far above the purely physical or animal utterance. However, we cannot believe that the ancient Egyptians, Chinese, Hindus, Israelites, and Greeks were indifferent to music. They regarded it with great interest and apparently held it in veneration. They wrote many treatises about it; each nation developed a theory of music quite different from that of the others, and some of these theories are surprisingly profound and thorough. But despite any evidence we can find to the contrary they were lifeless theories which, apparently, were not and could not be put to practical use.

Of the three fundamentals of music, melody, rhythm, and harmony, the ancient and primitive peoples undoubtedly attached far the greatest importance to rhythm. Their melodies were almost certainly artificial and devoid of what we recognise as true musical feeling. Of harmony there is nowhere among any of the records of the ancient nations the slightest trace; and undoubtedly for the reason that harmony is that element of music which can be born of nothing less than a conscious and definite apprehension of tone relationship, not alone in a mathematical but essentially in an emotional sense.

The sometimes too credulous and enthusiastic interpretations of these ancient writings on music must, therefore, be viewed with caution and accepted with considerable reserve. Up to the beginning of the Christian era there exists no positive evidence of any, even the most primitive, systems of tone combination. The melodies that may have existed were not recorded in a form that admits of reproduction, and no one now knows how they sounded. Judging from the subtle conditions which regulate our modern melody and from the attitude and actual musical attainment of the overwhelming majority of music listeners even in our enlightened age, it must be concluded that these ancient melodies could have been no more than fragments of tone succession, with no more inherent evidence of tone sense than might be expected of the rudest natural instinct.

From the “National Geographic Magazine,” Washington, D. C. Copyrighted 1912.

NEGRITE PLAYING A NOSE FLUTE

Rhythm was probably the most completely systematised element in ancient music; for the rhythmic sense is not only aroused by the movements of the body but is inherent in the vital mechanism of the body itself. Rhythm is a physiological fact to which the primitive mind must respond, by nature and necessity, more quickly than to any other less material impulse. Hence the well-nigh universal practice of the dance either as spontaneous expression of pleasure or as an integral part of ceremonial performance. The probably rational, regular, and varied rhythmic forms found ready expression upon the drums and other instruments of percussion which apparently abounded among ancient peoples, and most prominently among those known to have been the least emotional. The profusion of musical instruments, both wind and string, which might bias our correct judgment of the musical culture of the older nations, is more than likely but one further proof of the essentially inartistic nature of their music; for the direct and fundamental expression of real feeling is vocal. It is not until the emotional impulse has passed that we turn to the less direct and more mechanical reproduction upon an instrument, of that which is vocally expressed. Instrumental utterance is opposed to vocal, precisely as physical manifestations are consequent upon emotional states, and the nations which in early days possessed the largest inventory of musical instruments were probably the ones which had the crudest and most elementary perception of music as a truly emotional vehicle.

Further, the undoubted existence of a well-developed and, in its way, logical music theory, the volumes of essays and treatises upon music, such as are found among ancient peoples, are not conclusive evidence that real music, in any artistic sense, actually existed. They do prove, however, the universal susceptibility of the human mind and soul to the mysterious power of music. These ancient peoples felt the influence of tone without really knowing much that was vital about it, just as one may feel electricity without possessing the remotest knowledge of what it is, and yet be able to write voluminously about the sensations and conjectures it stimulates.

Copyrighted by Underwood & Underwood.

PRIMITIVE MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS
(central AFRICA)

Hence, it is more than likely that music as the art of tone combination, based upon the natural laws of tone relation, was totally unknown to any one of the ancient races before the Christian era; that their musical practices were at first but little different from purely elementary emotional utterance, and even when advanced and systematised were still crude in the extreme; and that possibly the best, most natural, and instinctively musical expressions were those of the Egyptian, Indian, Greek, or Hebrew toiler who could not help lightening his task—just as the unsophisticated toiler of the present age does—by some sort of vocal expression that may have been akin to song and which may have crystallised into recognisable forms, repeated and handed down as possible types of the melodies which were used in the services of the early Christian church.

From the fact that many of the ancient nations ascribe the invention of music to a god are we made aware of its great antiquity. Its origin is thus accounted for in many mythologies. The scientists, turning from these reverential and poetic attempts at explaining the remote and uncertain, have disposed of the question in ways widely at variance with one another.

The naturalist Charles Darwin presented the hypothesis that both melody (tones) and rhythm (movement) were first acquired by the male progenitors of the race for the sole purpose of attracting the opposite sex.*Herbert Spencer has advanced the theory that “song employs and exaggerates the natural language of the emotions,” that “vocal music, and by consequence all music, is an idealisation of the natural language of passion.”

Richard Wallaschek, whose Primitive Music is a most noteworthy contribution, advances this opinion: “It is with music as with language; however far we might descend in the order of primitive people, we should probably find no race which did not exhibit at least some trace of musical aptitude and sufficient understanding to turn it to account.”†

* Charles Darwin, Descent of Man, vol. II, chap. 19.

† Primitive Music, chap. I.

CHAPTER II
MUSIC OF THE CHINESE, HINDUS, AND EGYPTIANS

Far from treating music with indifference, the ancient Chinese regarded it as worthy of scientific observation and study. They wrote many treatises on the subject, the oldest of which appeared in the eleventh century B. C. Such historic records as we possess indicate that their conception and practice of music were dull and lifeless. They seem never to have discovered its artistic and emotional possibilities, even as contained within their fairly definite scale form. This scale—pentatonic, or five-toned—was without the minor second interval and may have resembled somewhat the modern Scotch scale.*

* The tone succession was probably this:

Subsequently this scale of five tones was extended to seven and embraced a compass of two octaves.

The musical traditions of the Chinese and their principal applications of the art were associated with religion and a curiously ponderous symbolism. The following tone succession, which is said still to be sung annually in the temple in honour of the departed, is one of the oldest known melodies:

It will be observed that this melody is based upon the five-tone scale. The slurs are here added to indicate the regular and metrical structure, which is noteworthy; so, too, is the key-note instinct; the prevailing tone at beginning, middle, and end being F. Despite these evidences of something akin to genuine musical instinct, the melody is clumsy and untuneful.

THE CHINESE TSCHENG (CHENG)

THE CHINESE GONG, OR TAMTAM

There exists nowhere in Chinese music the slightest trace of tone combination in a harmonious sense. They have always used a large number and variety of instruments; most of them, however, in keeping with their primitive conception of sound, were noisy instruments of percussion, whose chief office it was to mark the rhythm. Their principal instruments are the gong, or tamtam, the king, the tscheng, and the ch’in (or kin).

THE CHINESE KING

Sharply contrasted with Chinese musical practice was, and is, the musical life of the Hindustani. The Hindus put the same mysterious and poetic construction upon music that pervades their entire thought and civilisation. At the present day Hindu music displays a noteworthy quality of theoretic and practical development, but there is no proof that this was the case in ancient times. Music appears to have been always greatly prized and extensively employed, and not exclusively in connection with religious customs but also in public and private life.

CHINESE CH’IN, OR KIN

Hindu musical theory was extremely extensive and thorough. The Hindus based their practice upon a succession of seven tones, which is singularly like our modern major scale. To these seven tones they gave melodious names, which were abbreviated in singing to the first syllable, resulting in the following series:

Sa, Ri, Ga, Ma, Pa, Dha, Ni (Sa).

This significant analogy with the modern system of Guidonian (and subsequent) syllables—Do, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La, Ti (Do) (see Chapter VI)—and the coincidence of the Hindu scale with our scientifically established major scale seem chiefly to vindicate the unity of human thought when guided by true, natural instinct.

A BENGALEE GIRLS’ BAND AT SCHOOL
(they are playing the VINA, AN INSTRUMENT OF GREAT ANTIQUITY)

The seven-tone Hindu scale was divided into twenty-two so-called struti, or quarter-tones. But, as there should be twenty-four quarter-tones within the octave, their theory betrays a palpable error, which must be, and doubtless is, corrected in practice.

Very numerous examples of Hindu melody have been collected and noted down, chiefly by English explorers. That many of them should exhibit musical charm and natural melodious expression may be due to the fact that they are of recent date and have been influenced to some extent by modern European musical culture. There is no proof that they possess great antiquity. The rhythmic structure is interesting and natural and the forms are symmetrical.

THE VINA

The melodies are transmitted orally from teacher to scholar, and thus their preservation depends chiefly upon memory and tradition. Nevertheless, the Hindus use a primitive sort of musical notation by letters, declared by the distinguished historian Fétis to be the oldest in existence. Five tones of the scale are designated by the consonants which appear in their names and the other two by the short vowels a and i; long vowels denote double time-values; and all other directions are given, partly by a number of curved lines and partly by adjoined words.

THE SERINDA

The musical instruments of the Hindus were not numerous, but appear to have been (or, at least, are at the present day) possessed of genuine musical quality and ingenious mechanism. The two most characteristic instruments are the vina and the serinda. The vina is a cylindrical tube three to four feet in length; the resonance is produced by two hollow gourds attached, one at each end, on the under side. The strings are plucked (as in playing the modern banjo) with a sort of metal thimble. The tone is clear, resonant, and agreeable. The serinda is much like our violin; it has three strings and is played with a bow. Great antiquity is ascribed to it, so that it may be regarded as the oldest progenitor of our group of violins.

THE MUSIC OF A FUNERAL (from a tomb at tuebes)

The music of the Egyptians is believed to be of great antiquity. Of its character in ancient times nothing is known; but the conjecture, based upon the numerous instruments they possessed, seems reasonable that their practice of music was extremely extensive. The multitude of pictures on the walls of Egyptian tombs afford an insight into the life, religious and private, of the people, and everywhere proofs abound of the degree and manner of their musical occupations. There we find depicted harps of all shapes and sizes, numerous varieties of lyres and of single and double flutes. These instruments are manipulated in many instances by large bodies of musicians, while singers of both sexes stand near. Music accompanied almost every religious and social function: the sacrifice, the dance, the dirge, and the festival. Most prominent among their instruments is, everywhere, the harp, to which they gave the melodious name tebuni. The Greeks ascribe the invention of the flute to the Egyptians.

HARP-PLAYER
(MEMPHIS)

SMALL EGYPTIAN HARP

DOUBLE-PIPE, RHYTHMICAL ACCOMPANIMENT OF THE HANDS,
THE HARP, AND TWO TAMBOURAS

Egyptian music was, doubtlessly, of the same primitive, crude character as that of other ancient nations. Sir Edward William Lane collected a number of Egyptian melodies in 1836, claimed by them to be of extremely remote origin, but they afford no reliable clew to the character of early Egyptian music. The melodies are based upon a tetrachord, or four-tone scale—the same primitive series which, constituting the basis of all Greek musical theory and practice, found its way into the subsequent systems of early European musical scholars.

The rhythmic formation of these (modern) Egyptian tunes is very regular and interesting, though simple. This, however, is no proof of similar perfection of their ancient forms, for the influence of European music cannot have failed to reach these, as it has all other semi-civilised races. Here, again, not the remotest reference to or indication of a harmonic system can be found. And no system of notation was ever known to them or used by them.

HARP OF THIRTEEN STRINGS

The Egyptians possessed many forms of musical instruments; among them the double pipe, the tamboura, the crotola, and a great variety of harps.

DANCING TO THE CROTOLA

CHAPTER III
MUSIC OF THE ISRAELITES AND ISLAMITES

Because of their relation to the Christian religion our interest and sympathy are more intimately aroused and deeply touched by the history of the ancient Hebrews than by that of any contemporaneous race. And, therefore, is our curiosity greater and the disposition to attach unusual importance to their music stronger than that impelled by the historic accounts of music among other nations of antiquity.

It is generally assumed that in former times music attained a comparatively high degree of significance and perfection among the children of Israel. In probable consequence of this it had a very direct bearing upon the music of the early Christian church, quite as important, in fact, as that which was exerted by the well-preserved musical theory of the Greeks, if, indeed, not more so. Both Hebrew poetry and Hebrew music seem to have served from the beginning no other purpose whatever than to extol Jehovah and to proclaim and emphasise divine ideas and ideals. The Old Testament abounds in passages which refer not only to the office of music as employed in the temple service and on other festival occasions, but they indicate in detail the manner of its treatment and the instruments to be employed. Many instances attest this: Miriam’s Song of Triumph; the welcome of King Saul with the sound of psalters and tabret, lute, and cyther; and the ovation to David upon his return from the overthrow of the Philistines.

While in other countries at this early period music was chiefly a secular amusement, it expressed in Israel the impulse to higher and truer development in the service of a fervent religious belief. Most conspicuous among the historic names in early Jewish history is that of David. He it was who founded the temple music, confirmed the privileges of the Levites, and conferred definite authority upon the musical divisions of the tribe. Himself an ardent lover of music, he seldom appears in Bible narrative to act or speak without the accompaniment of music in some form—either he performs upon the harp himself or he directs the musical practices of his followers.

THE SISTRUM

CYMBALS

THE PSALTERY

Of the nature of ancient Hebrew melody no definite conception can be formed, but it is safe to conjecture that, from its uses and associations, it must have been solemn and dignified of character, possibly something akin to the monotonous chant, within narrow compass, established by Pope Gregory in the early service of the Christian church. The religious chants must certainly have evinced less rhythmic vitality than were native to their festival, secular, and martial melodies. These must have been more vigorous and rhythmically diversified. Of harmony there is, even among so significant a people, not the remotest evidence.

The Hebrew mode of singing in the temple and synagogue was probably antiphonal or alternating, either between priest and congregation, or precentor and choir, or between groups of singers. This is implied by many passages in scriptural poetry, especially in the Psalms. For instance, in the thirty-eighth Psalm, which consists wholly of responsive lines, we find this example of antiphonal worship:

Priest. —“O Lord, rebuke me not in Thy wrath,”
Congregation. —“Neither chasten me in Thy hot displeasure;”
Priest. —“For Thine arrows stick fast in me,”
Congregation. —“And Thy hand presseth me sore.”

The Hebrew form of scale was, no doubt, one of four tones, the tetrachord, which seems to have been universal in ancient times. A melodic fragment like the following, still used in the synagogue and declared to be of extreme antiquity, indicates the application of the tetrachord:

Some historians have surmised that the tones to be used with a line of text were indicated by the accents of Hebrew script. Whether this conjecture be true or not, there is no evidence of any other method of notation.

While Hebrew instruments were very numerous, they were primitive and imperfect. In the one hundred and fiftieth Psalm (3–6), nearly the whole “orchestra” is enumerated:

3. Praise Him with the sound of the trumpet: praise Him with the psaltery and harp.

4. Praise Him with the timbrel and dance: praise Him with stringed instruments and organs.

5. Praise Him upon the loud cymbals: praise Him upon the high-sounding cymbals.

6. Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord.

The most important instrument was the shophar or ram’s horn: “The shophar is especially remarkable as being the only Hebrew instrument which has been preserved to the present day in the religious services of the Jews. It is still blown, as in time of old, at the Jewish New Year’s festival, according to the command of Moses.” *

THE SHOPHAR, OR RAM’S HORN

HEBREW COINS SHOWING THE LYRE

* Carl Engel, The Music of the Most Ancient Nations.

In Arabia and Persia music was, and is, employed in a totally different manner from that prevalent among the ancient Hebrews. The love of the Islamites for music, and their natural gifts, are very remarkable and, presumably, always have been. But the history of their music is of comparatively recent date and presents, for that reason, pronounced artistic traits suggestive of a more modern culture that can only have been modelled after and influenced by the refined European condition of the musical art.

The musical theory of the Islamites is one of astonishing logical exactness, elaborateness, and thoroughness. It seems to lack nothing but that correct natural premise which, secured and adopted by the thoughtful musical scholars of the Christian church in the Middle Ages, was destined to develop with scientific certainty into the perfected art of our day. But the basis of Islamitic musical theory was too vague and imaginative for such evolution. Though closely allied to nature in a poetic sense, it was not so in the practical application which they made of it.

The musical practice of the Islamites was not associated with religion, as among the Jews, but was explicitly prohibited by Mohammed as a dangerous enemy and rival of holiness. In consequence, the tones of the voice and of the lute, which survived or defied this prohibition, found refuge and welcome with the nomadic Bedouins in the lonely retreats of the desert and there throve under the strong natural impulses of these wild singers and players.

AN ORIENTAL LUTE

The basis of their theory was a scale of seven tones, corresponding to the modern major scale in all but the last (highest) interval, which was a whole step instead of a half step, like, for example, the D major scale with C natural instead of C sharp. This tone range was divided into seventeen parts, each whole step representing three while the two half steps remained undivided. Scientific musicians are compelled to admit that this produces a scale form of greater richness and, in some respects, of greater acoustic accuracy than even our modern modes. But the Arabs contented themselves with the mere mathematical speculation possible within the tone group and have made no truly artistic use of it.

The tone-thirds create the impression of dragging the voice, possibly a trifle less vaguely than the struti of the Hindus. This marked peculiarity of Oriental singing and playing is also found in southern Europe, modern Greece, Naples, and Andalusia. Arab rhythms are for the most part vague and monotonous, but in many instances singularly free, energetic, and effective.

Arabian melodies, however, possess very positive charm; those in use at the present time, of which some may be fairly old, are quaint, romantic, tuneful, symmetrical in structure, rhythmically natural and interesting, and to some extent positively beautiful.

The tunes of the Turks are far less perfect and refined; they are sensual, revel in indistinct, blurred tones and vague phrases, are often singularly wild and indefinable, and adorned, even overloaded, with a profusion of fantastic coloratures and ostensible embellishments.

The most significant point of contact, however, between the music of these races and the art of to-day rests in the instruments which they used and, probably, to a large extent invented. In this connection, their relation to the modern orchestra and their influence upon it is extremely important. Our lutes, mandolins, and guitars; our oboes, kettle-drums and snare-drums, are all of direct Arabian origin; and, although the violin traces its development partly from northern Europe and Hindustan, it is, nevertheless, true that the adoption of the Arabian rebec by the troubadours contributed most largely to the cultivation and spread of this important instrument. The Arabian rebec, called originally rebab or rabab, is a kind of viola which found its way into Europe as early as the eighth or ninth century. The Crusaders brought it from the Orient in the twelfth century. That this instrument persisted in Europe is shown by the accompanying illustration of a French rebec of the sixteenth century.

FRENCH REBEC
(SIXTEENTH CENTURY)

The chief instrument of the Arabs is the lute, called by them el’eud or el’aoud (meaning “wood of the aloe”), whence the Spanish derivative laudo. The important family of wood rebec instruments, popular in European bands in the sixteenth century under the name pommer or bombard, is practically identical with the Arabian zamar. Our present oboe is the equivalent of the discant (smallest) pommer; the bassoon is the bass pommer.

No other Oriental race has evinced so marked a predilection for instrumental music as the Arabs. Their wealth of instruments is well-nigh fabulous, numbering no fewer than one hundred and thirty varieties, not including a large number of brass and percussion instruments and thirty others mentioned in their writings but unknown to us.

CHAPTER IV
MUSIC OF THE GREEKS AND ROMANS

For many and obvious reasons, the music of the ancient Greeks has always been regarded by historians with far greater interest than that accorded to any other contemporaneous nation. The undisputed supremacy of their culture in literature, sculpture, architecture, and the sciences made the scholars of subsequent ages eager to draw upon the stores of Greek learning. Their profound musical theories have repeatedly been reverted to by the pioneers of musical art and science during the Christian era, even as late as the fifteenth century, as presumably the most trustworthy basis and guide to further development. And while this has proved, on the whole, to be a fallacy (because Greek theories of music were, after all, but little if any more correct than those of other ancient races), it is, nevertheless, true that many of their basic principles did survive to influence the subsequent organisation of the true art-material, probably because of the inevitable coincidence of natural instinct, to some fundamental extent in all ages. Thus we discover a close relation between our modern scale and the tetrachord system of the Greeks; and many musical terms have descended to us from Greek theory, either directly or by way of their Latin equivalents.

In Greece we find, for the first time in history, music treated as an object of beauty and of artistic potentiality in itself. With this people it was used not merely to regulate the dance, to enliven the festival, or to solemnise the sacrifice; nor was it regarded alone as a medium of personal expression, but as a thing of abstract beauty in itself, a fruitful subject for philosophical and mathematical speculation. From the Greeks we have the name: Mus-ik, the art of the muses.*

* With the Greeks, “music was never dissociated from poetry, and hence, in later times, mental education broke up into two parts: music proper and letters. These might be regarded either as arts or sciences. As arts, they were used to purify the soul; as sciences, to instruct or enlighten it.”—Thomas Davidson, The History of Education, p. 94.

But the Hellenic mind ran to plastic forms, and therefore, with all their marvellous artistic endowment, the Greeks were not able to comprehend the true mission of music, the wholly unplastic art, nor to contribute to its development in the proper direction.

MUSIC AT THE PANATHENÆAN FESTIVAL

Still, the reverence and love for music displayed by the Greeks were great. The art pervaded their lives, mythical and material. Apollo led the muses with his symbolic lyre. With him was Dionysus, the god of loud, rushing music; then came demigods, human heroes, and mighty epic poets: Orpheus, who subdued the demons of the underworld; Thamyris, who boldly challenged the muses to a contest; Linos, Hymenaeus, and Homer. And so on, to the humbler shepherds, reapers, and workers of fields and vineyards, who lightened their labour with strains that were doubtless a truer expression of human feeling than anything that could be suggested by the complex and highly developed theories of greater minds.

The first important musical authority in Greek history was Terpander (c. 680 B. C.), to whom improvement of the lyre and the duplication of the tetrachord are ascribed.Pythagoras (c. 540 B. C.) was probably the first to apply mathematics to music and to establish the basis of the first musical system. For this reason Pythagoras and his followers were known as canonists, as they thus determined all music practice and theory by “rule.” Pythagoras was followed, about two centuries later, by Aristoxenos (b. 354 B. C), a man of more imaginative and progressive disposition, who advanced the natural but reasonable suggestion that the ear (the personal judge) and not the rule, or intellectual critic, should be the sole guide. He and his school were, therefore, known as harmonists.

A MUSIC LESSON

The hypothesis of Pythagoras was: “All is number and concord. Numbers direct and maintain the harmony of the universe. Numbers form also the foundation of musical effects. What we hear in the vibration of a string in motion is a number; in music, numbers become resonant; numbers determine the pitch of tones and their interval relations to one another.”

The less mathematical and more philosophical Aristoxenos says: “The soul is the tension of the body; and, as with stretched strings in harmony and song, so various vibrations, according to the nature and shape of the body, are produced, like unto musical tones.”

Plato says of music: “It, like the other arts, should serve the common weal; it is false and reprehensible to declare that music exists for pleasure only…Music should inspire with love for what is good and pure…Bad music is more pernicious than any other evil.”

These utterances seem to indicate deep insight into the actual purposes and effects of music. But we must not forget that they may have had far greater poetical than practical significance, because that which they called music was a theory, of vaguely apprehended possibilities but not a practical fact—not in any sense that which modern music is, a vehicle of emotional expression.

The thorough and mathematically exact theory of Greek music was based wholly upon the tetrachord—a four-tone succession, in progressive pitches, always containing two whole-step, and one half-step, intervals. Of these tetrachords they distinguished three species, according to the location of the half step, at the bottom (Dorian), in the middle (Phrygian), or at the top (Lydian) of the row of tones. Thus:

These tetrachords were later duplicated, or, rather, interjoined, so that the seven-tone scale resulted. In the case of the Lydian mode, this corresponded exactly to the modern major scale excepting that it began with the fifth tone (dominant) instead of with the key-note. Thus:

The complete Greek scale ultimately consisted of four Dorian tetrachords extending from B in the bass to A above middle C. To this was added one tone (A) at the lower end, which was called the added tone. Each tetrachord had its specific name; so, too, had each separate tone, indicative partly of its position in its tetrachord and partly of its position on the lyre. Out of this extended scale group seven modes or octave systems were derived, varying simply in accordance with the starting-point chosen.

GREEK MUSICAL NOTATION

The Greeks distinguished different voice registers (topoi); a tonos, something apparently similar to our key, and determining transpositions from one mode to another; a diatonic, chromatic, and enharmonic genus. They made many other distinctions which, though often singularly vague and to all appearances purely theoretical, prove the earnestness with which they carried out their mathematical speculations. The Greek rhythmic systems were highly developed, chiefly, to be sure, in relation to Greek poetry, the prosodic measures of which were the universal basis of all subsequent forms.

Greek melodies were possibly somewhat more natural than those of other ancient races, but more than likely crude, lifeless, and wholly incapable of development. Of harmony, in the modern sense, they possessed not the remotest knowledge. Greek notation consisted entirely of letters.

GREEK CITHARA

GREEK LYRE

The manner of singing was almost certainly a compromise between speech and song, a sort of recitative. The poet may have struck a few introductory notes upon his lyre or cithara before beginning his declamation. He may have accentuated certain syllables, may possibly have ventured an occasional embellishment, and, no doubt, carried the voice up or down in keeping with the dramatic inflections of the epic, along the line of the adopted tetrachord or modus.

The chorus, which plays so important a part in Greek tragedy, consisted of male singers. They were directed by a leader, called koryphæus, who used, instead of a conductor’s baton, clattering shoes and marked the time by walking about.

Compared with the great number of instruments used by the Egyptians and Hebrews, those of Greece appear almost insignificant. Their whole store is summed up in two instruments: the lyre (and related cithara) and the flute (single and double).

Many passages in the works of Greek writers attest the manner and method by which music was performed. Thus we read Odyssey, book I):

Now when the wooers had put from them the desire of meat and drink, they minded them of other things, even of the song and dance: for these are the crown of the feast.

And a henchman placed a beauteous lyre in the hands of him who was minstrel to the wooers despite his will. Yea, and as he touched the lyre he lifted up his voice in sweet song.

Again Odyssey, book IV):

And among them a divine minstrel was singing to a lyre, and as he began the song two tumblers in the company whirled through their midst.

Throughout the Anabasis martial music and music of the dance are frequently mentioned.

And when the trumpeters gave the signal, they presented arms and advanced. (Book I, chap. II.)

As the sacrifices appeared favourable, all the soldiers sang the pæan and raised a shout. (Book IV, chap. III.)

In the sixth book of the Anabasis the following description of a dance with music is given:

As soon as the libations were over, and they had sung the pæan, two Thracians rose up, and danced in full armour, to the sound of a pipe; they leaped very high, and with great agility, and wielded their swords; and at last one struck the other, in such a manner that every one thought he had killed him (he fell, however, artfully), and the Paphlagonians cried out; the other, having despoiled him of his arms, went out singing the Sitalces; while other Thracians carried off the man as if he had been dead; though indeed he had suffered no hurt. Afterward some Ænians and Magnesians stood up, and danced what they call the Carpæan dance, in heavy arms. The nature of the dance was as follows: one man having laid aside his arms, sows, and drives a yoke of oxen, frequently turning to look back as if he were afraid. A robber then approaches, and the other man, when he perceives him, snatches up his arms and runs to meet him, and fights with him in defence of his yoke of oxen (and the men acted all this keeping time to the pipe); but at last the robber, binding the other man, leads him off with his oxen. Sometimes, however, the ploughman binds the robber, and then, having fastened him to his oxen, drives him off with his hands tied behind him.

Next came forward a Mysian, with a light shield in each hand, and danced, sometimes acting as if two adversaries were attacking him; sometimes he used his shields as if engaged with only one; sometimes he whirled about, and threw a somersault, still keeping the shields in his hands, presenting an interesting spectacle. At last he danced the Persian dance, clashing his shields together, sinking on his knees, and rising again; and all this he performed in time to the pipe.

After him some Mantineans, and others of the Arcadians, coming forward and taking their stand, armed as handsomely as they could equip themselves, moved along in time, accompanied by a pipe tuned for the war-movement, and sang the pæan, and danced in the same manner as in the processions to the gods. The Paphlagonians, looking on, testified their astonishment that all the dances were performed in armour. The Mysian, observing that they were surprised at the exhibition, and prevailing on one of the Arcadians, who had a female dancer, to let her come in, brought her forward, equipping her as handsomely as he could, and giving her a light buckler. She danced the Pyrrhic dance with great agility and a general clapping followed…This was the conclusion of the entertainment for that night.

When Xenophon had assured Seuthes of the friendship of himself and of his associates, “some people came in that played on horns, such as they make signals with, and trumpets made of raw ox-hides, blowing regular tunes, and as if they were playing on the magadis.”*

* Magadis, a pipe that gave forth a shrill, powerful tone.

ROMAN INSTRUMENTS

In Rome the purpose of music differed vastly from that pursued by the Greeks, and its character was defined accordingly. The Romans recognised in music neither a medium of emotional utterance nor an object of serious investigation, but chiefly an auxiliary of the dance and of their extravagant theatrical performances. It served no higher purposes and was limited to the voluptuous practices of a degenerate people.

ROMAN DRUMS and SIGNAL HORN

Their principal instrument was the flute, though they also possessed the lyre and cithara of the Greeks and used the straight metal tuba and the rounded buccina mainly in their wars or at imposing public festivals.

ROMAN FLUTES

Ovid, speaking from personal observation, calls song, cithara, and lyre enervating. Quintilian indignantly condemns the licentious music of his day. St. Jerome declares: “A Christian maiden should not know what a flute or a lyre is, or for what they are used.” But Epictetus, the philosopher, observed a fact about music that will probably remain true for all time:

“And the learning of a carpenter’s trade is very grievous to an untaught person who happens to be present, but the work done declares the need of the art. But far more is this seen in music, for if you are by where one is learning it will appear the most painful of all instructions; but that which is produced by the musical art is sweet and delightful to hear, even to those who are untaught in it.” *

* The Encheiridion of Epictetus, book I, chap. VI.

CHAPTER V
MUSIC OF THE EARLY CHRISTIAN CHURCH

The momentous religious awakening which ushered in the era of Christianity provided wholly new conditions, signally auspicious for the development of music. With the advent of spiritual ideals and impulses, the true power and mission of music became recognisable, and before long there evolved for the first time in human history the possibility of directing this power into its most significant channels. The regenerated soul, longing for a medium of expression for its new hopes and feelings, found no other form of utterance so peculiarly qualified as music for this spiritual experience.

The early Christian congregations were, therefore, impelled to sing, as well as to pray; and what they sang could scarcely have been altogether new, but was probably appropriated from the existing traditions of the Jewish church. The first Christian melodies were possibly such remnants of actual Hebrew chants as might have been preserved; or they were derived from other familiar sources unknown to the historian. The hymn sung by the Saviour and his disciples at the Last Supper, as recorded in the scriptures, must surely have been an old Hebrew melody. There is also evidence that Greece furnished melodic material for the early Christian church, especially for the Greek branch.

It is more than likely that the method of singing was antiphonal (responsive). Philo, a Jewish chronicler of the first century, is authority for the statement that the psalms and hymns were sung by alternate male and female choirs (among the Therapeutic, an Israelitic sect In Alexandria). At all events, some such mode of alternating song must have been the original type of the antiphonal chant which subsequently became so general in the Christian church. Both sexes joined in singing; but instruments of every kind were prohibited for a long time.

St. Ambrose (333–397 A. D.) is regarded as the founder of the music of the Catholic Church. The first attempts to organise and establish a system of musical service are identified with his name. St. Ambrose was a great lover of music and a hymn writer of such eminence that the term Ambrosian was applied to all hymns written in his characteristic prosodic measure, and even became a general synonym for all ecclesiastic hymns of that epoch.

O LUX BEATA (Hymn by St. Ambrose).

The Ambrosian chant or intonation was, no doubt, recitative in style; the rhythm was marked as in speaking, while the voice remained mostly upon one tone, excepting at the cadences (the end of the lines or verses), where either a rising or falling inflection was made. (Hence, cadence from cado, cadere, to fall.) There was yet no system of musical notation; the tones were indicated by letters only, as among the earlier Greeks.

From “L’Histoire du Bas-Empire,” tome II.
ST. AMBROSE

St. Ambrose classified his intonations according to the following four modes, borrowed, presumably, from the Greek theory; these are known as the Ambrosian ecclesiastic tones or authentic modes:

In the third of these modes the usual tone B gave a succession of three whole steps (the tritone), which was not permitted in a system based upon the tetrachord, in which, as in Greek theory, one of the intervals should be a half step. To remove this error the pitch of the tone B was lowered a half step when this tetrachord was used, and this change was indicated by altering the form of the letter from the usual square B (♮) to a round B (♭). The square ♮ denoted the “hard” melodic interval (the tone used in all other modes); the round b, the “softer” interval, now known as b-flat. These forms of the letter B are the forerunners of our modern ♮ and ♭.*

* Progressive forms of the flat in musical notation:

It must not be forgotten that at this time music was limited to melody alone. Harmony, or anything approaching the idea of independent parts, was still wholly unknown.

In course of time a more perfect system became desirable, and the efforts to bring this about seem to have centred next in Gregory, surnamed the Great (born about 540 A. D.; pope from 590 to 604), who is credited with having reformed and reorganised the liturgical and musical service of the Catholic Church. The music he established was called the Gregorian chant. All of the intonations belonging to his liturgy were noted (in letters only) in a book called the Antiphonary, which, bound by a chain to the altar of St. Peter’s church in Rome, was to remain an inviolable guide for the music of the Roman Church for all time. For this reason every chant it contained was known as a cantus firmus (fixed chant). The name cantus planus (plain chant) was given to some of them, that were sung in tones of uniform length.

The distinction between the Ambrosian and Gregorian manner of singing appears to have rested largely upon the rhythm, which, in the former, was apparently far more natural and animated, conforming to an unconstrained declamation of the text. The Gregorian chant, on the contrary, held less strictly to the natural rhythm of the words; the spondee metre (all long syllables) was held to be most consistent with the solemnity of sacred song and better adapted for the participation of a large unison choir. Further, the Gregorian chant was no longer strictly syllabic (a tone for each syllable); not only were two or more tones often sung to one syllable, but at times a whole melodic group accompanied a single vowel.

From the “Antiphonarium of St. Gregory” (Monastery of St. Gall, A. D. 790).

Gregory increased the number of modes to eight by adding four subordinate ones, known as plagal, to the four authentic modes of Ambrose. The plagal modes differed from the authentic only in that they proceeded from dominant to dominant (fifth step) instead of from key-note to key-note.* Thus:

* See Karl Eduard Schelle’s Die päpstliche Sängerschule in Rom (1872).

Besides notation in letters there was another system of which Gregory, and perhaps earlier writers, are known to have made some use. This was the so-called neuma script (from pneuma, breath) and was said to have been invented by a monk, St. Ephraem, as early as the fourth century, in which case it would probably have been known to Ambrose also. It was, at all events, the first device for indicating musical sounds ever invented that proved to be capable and worthy of development, and it was the fundament of the subsequent mensural system, the direct forerunner of our modern musical notation.

NEUMA NOTATION OF THE TENTH CENTURY

This neuma script (also known as the nota romana) consisted of fourteen small characters:

which were gradually combined and multiplied to about forty.*

* See Plain Song, by the Rev. Thomas Helmore.

The neumas did not indicate any particular tone or time-value, but merely the rising, falling, sustaining, or inflecting of the voice in a general way. They were, consequently, mnemonic rather than strictly notational.

Finally—possibly as early as the seventh century—some conscientious copyist hit upon the simple expedient of drawing a line to guide him in placing his neumas accurately and neatly above the text. This probably purely accidental device was soon turned to account as a means of fixing the pitch of the tones themselves.

The first line was fixed for the middle F of the bass and was identified by the corresponding letter (F or F), from which, in a roundabout way, the present sign of the F clef ([bass clef] or old F clef) has been derived.† Shortly afterward—about the ninth century—a second line was added, representing the fifth tone above F (that is, C), also marked with its letter ([C-clef]) the original of the modern C clefs).‡ The F line was red, the C line either yellow or green.

Later, a black line, for the tone A, was placed between these, at first dotted but later continuous. Thus the musical staff was gradually formed; and it grew until a few centuries later it became the so-called great staff of eleven lines—our present G and F staves with the C line between.

Singing-schools for the study of the Gregorian intonations were established not only in Rome but also in Gaul, Britain, and Germany. But these were not the first; the significance of music as a vital factor of ecclesiastic life was early recognised and its use and cultivation received serious attention almost from the beginning. The first school of song mentioned is that of Pope Sylvester, established in Rome some time between 314 and 355. Later schools are ascribed to Pope Hilarius (461–468) and others. The influence of the Gregorian system upon the artistic development of ecclesiastic music extended, undiminished, over a period of a thousand years (from 600 to 1600 A. D.), and to the present day it constitutes the basis of all Roman Catholic musical ceremony and service.

The music of the people remained entirely independent, and exerted in Gregory’s time—and even long after—no vitalising influence upon that of the church. All serious and, in a sense, artistic music of the early and Middle Ages found its home, its place of nourishment and gradual systematic evolution, within the church, where it was revered and cherished as an integral part of all holy life.

PRIMITIVE ORGAN
(MUSEUM AT ARLES)

The duration of the Gregorian style of ecclesiastic song may be bounded by the years 590 A. D., when Gregory acceded to the pontificate, and 900 A. D., when the first experiments in combined melody were ventured.

The instruments of this era were a primitive church organ and, among the people, the harp, rota or crwth, large and small hurdy-gurdy, psaltery, and a few others.

This period is almost identical with that in which Anglo-Saxon poetry flourished (650–825 A. D.) and led into the reign of King Alfred (871–901). The great Anglo-Saxon epic, Beowulf, and the cycles of Caedmon and Cyne-wulf belong here. About 600 A. D. St. Augustine became the teacher, to the Anglo-Saxons, of the Christian religion. King Alfred, distinctly an educator of his people, prepared many books for their use.

CRWTH
(ninth century)

The early poetry of the land that afterward was known as England “was made current and kept fresh in the memory of the singers. The kings and nobles often attached to them a scop, or maker of verses…The banquet was not complete without the songs of the scop. While the warriors ate the flesh of boar and deer and warmed their blood with horns of foaming ale, the scop, standing where the blaze from a pile of logs disclosed to him the grizzly features of the men, sang his most stirring songs, often accompanying them with the music of a rude harp.” *

* History of English Literature, R. P. Halleck.

Comparatively little mention is made in Beowulf of the practice of music in the stirring scenes that centred in Hrothgar’s great hall.

“…light-hearted laughter loud in the building Greeted him daily; there was dulcet harp-music, Clear song of the singer.”

In Beowulf’s Reminiscences:

“…the riders are sleeping, The knights in the grave; there’s no sound of the harp-word.”†

†Beowulf, translated by John Lesslie Hall, Ph.D.

CHAPTER VI
FIRST EXPERIMENTS IN THE ASSOCIATION OF PARTS

The time was come when those who revered music and believed in its wider power grew impatient of the narrow and monotonous mode of unison singing. Faint presentiments of harmonic possibilities may have moved them. The growing richness and might of the church, its extension in many directions, may have created a desire for ampler expression. Certain it is that in the first decade of the tenth century, if not earlier, attempts were made to combine—or, rather, to multiply—the vocal parts.

LYRE
(NINTH CENTURY)

This was the most momentous step in all the range of music history, for it pointed out the only method of extending and amplifying the resources of musical expression; it was the only progressive movement which could surmount the barrier and continue on the way to positive development. Music had gone as far as it was possible for it to advance along the avenues it had followed hitherto; it had reached the final stage on the road of single melody; in its progress it had arrived at the point which permitted no further exploitation unless some new path could be found. It may have been, and more than likely was, an accident which led into the open road, though, no doubt, the guardians of the music of the church were constantly searching and watching for a revelation which their daily musical experiences inclined them to forecast. But they could not know or foresee to what end this possibly accidental association of parts would lead. Nothing else could have unlocked the vast treasure-house of musical potentiality—could have started the process of evolution that has led to the truly marvellous art of our day.

A TENTH-CENTURY HARP

The individual associated with the new movement was Hucbald, or Ubaldus, a learned Benedictine monk in the convent of St. Amand, in the French Netherlands, who lived from 840 to 930. Whether or not Hucbald originated these novel experiments of increasing the one-voice (unison) mode of singing the Gregorian intonations to a more ample body of two or more simultaneous melodies, or merely assisted in systematising them, is not known. But we do know that he was a profound Greek scholar, familiar with Greek musical theory, and inclined to adopt certain of its precepts. This is attested by two kinds of notation employed by him, and by his application of the ancient Greek names to the Gregorian modes, though, for some unexplained reason, in reversed order. Another (third) variety of notation is ascribed to Hucbald, which, though not destined to survive, is nevertheless noteworthy. It consisted in placing the syllables of the text in the spaces of a staff of several lines, whereon the intervals from space to space were indicated by the letters T (tonus, or whole step) and S (semitonium, or half step).

In modern notation:

A SYSTEM OF NOTATION EMPLOYED BY HUCBALD

The first attempts at combining melodic parts were known originally by the name of organum, and later discantus (diversus cantus). These were of two kinds; the first consisted in an unaltered succession of parallel fifths or fourths and octaves. To the Gregorian melody (the cantus firmus), as lowermost part, a higher voice was added, singing exactly the same melody either in the fourth or fifth. In case the organum (or discantus) was to embrace more than two parts, one or both of these voices was doubled in the next higher octave. Thus (in modern notation):

The importance of the very first experiment of this kind is apt to be exaggerated, though it is impossible to overemphasise the significance of the consequences which followed. As already intimated, the experiment itself may have been quite accidental; it may have resulted from a misinterpretation of the given directions on the part of one of the singers, which led him to sing his melody in a different interval from that of his companions. Some historians explain this with convincing plausibility as the natural consequence of different singers (men and boys), with lower and higher voices, being compelled to carry their intonations at different pitches; and the selection of the fifth, fourth, or octave would appeal to the sense of closest tone relationship as we understand it to-day. This may have happened repeatedly before the quaintness of the effect was realised and its possible results appreciated.

PSALTERY (ninth century)

To the modern ear this method of multiplying parts (then called quinting and quarting) is repugnant. To those who first heard it, it was, no doubt, a welcome novelty. It was employed for more than a century without objection, from which fact an impression of the imperfect tone conception and sense of harmonious tone association of the times may be inferred. In itself, as a specimen of combined melodies, the organum was worthless; but it soon led to other and more valuable results, as, for instance, the so-called secular organum, in which different intervals were used, generally in consequence of holding the lower part stationary (on one tone) while the other intonated the cantus. Thus:

The second species, called diaphony, was of greater artistic promise. This consisted in a succession of changing intervals, only obtainable by the impulse of giving to each separate part a more distinct melodic movement, and of introducing other and more euphonious intervals; for example, the third:

It did not take long to develop this into actual polyphony, the artistic multiphcation of genuine melodic parts.

It is evident from this that all the music of the early era centred in melody. There was still no conception of that harmonic style (based upon chords) which is now considered the actual fundament of all musical technic. The experiments of Hucbald tended in a direct line to that style which, two centuries later, received the name of counterpoint (punctus contra punctum, note against note), a designation which it has retained ever since. But a harmonic or chord system did not take shape until the eighteenth century (Rameau, 1722. See Chapter XXI).

The novel practice of diaphony was indulged in by all the singers of the time, and it is probable that it gave rise to other experiments which may have threatened the purity and integrity of the sacred intonation. It was, no doubt, necessary and fortunate for the church that a gifted and authoritative musical mind should appear at this juncture to control and conduct the new technical achievement into safe and serious channels.

This authority was Guido of Arezzo (c. 995–1050), a Benedictine monk of the convent of Pomposa. Guido was such an eminent leader in musical matters that many of the important innovations of this era have been attributed to him, probably without foundation. It is evident, however, that he was instrumental in simplifying the confused theories of his day; in perfecting the notation; in regulating the technic of melody combinations; and, most vital of all, in establishing a scale system which has required no significant modification to this day, agreeing as it does in all essential points with the scientifically demonstrated major scale of modern music. Certain it is, also, that he refined and exalted the art of ecclesiastic music to a more permanent condition than it had yet attained.

GUIDO OF AREZZO AND BISHOP THEODAL WITH THE MONOCHORD

Guido’s musical instinct impelled him to abandon the insufficient tetrachord basis of the Greeks and other ancient nations, and to adopt a system of scale formation founded upon the hexachord, or six-tone succession, with a half step in the middle and whole steps between the three upper and three lower tones. The hexachords, three in number, began upon G, C, and F. Thus:

For that upon F the round (soft) b already in use was necessary, on account of the central half step.

The complete scale embraced twenty tones, from the low bass G to the high E of the boys’ voices, tones which correspond to the white keys of the modern piano keyboard; or to the scale of C major, beginning with the fifth step. These were indicated by letters, there being as yet no fixed system of notation. Thus:

Γ, A, B, C, D, E, F, G, a, b or ♮, c, d, e, f, g, aa, bb, or ♮♮, cc, dd, ee.

(The lowest letter is the Greek G, gamma.)

For each hexachord (of which the whole scale comprised seven) the so-called Guidonian syllables were adopted: Ut, Re, Mi, Fa, Sol, La. They were the first syllables of a six-line hymn to St, John, Each successive line of this music began upon the next successive tone of the hexachord. Thus:

Hence there resulted to the ear this succession:

The melodic intervals were whole steps, excepting at Mi–Fa, which was invariably a half step. The employment of these syllables in the singing classes was called solmisation, and it proved to be so convenient a method of melodic exercise that it has survived to this day—a singular testimony to the spirit of practicability which seems to have actuated Guido in all his reforms.

The modification of the tone b has already been explained. It was practised in the early days of Ambrose. The round b indicated the lower pitch, which, in conjunction with F, was softer; the square ♮ was the higher pitch, necessary in the two other tetrachords, and was called hard. The round b was the type of the subsequent ♭ (flat), and the square ♮ became the ♮ (natural). In Germany, b-flat is still called b, and b natural takes the name h, because the square ♮ resembles that letter. The hexachords were named accordingly, durum (hard), naturale, and molle (soft). Thus:

Later, the hexachords were multiplied by beginning with other letters, whereupon other inflections became necessary. The ♮ (and sometimes ♭) were subsequently applied to the alteration of any letter, or cancelling any change from its natural condition in the original scale. The accidental known as “sharp” (♯) became first necessary in the hexachord on D, and affected the letter F. The higher inflection of this letter may have been indicated by simply doubling the f, thus: ff—a character from which the ♯ would naturally emerge. This is, however, conjecture, and several other explanations are given.*

[VARIANTS OF FLAT, SHARP, AND NATURAL SYMBOLS]

In Italy the softer syllable Do has been substituted for Ut (which was retained in France); and finally a seventh syllable Si (which is now generally called Ti) was added to complete the line of the scale into its upper octave.

As long as the melody remained within one hexachord, the syllables were not changed; but if it extended beyond these limits, those syllables had to be adopted which agreed with the hexachord into which the melody ran. This was known as mutation, and was something akin to modern modulation. Hence the expressions Fa-Ut, Sol-Re, etc. (on one tone), to indicate the mutation from one hexachord to another.*

ORGANISTRUM (ninth century)

Whatever may have been falsely accredited to Guido, it is at least certain that he was the most prominent figure in the ecclesiastic matters of his century. From Hucbald, who was more philosophic and speculative, and whose training inclined him to scientific theorising, Guido was distinguished for his interest in the practical application of such knowledge as he possessed. He was also a man of letters, and wrote a book of twenty chapters on musical theory and practice. Among other things, he says: “My way is not the way of the philosopher; I am concerned only in that which serves and brings our youngsters (the choir-boys) forward…The musician must so determine his melody that it will express the meaning of the words.”

* See Shakespeare, Taming of the Shrew, Act III, Scene I.

CHAPTER VII
GUIDO’S SUCCESSORS. MENSURAL NOTATION

The momentous events described in the preceding chapter had not long to wait for their significant consequences. One important advance followed another in comparatively rapid succession, and there has been, from those early days until the present, no further impediment in the progress of musical development. Enough experience had been gained, and musical perception had been sufficiently developed, to make the natural growth of the new art possible and easy, and, in consequence, the ultimate fulfilment of its real purpose was only a question of time. The almost total misapprehension of the true spirit of music, the deep ignorance of its power as a medium of emotional expression, had at last given way to a realisation of its possible relations to the spiritual phases of life. Vague intimations of its deeper beauty and value were gradually becoming more definite and certain, and that which had been regarded either as a pastime or as a mystery, suited only to the aims of the curious student, began to reveal its secret resources and to command attention as a new and most powerful attribute of advancing culture.

The narrow limitation of music to one melodic line was removed by the experiments and subsequent achievements in the art of associating melodies. The imperfect and in some respects unnatural theories of scale structure were swept aside by the hexachord system of Guido’s day. Inadequacies and inaccuracies of the methods of musical notation were constantly being repaired, and thus a firm foundation, grounded upon the principles of physical law, was gradually being laid and cemented, ready for the superstructure of music as an art of exquisite refinement and beauty.

To Guido himself many of these innovations and reforms have been attributed—probably, as already hinted, many more than he could or would justly lay claim to. But of his influence upon the healthy growth of the art under his firm and wise guidance there can be no doubt; and the significance of his suggestions is indirectly attested by the enthusiasm displayed in musical matters among his direct successors.

Among the erudite musical minds of this era who were almost certainly familiar with Guido’s activities, and doubtless shared them with him in their own provinces, the most important were:

Johannes Cottonius (about 1050), a disciple of Guido and a teacher of his system.

William, abbot of the convent at Hirschau in the Black Forest (about 1068).

Aribo, a Benedictine monk (end of the eleventh century), also a pupil of Guido and an able exponent of his theories and pedagogic methods.

[The writings of these and other distinguished teachers were collected and published in 1784 by Martin Gerbert, at St. Blasien in the Black Forest.]

The elements of notation existing in the neuma characters, imperfect though they were, and the rude beginings of the staff, had already been discovered. But no method of determining the time-values of the notes or musical characters was yet devised, probably because the rhythmic values in use were either so uniform or so accurately fitted to the text that no other specific directions were necessary. But it seems evident that a more animated and manifold rhythmic arrangement began at this time to assert itself, induced, possibly, by the marked activity of musical development in secular circles (outside of the church). It is also obvious that the newly established practice of part-singing (combined melodies) demanded some means of regulating the rhythmic values so that the singers could perform their concerted intonations in “correct time.”

From Gafuri’s “De Harmonia Musicorum Instrumentorum Opus.”
A CLASS IN MUSIC

At all events, the need of an exact system of tone measurement was recognised, and very soon the required symbols were determined and adopted. These were called mensuras, or time quantities, and they represented (at first) single, double, threefold, and fourfold durations. The characters used to denote these time-values were derived chiefly from the neuma script. It is not known just when this process began, but it appears to have been in operation early in the twelfth century. Thereafter, music which moved in a definite measure was called mensural music, and the script employed for it was that mensural notation out of which our present system proceeded so directly that there may be said to be no essential difference between them.

One of the earliest advocates of the new styles of notation, and the author of many fragments of mensural music, was Franco of Paris, known in history as the French, or elder, Franco (probably the last half of the twelfth century).

Another pioneer was Franco of Cologne, or the German Franco. He was about twenty years younger than his French namesake and one of the most distinguished writers and teachers of his day. From his writings the following accounts of early mensural music are gleaned: At first there were only two note-values, the longa and the brevis (the long and the short), written in black characters, thus: [long] and [breve]. (The stem then indicated the longer note, not the shorter, as nowadays.) Franco himself used four varieties, the duplex longa or maxima, the longa, the brevis, and the semibrevis. Later, the minima, the semiminima, and fusa or croma (each half the time-value of the preceding one) were added. Among these last, the effect of the stems was to divide the value of the note, as in modern notation. The relation of these characters to those of our modern notes is evident: the brevis and semibrevis correspond to our longest time-values ( [breve] and whole-note ), but written as open (white) notes, instead of black, as was the custom until about the fourteenth or early fifteenth century. These terms breve and semibreve, and also the term minim ([half-note) are still in use in England, where the semiminim and fusa are known as crochet ([quarter]) and quaver ([eighth).

Franco of Cologne introduced triple measure into the mensural system, and gave it the name tempus perfectum, or perfect measure, because of its numerical coincidence with the blessed Trinity, the symbol of perfection. Duple measure was called tempus imperfectum. For the perfect (i. e., triple) division the complete, or perfect, circle ( [circle] ) was used as metre signature; for the imperfect (duple) division the sign was a half circle, C, a character which survives in our sign for 4/4 measure and which is incorrectly supposed to indicate “common time.” A great number of other distinctions were introduced until, after a time, the entire mensural system became extremely complex and existed apparently chiefly in theory, to a limited extent, only, in practice.

When two or more tones were to be sung to one syllable the notes were not slurred, as in modern usage, but were joined. The connected groups were called ligatures and were of two kinds, straight and oblique. Thus:

Ligatura recta:

Ligatura obliqua:

The writings of the German Franco testify to extraordinary progress in the growth of the art during the thirteenth century, but are insufficient to afford an accurate conception of the matters about which he speaks. He names four distinct classes of vocal music for which the discantus was used; namely, motette, cantilenis, conductus, and rondellis. Three of these suggest terms in modern use, but the character of the conductus can scarcely be discovered.*

* See Chapter XI.

Soon after the days of the two Francos, mensural music appears to have flourished most vigorously in England; but there is positive evidence, as will be seen, of its vitality and progress also in France, Belgium, the Netherlands, Italy, and Germany—of course, in connection with the life and ceremonial of the Roman church. The distinguished contemporaries of Franco were:

Petrus de Cruce (Pierre de la Croix, about 1170).

Walter Odington (about 1228).

Jerome of Moravia (early part of the thirteenth century).

Important achievements are ascribed to three nearly contemporaneous musical scholars in the next following generation:

Marchetto of Padua (second half of the thirteenth century).

Phillip de Vitry (Bishop of Meaux, end of the thirteenth century).

Johannes de Muris (Doctor of the Sorbonne in Paris, 1300–1370).

With the last two, especially, a new era in the development of part-music appears to have opened, for it was De Vitry, and after him De Muris, who first enunciated definite rules of contrapuntal technic and established a regular system of comparatively complex part-writing. These rules, six in number, are recognised by the most refined modern theory as the correct basis of all harmonic and contrapuntal writing. The following are particularly applicable:

Rule 3. “Every sentence must begin and end with a perfect consonance.”

Rule 4. “Every dissonance must be followed by a consonance which resolves it, and not by another dissonance.”

Rule 6. “Imperfect consonances (third and sixth) may follow each other in parallel direction; but parallel perfect consonances (octave and fifth) are forbidden.”

These rules have retained their validity, because they were the result of correct judgment, by ear or by instinct, of the true natural laws of harmonic succession.

De Vitry and De Muris taught their new system under the name contrapunctus, though this term was originally limited to music for two parts only, whence the expression punctus contra punctum, or note against note. Examples of the writings of the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth centuries exist, consisting of two, three, and even four independent parts, which exhibit a remarkable degree of skill and a certain kind of stately beauty, though little or no evidence of true musical feeling.

AN ORGAN OF THE TENTH CENTURY

In the newly founded capella at Avignon a singular style of three-voice psalmody came into vogue early in the fourteenth century. It was called falso bordone or faux bourdon (English, faburden); the cantus firmus was placed in the upper part and harmonised throughout with parallel thirds and sixths, excepting at the end, where a cadence was made on the eighth and fifth. An example (conjectural) is as follows:

The bass has the third, not the root, of each chord, hence the name, false fundament.

* From Emil Naumann’s History of Music.

From a fourteenth-century manuscript.

ANTIPHONARIUM

Faux bourdon excelled all other experiments in point of euphony, and it is, therefore, no wonder that it became popular. It is significant of the advance in musical perception, because it indicates the awakening sense of harmonic effect, as opposed to the constraint of lifeless rules; it brought the student face to face with the spirit of genuine music and weakened the awkward fetters which still bound it.

The early schools of actual musical production, founded upon the theoretical principles described above, and the masters who were active during this early epoch in the development of a system of composition, will be presented in detail in the eleventh chapter.

Thus was music adapting and shaping itself as a medium of more perfect and refined expression. The successors of Guido were solving a mystery in human thought that has literally made music the true and adequate language of the emotions. The efforts that brought about this remarkable result were evolving at the time of the Norman Conquest, when the Saxon rule in England came to an end by the victory of William the Conqueror (1066 A. D.). In this period not music alone became fixed in its adoption of ways and means for development that have persisted to this day, but our English speech was slowly undergoing that change, through Norman influences, which led to the brilliant effusions of Geoffrey Chaucer. Indeed, the influences that made possible the writing of the Canterbury pilgrims were parallel with others that were active among the people, that is, aside from the church, which give evidence of the early spirit of romanticism in poetry and in song that was soon to come to a fuller realisation of its inherent possibilities.

CHAPTER VIII
MUSIC OF THE PEOPLE. TROUBADOURS, MINSTRELS

While the music-loving students within the church, favoured with sufficient leisure and surrounded with the opportunities for thorough education, laboured faithfully to perfect the theories and improve the practice of church music, the secular world was no less active in cultivating its habits of musical expression. The singers of the people had the advantage of entire freedom not only in their methods but in the choice of subjects; for they were not trammelled by strict ecclesiastic rules or by laboured theories, but, relying upon their natural instincts, sang as the heart and musical feeling dictated.

It is, therefore, not surprising that the development of music as a vehicle of free expression should, outside of the church, have been both more vigorous and speedy than that of the learned ecclesiasts, and that popular music should, when opportunity arose, have gathered the means of exerting a wholesome influence upon that of the church. On the other hand, the achievements of the churchmen could not be prevented from surmounting the walls of the monasteries and finding their way into the practices of the people, to exercise in their turn a vitalising influence upon secular music.

A THREE-STRING VIELLE
(CATHEDRAL SCULPTURE, AMIENS)

The earliest representatives of intuitive musical expression were the Scandinavian skalds, the Celtic bards, and other secular singers of the north, who flourished at an early period of the Christian era. Such accounts of their style of minstrelsy as have been preserved lead to the conjecture that their music must have exhibited a remarkable degree of uncouth vigour and, possibly, of wild melodic beauty. But all of these chronicles are meagre, especially in regard to the musical setting of the verses, and it is not possible to form more than a general judgment of the popular music of any period prior to that of the troubadours of the south, and the minstrels of Great Britain.

One of the oldest known melodies is that of an elegy to Charlemagne, written and composed in 814. The musical characters are, of course, neumas, which have been deciphered as follows:

This melody continues in the same narrow compass of three tones for thirteen more measures.

But a fairly distinct glimpse of the nature of popular music as it was practised in all European countries as far back as the twelfth (and even the eleventh) century is afforded by such remnants as have survived of the verse and song of the chivalrous troubadours and Minnesingers of that era. The following pastoral love-song, ascribed to King Thibaut of Navarre (1201–1253), has, in its modern, though somewhat conjectural, notation, a melodious, winning quality and a clear, well-unified structure:

In the south of France, where they are first encountered, this class of music lovers was known as trobadors (from trobar and trouver, to find—as they were the “finders” or inventors of their own melodies). The first ones mentioned are Count William of Poitiers (1087–1127), and Chatelaine de Coucy. The French troubadours did not, as a rule, sing their melodies themselves, but were attended by a skilful singer and player called jongleur or jougleur.

In the north of France, where the two classes were known as trouvères and menestrels, the effusions were more poetical and serious than were those of the more romantic sons of the south. The nobility, and even royalty, far from ignoring this truly charming romantic trait of the Middle Ages, took pleasure in its cultivation.Richard the Lion-hearted, Thibaut of Champagne (King of Navarre), Robert, Delphine of Auvergne, John of Brienne, and others were listed in the ranks of distinguished trouveres. Count Henry of Burgundy carried the art of minstrelsy into Portugal. In Spain, where it also flourished, the two classes were called trobadores and joglares. In Italy minstrelsy was also known at that time, but little practised, because it was restrained by the superior power of the church of Rome.

The chief object of verse and melody among the troubadours was the homage of the fair sex, the chivalrous praise of womanly virtue and beauty, and the reflection of the joys and bitterness of love. Another object, especially among the inferior class, was to extol the valour of brave knights and to recount the histories of war and battle. Such subjects were calculated to stimulate natural musical instinct and to impart to melodic utterance an ever-increasing accuracy of perception and correctness of expression. One can readily comprehend the superior influence exerted upon the human mind by such a free emotional fancy, far stronger and more direct than that aroused by the themes of the church, which, inspired and inspiring though they were, must needs be held in rigorous subjection to their holy environment and solemn purposes. And the student of history is, therefore, not greatly astonished at the genuine beauty of some of the popular lays, at a time when the intonations of the church were still extremely unmelodious.

INSTRUMENTAL PERFORMER (fourteenth century

The lays of older trouveres are somewhat angular; but those of the following generation are so graceful, so tuneful and unconstrained, and reflect so naturally the movements of human passion, that they leave but little to be desired. Some are replete with dignified sentiment, like the following famous Quant le rossignol, by Chatelaine de Coucy:

The melody is thirty-five measures long, undeniably pleasant in its simplicity and natural movement, and grouped in a structural form that would be pronounced nearly faultless by modern theorists.

The dance, which has always been a manifestation of human vitality and love of innocent pleasure, afforded a particularly happy and powerful stimulus to musical practice, and it is probable that popular music owes more to this wide-spread agency than to any other emotional or poetical impulse. It is, therefore, not unlikely that many of the melodies used by the minstrels owe their origin and form directly to the dance, of which as many styles must have existed in the Middle Ages as now. The songs that accompanied these dances constituted a special class of melodies. The most popular dances in vogue at this period were the ring dance, or round dance (in which the dancers joined hands and sprang in rotary movement), and the springing dance. The former was also called carol, later, rondet de carol, and in Belgium, rondeau. Further, the ballad * was originally, as the name implies, a dance melody, and often went by the simple name ballet.

* The ballad subsequently appears in a highly idealised form, in the works of Frédéric Chopin.

VIELLE
(thirteenth century)

Probably the most distinguished troubadour of northern France was Adam de la Halle, or Adam d’Arras. He was born in 1240 at Arras, in Picardy, was educated in the abbey of Vauxcelles, and was designed for the priestly calling because of the evidences he early gave of superior mental capacity. But he was drawn into the service of Count Robert II of Artois, with whom he journeyed to Naples in 1282, and there he is supposed to have died in 1287. In the annals of French literature Adam d’Arras is characterised as “one of the founders of dramatic art in France”; and in music history his name is associated with those who first succeeded in producing genuine musical results in part-writing. He was, in a sense, a connecting-link between the troubadours and their style, which he cultivated with eminent success, and the scholastic musicians, with whom he vied in the production of dexterous compositions. The following Song to the Virgin seems to deserve the epithet “beautiful,” more fully than any other known melody of so early a date. In modern notation:

Adam de la Halle was also the author of a pastoral play, Robin et Marion, to which reference will be made in a later chapter.

In the notation of their melodies the troubadours indicated, or, more correctly, intimated, the rhythm by the three common values then extant—the longa, brevis, and semibrevis. But much was of necessity left to the judgment of the singer, as the methods were still both imperfect and complicated.

Musical study and culture were not uncommon among the people in the days of chivalrous minstrelsy. It was, in fact, regarded as an important part of good education, and especially for the young knight as great a requisite as the by no means common acquirements of reading and writing. Women, too, took part in such musical instruction as could be obtained, and were expected to learn to sing, and to play some stringed instrument (lyre, harp, or fiddle). The tunes were carried from place to place by strolling players.

From a manuscript of the twelfth century in the library of Trinity College, Cambridge.
ORGAN WITH BELLOWS WORKED BY LEVERS

CHAPTER IX
MUSIC OF THE PEOPLE. MINNESINGERS AND MEISTERSINGERS

The innate love of music and the desire to find in it an adequate means for emotional expression characterised the German people during the twelfth and thirteenth centuries to a far greater degree than is evident among the troubadours of the neighbouring Latin countries. Hence, the manifestations of this common impulse for musical expression were more genuinely poetical and sentimental in Germany than were those of the gallant and chivalrous troubadours, for the German was a pronounced lover of nature; the flowers, the forest, the springtime, the songs of birds—all these appealed to him, and his conception of love was purer and more ideal than that of his brothers of the south and west.

The Germanic bards were known as Minnesingers (minne, signifying love); and the first accounts of Germanic minnesong date from the reign of the Hohenstaufen emperor Frederick Barbarossa (1152–1190), and designate Heinrich von Veldecke as one of the first to advocate and practise symmetrical metre and pure rhyme.

The importance of art in national life is always relative to the ideals and active pursuits of the people themselves. Frederick Barbarossa was not only a patron of letters and the arts, but he had the capacity to conceive and carry out extensive undertakings. He made the second and third Crusades to the Holy Land, and he became emperor at the age of thirty-one; thenceforth he bent all his energies to bring about public order and prosperity and to bestow greater freedom upon the cities of his kingdom. Undoubtedly, the determined influence of this man exerted its effect throughout the entire social order and stimulated expression not alone in political activity but in art as well.

Shortly after his death there took place the famous tournament in the Wartburg in Thuringia, perpetuated in Wagner’s opera Tannhduser. This tournament was, however, not a musical but a poetical contest; for the Minnesinger was, first of all, a poet, while his music was merely an adjunct to the verse. But this association of verse and song brought a new force to bear upon musical expression and contributed most significantly to the development of musical practice.

THE SINGING CONTEST AT THE WARTBURG

The Minnesingers who frequented royal palaces and feudal castles as honoured guests and repaid their patron’s hospitality with song and lay, rarely depended upon the services of an attendant jongleur, but preferred to sing and accompany themselves. A large number of their melodies have been preserved, in the notation of the time—the large Gothic note—the most of which bear rather close resemblance to the ecclesiastic intonations and are much less flowing and melodious than those of the troubadours. The following sacred hymn is strongly suggestive of the subsequent German chorale, and indicates one of the sources from which the chorales were undoubtedly derived:

Others, again, of a somewhat later date, exhibit the more genuine melodious qualities of popular song, as the following, from the second half of the thirteenth century, which is extremely regular in structure (as shown by the slurs and letters here adjoined to the notes), and indicates correct perception of the conditions of good, natural melody:

The Minnesingers distinguished three classes of secular melody: the Leich, the Spruch (sentence), and the Lied (song). The leich* may have originated in the older dance forms, though some identify it with the ecclesiastic sequence. The Spruch consisted of but one strophe. The Lied was longer, consisting generally of three sections, the third of which corroborated the first, all very regular in metric form; and it was so identified with the verse that it was not permissible to use the same melody for another poem.

* English, lay; Anglo-Saxon, lac (play or sport); Irish, laio, laoith (a song or poem).

The early period of minnesong was represented by Veldecke, Spervogel, Dietmar von Kurenberg, and others; the middle and best period (about the beginning of the thirteenth century) by Heinrich von Morungen, Wolfram von Eschenbach, Gottfried von Strassburg, Hartmann von Aue, and Walther von der Vogelweide; the last period, in which the art declined, by Nithardt [Neidhart] von Reuenthal, Konrad von Würzburg, and Reinmar von Zweter (end of the thirteenth century). The last famous name was Heinrich von Meissen (1260–1318), distinguished in the history of German literature for his quaint substitution of the more tender expression “frau” (lady) for the earlier epithet “weib” (woman), which gallantry won him the title of “frauenlob.”

HEINRICH VON MEISSEN, CALLED FRAUENLOB

Minnesong was not destined to enjoy a protracted existence, but passed, after scarcely more than a century of popularity from the knightly bards down to the more lowly citizens and respectable artisans. The aristocratic minnesong became the professional plebeian meistersong (master song) of the people.

The earliest authentic account of the organisation of Meistersingers dates from the fourteenth century and tends to confirm the conclusion that these had inherited the tradition of minnesong.Emperor Charles IV granted to the Meistersingers a patent and heraldic rights in the year 1387, at which time the principal centre of the guild was Mayence on the Rhine, though guilds existed in Frankfort, Colmar, Prague, and a few other cities. During the following (the fifteenth) century master song attained its greatest popularity and perfection in the cities of Strassburg, Augsburg, and Nuremberg; a little later in Ratisbon, Ulm, and Munich.

HANS SACHS

In the sixteenth century it spread to the eastern frontiers of Germany. At Nuremberg, where the famous cobbler and poet Hans Sachs (1494–1576) was the leading spirit of the corporation, contests of song continued to take place as late as the seventeenth century—after the Thirty Years’ War. The corporation of German Meistersingers in general did not cease to exist 1839, when the four surviving members of the singing-school at Ulm transferred their insignia and records to the Liederkranz Society of that city.

MANUSCRIPT BY HANS SACHS

There are some points of resemblance between the musical style of the earlier Meistersingers and their predecessors the Minnesingers, but, on the whole, that of the former was more rude, clumsy, and plebeian than the latter. While minnesong, no matter how primitive, always revealed some traits of nobility, meistersong was invariably dull and prosaic, monotonous, and, with extremely rare exceptions, devoid of true beauty or natural musical expression. Consequently, while music meant a great deal to the humble tradesmen and brought no little sunshine into the dull humdrum of toil which filled their simple lives, it is not evident that their activity contributed in any marked degree to the progress of art or that they ever accomplished anything to further the development of music. One thing, it is true, must be recognised as a debt which humanity, especially the Germanic people, owes to the Meistersingers, and that is the introduction of an honest and not unwholesome musical conception and practice into the domestic lives of the people. Music became through them a part of the household occupations, and its fruits are in evidence at the present day, for nowhere else has household music (haus musik) become so general and beautiful an element of civilisation as in Germany—the home of meistersong.

The by-laws of the guild were very exact and rigorously enforced, but so prosaic that they would appear more appropriate for any other association than for one which professed artistic aims. The record of these bylaws and the rules of their music was known as the tabulature. The master earned his rank by inventing both new verse and melody; the poet set his poems to old melodies; the singer was not an inventor of either verse or melody; the school friend or amateur was one able to pass a lenient examination. To the so-called prime contests only members of the guild were admitted. The subjects were chosen from the Bible. Every fault, no matter how slight, was strictly noted by the chosen umpire, the marker. The form, involving details of Lied, bar, and other structural requirements, was prescribed. In case a new melody met the approval of the marker, its proud author might select a name for it.

In his opera, The Mastersingers of Nuremberg, Richard Wagner has given a most vivid picture of the salient traits of master song and of the well-meaning but narrow-minded men who practised it.

One example of the laboured melody of the meistersingers will suffice to exhibit the contrast between their conception and methods, and those of the Minnesingers:

The melody here selected bears, it is true, a marked and possibly not unintentional resemblance to the one given on page 70, and both might claim to have served Richard Wagner as models for the principal figure in his Mastersinger motive:

Wagner’s undoubted familiarity with these historic melodies, and the consistency of his artistic methods, preclude the notion of mere coincidence. Their historic significance lies in the evidence they afford of the stupendous progress in musical expression during the past four centuries.

It must be remembered that the music activities of this period were stimulated not alone by local conditions. A potent factor that inspired the singers and makers of verse from the beginning of the twelfth century and into the thirteenth was the Crusades. This religious movement profoundly affected vast numbers of people. Many women and children shared in the enthusiasm to save the Holy Land from the hands of the infidels. In this great movement the energy of the people found a worthy medium through which to express and shape itself. The order of knights that grew out of the Crusades bound themselves to chastity, poverty, and obedience. They were at once protectors of the pilgrims and of the faith that inspired their sacrifice. Religion and the valour of the soldier were combined, and so strongly did they influence men that when Godfrey of Bouillon was made ruler over Jerusalem he refused to wear a royal crown where the Saviour had been crowned with thorns.

All that was involved in this movement—the purpose, fidelity, and knightly character, the long marches across the continent of Europe, the mingling of many peoples —enriched men’s minds, broadened their experience, and impelled for expression in all social activities and arts.

THE CRUSADER

While the momentous purpose of the Crusades was thus exerting its influence English literature was slowly forming itself for the significant utterances of Chaucer. Early in the twelfth century Layamons Brut, a poem of over thirty thousand lines, was written.Orm’s Ormulum was written early in the thirteenth century. About 1225 the Ancren Riwle (Rule of the Anchoresses) appeared, a work described as “one of the most perfect models of simple, natural, eloquent prose in our language.” *

* Professor Swift.

A century or more later the Travels of Sir John Mandeville (born 1300) appeared, “the most entertaining volume of English prose that we have before 1360.” † This was one of the few works of the period that found ready acceptance among the people.

The reader has only to compare the following lyric, probably of the early thirteenth century, with the musical quotations to comprehend that our mother tongue and the art of music were shaping themselves for a brilliant future:

“Sumer is i-cumen in
Lhude sing cuccu
Groweth sed and bloweth med
And springeth the wde nu.
Sing cuccu, cuccu.”

† Professor R. P. Halleck.

CHAPTER X
MUSIC OF THE PEOPLE. STROLLING PLAYERS, FOLK-SONGS, INSTRUMENTS

At about the time when German minnesong passed over into the plebeian master song a new and by no means inconsiderable power in the development of music began to make itself felt. This power was wielded by the strolling or vagrant players and pipers who, while representing a low grade of the populace, possessed some admirable and important qualities. They were shrewd, wide-awake, often moderately well educated, and they enjoyed no small degree of favour on account of their ability to please and their readiness to serve.

This class of popular music makers had existed probably several centuries before music found recognition and favour among the more cultivated lovers of the art. The resemblance between these strolling players and the histrions,* or comedians, of early Latin and Greek days is suggestive and points to their possible origin.

* Histrion = a player or actor.

They sang all sorts of ditties, played on various instruments for money, especially for dancers, accompanied the bands of warriors, amused the ladies and nobles in their castles, recounted deeds of valour in rude verse, carried news from town to town, were often the secret messengers of Cupid and always the welcome merrymakers of the people. But they were vagrant, homeless, and, on the whole, despised, even though gladly greeted on all festive occasions for the entertainment they unfailingly provided. It was from this stratum of the community , no doubt, that the troubadours engaged their assistant jongleurs or menestrels, and in that capacity they compelled somewhat greater consideration and respect.

In Germany the strolling players began to lead a more settled existence and established corporations for the protection of their common interests as early as the thirteenth century. These corporations were in time absorbed by the guild of town pipers, who enjoyed a certain distinction in wealthier cities. The oldest piper guild in Europe was probably the Fraternity of St. Nicholas, founded in Vienna in 1288. After the fifteenth century they were known in many places as city trumpeters. The system of protective union spread to England and France, where similar corporations were organised.

DUDELSACK PLAYER
(AFTER ALBRECHT DÜRER)

Every piper was subject to a “guardian of musicians,” an office which existed as late as the reign of Maria Theresa and was not abolished until 1782. In France this guardian was called the king of fiddlers (roy des ménestriers and, later, roy des violons). He exercised control over the pipers of his district and saw to it that “no player, whether piper, drummer, or whatsoever else he might be, should be tolerated without he be first accepted and elected a member of the brotherhood.”

STROLLING PLAYERS
(C. W. DIETRICH)

The strolling players exerted a significant influence upon the progress of popular poetry and music through the sacred plays which they presented. At first (to the middle of the twelfth century) the sacred comedies, called in Germany passion or Easter plays and in France mysteries, were presented by the clergy alone, and in the Latin tongue. Later on, however, vagrants began to take part in these clerical plays and even to present them wholly themselves, whereby the plays assumed inevitably a more worldly character.

But the most important and wide-spread benefits bestowed by these humble vagrants upon the future growth and development of artistic music were derived from their interest in musical instruments and their ever-increasing dexterity in their use. With the exception of the few clerical organists, the strolling players were for many centuries the only class of musicians who cultivated the practice of instrumental music and who thus kept alive the love of playing and “fiddling,” either alone or in concerted groups, during the period when vocal music was dominant both in and out of the church. It was they who performed greater and more active service than any other single class of music lovers in preparing for the era of instrumental composition, signalised in later centuries by such artistic products as the symphonies of Beethoven.

But besides these distinct classes of musicians, the troubadours and Minnesingers, Meistersingers, and strolling players, who practised music in a sense as a profession, there existed still another class of music lovers; namely, the people themselves. This, the largest class of all, not limited to any country or race, but common to all civilised nations, sang, untrammelled by theoretical rules or conventional regulations, as their natural instincts prompted and as the heart impelled.

In the history of European music the people’s song (folk-song) attained a degree of significance second only to the ecclesiastic chant of the Gregorian era, and in certain respects it may even be said to have transcended the latter in its bearing upon the general development of artistic music. For this was the genuine, intuitive expression of a universal spirit, which, in its freedom, was in closer touch with nature and nature’s laws than any carefully devised theory could be. In all arts, but particularly in those of emotional expression, the spirit of the people always leads; and it is not until the analytic mind of the scientist obtains this revelation as a basis of research that he can formulate correct theories and establish the facts out of which the refined technic of art is gradually evolved. The voice of Nature herself must first speak, through the lips of her ingenuous and uninfluenced children, before the scientist can find anything to interpret, to explain, and to develop into a working system. It was the song of the people—not the calculations of the Greeks or of the mediæval ecclesiastic scholars—that contained the vital kernel of musical development. And it was not until the people’s melodies penetrated into the web of ecclesiastic counterpoint that the leaven was provided which engendered the life of a new art.

This took place, not figuratively but actually, about the end of the fourteenth century; for from that time until the seventeenth century the masters of contrapuntal technic almost invariably adopted some popular melody as thematic basis, or leading thread, for their masses and other serious works; and almost every mass of the period has its special designation according to the title of the folk-song upon or around which it was constructed.

Whence these songs came no one can tell. They sprang from the special conditions of the province or race. It was easy to find a musical setting for the good-natured, often profoundly sentimental poetic effusions, or to create new verse for a melody which had become familiar by frequent repetition, and popular because it was true. The people cared not for the method of their coming and thought not of committing them to permanent written form, but simply sang them generation after generation until some scholar, attracted by their truth and beauty, fixed them for posterity in the notation of the time. The following specimen of a German love ditty dates from the first half of the fifteenth century and is written in diamond-shaped semibreves only:

MODERN VERSION, ADJUSTED RHYTHMETICALLY TO THE PROSODY OF THE VERSE

One of the oldest and most widely used melodies of France was the tune of The Armed Man (L’homme armé). It was for a long time the most popular melody among contrapuntal scholars, and it was held to be an indispensable condition of mastership to have written a mass upon this theme. It appears both in the major and minor mode, chiefly in the latter, in the masses of the most distinguished masters of the Netherland school, where it is found most frequently in the following form:

(L’homme armé.)

The majority of French folk-songs are more sprightly than this and exhibit traits that are characteristic of the French chanson of the present day. The following appears in a composition of Antoine Busnois (died 1481). It was undoubtedly an ancient melody in his time:

The musical instinct of the people found frequent stimulus for expression in the popular plays of the Middle Ages, a certain class of which may be regarded as the remote but almost direct forerunners of the dramatic forms—oratorio and opera—of the seventeenth century. The oldest plays of which record has been preserved are two of French origin, somewhat akin to the vaudeville, both the text and music of which were composed by Adam de la Halle, of whom mention has already been made. The more famous of these, called Robin et Marion, was written by De la Halle for the entertainment of the court at Naples in 1285. Its popularity was so great that for over a century it was constantly performed, and the traditions of it are not yet extinct in the hearts of the peasantry, who, at Bavai, in Hainault, sing one of the songs, Robin m’aime, to this day. It runs as follows:

Of the instruments in use before and during this period of musical history the most venerable was the organistrum (ninth century). It resembled an enormous guitar but was manipulated like a hurdy-gurdy, one player turning the crank while a second handled the strings. Later its size was reduced, and it appears thus in France under the names rubelle and symphonie, and in Germany as vielle, or leyer.

The favourite instruments of the troubadours and Minnesingers were the harp and the lute, the former being more common in the north, while the lute, in many varieties , has always maintained its popularity in southern countries. The theorbo, mandora, mandoline, guitar, zither, and many others are but different forms of the lute, whose origin is traced to the eleud of the Arabs. (See Chapter III.)

INSTRUMENTAL MUSICIANS

The various convergent evolutions of the queen of stringed instruments, the violin, through the three most musical nations of Europe (France, Germany, and Italy) to its ultimate common form in the modern orchestra, have been shown in the following comparative table: *

FROM THE NORTH | FROM THE ORIENT
in France (Britain) | in Germany | in Italy
1. Crout, Crwth | Kruth | Ribeca (Rebek, Arab.)
2. Crotta, Rotta, Rote | Rotte | Ribeba, Ribecchino
3. Vielle, Fiddle | Viedel, Fiedel, Fidel | Viola
4. Gigue | Geige (“Thigh bone of a goat,” which it resembled) | Guigua, Giga
5. Violon | Violine | Violino

* Emil Naumann, History of Music.

The wood instruments included the flute, the muse (cornamuse, musette, bagpipes), and, most important of all, the shawm (German, schalmey; French, chalumeau). The last, a pipe with reed mouthpiece, originated among the shepherds, who constructed it in the springtime out of strips of bark and a stem of willow rind, pressed flat, as a reed. The shawm was the progenitor of a very numerous class of reed instruments; notably a complete choir of pommers, and through them the oboe and bassoon of the modern orchestra. The evolution of the oboe, like that of the violin, was influenced in no small measure by an instrument from the Orient—the zamar of the Arabs.

In the military music of this period, use was made of the zamar-oboe, the pommers, trumpets, and drums, the last patterned closely after Oriental models. French chroniclers mention trumpets, tubas, clarions, horns, cornets, and buisines (trombones). Undoubtedly, the musical instruments of Europe were enriched in variety and number by the intermingling of peoples and the exchange of their particular products during the Crusades.

MILITARY INSTRUMENTS OF THE MIDDLE AGES

CHAPTER XI
RISE AND PROGRESS OF ARTISTIC MUSIC. EARLIEST SCHOOLS OF COUNTERPOINT

From historic accounts which have been recently-gathered and published, it appears certain that the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, far from being as fruitless as was supposed, were a period of very significant activity in the domain of ecclesiastic music and were, apparently, very rich in results and products.

The earliest school of contrapuntal art is called, in distinction to later schools, the Old French School. It flourished from the end of the eleventh century, possibly a little later, until the middle of the fourteenth, and included some of the names already cited as the direct successors of Guido in connection with the advances made in notation and in the technic of melody combination. Hence it is seen to represent the formative period of contrapuntal art; it grew immediately out of the first important experiments of Guido and others, and reached a point in the progress of music where all the fundamental principles were firmly defined and where tolerably convincing evidences of successful and efficient work upon the superstructure were richly supplied. It was, as well, the exclusive educational source, the “faculty,” of all succeeding schools of the north.

The most eminent offshoot of the old French school was the Gallo-Belgian, whose best years were bounded by the century from 1360 to 1460. Another, somewhat earlier, offshoot was the Old English School, which, however, does not appear to rank as eminently as the former.

Partly from the old French and partly from the Gallo-Belgian school proceeded the famous Netherland School, whose activities extended through the next following century, from 1460 to 1560. Earlier historical books have accustomed us to regard this, the Dutch school, as the first and oldest centre of progress in composition and musical practice in Christian Europe and, therefore, in the world; but this erroneous view seems to have resulted from the superior renown of the Netherland masters, which naturally eclipsed the glory of earlier periods until the proofs of their existence and the significance of their experimental labours were shown in the manuscripts which were subsequently discovered.

Furthermore, it was the Netherlanders who supplied all Europe with teachers, singers, and organisers of singing-schools, and thus innocently propagated the belief that they were the prime source of all musical learning. Especially strong was the current which thus set toward the south of Europe and furnished Rome itself, as well as other Italian cities, with the rich products of northern industry and musical thought. So persistent was this emigration to the south that after the middle of the sixteenth century (about 1560) the development of artistic music was no longer exclusively carried on in the Netherlands, but ceased there almost altogether, to be continued and prosecuted with new energy in Germany and, particularly, in Italy.

A comprehensive summary of the vital steps in the evolution of artistic music, from its earliest beginnings to the dawn of the modern classic era, would present the following appearance:

(a) The first crude attempts to associate melodic parts
Hucbald
Guido ot Arezzo
From the ninth to the eleventh century

(b) The dawn of actual contrapuntal art
Old French School
1070–1370

(c) Transitional
Gallo-Belgian School
1370–1470

(d) The most famous and successful age of contrapuntal science
Netherland or Dutch School
1460–1560

(e) Gradual migration to the South
Italian School
1540–1725

(Brilliant period of Italian dramatic music, 1600–1725.)

The French capital, Paris (and specifically, its famous Cathedral of Notre Dame), appears to have been the centre to which the crude but obviously significant ideas of melody association gravitated. Here they were held fast, subjected to systematic and persistent experimentation, and reduced to definite principles, to be conducted into straight and certain lines of development. The scholars who first made it their mission to labour upon this problem were almost all organists of Notre Dame. The first of whom historic record has been preserved was Leonin, so renowned for his skill at the organ that he was called optimus organista. The still comparatively imperfect structure of that instrument in the eleventh century, the very limited technical requirements, and the primitive character of the music of his day indicate that Leonin’s fame as organist must have rested upon grounds that would appear incredibly slight to us. But organista is sometimes translated “composer.” Moreover, the student must not lose sight of the fact that we are still dealing with the very infancy of music as an art. Leonin wrote a book on organ playing, which contained compositions by himself and others. (These were not for the organ, but for vocal parts, which could be played by the organist just as modern hymn tunes are played.) His successor at Notre Dame was Perotin, called The Great. He was the author of numerous compositions, some of which have been preserved.

From 1140 to 1170 appear Robert of Sabillon, Pierre de la Croix (or Cruce), and Jean de Garlande. These are said to have effected many improvements in notation and the art of singing, and De Garlande, the great pedagogue of the old French school, wrote a thorough and scholarly treatise on mensural music.

From 1170 to 1230 appear the two Francos—Franco of Paris and Franco of Cologne, Walter Odington (England), and Jerome of Moravia. Franco of Paris was twenty-years or more older than his German namesake; he wrote many famous compositions and a treatise on mensural rhythm which would seem to establish his fame as the chief founder of the system of musical rhythm.

The last period of the old French school (1230 to 1370) embraces the names of Phillip de Vitry (end of the thirteenth century), Jean de Muris (1300–70), and Guillaume de Machaut (1284–1369) [ed.: 1300–1377?], who advanced the art of contrapuntal writing and instilled more vitality and melodic freedom into the technic of independent part-writing (see Chapter VII). De Vitry and De Muris were profound theorists and were among the first to recognise and formulate trustworthy rules of counterpoint and part-writing in general. Machaut was a poet as well as a composer. For the coronation of King Charles V he wrote a mass which is historically significant and contains, though still in imperfect and clumsy form, some traits of real musical beauty such as characterise the later period of Des Pres and even Lasso.

The following extract from one of Machaut’s compositions, compared with the organum of Hucbald, gives a fair conception of the progress made in the combination of melodic parts during these first four centuries of exploration and experiment in a wholly untried domain of human thought. It is transcribed in a somewhat modernised and more familiar notation:

The processes of musical technic that were progressively active during this period may be thus briefly reviewed: The primitive two-part experiments of Hucbald about the year 900 were known under the name of organum, or ars organandi—perhaps, though not certainly, because of some connection between this mere duplication of the sacred intonation in octaves, fourths, or fifths, and the operation of the organ, which is known to have been in use already at that time and earlier. By Guido, a little later, it was called diaphony.

From the beginning of the twelfth century the somewhat more elaborate voice combination was called, at Paris, discantus (or diversus cantus); and about the middle of the thirteenth century the term contrapunctus was adopted. These names may be regarded as indicating, in a general way, the successive degrees of progress in independent part-writing.

Hucbald’s organum and Guido’s diaphony were too primitive, on account of the preponderance of parallel movement and rhythmic uniformity of the parts, to be of any value in themselves; their significance lies in the fact that they actually separated the unison parts and thus supplied the first step toward ultimate complete independence of simultaneous melodic voices, for which the name polyphony was at length adopted. The process of development up to this point and onward to the present may be tabulated in the following manner:

Antiquity and early Christian ages.

(1) One-part music, or simple melody,

Mediæval age.

(2) Organum (Hucbald), chiefly in parallel parts,

(3) Diaphony (Guido), partly oblique parts,

(4) Discantus (early Parisian school), greater independence both in direction and rhythm of the parts,

(5) Counterpoint (other northern schools also), a more general term for the constantly advancing technic of part association,

Classic age.

(6) Polyphony, perfected contrapuntal art,

Modern age.

(7) Harmony, chords, crystallised forms of tone combination,

(8) Homophony, one supreme melodic, part with harmonic accompaniment

(9) Romantic, Lyric, and Dramatic styles

The origin and gradual evolution of contrapuntal art, without which all modern music is wholly unimaginable, may be traced in this wise: To the adopted cantus firmus, or ecclesiastic intonation, a discant was added, as higher part; at first as mere duplication in some perfect consonant interval and in plain notes of uniform value. (It seems conceivable that the term punctus contra punctum may have been applied even to these incipient experiments, inasmuch as the rhythms were necessarily identical—the mensural system not yet having been introduced—so that the product was literally note against note and nothing more.) After a while the rhythm of the added part was animated to some degree by the addition of grace-notes or embellishments (melismas), appropriately called fleurettes, whence the designation contra-punctus floridus. Probably the most momentous innovation was the adoption of at least occasional contrary direction, in the melody of the added part, for it was not until this became a recognised and even obligatory liberty that actual independence of melody could be secured. To this improved product the name déchant (discantus) or duplum was given, when the composition embraced two parts only. When increased to three parts it was called a triplum, and when four parts were combined it was known as a quadruplum.

In such larger combinations many different names were used to indicate the various parts, as tenor, contra-tenor, motet, cantus, bassus, discantus. The tenor was always that part to which the cantus was assigned (from Latin tenere, to hold); it was originally the lowermost part. but later became the part next above the bass (lowest), as it is in the modern chorus.

The discant, instead of being written out by mental calculation, is known to have been frequently improvised, with such graces or fleurettes as the singer was capable of inventing. This was so common a practice that old writers of that early period distinguished between contrapunctus a penna (written) and contrapunctus a mente (improvised counterpoint).

It was at this important juncture, when the parts beean to assume greater independence both in melody and especially, in rhythm, that a method of determining time-values became imperative, and the mensural system was devised. We have already seen how this method was evolved from the neumas, gradually enlarged and improved, until it finally developed into a system of very great complexity and difficulty. Later it was simplified and clarified into its present form, which though formidable to every beginner, is nevertheless far more consistent, convenient, and perfect than the original mensural notation ever was.

It is easy to imagine, and, indeed, it may be witnessed in such manuscript compositions as have been preserved from the days of the old French school, how the newly discovered art of part association progressed from one stage of freedom to another; how the art gradually gained in fluency and fulness; how it slowly but surely advanced and increased in ingenuity and complexity, until compositions began to appear which could claim some degree of real musical and harmonic beauty, and not only aroused the admiration of the churchmen of those early days but which appeal even to our modern sense as objects both of interest and wonder.

The compositions of this period appear, as has been mentioned, to have been of four distinct kinds, the motette, rondeau or rondellis, conduit or conductus, and cantilenis. The most venerable of these was the motette, one of the peculiarities of which was that each of the voices generally had its own text, independent of the others. It appears to have been originally a secular form, cultivated by the popular music makers, but was adopted by the writers of sacred music, with such modifications as were necessary. During the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries it was the most popular form of musical composition in France, whence it gradually disappeared, to thrive all the more vigorously in the Netherlands and also in some parts of Italy, a century or more later.

The rondeau also originated with the people and remained always a secular form. It had usually one set of words sung by all the parts in common. The form of the conduit seems to have been less definite than that of the rondeau, though but little is known about it. It was generally, though not always, a vocal composition.

From such treatises on music theory as have been handed down to us, it is apparent that the old French writers made systematic use of the principal thematic devices known to modern theory, such as imitation, double counterpoint, and canon. That the principle of inversion was also familiar to them is shown in the falso bordone, of which such wide-spread use was made for many centuries and which seems to have been virtually a succession of chords of the sixth (Chapter VII).

Much has been said of, and claimed for, the old English school, which is supposed to have been established even earlier, and to have flourished somewhat later, than that of Paris. But historic testimony of conclusive worth is meagre. The wonderful old canon, Sumer is i-cumen in (Summer is come), dating from the early part of the thirteenth century, could have emanated from no other than a master-hand of extraordinary skill; but whose hand it was cannot be shown. Besides Walter Odington, one other eminent master is mentioned as representative of the old English school, John Dunstable, but he is placed as late as the fifteenth century.

Of much greater and more firmly established renown was the Gallo-Belgian School, generally regarded as the first vigorous offshoot of the old French school. The earliest distinguished name encountered in the musical history of this region is Zeelandia (about 1330–70). He was among the first to regard the intervals of the third and sixth as more attractive than the perfect consonances—fourth, fifth, and eighth—and to use the former more freely.

The next master was Vincent Faugues (born 1415), whose masses became very popular in Rome. The next and most distinguished master of the whole period was Guillaume Dufay, supposed to have been born in Hainault about 1415, though there is much uncertainty about this date. His fame seems to rest more securely on his achievements as theorist and teacher than upon his compositions. His counterpoint is still imperfect and constrained, but contains many cunning thematic devices and occasional passages of real musical beauty.

Other writers of the period were Firmin Caron (about 1420–80); Regis or De Roi, Flemish Koninck, (about 1435–1485); and Antoine Busnois (born, probably in Flanders, about 1440). The last ranked almost equal to Dufay and is known to have introduced marked improvements in the treatment of the parts.

CHAPTER XII
THE DUTCH SCHOOL OF COUNTERPOINT

The process of technical development in musical writing which had its significant beginning among the French organists of Notre Dame and passed from them to the scholars of the Gallo-Belgian provinces, was next taken up by the masters of the Netherland school. Here the art of contrapuntal combination advanced to a very high degree and the technic of composition reached a grade of perfection and facility far beyond that exhibited in the days of Dufay and Busnois. But it is no less true that it did not advance in a corresponding measure in intrinsic musical value, but, rather, lost gradually such natural power as it had possessed, in exaggerated subtleties of purely mathematical calculation.

The student must never lose sight of the fact that the products of these early centuries were not music in the sense that modern art has accustomed us to regard it. The art of true music, in the essentially elevated and refined sense, was not yet born. Its mission as a reflection and expression of human emotion was not yet recognised or, at most, vaguely entertained as a remote possibility. The history of music up to the beginning of the seventeenth century (that is, until about three hundred years ago) is the story of manifold experimentation with mysterious problems of tone combination from every conceivable point of attack—a searching and probing among the possibilities of tone and its associations as a new and wholly undeveloped medium of artistic creation. It was the framing of the body, so to speak, with all its anatomic parts and physical functions, in preparation for the abode of the spirit whose presence we now know and feel but which at that time was not yet conceived.

To comprehend clearly wherein all this searching and technical exploitation consisted, the student must recall the chief physical factors of musical art—melody, harmony, rhythm, and their infinite possibilities in forms of co-operation. The most significant and salient trait of a composition is its melody, or tone line, and the product of composition is invariably a design in which the tones arrange themselves in lines which hold and lead the hearer’s consciousness from point to point, thus providing a tangible scheme which one can follow and comprehend.

FROM THE “MARGARITA PHILOSOPHICA”
(of GEORGIUS REISCHIUS, 15O3)

This linear principle of tone combination is so fundamental and exclusive that no musical utterance, no matter how primitive or crude, can proceed from any other natural impulse. It is even seen in the inartistic but at least natural musical practices of the ancient and all barbaric races, which are limited wholly to the element of melody, or music formed of one single tone-succession. Of this physical property of music the earliest scholars were fully aware. For the first ten centuries of the Christian era all music, both ecclesiastic and secular, was thus limited to melody; and such systematic and scientific experimentation as was conducted by musically gifted men of that era was directed toward the perfection of the single line of tones. This is shown in the intonations and chants of the church and the folk-songs of the people. Then came, as we have seen, the momentous experiments with two and more tone lines at once, and the era of artistic (contrapuntal) tone association was inaugurated. From that time on, for over five hundred years, the only object of music writers appears to have been to perfect and elaborate this linear quality of music, to create more and more intricate and interesting line-designs of tone sequence. Consequently, the music of these early centuries exhibits cunning imitations, sequences, inversions, and all the devices now included under the head of motive development or thematic manipulation; and from epoch to epoch these devices increase and multiply their intricacies until the most amazing examples of voice leading and voice combination result—sentences, and even entire masses, in which there is not a single tone that does not form a significant link in some chain or line of thematic sequence. That the complex of tone, as a whole, should result in a reasonably harmonious product (that is, should sound well) was the natural and by no means particularly difficult consequence of respecting the laws of consonant intervals and, as we should state to-day, the laws of chord combination.

But this is practically all that music was from the eleventh up to the seventeenth century—the solving of a tone problem.

It is true, however, that we find occasionally infusions of true musical expression, as the possibility of the spirit dawned upon the writer, as the purely artificial and mathematical quality of the music began gradually to fit itself for its ultimate purpose and to become a pliant means to a great and noble end. This era was the inevitable schoolday period through which the art had to pass in order to discover and develop its power, to test its strength, and to come into conscious possession of resources that were ultimately to know no limit. This is its significance in music history, and from this point of view its products must be judged, with gratitude and reverence, but also with intelligence.

The first eminent name in the history of the Netherland or Dutch school is Johannes Okeghem (or Ockenheim), called the “patriarch of counterpoint and canonic art.” He was born about 1425, in Hainault, and died 1512, at Tours. He was, properly speaking, a Belgian, and he constitutes a connecting link between the Belgian and Dutch schools.

The following specimen of Okeghem’s writing is a secular song for three voices:

Almost exactly contemporaneous with Okeghem was the scarcely less renowned Hollander Jakob Hobrecht (or Obrecht) who was born 1430, at Utrecht, on the Rhine, and died in 1506, in Antwerp. Antonius Brumel, a pupil of Okeghem’s (born about 1460), manifests a recognition of chord formation and a leaning toward the more compact harmonic style.

PORTRAIT OF JAKOB OBRECHT)

By Anonymous - Unknown, Public Domain, Link

The most eminent master of the Dutch school, and also a pupil of Okeghem, was Josquin des Près. He was born about 1450, in Hainault, and died 1521. He may justly be ranked among the conspicuous figures in music history and as a distinguished promoter of perfect contrapuntal technic. Though charged with having carried the mathematical devices of melodic association to an exaggerated extreme, it is, nevertheless, true that every phrase Josquin des Près wrote, be it simple or elaborate, displays evidence of true musical genius. Josquin appeared in Rome in 1484 as singer in the papal chapel. After the death of Pope Sixtus IV he accepted a call from the Duke of Este, and went to Ferrara; later to Paris, as premier chantre du roi of Louis XII. After a few years there he returned to his native city as provost of the cathedral, which office he held until his death.

1611 woodcut of Josquin des Prez, copied from a now-lost oil painting done during his lifetime

By Original uploader was Clattuc at en.wikipedia - Originally from en.wikipedia; description page is/was here., Public Domain, Link

The following is from one of Josquin’s masses, Pange lingua, for four parts:

Every movement in the above sentence, written four centuries ago, may be analysed in terms of modern harmony and tonality. Close scrutiny of each separate voice will reveal to the observant student the masterly manner in which the four independent tone lines are interwoven, and how strictly each tone drops into place in logical or thematic agreement with the figures traced by the other parts. There is a growing feeling for harmonic (chord) effects exhibited here, and in others of Josquin’s works this is still more noticeable. The regularity of structure as shown in the clear-cut succession of uniform (four-measure) phrases, is not accidental.

One of Josquin’s most famous pupils was Nicolas Gombert, born in Bruges, in 1495. In 1528 he is encountered in Madrid. His compositions are characterised by ease, smoothness, and euphony, in which traits they excel even the writings of his great master.

Another pupil of Josquin was Jakob Arkadelt, born about 1514 [sic—should be 1507], in Holland, and one of the earliest writers of the madrigal. The following brief extract (the first period of Arkadelt’s famous Ave Maria) is a striking illustration of the progress made in the harmonic style:

There was not the least disposition on the part of these old masters to relinquish their pursuit of mathematical, contrapuntal feats; on the contrary, the devices of canon and fugue, while growing less constrained and mechanical, rather increased in intricacy. But, while the necessity of this discipline and the resulting power and dignity of the music were strictly defended, the masters seem to have become equally sensible of the need of contrast. Hence, we perceive the increasing tendency to lead the voices together, in compact chord forms, from time to time, instead of giving to each voice its wholly independent share in the unravelling and developing of the thematic motives.

It is very singular that in this era of preponderantly mathematical music, experiments of a purely artificial, descriptive character should have become popular. Possibly this application of tones to the illustration of physical phenomena (battles, country fairs, forest sounds, and the like) was regarded also as a musical problem, diametrically opposed to the purposes of counterpoint. One of Josquin’s pupils, Clement Jannequin (born about 1495), was especially noted for such tone pictures, written for voices—not for instruments, as is all descriptive music of to-day. Among his compositions were the Battle of Marignano and the Paris Fair.

Another noted master of this school was Benedict Dux (or Ducis), born 1480 at Bruges, lived in 1515 in Antwerp, and died about 1540. His eight-part motettes are remarkable for their dignity and beauty.

In the year 1502 the art of printing music with detachable cast-metal types was invented by Ottavio Petrucci (da Fossombrone). The immense significance of this invention, which exerted a revolutionising influence upon the whole range of musical culture, can be appreciated only by considering the serious limitations involved in the necessary preparation of copies of music works by hand.

The first book which proceeded from Petrucci’s workshop was a collection of thirty-three motettes for three parts, by Josquin, Anton Brumel, Loyset Compere, and others. His invention found many advocates, and in a short time a number of music-printing establishments sprang into existence: at Mayence (1512), Nuremberg, Munich (1540), Leipsic, Venice (1536), Paris (1520), and Rome (1523).

CHAPTER XIII
THE INFLUENCE OF THE DUTCH SCHOOL

Thus far the Netherlanders had ruled supreme in music and no other nation had produced masters whose influence was as great and wide-spread as theirs, or who could rival them in the significance of their achievements.

Probably the only country which exhibited important activity at the same time was Germany, where two men of great and just renown are encountered as early as the days of Okeghem—namely, Heinrich Isaak and Heinrich Finck. Isaak (born in 1450) surpassed all of his contemporaries in the composition and arrangement of secular songs. The historian Forkel says of him that “he manifested a clearness of melody, correctness and beauty of rhythm, and a freedom of harmony suggestive of the cultured art of the eighteenth century.” Finck (born about 1445) was also so popular that many of his songs were republished as late as 1536.*

*Hermann Finck, author of Practica musica (1556), thus refers to his great-uncle, Heinrich Finck: “Extant melodiæ, in quibus magna artis perfectio est, compositæ ab Henrico Finckio; cuius ingenium in adolescentia in Polonia excultum est, et postea Regia liberalitate ornatum est.” (Melodies are extant, composed by Heinrich Finck, which show great skill; as a boy he was educated in Poland, later by royal favor (liberality) he was enabled to continue his training.) (See illustration on page 107.) 106

In France and Spain, also, musicians of eminence appeared; and Italy, particularly, was beginning to reassert her musical power and preparing to become during the succeeding epoch the new centre of music history.

But this shifting of the centre of musical activity was due, after all, almost entirely to the steady emigration of the northern masters to these southern countries. The roots of the vigorous musical growth which spread its branches over all Europe were firmly embedded in the soil of Belgium and Holland; from this mighty centre all the lines of musical progress took their start, and all that music has since become may be traced to this source.

TITLE PAGE TO A WORK BY HERMANN FINCK
(“PRACTICA MUSICA,” 1556)

The Netherlanders did not stay at home. Their roving disposition, probably stimulated by the strong seafaring activity of that age and people, the overproduction of fertile musical minds, and the natural demand for their efficient services throughout Catholic Christendom—these and other impulses led many of them away from home, and thus they became the cause of the dissemination of their knowledge all over musical Europe.

This migratory tendency is observable as far back as Okeghem himself, who spent the greater part of his career in Paris; and also in Josquin des Prés, who was active in Rome, Ferrara, and Paris. Clement Jannequin, though a native of Flanders and a pupil of Josquin, spent his life in France. Gombert chose Madrid for his artistic home and obviously greatly influenced the methods of Spanish and Portuguese composers. Alexander Agricola, a Belgian and pupil of Okeghem, is encountered in Spain.

The great teacher and theorist Johannes Tinctoris went from the Netherlands to Naples. And so the emigration continued and increased until the Netherlands were depleted of their musical master minds and gradually lost their historic importance.

ADRIAN WILLAERT
AFTER AN ENGRAVING BY ANTONIO GARDANO (VENICE, 1559)

Among those who wandered south to Italy was the eminent Adrian Willaert. He was born at Bruges, in Flanders, in 1480, studied law in Paris, went to Rome about 1516, shortly afterward to Ferrara, and finally to Venice, where he remained as chapelmaster in St. Mark’s Cathedral until his death, in 1562. Willaert is accredited with being the first to use a larger number of parts, namely, six, seven, and even more, and he is supposed to be the originator of the double chorus. In his compositions a decided advance in tonal beauty is discernible, owing partly to his more extensive employment of the plain chord style. He contributed to the rapidly growing tendency to simplify the choice and treatment of harmonic material and to cultivate a more refined manner of artistic secular composition. Willaert’s most significant relation to the history of music consists probably in the fact that he was the originator, or, at least, the most powerful promoter of the madrigal—a secular form which he exalted to a truly artistic rank about 1530 and which rapidly attained to a high degree of popularity. Prior to this the most prevalent form of composition was the sacred motette, which, growing out of the religious chant, was severe in character, strictly thematic and contrapuntal, and provided the scholar the opportunity to display his learning and skill in canonic and imitatory voice combination. In consequence of this rigidity of character the motette became distasteful to the Italians, who then, as now, evinced that predilection for pure, smooth, unconstrained melody which has become the national physiognomy of their music.

The madrigal was intended and destined to satisfy the desire for a style of vocal music which, both in words and melody, was of a less scholastic and more popular type. It was, originally, a simple shepherd’s song and took its name from mandra, a flock, and mandriale, a shepherd. After a while it lost this primitive characteristic and pursued a more general development. The text, usually secular, consisted of twelve or fifteen lines of unequal length set, most commonly, for five voices. The composer’s aim therein was not, as hitherto, the scholarly manipulation of independent contrapuntal parts, but to reflect the sentiment of the text as accurately as possible. The adoption of some foreign theme, or cantus firmus, was completely abandoned, and the imitations and other thematic details were treated with much freedom.

These qualities of the madrigal led, necessarily, to a less severe application of all the established musical factors; chromatic progressions became very common; both the rhythm and the melody were more free and striking; novel and ingenious harmonic movements were invented; descriptive passages were introduced; and greater variety in the whole method of thought and execution was the inevitable result. For more than two centuries the madrigal was cultivated and produced in incredible numbers by all the masters of note; it became universally popular and exerted a most important influence upon the development of a freer and more attractive style of composition.

Besides the madrigal, the secular music of this period embraced a number of other popular forms, chiefly of Italian origin: the frottola, a short, merry street song; the vilanella, a peasant’s song; the maggiolata (May song); ballata (dance song); barcaruola, a boat song, or barcarole.

The following fragment from one of Willaert’s four-part vocal sentences will give a general idea of his mode of composition. It also illustrates the extent to which the harmonic style had already begun to supersede that of the intricate contrapuntal era:

Two of Willaert’s most celebrated pupils were the great Italian theorist Giuseppe Zarlino of Cremona and the composer Cyprian De Rore; the latter was born in 1516, in Mecheln, died 1565 at Parma. De Rore wrote almost exclusively works of secular character and is noted as one of the first to adopt and cultivate the chromatic progression. This was as great an innovation as the harmonic style introduced in such an original and striking manner by Richard Wagner a half century ago, or by Richard Strauss still more recently, and might have led to a far more speedy development of harmonic freedom had De Rore possessed the genius to follow it up, or his age been more ready to receive it. An example of the astonishing effects he produced is seen in the following passage from one of his four-part vocal motettes.

With all its novelty and daring, it still betrays plainly the awkwardness and lack of experience in the use of many musical factors, and helps to demonstrate how remote these old masters, with all their contrapuntal cunning, were from apprehending those qualities of music which more nearly concern the heart than the brain.

(The modern student is apt to be seriously misled by the time-values used in these older works and to misconceive their intended effect. It is certain that the ordinary beat of that time was expressed by a much larger note than nowadays, and, therefore, the half notes, or even whole notes, in these examples should be sung, or played, as if they were modern quarter notes, in moderate tempo.)

Other contemporaries of Willaert were: Costanzo Festa, the first Italian composer of fame; Philipp Verdelot; Jakob van Boes; Jakob Berchem; Claude Goudimel, the teacher of Palestrina and founder of an eminent school of Italian music; and Clement (non Papa). In France and Spain music also flourished to some degree, and in Germany a school arose to which a later chapter will be devoted. In England, about the beginning of the succeeding century (1600), a number of noted madrigalists appeared.

JANS PIETERS SWEELINCK

The music historians, theorists, and scholars of this era were: Johannes Tinctoris, born 1446 in Brabant, died 1511; Franchinus Gafurius (or Gafor), born 1451 near Milan, died 1522—one of the first truly distinguished masters of musical theory; Heinrich Glareanus (Glarean),* born 1488 in Switzerland, died 1563, the author of a curious theory of twelve modes (the Glarean modes), not identical with our twelve keys but derived from Greek theory; Giuseppe Zarlino, born 1517 near Venice, died 1590, the greatest musical scholar of this whole period. As composer he was accurate and scrupulous but dry; as theorist he created an epoch in musical science. Of supreme significance for coming ages was the system of equalised temperament, which Zarlino was the first to propose and which was soon to supersede the system of perfect fifths, according to which all instruments were then tuned.

* Though commonly so known, Glarean’s real name was Heinrich Loris, of Glarus.

In Spain a distinguished theorist appeared in the person of Francisco Salinas, born 1512 at Burgos, died 1590 in Salamanca. In Germany there were Adam de Fulda (end of the fifteenth century), Martin Agricola (1486–1556), Heinrich Finck, and many others famous as theorists and historians. In Italy, conservatories and schools of art were early established, and their influence upon musical culture was most beneficial. The oldest musical conservatory was founded in 1537, at Naples, and was known as the “Conservatorio Maria di Loretto.”

Among the Dutch masters who preferred to spend their lives in their own country was Jans Pieters Sweelinck, born in Holland about 1562, died in 1621 at Amsterdam. He was esteemed the greatest organ player of his day and an instrumental composer of merit. He manifested great interest in the culture of popular instrumental music and was, therefore, a friend of the strolling players and minstrels, for whose use he published, in 1602, a New Zither Book.

CHAPTER XIV
ORLANDO DI LASSO

The student now arrives at the consideration of the life and works of a Belgian master who ranks with the greatest musical geniuses of this whole epoch and of music history in general—Orlandus Lassus. He is also known by his original Flemish name of Roland von Lattre, called by the French Delattre and by the Italians and historians generally Orlando di Lasso. He was born in 1520 at Mons, in Hainault (one year before the death of Josquin and six years after Palestrina’s birth). At the age of sixteen he left his fatherland and went with the viceroy of Sicily to Milan and Palermo. At eighteen he arrived in Naples, where he remained about two years. After many wanderings (including a trip to England) he finally accepted, in 1557, an invitation of the Bavarian duke Albert V to make Munich his permanent home. Lasso remained in that city, in the capacity of chief chapel-master, until his death, in 1594.

During this long period he made two journeys to Paris, declining with tact the most tempting inducements of the French monarch, Charles IX, to remain there. He was buried in Munich by the Franciscans, and to his memory there has been erected a monument bearing the inscription: Hic ille est Lassus, lassum qui recreabat orbem. (This is that weary one who refreshed the weary world.)

Lasso was probably the most prolific of all composers. His complete works—two thousand three hundred and thirty-seven in number—are preserved in Munich, the greater part unpublished. His fifty-one masses are all characterised by that majestic dignity peculiar to the master’s whole style. Besides these, he wrote five hundred and sixteen motettes for from two to twelve voices, one hundred and eighty magnificats, four hundred and twenty-nine sacred songs, and almost numberless ecclesiastic compositions, including vespers, litanies, hymns, psalms, requiems, passions, and stabat maters. Special mention must be made of the Seven Penitential Psalms (Nos. 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, 143), inseparably associated with the name of Lasso, and which never found more impressive setting at the hands of any master.

It is noteworthy that a composer who could conceive and reflect the feelings of the penitent sinner in such a sincere and touching manner should find equally fitting expression for the gayest humour, as witnessed in his German songs. Aside from these intentionally humorous effusions. Lasso also bequeathed a large number of lyric secular compositions to the world, among which are fifty-nine canzonettas, three hundred and seventy-one French chansons, and two hundred and thirty-three madrigals.

Lasso excelled his predecessors in versatility, imagination, and rapidity of thought and execution. He did not appear to possess the power to break away completely from the rigid forms of contrapuntal artifice so revered in the days of his fathers, and he was, therefore, not destined to enter, himself, the realm of free and unconstrained tone art. But it is quite as certain that he educed effects and discovered resources that were before unknown, and that the impressiveness of his music was equalled only in the works of his great contemporary, Palestrina.

ORLANDO DI LASSO

His freedom in changes of key and the smoothness and energy of his voice movements indicate absolute mastery of the rules of the old school. His counterpoint is mostly more florid than that of older writers, which is one of many indications that Lasso was momentously active in that gradual transformation from the contrapuntal to the harmonic point of view of which we have already spoken.

Originally, the principle of melody, or the single tone line, constituted the sole conception of music, and the art of composition consisted in so interweaving two or more such melodic lines as to produce a harmonious result. In other words, the harmonious tone bodies, or chords, appeared as a consequence only. But, the power of these chord effects once having been observed and appreciated, their appearance became more and more frequent, until it is evident that they, the chords, influence the movement of the several parts and finally become no longer a consequence but a cause. The harmonic bodies and their successions become the basis upon which the leading of the voice-parts is determined. This, it will be seen, signified a complete change of conception, and it not only influenced the manners and thought of the composer but actually inaugurated that wholly new epoch of writing which reaches down to our day. That the rigidly linear contrapuntal style was beginning to yield to the more compact and powerful harmonic style is one of the most striking manifestations in Lasso’s writings.

For this same reason Lasso’s treatment of many of the scholastic devices is notably free; for instance, his imitations do not extend any farther than it is perfectly convenient for him to carry them; and that inexorable logic of voice movement which marks the technic of Okeghem, Josquin, and other old masters, is abandoned by Lasso, or treated with a freedom, or even indifference, that proclaims the spirit of revolution. In this very respect Lasso is regarded by many as inferior to Palestrina, whose contrapuntal technic was as strict and severely logical as that of any of his predecessors could have desired. To venture a general comparison, the relation of Lasso to Palestrina was somewhat parallel to that of Handel to Bach in the eighteenth century, and of Schubert to Beethoven in the nineteenth century.

The example which follows is from a sentence, Adoramus te, Christe, of Orlando Lasso:

Other Netherland composers who emigrated to Germany were Jakob Vaet, Christian Hollander, Philipp de Monte.

The epoch of the Netherlanders practically closes with Lasso. During the foregoing period of two centuries, over three hundred more or less distinguished composers went forth from this great school of the north; and the art of music, which it had so well developed and brought to so high a degree of scholastic perfection, began to take root in other countries of Europe, especially in Germany and Italy, and to form an essential part of their national civilisation.

A significant feature of the history of this musical epoch, destined to change the character and affect the subsequent evolution of the art, was the process of secularisation gradually making its way into and through the music of the church. The madrigal, which was originally a secular form of the motette, was one of the evidences of this movement; and it asserted itself as a permanent and universally recognised style of popular art, because it was the outcome of a legitimate and wholesome evolution of one of the established sacred forms of music.

But this secularising process was going on and extending its subtle influence within the church itself in the very forms that were created for the purposes of religious ceremonial. The old habit of introducing folk-songs and fragments of popular melody into masses, motettes, and other sacred works as a thematic basis assumed in time such proportions, and was effected in some cases in so shameless a manner, that the voice of the clergy, bent upon preserving the purity of ecclesiastic usages, was loudly raised against what was considered a sinful abuse; and this growing protest is given, by many historians, as one of the chief impulses which led to the recognition of Palestrina’s genius.

It was an inevitable movement. The genius of music could not be confined to the church. Its true beauty, its specific mission, its most direct appeal to universal human emotion were certain to be more quickly and fully apprehended by the people at large than by the ascetic churchmen. Among the people, music encountered less restraint and could unfold its natural beauty and power more freely than within the rigid bounds of church discipline and censorship, albeit the church had provided, and was the only source that could provide, the necessary opportunity for its technical and scientific development.

But now this technical task was amply concluded; the musical mission of the church practically fulfilled. In fact, this very course of scholastic experimentation and perfection had aroused the soul of music, had revealed its inherent emotional potentiality, and had pointed out the track that it was henceforth bound to pursue. The church could no longer hold music as its own, and the struggle of the art to find its proper atmosphere and abiding-place, in the heart of the people, gave rise to the secularising tendency of which we have spoken. This tendency was, furthermore, promoted by the general new birth and universal advance in social and civil culture; stimulated greatly, no doubt, by the geographic change of centre from the north to the south; promoted also by the great religious Reformation, which, during the lifetime of Lasso and Palestrina, had already acquired a mighty momentum and was beginning to influence music precisely as it had transformed many religious views and habits.

Lasso lived during this significant musical epoch and contributed much to the juvenating process. The same is true, to a greater or lesser degree, of Willaert and of other masters of the closing era of the Dutch school. At the same time, however, the church found a brilliant champion in the person of Palestrina, who, while apparently rendering great service to ecclesiastic music by reestablishing the purity and dignity of its character, no less certainly wrought benefit to secular music to a probably equal extent. His musical genius was truly great, wholesome, and natural; and his aims were as noble and sincere as they were serious and truthful. Therefore he actually purified both the ecclesiastic and secular styles and unified them in a form of artistic expression that was at once scholastic and emotional.

CHAPTER XV
PIERLUIGI DA PALESTRINA
ITALIAN SCHOOLS —ENGLAND

In the north of Europe the art of music had been acquiring form, vigour, and organic unity; but in the south, chiefly in Italy, the land of poetic and artistic ideals, it was to blossom and bear fruit of unexpected beauty and splendour. Just as Rome was become the centre of all Catholic Christendom, so now the Roman school of music took the lead of all others. Foremost among the names which made the Roman school so famous stands that of Palestrina, undoubtedly the greatest master of the sixteenth century, and, up to that time, the greatest in all music history.

Giovanni Pierluigi took his historic name from the village of his birth, Palestrina. His family name was Sante. (His Latin designation was Johannes Petrus Aloysius Prænestinus.) In Italy he was known as Giovanni Pierluigi da Palestrina. According to the latest authorities he was born in 1514 and was, therefore, six years older than Lasso. In 1544 he was organist and chapelmaster of the cathedral in his native city; in 1551 he was called to succeed Arkadelt as master of the boy choir and chapelmaster in the Vatican Basilica, St. Peter’s, at Rome.

His first work, printed three years later, was a volume of masses for four and five voices, and the immediate recognition of their superior merit won him an appointment in the convention of singers of the papal church. But Pope Paul IV, on his accession to the pontificate in the following year, felt himself compelled for various reasons (chiefly the fact that Palestrina was married) to dismiss him from the convention. During the same year, however, he became chapelmaster at St. John’s; in 1561 he assumed the same office at Santa Maria Maggiore; and in 1571 he was finally reinstated in his former office at the Vatican. Palestrina died in 1594 (the year of Lasso’s death) and was buried before the altar of Simon and Judas in St. Peter’s Cathedral.

Like all those who are destined to become great masters, Palestrina, before his genius was matured, was for a time a close follower of his predecessors. But he was gifted with vastly richer talent, a much broader and more comprehensive intelligence, and musical instincts of primary power and range. Therefore, he soon passed beyond the bounds which the art of composition had then reached, and conceived a series of masterworks that were and still continue to be objects of admiration and veneration.

PALESTRINA

The justifiable objection that had been raised by many of the clergy to certain abuses that had crept into the music of the church, and the agitation in favour of a refinement and, particularly, a simplification of its character, reached a climax during the early part of Palestrina’s career. An effort was made to remove the so-called figural or florid style of counterpoint from the church, because of the difficulties which attended both its performance and its comprehension, and to return to the simple old choral chant, as the more appropriate and effective method of musical worship. A decision becoming imperative, it was placed indirectly in Palestrina’s hands to demonstrate the feasibility of a partial return to the simpler style and to effect a compromise which would rescue the scholastic style from its threatened suppression. Historic accounts conflict, but it seems probable that Palestrina was commissioned (in 1565) to write a mass which might serve as a permanent model of ecclesiastic music. It is, however, not unlikely that Palestrina was personally interested in the controversy and that his genius foresaw the desired change. He himself was repelled by many traits of the constantly advancing contrapuntal methods, and he knew it would be necessary, in time, to stem the tide of “modernism,” which was just as active and threatening then as in so many subsequent eras of art. And his peculiar musical conception and true genius gave him the power to meet the emergency as probably no other living musician could have done. Palestrina wrote not only one mass, as suggested, but three, for six voices, the third of which aroused admiration and enthusiastic recognition far beyond the expectation of its modest author. In this third mass, those emotions which dominate in the Catholic ceremonial found most fervent and appropriate utterance. Through the simplicity and directness of the means employed, and the no less supreme treatment of traditional contrapuntal art, this mass fulfilled all the conditions of an impressive and truly beautiful ecclesiastic style. Palestrina dedicated this mass, in a spirit of gratitude, to the memory of his former patron, Pope Marcellus II, whence it received its historic title, Missa Papæ Marcelli.

PALESTRINA’S BIRTHPLACE

Palestrina’s compositions, while not nearly so numerous as those of Lasso, represent the results of a long and diligent life devoted almost exclusively to the service of ecclesiastic music. They include fourteen books of masses for four, five, and six voices; one book of eight-voice masses; many books of motettes, offertorios, litanies, hymns, magnificats, lamentations; and two books of madrigals.

The first collection of masses (1554) manifest all the most brilliant traits of old-school counterpoint without suggesting striking originality. The improperia (1559) are far more significant and bear witness to Palestrina’s attitude toward the chord or harmonic basis, which he uses with somewhat greater moderation, but also with greater insight and impressiveness, than did Lasso.

Next in order of merit come the lamentations, hymns, and a stabat mater. It is in his masses, however, that Palestrina appears in the full glory of his genius. Here are found that seriousness and dignity, that simplicity coupled with unlimited command of contrapuntal resources, which confirm his rank as the greatest master of musical art who had ever lived, and one of the few monumental figures in the entire range of music history.

Palestrina lived to see his works everywhere recognised and prized, and to hear the style which he had created called after his own name: Stile alla Palestrina. It is a significant confirmation of his true and enduring greatness that after more than three centuries of uninterrupted advance in musical art, and in the face of the rich and resourceful music of modern days, the world cannot and does not deny this master the most genuine admiration. Some peculiarities of his technic —the stern diatonic spirit of his melodic progressions, the frequent direct succession of fundamental triads in stepwise progression, the rigid (though singularly original and effective) fashion of his rhythm—sound somewhat hard and strange to modern ears; but the oftener we hear any of his works and the farther we penetrate into their innermost qualities and appreciate the everywhere-prevalent, marvellous harmony between idea, sentiment, and medium of expression, the more are we impressed with their lofty purity and natural power.

It is by no means easy to choose an example of Pales-trina’s writing which will give even a faint impression of the beauty and grandeur of his style. Fortunately, so many of his compositions are now accessible in printed form that the reader can easily obtain many different specimens of his music. The following is a brief extract from his Iste confessor:

We have seen how the Netherlanders migrated to the south and became causal in establishing a chain of schools of composition in Italy, where the next momentous steps in the progress and development of the art were to be taken. The first of these schools was the old Neapolitan founded by Johannes Tinctoris. The next was the old Venetian school established by Adrian Willaert. The most eminent of Willaert’s numerous pupils was Andrea Gabrieli (the elder), born 1510, of an old Italian family. In 1536 he was admitted as singer to the choir of St. Mark’s, became second organist there in 1566, and was commissioned in 1574 to write a festival work in honour of King Henry III of France. He acquitted himself of his charge by composing two cantatas, for eight and twelve parts, which aroused great admiration by the richness of their harmonies.

Andrea Gabrieli extended the double-chorus style, for which his teacher was famed, to that of the triple-chorus in many of his works. He died in 1586. Giovanni Gabrieli (the younger, 1557–1613) was born at Venice. In 1585 he became first organist at St. Mark’s. In 1609, Heinrich Schütz, who became subsequently one of the greatest German tone-masters, crossed the Alps to study with the younger Gabrieli. The association of vocal music with instrumental accompaniment was greatly promoted by Gabrieli, with whom this union became a distinctive style of composition.

More eminent than the Gabrielis was Claudio Merulo (1533–1604), an organist of extraordinary skill and genius. The former limited themselves chiefly to a mere transcription of vocal pieces (canzone) for the organ, but Merulo added florid passages and free interludes between the choral members.

Other distinguished Venetian masters were Giovanni della Croce, Baldassaro Donati and Giovanni Gastoldi.

Palestrina devoted much of his energy to teaching, and was practically the founder of the Italian school of composition at Rome. Possibly the honour is due to Goudimel, the teacher of Palestrina and others, though historically the old Roman school is inseparably connected with Palestrina’s name.

Contemporaries of Palestrina were Costanzo Festa, Domenico Ferrabosco, Giovanni Animuccia, all pupils of Goudimel; Ludovico da Vittoria; Luca Marenzio (1550–99, almost without a rival as madrigalist); and the famous Giovanni Nanini (1540–1607), the founder of the most distinguished Roman school, called the Younger Roman (that of Goudimel being known as the Older).

Out of this Younger Roman School proceeded: Bernardino Nanini (the younger brother of the founder, Giovanni, who conducted the school after the death of the latter); Giacomo Carissimi (one of the chief promoters of the oratorio); Gregorio Allegri; Arcangelo Corelli (the famous violinist and composer); Benedetto Marcello; and the renowned Domenico Scarlatti (the younger).

About 1700 an offshoot of the Roman school took root at Naples. The above-named Carissimi (1604–74) was the teacher of Alessandro Scarlatti (the elder, the father of Domenico); and this elder Scarlatti was the teacher of the three organisers of the famous Young Neapolitan School—Francesco Durante, Leonardo Leo, and Francesco Feo.

In England, the days of Queen Elizabeth appear to have been a period of considerable musical distinction and productivity. The most noted contrapuntalists were Thomas Tallis (died 1585) and his pupil William Byrd (about 1538–1623), both of whom were profound harmonists—the latter a famous composer for the virginal (or spinet), a forerunner of the pianoforte, which was very popular in England. A pupil of Byrd was Thomas Morley, composer of secular songs, madrigals, canzonettas, ballads, and airs.

Other English composers of this period were John Dowland (born 1562), Thomas Weelkes, John Ward, John Bennett, Orlando Gibbons, and John Hilton. Of more than passing popularity was John Bull (about 1563–1628), organist, virginalist, and a prolific composer.

In France, nothing of historic interest took place in music from the momentous days of the early Notre Dame organists, until the brilliant period of dramatic activity inaugurated about 1650 by Lully.

In Germany, on the contrary, significant events succeeded each other with increasing frequency, tending in the direction of the complete supremacy in music history which that nation was subsequently to assert.

Summary of the achievements of ecclesiastic musical art during the first sixteen centuries of the Christian era:

Epoch I

Ambrose. Gregory

The preparation of the soil.

Epoch II

Hucbald. Guido

A momentous step is taken.

Transitional

Franco of Paris. Franco of Cologne. Adam de la Halle. De Vitry. De Muris

The struggle with the consequence of this step.

Epoch III

Dufay. Okeghem. Josquin des Prés. Willaert. Lasso. Palestrina

The gradual and ultimate realisation of the results of which this step gave promise.

Subsequent Epochs

The progressive stages of secularisation and popularisation of the art of music down to the present day.

1425–1512. | Johannes Okeghem. |  |
1445. | Heinrich Finck. |  |
1450. | Heinrich Isaak. |  |
1450–1521. | Josquin des Prés. | 1455–85 | Wars of the Roses (House of York and House of Lancaster).
|  | 1475–1564 | Michael Angelo.
|  | 1470 | Sir Thomas Mallory’s Morte d’Arthur.
1480. | Adrian Willaert. | 1483–1520 | Raphael
|  | 1490–1536 | William Tyndale (Translator of the Bible).
1492. | Jakob Arkadelt. | 1492 | Columbus voyaged to the New World.
1510. | Andrea Gabrieli. |  |
1514–1594. | Palestrina. | 1513 | Balboa sees the Pacific from the heights at Panama.
1520. | Orlando di Lasso.
1551. | Palestrina succeeds Arkadelt at Rome. | 1551 | Nicholas Udall’s Ralph Royster-Doyster.
1557. | Lassus goes to Munich. | 1554–86 | Sir Philip Sidney.
1562. | Jan Pieters Sweelinck born. | 1558–1603 | Queen Elizabeth of England.
1563. | Willaert at St. Mark’s (Venice). | 1564–1616. | William Shakespeare.
1565. | Cyprian de Rore died. |  |
|  | 1573–1637. | Ben Jonson.
|  | 1585 (c). | Hawkins, Raleigh, Sir Francis Drake.
|  | 1590. | Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene.
1594. | Death of Lasso and Palestrina. | 1597. | Francis Bacon’s first ten Essays.
1621. | Death of Sweelinck. | 1620. | Coming of the Mayflower.

CHAPTER XVI
THE MUSIC OF THE PROTESTANT CHURCH
THE GERMAN CHORALE

It is universally conceded that all of the arts of the Christian era, and especially music, owe much to the Roman Church; and it is not denied that the Protestant Church rather impeded than furthered their development. But this is scarcely true of music; for the Reformation and its consequences prepared a soil for this very art out of which it was to draw new vigour, and that at the moment when its trend, in Catholic environment, was in the direction of a new growth which Protestant conditions were calculated to foster most effectually.

The significance of the Reformation in musical history is found in the fact that it led to the affiliation of both sacred and popular elements; that it thus brought the higher phases of music nearer to the people themselves, as a whole, and prepared music for that technically simpler and more direct emotional expression through which it was to attain its greatest power and develop its proper spirit.

The Reformation, which wrought so many changes, also demanded a wholly different mode of musical practice. The music of contrapuntally interwoven parts, which reached such artistic perfection in the Catholic Church, was repudiated in favour of a simple, one-voice melodic style, externally similar to the early, unadorned chants and intonations of the old church but of an entirely different, more popular character.

The masses and other settings of the liturgy, sung by clergy and trained choirs, were displaced by the chorale and sung by the congregation in unison. This was in some respects a backward step that would seem to threaten the real progress of the art, especially in regard to rhythm, which, in the austere regularity and heavy duple measure of the chorale, was apparently even less vital than the still essentially monotonous rhythmic pace of scholastic counterpoint. But this very quality proclaimed the vigour of the chorale; and the particular manner of its application (unlike the unmeasured recitative of the Gregorian chant) gradually infused very wholesome animation into the music. This brought it home to the heart and normal habit of the people and contributed most powerfully to the breaking of the rhythmic bonds in which all Catholic music was rigidly held and which probably no other influence could ever have succeeded in removing.

It was this rhythmic bondage that constituted the real barrier to further advance in ecclesiastic music. The comparison of Palestrina with Mozart or Beethoven reveals nothing more vital or striking than the difference in their rhythmic treatment. This rhythmic change, combined with the increase in subjectiveness and emotional spirit, constitutes the whole difference between the music of the sixteenth century and that of our day. The musical mission of the German chorale seems to have been to initiate this transformation of the rhythmic element.

The origin of the German chorale is ascribed to three different sources:

First, to the old hymns and chants of the Latin Church, upon which it was natural for the new church to draw. The changes to which these venerable melodies were subjected chiefly concerned the form, which was modified to meet the requirements of the new and more popular methods of singing. During the first century the rhythm of the chorale was much more lively, diversified, and syncopated than later, when, for good reasons, it was found desirable to adopt that heavy, dignified, regular pulse that characterises the German chorale to the present day.

TITLE-PAGE OF THE WITTEMBERG “SACRED SONG BOOK” (TENOR PART), 1524

Second, to the German sacred songs of earlier days, which were of a far more popular type than those of other countries. It should not be assumed that the people had never sung in the German tongue before the Reformation, or that Luther was the creator of German ecclesiastic song. As early as the ninth century such hymns and melodies existed, and many of a later date (twelfth century) have been preserved. The thirteenth century, particularly, is noted for a profusion of German songs to the Virgin, some of which were subsequently carried over into the Lutheran service—of course, with modified text, to conform to the dogmas and spirit of the new church.

The third and most important of the sources of Protestant church music were the secular songs of earlier days, from which legacy of the Minnesingers and the music-loving populace the most stirring and beautiful melodies were derived. These were remodelled into appropriate forms for the new purpose. The oldest hymn-books of the Reformed Church (the Wittemberg and the Walther, both of 1524) contain two folk-melodies, and numberless examples illustrate this natural appropriation of German and even French popular songs by the new church. These, because of their more familiar form, rhythm, and melody, supplied the Lutherans with material more congenial and better suited to the use of the congregation, in unison song, than the style of Roman ecclesiastic music could ever have become.

Original French Song:

As German Chorale:

Thus the music of the Protestant Church became, in the highest sense, sacred popular song.

The use of popular melodies in scholastic forms for church music had long been in vogue; for instance, the song, L’homme armé (Chapter X). The difference was that the older masters utilised the folk-melody merely as a thematic basis, or cantus firmus, and so wreathed the other parts in cunning contrapuntal forms about this that the folk-song, as such, was wholly unrecognisable. Whereas, in the Reformed Church, the secular melody was retained in its original simple form and adopted as air or tune, at first in the tenor, according to old usage, but soon transferred to the soprano and sung, with plain harmonic accompaniment, by the whole congregation.

But, besides this practice of borrowing material for its music, the church stimulated a new agent, that of original creation. Thus, the Reformed Church soon began to compose its own chorale melodies, still more accurately adjusted to the new spirit and methods; in fact, as the intimate expression of this inspiration.

History names Martin Luther himself in this connection and has accredited him with a large number of original chorales. Much has been written for and against the general impression that Luther was a musician of unusual endowment and a skilful composer. The truth probably is that he was a musical layman (amateur) who possessed very accurate knowledge of the theory of the art and of the works and writers of his time; that he was a lover of music and very likely not without much natural talent for it. He always found time for the study and practice of an art which afforded him great enjoyment and in which he recognised a powerful auxiliary in the upbuilding of a more popular form of religious worship. Luther was born in Thuringia, November 10, 1483, and was noted, as a boy, for his fine voice. During his childhood he studied music diligently and became an expert player of the lute and the flute. In the monastery he became acquainted with the polyphonic masterworks of his church (then the Roman Catholic), and he made it his business to study them thoroughly and to increase his knowledge of the scholastic side of the art. The habit of musical study was kept up all his life, and nothing delighted him more than to gather his musical friends and colleagues together and hold regular or improvised choral meetings for practice and recreation. His veneration for music was so great that he regarded it as nothing less than divine in origin and nature. As far as his own activity in the composition of melodies for the Reformed Church is concerned, it is more than likely that the pious faith of his followers placed much more to his credit than can be verified.

In point of fact, history is altogether wanting in absolute proof that any single chorale melody flowed from Luther’s pen. He himself never claimed the authorship of a single air. At the same time it is reasonable to suppose that so highly gifted a nature, with so keen a love for music, with so thorough a knowledge of its theory and so intimate an acquaintance with the best works extant, should have been able to conceive a simple chorale melody. It is also true that many melodies ascribed to Luther have not been traced with certainty to any other writer. Luther has been persistently accredited with the authorship of one of the mightiest chorales, Ein feste Burg, the grandest and most famous of all Protestant melodies, one which has not yet lost one whit of its thrilling grandeur and has been used numberless times as the theme of elaborate compositions by subsequent writers to the very present day; but it is now proven with almost final certainty to have been written by his friend Johann Walther in 1524.

From a long list of more or less musically gifted men who contributed original chorale melodies to the new church service during the first half of the sixteenth century, the most important were Hans Kugelmann, Philip Melanchthon, Hermann Finck, and Nikolaus Hermann.

Of greater significance in music history, however, was the activity which almost immediately began among the more learned musicians, in applying their scholarship to the elaboration of these church melodies. The first to supply the chorales with more artistic harmonisation and contrapuntal adornment was Johann Walther, a faithful ally of Luther in his ambition to reform the church service. Walther was born in 1496 in Thuringia. In 1524 he is mentioned as Ph.D. and bass singer in the choir of the Prince of Saxony. In this year, also, he published the first monument of Protestant music, the Geystliche Gesangk Büchleyn (see p. 132), upon the perfection and enlargement of which he spent the rest of his life. He died in 1570.

LUDWIG SENFL

Of far greater talent and scholarship was Ludwig Senfl, born the latter part of the fifteenth century at Zürich, and at one time pupil of Heinrich Isaak in Innsbruck. He died about 1555. Senfl promoted the technic of rhythm very materially in his contrapuntal treatment of the chorale. Georg Rhau (1488–1548), noted not only as collector and publisher but also as composer, issued, in 1544, one hundred and twenty-three tunes for the schools (Gemeindeschulen) which contained some of his own melodies.

These composers still followed the old custom of placing the melody proper in the tenor voice. It was soon recognised that this location in an inner register not only robbed the melody of its intended effect, but added to the difficulty of appropriately simple harmonisation; and it was, therefore, not long before the chorale-air gravitated to the uppermost (soprano—from sopra, above) register where it properly belonged. One of the most earnest advocates of this important innovation was Luke Osiander, who endeavoured to give, in every direction, a more natural and appropriate form to the choral service. His arrangements of the chorale, therefore, all place the melody in the soprano, where the congregation could more readily recognise it and more easily participate in its singing; his harmonies are always simple, consisting chiefly of consonant triads.

HANS LEO HASSLER

Another advocate of this more practical style was Seth Calvisius (born in Thuringia, 1556; died as cantor at the church of St. Thomas, in Leipsic, in 1615). Of greater distinction and scholarship was Hans Leo Hassler, born at Nuremberg in 1564. At the age of twenty he went to Venice to study with the elder Gabrieli. The following year he returned to Augsburg. Hassler’s chorale elaborations are based upon the triads, but dissolved in the separate voices into melodious tone lines of real musical beauty and significance.

Probably the most popular of all the German masters of the sixteenth century was Johannes Eccard, born in 1553; from 1571 to 1574 pupil of Lasso in Munich; then in Venice, 1578 in Augsburg, 1604 in Königsburg, and in 1609 in Berlin, where he died in 1611. His chorale work is distinguished for its clearness and dignity; in it the intention of imparting distinctive character to the individual lines of the chorale begins to manifest itself in a striking manner.

The first writer who undertook, with definite purpose, to introduce the then newly cultivated florid Italian melodic style into German music was Michael Praetorius, born in 1571 in Thuringia. He laboured in many directions to promote the spread of the best style of church music. Besides a very large number of compositions, he also contributed to the literature of music, historic and theoretic. His most famous book is the Syntagma musicum, a treasure of historic information and a theoretical treatise of very great value. The following illustrates his adoption of the florid style then in vogue in Italy, in the presentation of a chorale:

Other noteworthy advocates of this fusion of German sturdiness with Italian grace and rhythmic life were Erhard Bodenschatz, Johann Crüger, and Melchior Franck.

The immediate successor of Praetorius was Heinrich Schütz, the most gifted musical genius of his century (born 1585) and the most eminent forerunner of Sebastian Bach. Under the tuition of that distinguished representative of the new Italian style, Giovanni Gabrieli, Schütz had entered so fully into the spirit of Italian music that he was able to combine German choral song and Italian florid melody far more intimately and vitally than Praetorius had done.

Two of his successors, Johann Hermann Schein and Andreas Hammerschmidt, seem to have been actuated by a desire to restore the chorale and its manipulation to a style of melodic and harmonic presentation more in keeping with its original simplicity and sternness.

JOHANN HERMANN SCHEIN

It is evident that music owes to the Protestant church service the development of the harmonic form of composition and of the chord conception of tone association, so significant in the further advances and ultimate power of the art. The Italians, both in their sacred and secular writings, had unquestionably made important and far-reaching use of the compact harmonic method, but Germany was, nevertheless, destined to become the nation (and chiefly by its congregational manner of musical worship in simple choral song) through which this most pregnant and forcible mode of part-writing was to evolve into a distinct phase of musical technic and music history.

Up to this time the development of music as an art was centred in and fostered by the church. But ecclesiastic influence and tribute had now reached their end, and the scene of further action is shifted completely from the church to the people. Music ceased for a time almost altogether to be a sacred art and became essentially and practically a secular art. With the freedom of religious thought and the expansion of human enlightenment in all directions, came new desires and new tendencies, and these provided new means of expression for themselves. Music shared this spirit of freedom and began to be applied to its greater mission of reflecting the broader human—not alone the religious—emotions of the universal spirit of mankind.

CHAPTER XVII
RISE OF THE DRAMATIC STYLE OF MUSIC
ORATORIO AND OPERA IN ITALY

The drama and the instinct of dramatic representatation are as old as humanity. Dramatic plays have been a popular and an instructive means of amusement in all ages. In Germany the open-air (outdoor) plays constituted a popular recreation in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries and were conducted and performed by churchmen themselves for a time. The profession of player was quite as distinct then as now. Thus arose those Latin plays, or dramas, called ludi or mysteria. Later, songs were added to these in the native tongue and emphasised by the crowd of spectators who joined in their singing. The subject-matter of the sacred plays or mysteries was invariably biblical, and the occasions of their performance were usually the chief holy days of the Christian calendar—Christmas, Easter, Passion week, and Whitsuntide—which they served to celebrate. The musical portions were originally very unimportant; the interspersed songs were sung by a chorus—the final one usually by all present; the dialogue was either simply spoken, or recited in the monotonous manner of the church intonations.

In England, mysteries, miracle-plays, and moralities were extant from the earliest days of Christian history down to the end of the fifteenth century; and they were also very popular in France, Spain, and Italy. Many French mysteries still exist which date back to the fourteenth and some even to the eleventh century.

The nation that was destined first to impart a higher and more definite artistic aim to these rude dramatic presentations was Italy, especially as concerns the office that music was to perform in them. After the biblical drama had degenerated and almost completely disappeared, a kind of dramatic masquerade or play, of secular character, and often of great magnificence and pomp, came into vogue in Ferrara, Florence, and Rome, and proved to be a strong agency in awakening general interest in the more refined drama. The first play of this kind possessed of some real merit is said to have been a version Orpheus, by Politianus (end of the fifteenth century). Its chief factor was the spoken dialogue, between the different sections of which choruses in motette or madrigal form were introduced. Not the faintest idea of a vocal solo or recitative yet existed, nor were they known until the following century.

STAGE SETTING OF SHAKESPEARE’S “HENRY IV,” AT THE RED BULL THEATRE, LONDON, 1600

Shortly after this the sacred drama experienced a sort of resurrection in Italy. A devout priest, Philip Neri (born 1515), founded, about 1551, a hall of prayer at Florence in which he and his followers assembled for divine worship and meditation. In the course of the following seventeen years this circle had become so firmly organised and had so increased in numbers and influence that it was sanctioned by a papal edict as the Congregazione dell’ Oratorio (Congregation of the Hall of Prayer). Desiring to add music to the attractiveness of his institution, Neri engaged Giovanni Animuccia (master of song at the Vatican, St. Peter’s, and fellow student of Palestrina under Goudimel) to arrange and conduct the musical service. Here it was, in the midst of this holy order, that the so-called oratorio style was created and assumed its primary form. Animuccia’s work in this direction was carried on by Palestrina, Nanino, Anerio, Marenzio, Carissimi, and others, with ever-increasing system and success; but the oratorio, as an art form, was, nevertheless, not to receive the same attention or attain the same importance in Italy that it did later on in Germany.

As concerns the origin or, more properly, the revival of that other branch of dramatic art, the secular drama, it is found, somewhat curiously, taking place almost simultaneously with that of the oratorio, though quite independent of the latter; and the subsequent development of both the sacred and secular dramatic and musical forms (oratorio and opera) is consequently largely identical and reciprocal.

In the house of Count Giovanni Bardi, a descendant of an illustrious old Tuscan family and an ardent friend of the arts, we encounter at a somewhat later period (near the end of the sixteenth century) a circle of gifted scholars and art lovers who conceived the idea of reviving ancient Greek tragedy—of placing the dramas of Æschylus and Sophocles on the stage again. As these tragedies called for a certain degree of musical co-operation or accompaniment, it was desirable so to compose the music as to provide as close correspondence as possible with the spirit of the original drama. Through this agency that novel species of secular dramatic art with musical setting was called into life out of which, in course of time, the opera was to proceed.

In 1589 there were among Bardi’s associates two musical artists of great reputation and scholarship, Giulio Caccini and Emilio del Cavalieri, who had written a number of so-called Intermezzi for the nuptial festival of Prince Ferdinand of Medici. These intermezzi were brief vocal interludes, inserted between the acts of the dramatic presentation. They did not contain anything whatever in the nature of a vocal solo, but consisted only of madrigals for from three to eight voices, of so-called dialogues for from twelve to thirty vocal parts, and of occasional instrumental sentences called symphonies.

In 1590, Cavalieri, who entered with ardour into the spirit of the new dramatic project, furnished music for a number of dramas, all of which still adhered to the old madrigal style. It was not until the year 1600 that these composers, and particularly Jacob Peri, began to produce works of a distinctly new order. Peri, the father of the modern opera, had written music to the play of Daphne, as early as 1594, which met with such favour that he was encouraged to write Eurydice, in 1600, in the same style. This latter work, which is recognised by historians as the first to contain the distinctive elements of the later opera, was published and dedicated to the Queen. Peri had a host of enthusiastic admirers and the imitation of his style soon became general.

In 1607 Claudio Monteverde followed with Orpheus and Ariadne. (The subjects of all these dramatic works, and of practically all that followed for over a hundred years, were naturally taken from Greek tragedy.)

Besides these two new forms of musical art, the oratorio and the opera, there was a third, which originated about the same time—the sacred concerto—the creator of which was Ludovico Viadana. The reason given by Viadana (in the preface to a volume of such compositions) for the adoption of a new style was “that the individual singers might each find something to their taste, and the opportunity to display their skill, instead of being merely one of a number of interdependent parts.” The sacred concerto was, therefore, the direct incentive to the introduction of the solo song, with all its momentous consequences, as aria and recitative of the new-born dramatic forms.

This has nothing to do with the singing of the German chorale as one-voice, unison, chant; the latter was wholly different from the vocal monody, both in spirit and purpose. Nor is it to be associated in any other than a very general sense with the songs of the troubadours, minstrels, and the populace, which, as song, had been the practice of humanity for centuries.

The first name associated with the history of monody or solo song is Vincenzo Galilei, about 1570. His experiments were carried on by Giulio Caccini and Ludovico Viadana, and were crowned with marked success in the solo song of Monteverde and Alessandro Scarlatti.

The predilection which Italy as a nation has always shown for melody and song led very early to the creation of regular systems of vocal training, and the technic of the art of song soon became, in that country, the object of careful study and cultivation. Caccini published an elaborate vocal method, from which it is evident that the art was being practised according to recognised rules. His directions in regard to intonation, attack, and the embellishments are most interesting and of positive value to the modern singer.

Thus, every movement, both on the dramatic and musical plane, tended toward the development of solo song, culminating in the two important forms of the recitative and aria, without which no effective musical drama could exist. At first there was but little difference between them; the recitative was barely more than a monotonous declamation approaching the ordinary modulations of speech, and the aria rarely extended beyond simple four or eight measure phrases, with well-defined cadence inflection. Both Peri and Caccini laid extreme stress upon the closest reflection of the meaning of each separate word, and they employed, at times, abrupt dissonances and peculiar, unexpected melodic interval-progressions to obtain this vivid dramatic result.

The following is an interesting example of the earliest form of solo song by Caccini, who adds careful marks of expression (a thing absolutely unknown in any earlier form of music, sacred or secular). The bass accompaniment is for the chitarrone (large lute):

The traits which were to become characteristic of the subsequent aria appear first with evident purpose in the writings of Claudio Monteverde. He was born in 1568 at Cremona, was master of song in St. Mark’s Cathedral in Venice and later chapelmaster to the Duke of Mantua; he died in 1643. The following truly remarkable example of early dramatic declamation, whose expressiveness is as touching as it is genuine, is from a monologue of the forsaken Ariadne, by Monteverde:

What influence all of these tendencies toward more vital dramatic and emotional expression necessarily exerted upon the instrumental portions of the early opera will be shown in Chapter XVIII. Peri’s Eurydice was accompanied by a clavicembalo (early form of the pianoforte), a chitarrone (largest lute), a lira grande, and a large lute—behind the scenes.

The musical dramas, produced in astonishing number, were performed in different cities and became immensely popular. In 1637 Venice already possessed a permanent public theatre. Every composer of note devoted himself more or less earnestly to the novel style of composition, among whom the most significant were:

From 1635 to 1660, Claudio Monteverde, Benedetto Ferrari, Francesco Cavalli, Marc Antonio Cesti.

(1) SCARLATTI, (2) TARTINI, (3) MARTINI, (4) LOCATELLI, (5) LANZETTI, (6) CAFARELLI’s CAT SINGING AN ITALIAN PARODY

From 1660 to 1680, Molinari, Giovanni Legrenzi, Giovanni Freschi.

From 1680 to 1700, Francesco Righi, Giovanni Ruggieri, Alessandro Stradella, Alessandro Scarlatti, Attilio Ariosti.

At about the same time that the Greek tragedy was adopted for dramatic treatment, the comedy also began to flourish. An Italian literary authority names Vecchi’s Amfiparnasso as the first comic opera; it was performed in 1594 at Modena and introduced the droll characters of the popular farce, Pantalon, Harlequin, Brigella.

One of the most eminent promoters of sacred dramatic music was Giacomo Carissimi, of whose life less is known than of his works. Carissimi was born 1604 at Marino, near Rome; he was chapelmaster in Apollinare church In Rome; flourished in the years 1635–74, and lived to a ripe old age. His contemporaries speak of him as one of the progressive spirits of the day. As far as is known, he did not compose a single opera, but he nevertheless contributed to the perfection of the dramatic form by his significant achievements in the aria and recitative, in a style of composition known as the chamber cantata. This form was one of the first results of the influences which the development of the dramatic style naturally exerted upon the older forms of composition.

Carissimi was a master of the old-school counterpoint, but he applied his skill and solidity of technical treatment to the new forms, and imparted to them the necessary stability of structure and greater seriousness of purpose. He it was who extended and defined the essential outlines of the melodic designs, either as solo-aria or duet, for all time, by moulding them according to the forms of popular song—in rounded phrases and periods, with distinct cadential limits, and the “recurrences,” which were not only a recognised element of perspicuous design in the lays of the minnesingers, but constitute the vital basis of musical form throughout the classic period to our own day. One of Carissimi’s most famous followers in the sacred dramatic forms was Alessandro Stradella (1645–81), a composer and singer of great popularity.

The most brilliant period of old Italian opera was inaugurated by Alessandro Scarlatti (the elder, father of the still more famous Domenico Scarlatti). He lived about 1659–1725, a native of Naples and a pupil of Carissimi. His first opera, L’onesta negl’ amore, was produced at Rome. He returned to Naples as chapelmaster, where he spent the remainder of a life of almost incredible versatility and wide-spread artistic usefulness.

ALESSANDRO SCARLATTI

Scarlatti, the elder, was the tutor of “half of Italy and Germany,” and as singer and vocal teacher he is regarded as the founder of modern dramatic vocalism, just as Carissimi was of the chamber aria and sacred aria. The arias of Scarlatti are firmly moulded in the form of two parts (sections) with a third as da capo. His overtures were distinguished from those of French composers in consisting of a grave (slow) movement between two allegro sections—a design known as the Italian overture.

From the birth of Philip Neri (1515) to the death of Claudio Monteverde (1643) the dramatic element in music evolved to a truly remarkable degree. It was developed in the works of Carissimi and applied in the early Italian operas of Alessandro Scarlatti. The advent of the two important forms, opera and oratorio, occurred at a time of great activity in Italy:

Michael Angelo laboured for fifty years as sculptor, painter, architect, and poet, Leonardo da Vinci died in 1519 and Correggio in 1534. The Council of Trent met in 1545 and remained officially active until 1563; one of its most notable achievements was the purification of church music by prohibiting the use of secular melodies as cantus firmus. (See Chapter XV.)

DOMENICO SCARLATTI

Contemporaneous with these activities were the early colonisations on the continent of America. De Soto discovered the Mississippi in 1539. St. Augustine, the oldest town in the United States, was founded by Menendez and his followers in 1565. Champlain, “a gentleman of France,” founded the city of Quebec in Canada in 1608. The following year, Hudson sailed up the river that now bears his name.

A few years earlier, 1603, James I issued letters patent to the Virginia Company, and in 1607 Jamestown (Virginia) was settled. The Mayflower brought the Puritans (Independents) to what became Plymouth in 1620. In 1636 Harvard College was founded.

1515. | Philip Neri. | 1519 | Death of Leonardo da Vinci.
|  | 1534. | Death of Correggio.
|  | 1539. | De Soto discovered the Mississippi.
|  | 1545. | Council of Trent.
|  | 1564. | Michael Angelo died.
|  | 1565. | St. Augustine (Florida) founded.
1568. | Monteverdi born. |  |
1570. | Vincenzo Galilei (monody). |  |
1590. | Dramatic music by Cavalieri. |  |
1594. | Peri’s Daphne. |  |
1597. | First Italian opera at Venice. |  |
1600. | Peri’s Eurydice. | 1603. | The Virginia Company.
1604. | Carissimi born. |  |
1607. | Monteverde’s Orpheus. | 1607. | Jamestown, Virginia, settled.
|  | 1608. | Quebec founded.
|  | 1620. | The Plymouth Colony.
|  | 1636. | Harvard College founded.
1643. | Death of Monteverdi. | 1643. | The New Haven colony.
1659. | Alessandro Scarlatti born. |  |

CHAPTER XVIII
EARLY ERA OF ORATORIO IN GERMANY

The same spirit of dramatic expression was active in Germany, and especially in the sacred forms, even more vigorously and effectively than in Italy. Sacred plays (Passion plays and mysteria) were more common and popular in Germany than in the centre of Catholic influence and at a much earlier date. At the end of the fifteenth century they had attained such dimensions as to extend over several successive days. The number of persons engaged also increased in proportion; in 1498 a play was given in Frankfort with two hundred and sixty-five actors.

That the German folk-song should play a significant part in these productions is self-evident; and the fact that German composers always adhered firmly to the form and style of the people’s song, adopting it as the melodic and structural basis for their arias, is the principal explanation of the enormous popularity which the dramatic forms achieved in this nation.

In Germany far greater interest was manifested in the sacred dramatic forms, oratorio and sacred concerto, than in the opera. As early as the middle of the sixteenth century it was the rule for every composer to write a musical setting of the Passion. One of the most celebrated works of this character was a so-called Actu Oratorio, composed by Melchior Franck and first performed at Coburg in 1630. It was a mixture of Latin sacred text and free poetical intermezzi, designed both to entertain and edify the hearer. This remarkable work testifies to the sharp distinction between the two principal dramatic styles, oratorio and opera, which was recognised and maintained from the start. The following terzetto from the Actu Oratorio gives an impression of the progress already made in free and appropriate musical expression. It is a hymn of consolation brought by three angels in a dream to Prince Gottfried:

Both aria and chorus attained an eminent degree of beauty and force in the later works of Heinrich Schütz, whose name has already been mentioned in connection with the chorale, and who, as probably the greatest master of his era, constitutes one of the chief links in the chain of historic musical heroes, reaching from Guido of the Middle Ages down to Beethoven, Wagner, and Brahms.

Schütz (sometimes known by the Latin designation. Sagittarius) was born in North Germany, October 8, 1585 (exactly one hundred years earlier than Bach, Handel, and Domenico Scarlatti); at the age of thirteen he entered the court chapel of Landgrave Moritz of Hesse-Cassel as chorus boy and there obtained a thorough musical education. Later he attended the University of Marburg as law student, but his musical genius was discovered in time to intercept this career, and the landgrave sent him to Venice in 1609 to study with Giovanni Gabrieli. Two years later he published at that place his first book of madrigals and won honourable recognition. After the lapse of two more years, upon the death of Gabrieli, Schütz returned to Cassel and shortly afterward was called to take charge of the Capella at Dresden. This organisation was scattered by the desolating Swedish wars, and Schütz was unable to reassemble and establish it anew until 1641. He died at Dresden, November 6, 1672. The chief endeavour of Schütz was to introduce the more animated and florid Italian style (with the best forms of which he had become profoundly familiar during his four years’ scholarship with Gabrieli) into German music, or rather to amalgamate the charm of the one with the vigour and substantial worth of the other. He thus succeeded in creating a new method of expression which combined the enduring qualities of the best conceptions of both musical nations, and promoted the art to a higher grade of beauty and power than it had ever before reached.

HEINRICH SCHÜTZ

Among his earlier compositions the most noteworthy are the Psalms of David, motettes and concertos for eight and more parts, the Story of the Resurrection of Our Lord, all most masterly creations, replete with beauties of harmony, melody, and rhythm almost unapproached by his predecessors. And yet these were but the forerunners of those grandly designed oratorios which constitute the third volume of his Symphoniæ sacræ (1650), and which, along with the four Passions, represent Schütz’s most noteworthy and, in many respects, truly magnificent musical creations. The four passions (according to the four evangelists) were composed in his eighty-first year.

THEORBO (to the left). CHITARRONE (centre). ARCHLUTE (to the right)

The St. Matthew Passion is thus introduced—a solemn and impressive announcement of the subject to follow, with fairly simple harmonic material:

Very characteristic is the animated presentation of the text, Prophesy to us! in the St. Mark Passion:

Partly as contemporaries and partly as successors of Schütz, several other gifted composers appear, whose labours in the sacred dramatic forms were of historic significance. Some of these have already been mentioned; Johann Hermann Schein, noted for his elaboration of the chorale in the new Italian style; Johann Rosenmüller (died 1686); Johann Rudolf Ahle (1625–73), and his son, Johannes Georg Ahle (1650–1706).

The two Ahles are considered as the two direct predecessors of the great Johann Sebastian Bach and were justly noted for their success in unifying the artistic styles of both sacred and secular composition. Typical specimens of the new aria form are found in the writings of the younger Ahle, whose Seasons was very popular and famous.

ANGEL WITH LUTE (albrecht durer)

Further, Wolfgang Carl Briegel (born 1626), in whose oratorios the experiments of earlier writers begin to assume a certain degree of effectiveness and permanency; and Johann Sebastiani (born 1622), a composer of graceful melodies, whose Passion work is probably the first in which the new concerted style with instrumental accompaniment and interspersed verses of song was adopted. (The instrumental accompaniment in this work consisted of two violins, four violas, the bassus continuus—probably for bass lute—organ, lutes, theorbos, violas da gamba, and violas da braccio.)

In the year 1644 a curious work appeared, in the nature of a singspiel (vaudeville or play with songs), which illustrates the influence of the spirit of popular song, whose significance throughout all musical tendencies in Germany has been pointed out. This play was called “Sacred Forest-ode, or recreation, entitled Seel-ewig; the tunes composed in the Italian manner by Sigismund Gottlieb Staden.”

Seel-ewig (immortal soul) was the name of the title role and represented a nymph. Eight characters appeared as nymphs, shepherds, shepherdesses, the spirit of the forest, and figured in a series of partly allegorical and partly real episodes, wherein Seel-ewig is beset with divers temptations from which she is successively rescued and finally redeemed in triumph. The accompaniment included three violins, three flutes, three shawns (may-flutes), a rude horn, and a theorbo for the continuous bass.

All these efforts to cultivate the dramatic style obtained a more definite aim and support in Germany upon the establishment of permanent theatres. The first of these was organised at Hamburg in 1678 and was opened with a performance of a singspiel called The Created, Fallen, and Redeemed Man. The music was by Johann Theile, a pupil of Schütz. The libretto provided for recitatives, arias in strict metre, duets, and choruses. The accompaniment was played by a spinet, bass viol, and bandora; and this body of players was employed not only as accompaniment to the vocal parts, but also, as expressly specified, “now and then the viols may be heard alone, to give the singers a chance to breathe.”

SIGISMUNDUS THEOPHILUS STADEN

Dramatic music in Germany, both as evidenced by the secular (opera) and sacred (oratorio) forms, enjoyed a flourishing period during the entire seventeenth century. Tendencies in the development of the art were so directed that in the lifetime of Schütz (1585–1672) both these great forms were established in Germany as they were similarly established in Italy under the followers of Neri.

The period was one of immense intellectual activity throughout Europe. Copernicus had a century before corrected the error of the Ptolemaic system. His brilliant follower, Galileo (1564–1642), worked contemporaneously with the composers of the early schools of opera and oratorio. Descartes and Spinoza were eminent philosophers. The early mystery and morality plays in England had given place to the works of Shakespeare. The Puritan age in English letters was rich in a new order of literature. In 1653 Izaak Walton’s Complete Angler appeared; in the same period Jeremy Taylor’s Holy Living and Holy Dying was written—a book that is said to have been read by every humble cottager. Likewise, in this period were written the plays of the two great collaborators Francis Beaumont and John Fletcher. John Milton died in 1674, two years after the death of Schütz. Pilgrim’s Progress, by John Bunyan (1628–88), the greatest of all allegories, “stole silently into the world.”

CHAPTER XIX
DEVELOPMENT OF AN INDEPENDENT INSTRUMENTAL STYLE
THE ORGAN

In the more modern periods of musical history there is a pronounced preference manifested for the instrumental style of composition. So complete is the change in attitude and conception, and in the supremacy of the latter class over the vocal style, that their relations to one another have become exactly the reverse of what they were originally. Instrumental music is commonly distinguished as absolute music because no external auxiliaries such as text, dramatic presentation, scenic illustration, and the like are employed to heighten the musical effect. Instrumental music depends exclusively upon the elemental power of tone abstracted from all other elements of attractiveness; upon the force of formal symmetry and proportion; the ever-varying interaction of impressions that are of a purely musical nature. It lies, therefore, in the nature of things that this refined and genuine phase of tone expression, this last and most perfect product of artistic evolution, should have been reserved for that advanced period of art history when the consciousness of its capacity should have reached a higher degree of maturity.

MUSICAL INSTRUMENTS OF THE EARLY SIXTEENTH CENTURY
DESIGNED IN 1512

At first it was natural for human beings to restrict themselves to the use of the instrument which Nature herself provides—the human voice. The superior rank of this, and of the vocal style identified with its specific qualities and resources, was almost wholly uncontested until as late as the middle of the sixteenth century. We have seen that the strolling players and minstrels accompanied their vocal lays upon some rude instrument—the vielle, bagpipe, or lute; and in the church, the organ, clarion, and trombone were used at an early period for the support of the vocal choir. But the instruments served no other purpose than this; nothing more was assigned to them than the duplication of the vocal parts; not before the sixteenth century is there any trace of a strictly independent instrumental conception and application of music to be found. The earliest compositions of this character in which the instruments were used alone were but little or nothing more than an exact transcription of songs and other vocal pieces for the vielle, hurdy-gurdy, lute, or harp.

A “BOOK” ORGAN

The first collection of printed instrumental pieces appeared in 1507–08 in Venice and consisted in four books of lute pieces, chiefly dances.

The next appears to have been issued in 1529 at Paris. These pieces were also for the lute and probably differed very slightly from similar vocal compositions in the usual contrapuntal style of the time. In 1589 a collection of compositions was published at Rome, each number in a threefold arrangement—for three vocal parts, for cembalo, and for the lute.

With the exception of dances, a few organ pieces, and such transcriptions as the above, no compositions that were written expressly for instruments (without reference to vocal models) appear until the last quarter of the sixteenth century. But thereafter instrumental music made rapid advances and soon became of equal importance and popularity with the vocal style.

From a manuscript Psalter, National Library, Paris.

FOURTEENTH-CENTURY ORGAN

Among the numerous but still very imperfect instruments of early days the organ assumed the most important rank. Of its ancestry it suffices to say that it originated in the hydraulos, or “water-organ,” popular with the Greeks and Romans. The word organum signifies “instrument” in general.

Organs were introduced into the Catholic Church about the eighth century; in England as early as the seventh; in France not until the eleventh. In Germany organ-building became an important branch of industry at the end of the ninth century, and in the tenth there were already organs of considerable magnitude In Erfurt, Munich, Magdeburg, and Halberstadt. The hydraulic organs were superseded at about this time by those in which a number of alternating bellows produced a steadier wind-pressure. The pipes were placed originally in a single row; then other rows were added; and after a while the front or principal row was separated from the back rows and a different keyboard used for each. This also gave rise in time to the row of keys for the feet (about the fifteenth century), called pedals in distinction to the manuals for the hands.

EARLY PORTATIVE ORGAN

In the fifteenth century experiments were ventured In the imitation of other Instruments, and the organ soon comprised flute, trumpet, and other stops or registers. An important improvement was made in the invention of reed-pipes, whereby it became possible to obtain greater variety and to simulate other instruments more closely. Most significant of all were the adoption of a uniform standard pitch, and the equalised temperament (mentioned in connection with Zarlino, and the incentive to the Well-Tempered Clavichord of Bach, who was an earnest supporter of the innovation).

ORGAN OF THE EARLY SEVENTEENTH CENTURY

At first the organist limited himself to the mere duplication of the vocal cantus intonated by priest or choir; later he probably added a discantus of his own or played all the vocal parts. As the mechanism of the instrument was improved the resources of the organist increased, and his technical skill kept pace necessarily with these, until it was no mean accomplishment to be an organist, even in the earlier days of the great contrapuntal schools.

The advances seem to have been most rapid in the Netherlands and Germany, where organists surpassed those of Italy, notwithstanding the high esteem in which the latter were held as late as the seventeenth century. The oldest organ compositions which have been preserved are said to be the works of a German, Conrad Paumann (born blind at Nuremberg; lived in the fifteenth century).

In Italy organ playing flourished most vigorously in Rome and Venice. Next to the two Gabrielis, Claudio Merulo of Correggio (1533–1604) is regarded as one of the most noted organists of his time. He gave a lively impetus to the technic of the organ and also to the styles of composition for the instrument; he was probably the first to give definite form to the toccata.

GIROLAMO FRESCOBALDI

Another eminent Italian organist was Girolamo Frescobaldi. This so-called “father of the true art of organ playing” was born about 1583 at Ferrara, died 1644. He is known in history as the most skilful and gifted organist of this era, and is said to have been followed from city to city by those who admired his playing. The following is a specimen of his style of composition—a toccata, in which are recognised the sturdy, massive chord effects, and also the florid, figurated style, both of which are obviously derived directly from and dictated by the vocal practices of the time:

Toccata.

Frescobaldi’s most noted successor in Italy was Bernardo Pasquini (1637–1710).

The debt which all musical Europe owed to the Netherland school has been repeatedly demonstrated, in connection with vocal music, chiefly within the church. But the influence of the Dutch masters, in providing a fundament for future structural growth, is evident also in the advancement of instrumental music. Both Italian and German organists derived nourishment from this source. Frescobaldi himself laid the foundation of his mastership in Flanders, where, at that time, “organ playing attained eminent standing. Flanders, Holland, and Brabant gave many fine organists to the world, and were, so to speak, the nursery of this class of musicians.”

A large number of celebrated German musicians received their organ training directly from an eminent Amsterdam master, Jan Pieters Sweelinck (himself a pupil of Zarlino). Foremost among these was Samuel Scheidt, one of the earliest to promote the art of organ playing. Scheidt was born at Halle in 1587, and was, therefore, very nearly contemporaneous with Frescobaldi and with Heinrich Schütz. He was famous for his treatment of the chorale, which was far more animated and elaborate than that of earlier writers, and he aimed at the greatest possible richness of harmony and accuracy of expression.

Another eminent German organist and composer, Johann Jacob Froberger (born at Halle in 1605; died 1667), was a pupil of Frescobaldi. He is noted for his achievements in the fugue form, rescuing it from neglect and imparting vitality to it (modernising it, from the standpoint of his day). The fundamental details of the fugue were still more firmly established and the character of this important instrumental form more definitely developed by a German organist of fame, Johann Pachelbel (born at Nuremberg in 1653; died 1706 as organist of the St. Sebaldus church in that city). In his works, full of originality and alert imagination, the fetters of the old ecclesiastic mode are broken and the two universal modes, major and minor, assert themselves as the only natural and legitimate tonalities. The subjects of Pachelbel’s fugues are of a distinctly instrumental character and indicate an advance in the freedom and richness of musical conception. Thus:

Fugue Subjects.

Two other German organists of this period are worthy of mention: Dietrich Buxtehude (1637–1707) and Nicolas Bruhns (1666–97), both of whom made valuable contributions to the organ literature of the seventeenth century. To our modern ears these works sound dry and are not calculated to hold the interest, but it is easy to understand the admiration they excited in their day as models of symmetry, animation, and originality.

CHAPTER XX
INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC
THE CLAVICHORD, HARPSICHORD, AND OTHER KEYBOARD INSTRUMENTS

Of no less significance and far greater popularity than the organ were the clavichord and the virginal, the two chief varieties of stringed instruments with a manual or keyboard, the forerunners of the pianoforte. The two were distinguished to some slight extent in outward construction, but chiefly in the manner of tone production. In the clavichord the strings were struck from below by flat, metal pegs, called tangents, inserted at the farther end of the wooden strips or levers whose front end formed the keys of the manual. In the square virginal (also called spinet) and in the triangular-shaped harpsichord (clavicymbal, cembalo, French clavecin) the strings were snapped by short, thin points of quill driven into the side of the wooden lever. From this quill (Latin spina) the name spinet was derived. The virginal was a trifle smaller than the spinet.

From the Weimar “Wunderbuch.”

PRIMITIVE SPINET, ABOUT 1440

These instruments, being smaller and more easily constructed than the organ, and simpler in their manipulation, served the purposes of entertainment and instruction far better than the latter, and were, therefore, naturally calculated to become more popular. The organ kept its place exclusively in the church, while the clavichord and spinet found their proper abode in the home.

From the Weimar “Wunderbuch.”

A CLAVICHORD. 1440

Who the inventor of these instruments was will never be known. It is certain that their earliest forms date no farther back than the fourteenth century. The virginal is first mentioned in 1511. The embryonic forms of the stringed instrument with keyboard may be recognised in two ancient mechanisms: the monochord, from which the clavichord family proceeded, and the antique psalter, the remote progenitor of the harpsichord and spinet.

ITALIAN SPINET

The monochord, used in its primary form by the Greeks, was not a musical but a mechanical device consisting, as the name implies, of one string, divisible by means of a movable bridge (somewhat like the strings of a violin, altered in length by the moving finger of the player). To obviate the inconvenient shifting of the bridge, a set of keys (claves) was attached, with metal pegs, which, striking the string in different places, produced the corresponding tones. In the subsequent clavichord, the number of strings was increased, but one string still served for two or more tones by being thus struck at different points. The transition from the monochord to the clavichord is represented by the dulcimer, a very old instrument of German origin. It consisted of several metal strings, stretched over a long wooden box, tuned by means of pegs, and struck with diminutive mallets of wood or felt, manipulated by the hand and dropped upon the strings from above.

DULCIMER

The combination of these two gave rise, about 1500, to the clavichord. The strings, usually of brass wire, were stretched over the surface of a sounding board or box, and gave forth their tone by being struck with the thin metal tangent at the end of the wooden rod extending to the keyboard. The tone was dehcate and characteristic enough to give birth to a specific style of instrumental music. The first instrument of this kind in which there was a separate string for each key, is said to have been constructed in 1725 by Daniel Faber, an organist at Crailsheim in Württemberg.

UPRIGHT HARPSICHORD

At first the clavichord had twenty keys, with a compass of two and a half octaves; all of the keys were white except B flat, which was black; later the number of keys was increased to twenty-two, and, upon the addition of the chromatic tones, to thirty-eight. About 1600 it had a compass of about four octaves; the lower keys were then black, the upper ones white; it had, as a rule, no legs, but was placed upon a table. As to the other family, the harpsichord and spinet, it had, like the ancient psalter, a separate string for each tone, of proportionate length. The tone of the psalter was produced by means of a brass or ivory plectrum in the player’s hand, with which the strings were struck or snapped. This instrument developed also about the year 1500 into the harpsichord (clavicymbal, virginal or spinet) by substituting a set of quill points for the plectrum. The approximately triangular form of the psalter was retained, at least in the clavicymbal and harpsichord, which had the appearance of a small harp laid upon its side. The virginal and spinet were nearly or quite rectangular.

In every outward respect, the instruments of both classes were practically alike; they differed (1), as has been seen, in the mode of producing the tone; (2) while the clavichord was single-strung, the virginal was often double or triple strung (i. e., in “choirs,” more than one string for the same tone); (3) the harpsichord often had two banks of keys, one above the other, as on the organ, and a sort of damper, shifted by hand.

Of the remarkably large number of experimental varieties of keyboard instruments invented in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as fancied improvements upon the clavichord and harpsichord, none was to prove of lasting value until the attempt was made by Bartolommeo Cristofori, of Padua, in 1711, to devise a means of modifying the tone, and in a sense combining the advantages of both classes. The instrument he made was most closely related to the clavichord, as the strings were struck from below, not by metal tangents, however, but by small felt hammers. The tone which was thus produced proved to be susceptible of considerable modification; it could be made long or short (legato or staccato) and either loud or soft. For the latter reason, which was considered the most significant, the new instrument was called forte-e-piano (loud and soft) or forte-piano, and later, pianoforte, which novel designation it has ever since retained.

CRISTOFORI PIANO

It is natural that the development of any style of music must go hand in hand with the technical and mechanical perfection of the instrument for which it is designed. The methods of execution upon these keyboard instruments, especially as concerns the fingering, were so singularly awkward and clumsy that one wonders how it was possible to obtain any satisfactory results with them. At first only the three middle fingers were used; the thumb and little finger but rarely; and this most unnatural and apparently needless restriction was tolerated for a full century. As late as 1735 the famous player and composer, Mattheson, fingered the C major scale in a manner which would seem to us to preclude all progress. He magnanimously admits, however, that “you will find almost as many different methods of so-called fingering (applicatur) as there are players. Some run with four fingers, others with five, while others, again, get along almost as briskly with only two. Nor is this of any consequence as long as one adopts some definite system and adheres to it.”

In his famous pianoforte method (Versuche üer die wahre Art, das Klavier zu spielen, 1759), Philipp Emanuel Bach says: “As our ancestors very seldom made any use of the thumb, it was usually in their way; consequently they often had too many fingers. Nowadays we are sometimes conscious of having too few, notwithstanding the more rational use of them in our present style of music. I have often heard my deceased father [the great Johann Sebastian Bach] say that he had frequently seen great players in his youth who never used the thumb except in wide stretches, where it was unavoidable.” Couperin, in his equally famous method (L’art de toucher le Clavecin, 1716), already taught a more general use of all five fingers. It was the elder Bach, however, who appears to have first advocated the cultivation and employment of all five fingers equally. Of this, his Well-Tempered Clavichord and other works bear unquestionable testimony.

All this aftords the reader a glimpse of the array of obstacles which the art had to overcome, and increases his appreciation not only of our present pianoforte style but of the esteem due to the admirable compositions of earlier days, conceived and executed under such limitations as were imposed by the crudeness both of the theory and the mechanical vehicles of musical expression.

The tone of all these instruments was, as intimated, delicate, though possessed of a certain keenness and penetration and of very brief resonance. The so-called manières, or embellishments (grace-notes), were doubtless often introduced chiefly for the purpose of prolonging the resonance of certain tones of the melody—though, of course, they also partly originated in the imitation of the ornaments (coloratures) so common and essential in vocal arias.

CHAPTER XXI
CULTIVATION OF THE CLAVICHORD STYLE
OTHER INSTRUMENTS. THE PRIMARY ORCHESTRA

In the art of clavichord playing and composition, the French and Italians kept up an even contest for supremacy for a long time. France possessed the greater number of distinguished clavichordists, while Italy continued to produce the best singers and violinists.

In France three masters appeared at an early date who laboured with marked success in establishing a distinct clavichord style: Denis Gaultier (about 1605); Georg Muffat (from the middle of the seventeenth century until 1704); and François Couperin (born in Paris in 1668; died 1733).

The most popular instrumental forms of the time, created by these and other writers in all countries, were the toccata, ricercar, fugue, fantasie, capriccio, aria (not vocal) with or without so-called doubles (variations), and, more especially, the numerous forms of the dance (allemande, bourrée, chaconne, courante, gavotte, gigue, menuet, passacaglia, pavane, passepied, polonaise, rigaudon, sarabande, etc.), which were commonly published collectively under the title of suite.

The suite was probably of French origin, dating from the middle of the seventeenth century. It often contained, besides the dances, other more scholastic forms of composition, such as the prelude, fugue, rondeau, scherzo, etc. In Italy the term partita was often applied to it, and also the designation sonata da camera in distinction to the sacred concerto known as sonata da chiesa. (Neither of these should be confounded with the modern sonata, though the relation is apparent.) The sonata (from sonus, sound; signifying a “structure of sounds,” and thus distinguished from the vocal cantata, from cantare, to sing) appears to have been originally, at a very early date, also a vocal composition allied to the motette. Later on it was a brief instrumental introduction to larger vocal forms (in which case it also bore the name sinfonia).

FRANÇOIS COUPERIN

In its present modern collective form of three or four movements, the sonata was derived in some degree from the suite, which it partly succeeded and eventually superseded; but it does appear contemporaneously with the suite, as a composition in one movement. This sonata in one movement was the most perfect and scholarly form of this whole early instrumental era, as it is to-day, with its orchestral counterpart (the symphony), the most distinguished of all the forms of absolute music. Its most eminent promoter was Domenico Scarlatti (the younger), who gave it those fundamental structural traits which, with some important modifications, form the ground-plan of the modern sonata-allegro.

The earliest suites consisted usually of dances, but the name suite (and also partita) was also given to a series of variations of a small dance in period form, like the chaconne and passacaglia. The suite was most popular in France, while in Italy preference was given to the sonata and partita. The instrumental styles of these two countries differed so essentially in the eighteenth century that the terms French style and Italian style were common and decidedly distinctive.

Of the numerous works of François Couperin, one of the most prominent figures in French musical history in the early part of the eighteenth century, the Pièces de Clavecin are the most remarkable. They consist chiefly of the dances in vogue at that time, but contain also pieces of a more general character, conspicuous among which is the rondeau (rondo). This latter was then the most popular instrumental form and was based upon the idea of alternation—the alternation of a principal period with one or more subordinate periods; thus it embodied the fundamental condition of instrumental music, the clarity and effectiveness of which are dependent upon just such thematic oppositions and confirmations as the rondo (and also the sonata) affords. The following rondeau illustrates Couperin’s style:

Couperin’s historic successor was Jean-Philippe Rameau (born, 1683, at Dijon; died, 1764, at Paris). Rameau was the first to publish a theoretical work in the sense of the modern text-book on harmony; it was entitled Treatise on Harmony Reduced to Its Natural Principles. It appeared in 1722 (about the same time that Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavichord was published in Germany), and was the first example in history of an attempt to present a system of harmony or chord combination in the form of a well-grounded and carefully investigated theory. Prior to this the theory of composition was taught under the name of counterpoint, but thereafter these two phases of theory were always separately taught and applied. Rameau’s method, though experimental, was the basis for all subsequent treatises for nearly one hundred and fifty years, and many of his deductions and rules are still recognised as fundamentally valid. Rameau’s clavichord pieces were extremely popular, and he was also actively engaged in operatic composition.

J. PH. RAMEAU

In Italy, Girolamo Frescobaldi was followed by the two Scarlattis, Alessandro and his son Domenico. By far the more eminent in the history of music in general, and clavichord composition particularly, was the younger, Domenico Scarlatti, who is justly regarded as the most distinguished clavicymbalist (and also organist), both as composer and player, of this era. He was born in 1683 (two years before Bach and Handel) in Naples; he lived for a time in Lisbon and Madrid, returned in 1725 to his native country, and died in 1757 (one year after the birth of Mozart).

It is scarcely possible to overestimate the influence exerted by Domenico Scarlatti upon the advance of musical art, especially that of instrumental or absolute music. Many of his pieces for the clavichord are still considered admirable, and in originality, purity of style, and beauty of detail they rank with the best that the art produced during the first half of the eighteenth century. To his great contemporaries, Bach and Handel, he was inferior only in breadth and versatility of genius.

In England instrumental music was also an object of serious and wide-spread cultivation. The most prominent composers were Thomas Tallis (died 1585), his pupil William Byrd (died 1623), Giles Farnaby, Thomas Morley (died 1604), John Bull, Orlando Gibbons (1583–1625), and Pelham Humphrey (1647–74)—all musicians of skill and scholarship, though it cannot be asserted that their contributions to instrumental literature were of striking originality or lasting worth. They devoted their attention mainly to dances, in the French style, and to popular pieces. The greatest native English composer was Henry Purcell (1658–95), a genius of real power of whom more will be said in connection with the opera.

In no country was the growth of instrumental music more rapid and vigorous than in Germany. One of the earliest clavichord composers of this country, was Johann Kuhnau. This original and masterly writer (born 1667; died 1722—ten years before the birth of Haydn), was Bach’s predecessor as cantor and organist of St. Thomas’s school in Leipsic. One of Kuhnau’s most interesting creations was a collection of six Biblical Histories, with additional explanatory notes, in the form of sonatas for the clavichord, published in 1700. Each one of the six is accompanied by a so-called programme describing the music and its illustrative purpose; for example, No. 2 bears the superscription: Saul, cured of his disorder by the music of David. The sonata represented (1) Saul’s depression and foolishness; (2) David’s exhilarating harp playing; (3) the king’s pacified spirit.

JOHANN KUHNAU

This is another illustration of the apparent instinctive inclination among music lovers to recognise descriptive qualities in music—even when instrumental—and to employ it in the suggestion and direct illustration of physical and emotional movements. The error committed by many of these older writers appears to be that they carried the idea to what impresses us as an absurd extreme. The practice was very common, and many compositions received descriptive titles sometimes both absurd and inappropriate. This is seen in the writings of Rameau, Cou-perin, English composers, and even the great Bach; and the custom has not yet wholly died out—in fact, in recent tmies it appears to have been revived, but in a far more artistic and serious fashion, in the tone-poems of Liszt and others.

Theophile Muffat (son of Georg Muffat and pupil of Joseph Fux) was more distinctively German than his father, who is usually assigned to the trench school. Theophile was born in Vienna and lived during the first half of the eighteenth century. Another very popular clavichord composer was Johann Mattheson (1681–1764), who will be considered later.

As to the other musical instruments which were used partly for solo performance but chiefly as accompaniment, and out of the combination of which the complete orchestra was ultimately to emerge, it suffices to say that each separate instrument (of brass, or wood, or with strings) became the object of mechanical investigation and improvement until it reached its highest grade of technical structure and efficiency. As far as popularity and general usefulness are concerned, the lute assumed, no doubt, the foremost rank during the early centuries of musical practice. But it was not calculated to serve artistic purposes, and, although constructed in a wide variety of forms and sizes and used a great deal by early instrumental composers, and in accompaniments, the lute was never considered worthy of a place in the later orchestra and has, therefore, become almost obsolete.

The instrument that proved its artistic superiority and adaptability was the violin. This attained a degree of perfection at Cremona, in Italy (in the period from 1600 to 1745), never since quite equalled, through the persistent and skilful efforts of the Amatis, Guarneris, and Antonio Stradivari.

The greatest violin players and composers were Giuseppe Torelli (died 1708), Arcangelo Corelli (1653–1713), Giuseppe Tartini (1692–1770), and, later, Giovanni Battista Viotti (1753–1824).

The family of stringed instruments played with bow—the violin, viola (da braccia), violoncello, and contrabass —constituted then, as now, the fundament of the orchestra, to complete which it was only necessary to add the wind instruments of wood and of brass. The division of every class of instruments into groups (choirs or families) of four or five, differing in register and corresponding originally to the different vocal parts, was practised as early as the fifteenth century. Agricola (in 1529) speaks of a quartet of “little violas of three strings.” Michael Praetorius (in 1619) mentions the use of three-stringed violas in part-music. In his day, in Germany, a complete quintet was employed (presumably, violin, viola, viola da gamba, violoncello, and contrabass), a fourth lower in pitch than similar instruments in Italy. The term violino first appears in a book dated 1533, though it is not known to what this refers—probably a little viola, called later violetta. The earliest explicit mention of the name “violin” occurs in a treatise published in 1596, where its compass is given exactly as fixed to-day. The first certain employment of the violin appears to have taken place in Monteverde’s Orfeo (1607), where it is spoken of as a violino piccolo.

ANTONIO STRADIVARI

A body of instrumentalists in the sense of the modern orchestra (wind and strings) is first mentioned by a German, Johann Pezelius, in 1675, who associated two violins, cornet, flute, clarions, clarionets, and bassoons. In the same year Johann Caspar Horn’s famous Parergon musicum was published, consisting of dances for two choruses, with violins, flutes, cornets, shawms, and the basso continuo (probably played, as was quite universal, upon a bass lute). Gabrieli, in Italy, commenced to associate various instruments; but the orchestra, as a unified and properly balanced body, was not fully organised until the days of Haydn (middle of the eighteenth century). Greater stress was naturally laid at first upon the cultivation of the single instruments for solos or for small ensemble performances, thus assuring the full recognition of the qualities and the technical perfection of each and gradually determining its degree of fitness for concerted employment.

The wind instruments in most common use appear to have been those of metal—the trumpets, trombones, horns, etc.—which very frequently formed a choir by themselves in the church service and in chorale elaborations. Next in popularity to these stood the oboes, clarionets, flutes, and other wood-wind instruments, the mechanical perfection of which is, however, of comparatively recent date. It was customary to use, also, one or more virginals or clavichords in accompaniments. These, however, in their present form of the pianoforte, are no longer admitted to the orchestra, their place there being now taken by the harp.

The development of an orchestral body was powerfully furthered by the forms of dramatic music which constantly increased in popularity and magnitude, steadily approached a higher artistic aim and achievement, and stood in need of instrumental reinforcement and resources.

CHAPTER XXII
DRAMATIC MUSIC IN ITALY
LATER ERA

In consequence of the luxuriant growth of dramatic song the serious a cappella style of the Roman Church gradually gave place, in Italy, to a wholly new mode of musical conception and utterance. Monteverde, Cavalli, and Cesti had already found the beginnings of a new musical language better suited to the expression of human passion; Carissimi had extended, enriched, and intensified this language; and his great successor, Alessandro Scarlatti, marks the inauguration of a most brilliant era of Italian dramatic art. The earliest and chief centre of activity was at Naples, and the array of masters engaged there in the creation of dramatic works (especially operas) were known as the Younger Neapolitan School.

To this era belong, first, two scholars of Scarlatti, Francesco Durante and Leonardo Leo, who head the masters of the younger Neapolitan school. Durante was born in 1684 (one year before Handel and Bach) at Fratta Maggiore, studied at first with Alessandro Scarlatti, then in Rome with Pasquini; later he became chapelmaster in Naples, where he died in 1755. He was Scarlatti’s inferior in point of dramatic talent, but his works exhibit a certain thoroughness and brilliancy. His orchestra was still primitive, though he began to make use of flutes, oboes, bassoons, horns, and trumpets.

Leonardo Leo was born in 1694, followed a career very similar to that of Durante, and died in 1744. His melodies were more flowing and graceful than those of his contemporary, but also more effeminate. Leo was the favourite of all Italy. He wrote about forty operas, several oratorios, and a multitude of sacred works, mostly with orchestral accompaniment. A closer imitator of Durante was Francesco Feo, born, 1699, at Naples. His works, both sacred and secular, were noted in their time for their purity and solidity but were soon forgotten.

Another noteworthy pupil of Scarlatti was Nicolo Porpora (later the teacher of Joseph Haydn), born 1685. He was the author of a large number of operas, many of them written for the London stage, where he was engaged, in 1733, as composer and director; he was exactly the same age as Handel, and died in 1766. Porpora was more famous as vocal pedagogue than as composer.

To the next generation of Neapolitan tone-masters belonged, first and foremost, Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, born 1710, died 1736 (at the age of twenty-six years). In the opera seria he was unsuccessful, owing to his lack of talent and experience concerning dramatic effects, and his want of the power and versatility requisite for larger creations. On the other hand, his comic intermezzo, La serva padrone, was enormously successful, especially in Paris. The historian Fétis speaks of it as “a masterpiece of ethereal melody, elegance, and genuine dramatic form.” His last work, a famous Stabat Mater, has maintained its place in the admiration of music lovers to the present day, though critics differ widely in their judgment of its real merit.

The next composer of renown was Niccolò Jommelli, born, 1714, near Naples. He appears to have been an erratic genius, more gifted and brilliant than diligent. In 1754 he became director and composer to the king in Stuttgart, where he remained until 1765, when he returned to Naples, and there died in 1774 (four years after Beethoven’s birth).

Probably the most distinguished of all the representatives of the Neapolitan school was Niccolò Piccinni, born 1728 (four years before Haydn); he studied with Durante and Leo and presented his first opera, Le donne dispettose, at the age of twenty-six, in the theatre at Florence. His greatest success was won with the comic opera Cecchina, written for Rome in 1761, which was on the stage almost uninterruptedly and spread into all the musical cities of Europe; it became so famous that Piccinni’s method of handling the opera buffa (comic opera) was recognised as standard, and he was called the regenerator of that style. He is accredited with being the first to adjust the aria to the design of the rondo form. In the course of the ensuing forty years Piccinni composed no fewer than eighty operas besides a number of oratorios. In 1776 he went to Paris, where he became the head of a strong rival faction opposed to Gluck, in which connection we shall again consider his career. Piccinni died in 1800.

Another renowned pupil of Durante was Giovanni Paisiello, born, 1741, at Tarento. His artistic career opened with two comic operas written for the Bologna stage, La Pupilla and Il mondo al rovescio; these were followed—up to the year 1803—by ninety others, partly serious but chiefly comic. He died in 1816.

The remarkable progress thus made by the Italian opera, subsequent to Alessandro Scarlatti, extended principally in the direction of purely vocal art, while the dramatic contents were proportionately neglected. The melody expanded to broader dimensions, and its rhythmic members assumed greater regularity and symmetry.

NICOLO PICCINI

In the early days of monody the melody of the opera and oratorio was composed of brief members, the sections were short, cadences frequent, and the aria, as a whole, stunted, undeveloped, and unfinished. The younger generation elaborated and systematised the structural form and created that broad three-part design (with a middle section and a da capo) which was universally adopted and cultivated under the designation “grand aria.” (This form was naturally utilised in instrumental composition also and became the basis of the great majority of subsequent forms—in fact, the chief structural idea according to which all homophonic forms and even the larger sonata and symphony designs were modelled.) But the more their interest centred thus in the vocal element, the less attention was directed to the dramatic purpose, which was supposedly the prime object of the entire creation. The result was, of course, that all dramatic conditions became of decidedly inferior significance, and the art and practice of vocalism soon asserted themselves as principal aims. The dramatic characters sank into mere vocal instruments; the aria, as brilliant vocal show piece, supplanted the other elements; duets and ensembles were rare; and the chorus had but a very unimportant rôle, or none at all. This, again, influenced and degraded the text (libretto), which soon sacrificed its dignity and dramatic sense. The composers catered to the singers and were but too ready to devote their efforts and melodic inspirations to the growing rage for technical display, virtuoso colorature, and bravour arias. Hence the discredit into which the Italian opera fell and the contempt with which, to the present day, many of the older types of this class are regarded, as far as libretto and dramatic action and purpose are concerned.

GIOVANNI PAESIELLO

While the school at Naples was thus flooding Europe with its attractive and, in some respects, admirable products, the rest of Italy was by no means idle. In Rome, Venice, Bologna, and other cities composers of more or less celebrity were active, adding their voices to the victorious chant of Italian operatic art.

In Rome, where the music of the church would be expected to receive, naturally, more zealous cultivation than that of the secular drama, there were, nevertheless, several eminent masters busily engaged in the new and popular domain of composition. Among these were Giuseppe Ottavio Pitoni (1657–1743); Bernardo Pasquini (1637–1710), Frescobaldi’s successor in the field of organ virtuosity; Francesco Gasparini (1668–1737), teacher of Domenico Scarlatti, composer of about thirty much-admired operas and the author of an interesting and valuable text-book on Thorough-Bass (the term, equivalent to figured bass, is derived somewhat clumsily from basso continuo or continuous bass); and Agostino Stef-fani (1655–1730), famous for his melodic talent, especially in the duet, of which, in its typical form, he was regarded as the creator. Of distinct artistic merit is his Stabat Mater for six vocal parts, two violins, three violas, ‘cello, and organ.

Conspicuously identified with Venice was the famous school of Giovanni Legrenzi (1625–90), author of many fine sacred works, seventeen operas, and a number of sonatas and other instrumental pieces. He organised an orchestra of thirty-four players at St. Mark’s, which comprised string and wind instruments in an association strikingly similar to the modern body.

His most eminent disciple was Antonio Lotti (1667–1740), who wrote nineteen operas and many excellent works for church and chamber, distinguished for their grace, pathos, and profound contrapuntal scholarship. This master, no doubt underestimated in his own day and generation, is now regarded as a shining light of the Venetian school. He was also a thorough master of the vocal art.

Another disciple of Legrenzi’s school was Antonio Caldara (1670–1736), born in Venice; he became vice-director of the opera in Vienna, under the celebrated pedagogue and composer Johann Joseph Fux, where he remained until his death. He wrote sixty-nine operas, noted more for skilful technic than creative talent.

Great respect is accorded, further, to Benedetto Marcello (1686–1739), whose principal work was a beautiful and powerful setting of the Psalms of David. His original intention of composing the entire number (one hundred and fifty) was abandoned after he had finished the first fifty. One of the most clever and original composers of the Venetian school was Baldassare Galuppi (1706–85); he spent some time in London and was the author of about sixty operas.

In Bologna appear Giovanni Paolo Colonna (1640–95) and Giovanni Bononcini (the younger); the latter, born, 1660, at Modena, was most famous as a really able rival of Handel in London, whose popularity with the English public he shared quite evenly until the superior genius of Handel overpowered him and (coupled with some indiscretions of which Bononcini was accused) forced him to return to the Continent, where he was lost sight of. Another less brilliant but more noble-minded exponent of the school of Bologna was Giovanni Maria Clari (born 1669).

AGOSTINO STEFFANI

Other Italian cities also produced masters of greater or lesser distinction. Palermo was the home of Baron Emanuele d’Astorga (1681–1736), justly famed for his beautiful Stabat Mater, and an excellent tenor singer who won the hearts of every community he visited. His cantatas were highly prized.

From Florence came Francesco Conti (1682–1732), who, in 1703, was called to the position of theobist (lute player) in the orchestra at Vienna; like Caldara, Conti became vice-director there under Fux. He wrote sixteen much-admired operas.

ZINGARELLI. SARTI. TRITTO. PAISIELLO*

* The spelling of this name is either Paesiello or Paisiello. See Grove, Dictionary of Music and Musicians, vol. III, p. 598.

CHAPTER XXIII
THE OPERA IN FRANCE AND ENGLAND IN THE SEVENTEENTH AND EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES

The popular drama was perhaps nowhere more generally cultivated than in France; therefore, this nation was ready to adopt with eagerness the new musical dramatic forms to which Italy had given birth and for which France possessed ample models and lively sympathy. Mention has been made of the popular play Robin et Marion of Adam de la Halle. This was a sort of forerunner of the later opera, and performances of works of a similar nature were among the most common forms of recreation, kept alive chiefly by the jongleurs or minstrels of France up to the sixteenth century.

In 1645 Cardinal Mazarin caused a number of professional singers to be imported from Italy to Paris. They performed Peri’s opera, Orfeo ed Eurydice, and met with such success as to arouse the ambition of native French composers, who began to imitate the new dramatic style and produce operas of their own.

The transportation of Italian opera into France is signalised in history by the appearance of Giovanni Battista Lully, who, though a native-born Italian, was destined to inaugurate the brilliant early era of French opera, and, in fact, to create the national grand opera of France. Lully was born in 1633, at Florence. He emigrated to Paris at the age of twelve and served in the kitchen of Mademoiselle d’Orléans, the king’s niece. The attention of certain nobles having been drawn to his extraordinary musical ability, Lully was given a place among the twenty-four violons du roy, where he attracted the notice and won the complete favour of Louis XIV. Lully was of an almost repulsive appearance and far from refined in manners, but he was not lacking in certain good qualities and, above all, knew how to manage and to ingratiate himself with the king. He soon became superintendent of the court music, was appointed secretary to the king, was knighted, and in 1672 was intrusted with the exclusive management of the royal opera.

From Vidal’s “Les Instruments à Archet,”
Paris, 1876.

ONE OF THE TWENTY-FOUR “VIOLONS DU ROY”

As composer, Lully was keenly aware of the taste and desires of the French people, and he soon stood without a rival in their esteem, actually creating an epoch in the history of French grand opera, which he raised to the dignity and importance of a national institution that retained its significance long after his death. Lully was powerfully supported by a skilful poet, Philippe Quinault, whose librettos were greatly superior to those of his contemporaries in France, Italy, and Germany. Together they brought out about one opera each year. The first of Lully’s operas was Les fêtes de l’amour et de Bacchus (1672). Up to the year of his death (1687) some eighteen other operas and ballets followed, all based upon Grecian mythology. All bore the same title, Tragédie, mise en musique, and each was prefaced by a prologue.

JEAN BAPTISTE LULLY
Portrait by Mignard.

As far as the intrinsic merit of Lully’s music is concerned, it must be pronounced greatly inferior to the artistic productions of Italian and German masters. His creative musical talent could not bear comparison with that of Monteverde, Cavalli, Scarlatti, or Schütz. His success was, therefore, not due to this but to his dramatic genius; his operas were masterpieces of dramatic pathos and expression, and their strongest feature was the declamation. Their object was the most vivid and passionate dramatic utterance, and the music, the separate tones of his mostly fragmentary melodies and recitatives, were wholly subservient thereto. Hence, Lully’s operas did little or nothing for the advancement of absolute music, though it must be recognised that,from such close and ardent association with the emotional pulsations of the drama, the latent dramatic and emotional qualities of music were stimulated and brought nearer to the vital action they were destined to evolve and exercise in time. Lully discarded all vocal embeUishment, thus adopting a tendency directly opposed to that of the Italians, whose natural melodic expression was marred and hampered by a redundancy of ornament.

The following is a fine illustration of effective musical declamation from Lully’s Alceste:

It appears, for the reasons just given, that the early-French national opera as conceived by Lully was quite as one-sided, in its almost exclusive dramatic character, as was that of Italy, where this very dramatic element was made entirely subservient to purely melodious musical expression. Lully’s instrumental accompaniments were very meagre—not in any degree independent but a mere duplication of the vocal parts—except, of course, in the overture and in the ballets and dances (called airs). In regard to the latter, another characteristic distinction appears between the French, who loved the ballet and gave it a prominent place in their opera, and the Italians, with whom this was an unimportant and more unusual factor.

Lully’s operas would probably have been less popular had not his dramatic talent given him such command of the effective auxiliaries—the management of the stage, the arrangement of dances, the scenes and costumes—all these things were brought into concerted operation by his own hand. In this respect Lully bore significant historic relation to Richard Wagner, whom he resembles in his definite purpose of creating a music-drama which should assemble all the arts necessary for this object, but to whom he was inferior in point of musical and dramatic genius.

The next eminent promoter of French national opera was Jean Philippe Rameau, to whom reference has already been made as instrumental composer and as author of the oldest harmony method. Rameau, like Gluck and Handel, reached quite an advanced age before treading the path that was to lead to the greatest triumph. His first opera was performed in 1733, when he was in his fiftieth year. Born in 1683, he gave early proof of unusual musical talent. At the age of eighteen he left his parental home, went to Milan, and did not return to Paris until sixteen years later. It was his first opera that suddenly made him famous, and it was followed, up to his death, in 1764, by twenty-two other operas and ballets, which, though neither revolutionary in style nor even particularly original, were, nevertheless, immensely popular—probably because they were so natural and clever a continuation of the same processes and the same manner of treatment that had made Lully so beloved. Rameau’s style was, however, somewhat superior to that of the latter in the intensity of its declamation, the variety and interest of its rhythm, and the richness and technical purity of harmony.

FRANÇOIS JOSEPH GOSSEC

A somewhat later and almost equally distinguished composer and promoter of national French grand opera was François Joseph Gossec (1734–1829); he was an admirable writer and compares most favourably with the best talents that France has produced. Gossec is accredited with being a close forerunner of Haydn in the domain of the symphomy, having written one in the style subsequently adopted and developed by the great classic masters, five years before Haydn turned his attention to the symphony. Gossec wrote a few comic operas but chiefly those of the larger, tragic type.

French grand opera, which attained to such vigour under Lully and Rameau, encountered before the death of the latter a strong rival in the opera buffa of Italy, which found its way to Paris (as it also had to Germany and England) and gave birth in France to the no less popular and important forms of the opéra comique and the operetta. In 1752 a troupe of Italian “buffonists” (from buffa, comic) invaded Paris, presenting the comic operas of Pergolesi and other Italian masters with overwhelming success. This actually led to a division into rival factions—those who favoured the novel foreign products and those who held loyally to their own national musical drama.

The famous Jean Jacques Rousseau (1712–78), better known in literary than in music history, sided with the “buffonists” and even ventured to emphasise his belief in the superior excellence of the Italian style by immediately composing and producing a vaudeville (1752), Le devin du village, which was received with great favour.

The antagonism grew so active that after two years the Italians were obliged to quit Paris. But their seductive melodies continued to ring in the ears of the French people, and the gradual affiliation of the two styles which had become distinctive of these two nations was the inevitable consequence. Thus, the opera buffa of Italy actually became the type of the French operetta, though each clung to its distinctive traits; it always remained characteristic of the French operetta that it contained spoken dialogue as well as musical numbers. But the operetta of France reached a degree of poetic and musical superiority over the opera buffa which did not fail to exert a powerful influence on the whole range of French dramatic art. Mythologic subjects were abandoned in the operetta in favour of episodes of every-day life, especially that of the peasant, and this alone made it more popular and far more appealing to the sympathies of the public. After a time the term operetta was applied to every class of musical drama in which certain parts were spoken, while in “grand opera” every word was sung. Further, the latter always contained ballet numbers, the operetta none.

ANDRE DANICAN (philidor)

Three French composers of the eighteenth century are noted for their successful efforts in establishing and perfecting the style of both operetta and opera: André Danican, known also by chess-players as Philidor (1726–95), whose best work, Ernelinde, is regarded as a very significant step; Pierre Alexandre Monsigny (1729–1817), director of the Paris conservatoire, whose operetta, Le déserteur, created an epoch in the history of comic or light opera; and André Grétry, by far the greatest musical genius of the three, and famed as the one “who brought comic opera to its fullest perfection and made it a genuine reflection of the national character of the French in the sphere of dramatic art.” Grétry was born in 1741, made a pilgrimage to Rome on foot at the age of eighteen, where he studied zealously for five years; he then returned to Paris, and finally overcame the jealousy of his colleagues with his opera. The Huron (1768), versified by Marmontel. Of his sixty-one very much admired operas, Richard Cœur de Lion (1784) was the most popular, not only in Prance but in almost all European musical centres. He died in 1813.

The history of operatic art in England presents but little of interest before the days of Henry Purcell, born at London in 1658 (twenty-seven years before Bach and Handel). Until near the end of the seventeenth century English dramatic music was almost entirely in the hands of Italians. The French librettist and composer Robert Cambert (crowded out of Paris by Lully) went to London in 1673 and endeavoured to oppose his Parisian style to that of the Italians, while a number of native English writers strove to establish a national style by using English historic material. The first of the latter to achieve a certain measure of success was Matthew Locke, whose Macbeth was very favourably received. At the same time Henry Purcell appeared, and he it was who was destined to elevate English musical art to a dignity and lofty artistic standard hitherto unknown in that country and rarely excelled since. Purcell was unquestionably the most gifted of all English composers, the possessor of true musical genius. His aims were thoroughly patriotic; but he adopted Italian models in preference to those of the French, whose style he considered superficial.

HENRY PURCELL

Purcell’s sacred works were highly esteemed, especially his compositions for the annual celebration of St. Cecilia’s Day—a national festival still observed in England. (The first one was held November 22, 1683, under Purcell’s direction, who later wrote several Odes to St. Cecilia. Handel’s Alexander’s Feast and St. Cecilia Ode were written for these celebrations.) Purcell’s thirty-nine dramatic works consisted chiefly of national plays with musical scenes and interludes. His Dido and Æneas (1675), a most excellent creation which is yet occasionally given in England and affords very positive enjoyment, comprises an overture, recitatives (simple and accompanied), arias, duets, and numerous choruses of striking character and effect, as well as a few instrumental interludes.

After 1690, French musicians gradually withdrew from the London stage, leaving it at last entirely in the hands of the Italians. The first opera in which, according to Italian practice, the entire text was sung, was Thomas Clayton‘s Arsinoe, 1705. This and a few other native operas were soon entirely supplanted by the flood of Italian works that proved more popular with the music lovers of England, and soon Scarlatti (the elder), Bononcini, Conti, and others reigned supreme. Their operas were at first translated, but it was shortly found more convenient to sing them in their original tongue.

In 1711 Handel appeared on the London stage with his Rinaldo, and a few years later the most brilliant era of Italian opera in England began. Another English musician of this time is worthy of note, Henry Carey (born about 1690), a gifted poet and composer of popular ballads but not connected with the opera. He is generally assumed to be the author of God Save the King.

CHAPTER XXIV
THE OPERA IN GERMANY

Italian dramatic music began early to reach out into other countries of Europe, and, indeed, may be said to have overrun the musical world in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The reader has learned how the operatic and vocal art of Italy found its way into France and England, partly through the instrumentality of Italian singers and operatic troupes who emigrated in large numbers, and partly through the composers themselves, who endeavoured, with varying success, to establish their operatic style beyond the borders of their own lands. In the same way, the influence of Italian opera spread into Germany.

Italian composers and singers flocked to all the principal musical centres—to Vienna, Munich, Dresden, Berlin, and other cities—where their sojourn became more or less permanent and where they speedily won the favour of the entire populace, and retained it for a century without opposition.

In Vienna the opera was at the height of its power and favour from the middle of the seventeenth to the middle of the eighteenth century, especially under the brilliant direction of Fux, Antonio Caldara, and Francesco Conti—the respective representatives of the scholastic, beautiful, and comic types of dramatic music. Of these, Johann Joseph Fux (1660–1741) was a man of profound theoretical learning; his famous method of counterpoint, Gradus ad Parnassum (1725), is still quoted as an authority.

Italian opera was introduced in Munich in 1654; the performers were all from Italy, and also the composers, with the exception of a few native Germans. One of the earliest and most famous of these was Johann Kaspar Kerll (1628–93), an organ pupil of Frescobaldi, and the author of three operas, six masses, and other works.

The first Italian singers were engaged for Berlin in 1616, though a permanent opera was not established there until 1742, when Friedrich II caused the Grand Opera House to be erected. It was opened December 7 of that year with Cesare e Cleopatray by Carl Heinrich Graun (1701–59). He wrote thirty-three operas, a number of oratorios, and other sacred works, the most famous of which is his Tod Jesu (Death of Christ). This work, which influenced the style of the oratorio, won extraordinary popularity, lasting almost to the present day. It is skilfully written, but bears some traces of the superficial style of the Italian opera of that period. Graun was the undisputed sovereign of the Berlin operatic stage. His singers were all Italians; the demand for them was so extensive that German vocalists were not tolerated.

CARL HEINRICH GRAUN

In Dresden, Italian opera found a foothold in 1662; the instrumentalists were mostly Germans, but the singers all Italians. The opera here reached its greatest eminence under Johann Adolf Hasse, one of the most distinguished German tone-masters. Hasse was born in 1699 at Hamburg; he studied with Porpora and Scarlatti; in 1731 he was given charge of the Dresden opera as director and composer and, at the same time, his wife (the celebrated Faustina Bordoni, the favourite of all Italy) was engaged as prima donna. He died in 1783. Hasse wrote fifty operas, many oratorios, and a great many quartets, symphonies, sonatas, concertos, and other forms. Scarcely any other German musician was ever so idolised by his countrymen. While Bach and Handel were rarely mentioned, and then only as learned contrapuntists, Hasse and Graun were the models and shining lights of their age and nation.

JOH. AD. HASSE

FAUSTINA HASSE

Graun was regarded as the greater in sacred dramatic art, while Hasse was the favourite in the domain of opera. Graun was the better scholar; Hasse possessed a more fertile imagination, melodic and dramatic talent, and skill in musical characterisation. Hasse wrote with judgment for the voice, and was himself an excellent singer and teacher; his accompaniments, however, were superficial.

Thus it appears that there was no lack of native-born (German) composers who endeavoured, even while imitating the popular Italian manner, to establish a national style and to counteract the overbearing of a foreign school. The Germans, moreover, sensibly adopted the best qualities of both French and Italian dramatic art—from the latter, the highly developed art of melody and vocalisation; from the French, effective declamation and dramatic expression. Out of this union evolved the best operatic products of the eighteenth centurv, including those of Gluck and Mozart.

The following extracts afford an idea of the style of each and of the advances made in operatic melody:

The first original German opera was produced in Hamburg, January 2, 1678. The history of the Hamburg opera from this time until 1738 is, properly speaking, the history of early German opera in general. The earliest operas, or singspiele, were patterned, naturally, after Italian and French models. But before long the vigorous popular spirit of the Teutons impressed something of its own stamp upon dramatic musical art. For the first fifteen years it was the sacred drama, as remnant of the traditional mysteries, that was most favoured. The opening performance of the Hamburg opera was a play of this kind, Adam and Eve, followed by Michael and David, Esther, Cain and Abel, and others, all as sacred operas (not oratorios) and all the work of native German writers. Oddly enough, the majority of operas for the Hamburg theatre, up to the year 1690, were written by two amateurs, both physicians, Johann Wolfgang Franck and Johann Philipp Förtsch. More masterly material was produced by Nicolaus Adam Strunck (1640–1700), a famous composer, violinist, organist, and clavicymbalist of positive musical merit.

But the Hamburg opera owed its development into a national institution, for a certain period, to the efforts of two gifted men, Johann Sigismund Kusser and Reinhard Keiser. Kusser was born in 1657 and assumed charge of the opera in 1693, after having spent several years in Paris, as pupil of Lully and the French school of dramatic art. In spite of poor material and adverse conditions, Kusser managed to raise the Hamburg opera to a very respectable grade of excellence and popularity. With untiring energy he laboured to train his motley band of singers, and, though no great results were or could be achieved in such fashion, Kusser paved the way for a more brilliant future. He left Hamburg in 1697, led a roving life, and died in 1727 in Dublin.

The direction of the opera was transferred to Keiser (1673–1739), who was far more richly gifted than his predecessor, and but for a somewhat unmanly disposition and lack of true ambition might have attained to eminence. Keiser wrote one hundred and twenty operas; his flow of melody was inexhaustible; he grasped the spirit of the text and the dramatic situations with the insight of genius, and reflected it in his music. In the recitative he was, therefore, particularly successful, but was apparently unable to create strong and convincing climaxes. His melodic sentences were fragmentary, in which respect he, like Kusser, pursued the method of the French school. Keiser did very little, after all, for the promotion of music in general, nor was he able to prevent the ultimate decline of his stage and of his own genius.

Sacred plays disappeared from the Hamburg stage after 1692, and the whole institution steadily deteriorated after 1703. Only two styles of presentation were tolerated, either heroic mythology or the farce. The former was divested of its dignity and degraded to a vulgar parody and the farces were of the lowest conceivable type. And yet there must have been some vital elements of wholesome dramatic life there capable of attracting men of better calibre. Hamburg long continued to be a high school of dramatic music where much could be learned by discriminating students.

G. F. HANDEL
By F. Mercier, 1748.

George Frederick Handel (Originally Haendel or Händel) turned his steps thither at the age of nineteen (1704) and was already manly enough to derive benefit from its curious musical atmosphere. The purity and nobility of his character guarded him against fatal contagion. Mattheson, his erratic friend and rival in Hamburg, said of Handel: “He arrived from Halle equipped with much contrapuntal learning, rich in talent, and earnest of will. He was strong at the organ, in fugue and other counterpoints, particularly extempore; but he knew precious little about melody before he came to Hamburg.” In January, 1705, Handel’s first opera, Almira, was given and did not leave the stage for thirty successive nights. Then followed his Nero, with his friend Mattheson as tenor in the title role. The effect of Handel’s operas, with their vigour and depth, must have been very striking, opposed, as they were, to the triviality and amorous grace of Keiser’s works. Handel himself shortly became disgusted, confined himself to teaching, and looked quietly down upon the vulgar spectacle of the Hamburg opera. In 1707 (having first yielded to the importunity of the theatre director and having composed two more operas, Florinde and Daphne, presented after his departure) Handel went to Italy. His career, as a whole, will be considered in the next chapter.

That extraordinary personage, Johann Mattheson, mentioned above, was born at Hamburg in 1681. He was the favourite tenor of the operatic stage, a composer and prolific literary writer, a veritable genius, with the best possible opinion of himself though not ungenerous toward others. He admitted Handel’s superiority at the organ, while the latter was loud in his praise of Mattheson at the clavichord. His literary works, critical, biographical, and theoretical, constitute his most valuable legacy. He died in 1764.

JOHANN MATTHESON

Although the ruin of the Hamburg opera appeared inevitable, there were still some serious-minded art lovers who attempted, in 1722, to arrest its downward course. They appointed a new director, George Philipp Telemann, the last composer of distinction for the Hamburg stage. Telemann was born in 1681, travelled much, and gathered costly experience. He enjoyed an enviable reputation in Germany and was ranked, with Graun and Hasse, among the foremost composers of the day. His cantatas and oratorios were held to be models of the serious style. For all that, he was not the man to instil new life into the hopelessly corrupted opera. In 1738 the Hamburg opera was dissolved. Two years later, the first Italian troupe arrived there under the direction of Angelo Mingotti, and for a time the aspirations of German national opera were at an end.

Among the very numerous musical critics and theorists who laboured faithfully to systematise and further perfect the study and practice of musical composition and aesthetics, there were quite a few Germans of distinction in this era: Friedrich Wilhelm Marpurg (1718–1795), Johann Philipp Kirnberger (1721–1783), and Johann Georg Albrechtsberger (1736–1809)—the last was one of the ablest pedagogues, and teacher of many subsequently famous composers, among them Hummel and Beethoven. The most distinguished theorist of his century was Johann Joseph Fux, to whom reference has been made.

CHAPTER XXV
GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL

The train of musical events leads the reader to the consideration of those two great German masters, Handel and Bach, whose artistic achievements culminated the aims of foregoing generations and secured for Germany that foremost rank in the history of classic music which it was destined to maintain nearly, if not quite, to the present day.

George Frederick Handel (In German: Georg Friedrich Händel (also written Haendel or Hendel) was born February 23, 1685, at Halle, as son of the physician in ordinary to the Prince of Saxony. His father opposed the cultivation of the musical proclivities which the boy manifested at a very early age, and he was, therefore, compelled to devote the hours of the night to the stolen practice of his art, until the attention of the Duke of Weissenfels was attracted to the remarkable talent of the lad and his influence brought to bear upon the father. The death of the latter, in 1697, left young Handel at liberty to pursue his passion for music without restraint. In 1702 he attended the university in his native city, but the following year he took his departure for Hamburg, where his connections with the opera of that city were formed.

The disintegration of the opera through the mismanagement of Keiser caused Handel to withdraw from this casual connection and to turn his steps to Italy, where he became thoroughly acquainted with the best and purest art of Italian dramatic song. He reached Italy early in 1707, soon won recognition, and enjoyed many triumphs. In Florence he composed his opera Rodrigo in response to royal request; in Venice, where he arrived in 1708, he excited genuine admiration with his clavichord playing and took every one by storm with his opera Agrippina, which he wrote in three weeks and which was presented twenty-seven successive nights.

GEORGE FREDERICK HANDEL

In 1710 he left Italy and went to Hanover to take Steffani‘s place as orchestral director, having first made a journey to England in the autumn of that year. His Rinaldo was performed in London in 1711, with immediate success. Upon the expiration of his leave of absence he returned to Hanover, where he stayed two years. Then, yielding to his strong personal inclination, he again journeyed to England, which was thenceforth the home of his choice, from which he was rarely absent during the rest of his life.

In 1713 he produced Il pastor fido (a pastoral opera), the Te Deum and Jubilate for the celebration of the peace of Utrecht. From 1717 to 1720 he was organist and music director to the Duke of Chandos and Cannons, composing during these years the twelve anthems, the oratorio of Esther, and revising his early pastoral play Acis and Galatea. Upon assuming charge of the Italian opera in 1719 he may be said to have reached a momentous turning-point in his artistic career.

It has been shown what the condition of affairs in England were prior to this in the history of dramatic art. Cambert had made ineffectual attempts to introduce the French style; Locke was only partly successful in arousing sympathy for national English opera; the Italians were still the more popular, and even Purcell, patriotic as he was, adopted their style, which, after his death, flourished all the more vigorously and exclusively. Then Handel turned his powerful mind to the cultivation of the dramatic (operatic) art and inaugurated the most brilliant period that Italian art had ever known, in England or elsewhere; but even he was doomed to ultimate disappointment. The nobility of London organised an operatic academy, the direction of which Handel (in company with Giovanni Bononcini and Atilio Ariosti) undertook in 1719. For this institution he wrote twelve operas, and conducted it with complete success for nine years, when the tide turned and it became, for various reasons, the source of much irritation and sorrow to him.

The main cause was the evil, ungenerous spirit rife among his Italian singers. Further, the interest of the English public in Italian opera was beginning to wane, while the taste for a new order of opera or operetta, national in character, proportionately increased. (This was the so-called Beggar’s-opera and pantomimes, called into existence by John Gay.) Meanwhile, Handel was reluctant to suspend his efforts ind persevered for seven more years, producing seven more operas. Then, in 1736, Italian opera was legally prohibited, in consequence of which Handel had an apoplectic stroke from which he recovered with difficulty. Still he kept his hold tenaciously until 1740. His last operas were Imeneo and Deidamia.

Thus, finally, completely thwarted, Handel found himself compelled, by what seemed to be a most perverse fate, to abandon operatic composition altogether and turn his attention to the only field of musical creation left open to his great and unquestionable genius—the sacred dramatic form of the oratorio; to leave a domain which would appear to afford his extraordinary dramatic genius the widest opportunity, his creative power the broadest scope, and to enter, late in life, upon a new field, where these favourable conditions were dubious or denied. But the digression proved to be an eminent advantage to succeeding generations, and what of Handel’s very numerous works are to-day best known and most enjoyed are not the product of his earlier activity in the opera but of his maturer labour in the oratorio.

FAC-SIMILE OF A MUSIC MANUSCRIPT BY HANDEL

Handel was, after all, not the man called and chosen to loosen the fetters which bound the opera of his time in narrow stricture, and to advance it to its higher stages of perfection. We now know that Gluck and Mozart were far better adapted by their individual endowments for this greater achievement, and to what their example led is seen in the modern creations of Berlioz, Richard Wagner, and Richard Strauss.

Handel’s operas contained by no means the best that he was destined to create; the wealth of emotional fervour that animated his musical expression lent to his operas dramatic reality and glory, but the Italian opera of that era was not calculated to inspire his loftiest thought. In the opera he gathered his experience, tested his strength, found and developed his idioms, schooled and perfected his technical apparatus, and in the oratorio he put this knowledge and power to its truest and noblest uses. He created the oratorio form anew and gave it the type which is still recognised and adopted as the most effective model of secular dramatic art.

Handel’s first oratorios in London were designed, in keeping with long-standing custom, for stage presentation as sacred drama. This is the manner in which Esther, Deborah (1733), and Athalia (1733) were given. Alexander’s Feast stands upon the dividing line of his creative career, and in Israel in Egypt (1738) his unparalleled mastership of the sacred drama asserts itself in the new direction, reaching its culmination in the Messiah (1741), Samson (1742), Judas Maccabcæus (1746), and Joshua (1747). His success with the oratorio in England was at first not as marked as might be supposed; it was not until the Irish public gave his Messiah an enthusiastic reception (at Dublin in 1741) that the English began to realise his power in the new field of oratorio and accorded him, In due measure, the recognition and honour he merited.

From that time forth Handel led a happy and contented life until, like his great contemporary. Bach, he was stricken with loss of sight. In 1751 he managed to complete his last oratorio, Jephthah. He died on Good Friday, 1759 (nine years after the death of Bach and when Mozart was three years old).

CHAPTER XXVI
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
COMPARISON OF BACH AND HANDEL

Johann Sebastian Bach was born March 21, 1685 (twenty-seven days after the birth of Handel), at Eisenach, in Thuringia, as son of Johann Ambrosius Bach, “court and town musician.” At the age of ten he lost his father and was adopted by one of his own elder brothers, Johann Christoph Bach, an organist, from whom he received his first instruction in music. In 1703 he became court musician at Weimar; in 1704 organist at Arnstadt; in 1707 at Mühlhausen; in 1708 court organist at Weimar and in 1714 chapelmaster at the same place. In 1717 the notable musical contest between himself and the famous French organist Louis Marchand took place, which resulted in Bach’s favour and gained for him the powerful patronage of Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Köthen, in whose service the following six years were spent. Upon the death of Kuhnau, in 1723, Bach was appointed his successor as cantor and musical director of St. Thomas’s school in Leipsic, in which responsible and honourable position he remained until his death, July 28, 1750. During the last years of his life Bach was inflicted with an acute malady of the eyes that culminated in total blindness.

The progenitor of this remarkable family of musicians, which for six successive generations produced many more or less gifted and distinguished composers and organists, was Veit Bach, who, in the second half of the sixteenth century, was a baker in Pressburg, Hungary, and, as Protestant, emigrated to Thuringia. The greatest of his descendants, Johann Sebastian Bach, belonged to the fifth generation. The third and fourth were represented by Johann Christoph Bach and Johann Michael Bach, both of whom were composers of distinction. The great Bach was twice married and had twenty children, of whom the eldest son, Wilhelm Friedmann Bach (1710–84), and especially the third son, Karl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714–88), became justly famous. With this, the sixth generation, the musical genius of the family became extinct.

BACH’S BIRTHPLACE, EISENACH, THURINGIA

It is instructive and permissible to compare, with discretion, the artistic life and work of Bach and Handel; to consider the characteristics of their genius simultaneously in their individual and collective relation to the historic evolution of the tone art. One is tempted to infer that a divine purpose prompted the creation of two such gigantic musical natures at the same period, in order that the spirit of art might encompass with both together that for which either one alone would have proved insufficient.

The diversity of their talent manifests itself in the respective tastes, currents of conception, and spheres of form and style for which each evinced a predilection. Bach was of the more devout turn of mind and had greater sympathy for the sacred forms and religious trains of thought; he never spent time upon the opera and handled secular material only in his instrumental works.

Bach was essentially lyric in his conceptions. Handel was a dramatic genius—controlling a wider range of emotion and passion. He delighted in the secular form of the opera, turning to the oratorio only upon compulsion. He wrote much less that was strictly and purely religious in musical essence than Bach, and the great power of his sacred forms, the oratorios, lies in their successful affiliation of both the sacred and secular styles. In his oratorios he vitalised the devout elements by the infusion of secular dramatic intensity.

Bach was of a quiet, domestic disposition, given to meditation upon things within. He never left his native country and was rarely absent in the later years from the city of Leipsic.

JOHANN AMBROSIUS BACH
(FATHER of J. S. BACH)

Handel, more enterprising, loved to travel, and viewed the outer side of life with zest and appreciation; he yielded readily to the influences of other nationalities, adopting all that was worthy, to enrich his own German fund. Bach adhered unwaveringly to German taste and tradition and ever remained the purely German master.

In one particular they were alike: both were indefatigable workers; both were endowed with titanic powers of labour, incredible readiness and rapidity, and well-nigh inexhaustible productiveness.

Handel was pre-eminently a voca cornposer, thus inclining to the type of foregone days. Bach was equally great and equally prolific in the vocal and instrumental forms of composition, thus constituting a momentous turning-point in the history of the two styles. While Handel’s gaze was directed outward and partly backward, Bach’s vision was turned inward and forward.

Bach’s numerous vocal works are all (with very rare exceptions) of sacred character, and centre in the life of the Protestant Church. Sanctity, religious devotion, and enthusiasm distinguish his conception, which often bears something of a mystic impress. That of Handel was as open and frank as the light of day.

JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
BY C. F. R. LISZEWSKY, 1772.

Bach was of too simple a nature to engage in the active revolution of old forms or the invention of strikingly new ones. His tremendous influence upon the future of the art, far surpassing that of Handel, was due to the more concentrated power of his genius. He perfected the forms already in existence—for example, that of the chorale and that of the fugue, both of which attained to the last degree of maturity in Bach’s hands. He utilised the chorales of the early church in a multitude of forms—in organ preludes, chorale figurations, and as fundamental motive for larger works, both vocal and instrumental. The cantata, also, achieved its highest development through Bach.

During five full years he composed a choral work for every Sunday and every festival service. Among these there are no fewer than two hundred and twenty-six cantatas. His artistic traits are all distinctly reflected in these cantatas: the profundity of his emotional conception, the power and activity of his imagination, the degree of mastership with which he wields every factor and every resource of technical material, and the infinite variety of design. The attentive listener feels, whether trained in music or not, how the entire texture and design unfolds out of the thematic germ as smoothly, naturally, and apparently automatically as nature’s own growth.

WILHELM FRIEDMANN BACH

The art of cointerpoint has made no advance since the days of Bach; nothing within the scope of possibility was left untouched and unconquered by him; nothing essential that is hailed as new (in the most modern works) but what the faithful student of Bach will find among the harmonic and contrapuntal delineations and interweavings of his music.

Bach wrote, furthermore, four (or five) Passions, of which the St. Matthew is the best known. The rescue of this masterwork from oblivion is accredited to Mendelssohn, who, a century after it was written, would not desist until he compelled an approximately worthy recognition of this monument of sacred vocal art. Since then no Easter passes in Germany without its performance in many cities, and its supreme beauties are becoming known and revered in other countries also. His sacred works also include many motettes and even a few masses, the most famous of the latter being the truly great Mass in B Minor.

Bach’s instrumental creations were of parallel significance with his vocal works. The concerto, sonata, suite, partita, toccata, fugue, and many other forms had all been in existence long before Bach’s day, but he extended their design and conducted some of them to the last degree of perfection. This is notably true of the fugue, of which he wrote many for the organ, and the universally famous Well-Tempered Clavichord, consisting of two volumes of twenty-four fugues (with preludes) each, in all of the twenty-four major and minor keys. This creation stands yet wholly unrivalled in the domain of polyphonic composition for the keyboard instrument which became the modern pianoforte. Bach’s other instrumental works comprise toccatas, fantasias, concertos, sonatas, suites, partitas, and many other forms—for clavichord, organ, violin, or orchestra.

Reproduction of the original manuscript of the First Prelude from the Well-Tempered Clavichord by Jobann Sebastian Bach.

Handel’s creative activity was limited almost entirely to the opera and the oratorio. In every oratorio he adopted some Bible narrative or epic as text basis, but in each some lofty moral precept is embodied as leading thought. His great mind was fitted for the grasp of the grandest ideas, and his broad human sympathy gave him the power to clothe them in a simple but effective form. Therein lay his greatness: his art was divinely eminent and, at the same time, in the noblest sense popular. For his arias and recitatives he adopted the current style of the Italian operatic school, and they are, in consequence, often charged with those superficialities and mannerisms which the vocal methods of the day demanded. At times Handel throws off this influence and, notably in his oratorios, produces melodies of a simplicity and straightforward musical beauty that are irresistible.

The prohibition in England of the presentation of sacred musical dramas as such, with stage action and accessories, was to react with unforeseen power upon the music itself. Deprived thus of external support, it devolved henceforth upon the music alone, with the means of expression peculiar to itself, to emphasise the characteristic traits of the sacred drama with such distinctness and accuracy as to compensate, to some degree, for the absence of visible representation. Handel’s genius was equal to this novel task, and he succeeded in individualising his dramatic characters in a manner excelled in that century only by his great dramatic successors—Gluck and Mozart.

Handel’s somewhat superficial treatment of his instrumental accompaniments is easily understood. He preferred the warm human pulse of the voice, alone and in a chorus, and the orchestra was no more to him than an auxiliary. So incomplete are some of his accompaniments that it is frequently found desirable to complement them (as was done by Mozart with the Messiah and other oratorios). This also accounts for the remarkably small number of Handel’s independent instrumental works; a few suites and small pieces (lessons) and variations, written for his clavichord pupils, represent the sum of them. His best instrumental pieces are his organ concertos, for organ and orchestra, a form of his own invention, arising (in 1735) from his habit of filling out the pauses between the acts and parts of his operas and oratorios by an organ performance. His organ playing was a great attraction and excited the admiration of both enemies and friends.

After this brilliant era of Bach and Handel the sacred drama and ecclesiastic music in general gradually but surely deteriorated during the succeeding century and, yielding to the influences of the superficial but universally popular Italian operatic style, became shallow, sentimental and devoid of contrapuntal scholarship. On the other hand, the secular drama, especially the opera and operetta, flourished all the more vigorously and became almost a menace to the wholesome growth of a serious tone art.

CHAPTER XXVII
OPERETTA AND OPERA IN GERMANY
GLUCK, MOZART AS OPERA COMPOSER

All efforts to institute a distinctly national opera at Hamburg and elsewhere had been but partly successful, and for a number of years no further attempt was made. But the time again came when the growing disfavour of the Italians and their style gave rise to renewed efforts of reform on the part of the Germans, and this time they were destined to attain their aim. Active and practical protest (with more or less indication of conscious purpose) was begun in close succession from at least three clearly recognisable and independent sources. The first of these movements was initiated by Gluck, who adopted the weapons of the French grand opera (of Lully and Rameau); the second by Mozart, who started from the territory of the Italians themselves, utilising the forms of the wide-spread Italian opera but infusing into them the spirit of Teutonic musical conception; and the third was represented by the German Singspiel or light opera, and comic opera.

This last, the regenerated German operetta, was, like the serious opera of Gluck, influenced largely at the outset by French models, but only as concerned their external traits; in spirit it was always essentially German. There was no connection between the German operetta and the opera of the Hamburg period; the latter was still monopolised by Italians. The singspiel struck its roots deep into its native soil and derived its vitality from the spirit of the German people. It was further vitalised by a new element—that of wholesome humour and innocent jollity of that type which is inherent in the life and character of the German people—which found its way as a matter of course into the new dramatic styles and was most carefully fostered.

The idea of the German singspiel was no doubt incited by the French operetta, to which reference was made in Chapter XXIII, and was first proposed and at once realised by Johann Adam Hiller, whose first operetta, Die verwandelten Weiber, was given in 1766, at Leipsic, and received with pronounced enthusiasm.

JOHANN ADAM HILLER

In Vienna the German operetta had, it is true, made a few attempts some years previous to this, but they were comparatively fruitless. Joseph Haydn composed a comic opera in 1751, Der krumme Teufel, which was, however, interdicted (for personal reasons); further, Mozart’s Bastien et Bastienne (1768) was given only in private circles; but from 1778 on, the new style found enormous favour with the Viennese, and from that time until the present day the operetta has flourished in Vienna without check or abatement. In 1780 Gluck revised his Pilgrims of Mecca; in 1781 Salieri’s Chimney Sweep followed, and in 1782 Mozart’s Belmonte und Constanze was given with unending success.

In 1786 Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf (1739–99) made his appearance on the Viennese stage with his widely famous Doctor and Apothecary and at once became the acknowledged favourite of the nation. What his works lacked in refinement was more than compensated by their wholesome popular element. Other successful Viennese writers were Johann Schenck (1761–1836), Wenzel Müller (1767–1835), and Joseph Weigl (1766–1846).

CARL VON DITTERSDORF

One of the most eminent composers of this period was Georg Benda, of north Germany (1721–95). His first works were operas in the prevailing Italian style, but in 1775 he joined forces with the national party and turned his attention to German opera and the melodrama—a form of musical art in which the play, spoken throughout, is accompanied by illustrative instrumental music and occasional vocal numbers or choruses (as, for example, the Midsummer-Night’s Dream of Mendelssohn). The instigation of the melodrama is ascribed to Jean Jacques Rousseau (Pygmalion, 1773); but Benda’s Ariadne (1774) was, at all events, the first German melodrama, and the forerunner of a form of composition that has received the warmest recognition to the present day.

G. BENDA

In Munich Peter von Winter (1754–1825) was one of the ablest most and gifted writers of the German opera. His Unterbrochenes Opferfest, still a favourite, is characterised by the simplicity, dignity, and great dramatic power peculiar to its author’s manner.

J. F. REICHARDT

Ignace Holzbauer, in Mannheim (1711–83), excited young Mozart’s lively admiration with his Gunther von Schwarzburg. Another interesting north German was Johann Friedrich Reichardt (1752–1814), whose works still enjoy a measure of popularity.

Though the comic opera thus proved its ability to sustain itself and become a significant medium of musical expression for quite a long time, it was none the less destined to outlive its usefulness and, like so many phases of art, suffer degeneration. In our day the terms comic opera and operetta have come to signify something radically different from the charming examples that bore these names a century or more ago. With but few exceptions, the modern operetta has wholly lost its artistic worth.

In the meantime, the serious musical drama was also being made the object of thorough reform in Germany, and the movement in this direction was first started by Christoph Willibald von Gluck. He was born July 2, 1714, in the Palatinate, and journeyed to Vienna in 1736, where he became familiar with the operas of Fux, Caldara, and Conti. Gluck’s first opera, Artaserse, was brought out in 1741 at Milan, where he had prosecuted his studies. In 1745 he went to London, produced three new operas and imbibed lasting impressions of Handel’s dramatic style, returning to Germany in 1746. After a brief engagement as director in Dresden he chose Vienna as his permanent home.

CHRISTOPH WILLIBALD GLUCK
(AFTER THE PAINTING BY JEAN BAPTISTE GREUZE)

The earliest indication of his reformatory purposes are perceptible in Orfeo ed Eurydice, which was first given in 1762; this was followed by Alceste (Vienna, 1767), Iphigénie en Aulide (Paris, 1774), Armide (1777), and Iphigénie en Tauride (1779, in Paris). His last opera. Echo et Narcisse, was written in 1779 for Paris. Gluck died November 15, 1787.

Until long past middle life Gluck recognised and adopted Italian models; even his Orfeo was partly under their influence. Alceste was the first of his operas fully to negate the old style and distinctly betray his determination to pursue another and nobler aim. He was in his fifty-third year when this took place, from which it follows that it was not prompted wholly by artistic instinct but chiefly by observation, experience, and the conscious intention of avoiding the abuses and banalities of the Italian stage.

Like Handel, Gluck was a man of dignity, strong character and purpose, given to serious reflection, and fitted for significant achievements. The kernel of his reformatory plan was to institute a more just balance between the poetic and dramatic elements on the one hand, and the purely vocal conditions on the other; to make the music not altogether subservient to the demands of the singer and the melody, but partly, at least, to contribute strong and appropriate dramatic expression. In his own words:

“I believed that the music should be to the poetry what liveliness of colour and judicious combination of light and shadow are to a well-designed drawing, inasmuch as these serve only to animate the figures without impairing the outlines…Finally, I deemed it necessary to direct a large portion of my endeavours to the attainment of dignified simplicity, wherefore I always avoided making an obtrusive show of difficulties at the cost of clearness.”

Gluck’s dramatic talent was unquestionably superior to his musical endowment; in his operas he was first poet, then musician. The separate musical forms he did not improve; his works demand judgment as a whole, as complete artistic creations. In this particular Gluck was like Richard Wagner, while Mozart was the opposite of both. The creations of Gluck and Wagner are poetic dramas with musical colouring; those of Mozart are conceived as musical dramas.

Gluck’s innovations were far from being promptly recognised and countenanced; Italian supremacy was still too mighty, and even his own city, Vienna, was divided into factions for and against him. This induced Gluck to turn his steps toward France, where he hoped to find better singers, and more sympathy from a populace accustomed to the traditions of Lully and Rameau. On arriving at Paris he found both buffonists and anti-buffonists arrayed against him, though his success with the first Iphigénie was considerable. The favourites of Nicola Piccini, whose reputation was high, made him the declared rival of Gluck, and in 1776 all Paris was divided in its loyalty to the one or the other. The chief question of the day in musical circles was: “Are you Gluckist or Piccinist?” and the answer determined all others.

Gluck’s revision of Alceste for the Parisian stage was but an indifferent success, while Piccini’s Roland was enthusiastically received. But the worth of Gluck’s works was not to be ignored; they sank deep and yet deeper into the hearts of the French, and when his second Iphigénie (in Tauride) appeared, it made a profound impression. Piccini had the daring to write an Iphigénie also, but Gluck’s victory was all the more complete, inasmuch as Piccini’s work betrayed that Gluck had become his model. Thus the German opera had celebrated in Gluck its first triumphs over French and Italian opera, and it assumed its place in history as a power whose superiority was never again to be doubted or questioned.

Gluck’s operas, supreme as they stood in comparison with those of Italy and France, were still susceptible of improvement in a purely musical respect; it was, therefore, possible to make another advance step, and it was this step that Mozart was destined to take.

Mozart’s principal strength lies, without doubt, in his dramatic genius. (His biography and the consideration of his relation to instrumental composition are given in Chapter XXIX.) He did for the opera what Beethoven subsequently accomplished for the symphony—elevating it to an eminence of artistic perfection which, from the classic point of view, has probably never yet been excelled.

W. A. MOZART
(AFTER THE PAINTING BY TISCHBEIN)

It was natural that Mozart, also, should at first have simply fallen into the prevailing current of dramatic and musical conception and have closely imitated not only the Italians but the better class of German operetta composers. His genius, almost cosmopolitan in its scope, enabled him to choose with unerring discrimination what was of true value in Italian opera, to discern the best melodic methods of his own countrymen in their popular light operas, and to adopt the best of French dramatic art—but without becoming dependent upon any one of these.

From the Italians he learned the true power of song and how to treat vocal melody in the most masterly and effective manner. To these acquisitions were added his own innate musical qualities, the ardency, deep fervour, wholesome simplicity of his feelings, and the seriousness of his artistic labour. He was of a most cheerful, optimistic nature and took life easily; but his art was to him ever an exceedingly serious matter.

Mozart’s first opera was composed in his thirteenth year (in 1768)—an opera buffa in three acts, entitled La finta semplice, which was never performed. The same year he produced a short Singspiel, Bastien et Bastienne, that was heard in private circles only. At the age of fourteen his Mitridate was produced in Milan with tremendous success. In 1772 he wrote Il sogno di Scipione for the Archbishop of Salzburg, in 1773 Lucia Silla for Milan, in 1775 La bella finta giardiniera for Munich, and, in the same year, Il re pastore for Salzburg. Besides the music to Thamos and the opera Zäide, Mozart next wrote the first one of his operas that was to become in the most eminent sense famous, Idomeneo, for Munich, in 1781. In this work Mozart begins to tread his individual path as dramatic tone-poet. The same year he began Belmonte und Constanze (or Die Entführung). In 1786, having made his home in Vienna, he composed the Schauspieldirektor; May 1 of the same year witnessed the first performance of Figaro; October 29, 1787, came Don Giovanni in Prague; then followed Cosi fan tutte (1790), Titus (1791), and finally Die Zauberflöte (Magic Flute), first produced September 30, 1791, a few weeks before his death.

Mozart’s characters are musically conceived: they feel, think, and act in tones; each person appears before the listener in amazing fidelity to nature and life, in his or her musical characterisation. And, with it all, the conditions of most refined musical beauty and freedom of expression are never sacrificed, or the practice of technical scholarship neglected. In view of the qualities Mozart possessed, it seems regrettable that he did not oftener turn his thoughts to loftier themes, but in this respect he was the child of his times and died too young to have learned that art does not achieve its greatest triumphs through artistic perfection alone, but rather through the nobility and sublimity of its ideals.

The librettos of his operas are almost all so trivial and even vulgar that they required genius of Mozart’s calibre to become fitting objects for artistic dramatic presentation with music. Hence it was here again possible to advance a step farther toward the highest aesthetic achievement, and this time it was Beethoven who was to make it in his one opera, Leonora (Fidelio).

Mozart’s treatment of the orchestral accompaniment in his operas was also of extreme significance. The degree of co-ordination and independence which he gave to the instrumental parts was quite unheard of before his day. His orchestra takes as active a part in the unfolding of the dramatic scheme as any of the personal characters do, and contributes its manifold resources and means of expression to a far more vivid and animated dramatic result than had ever been accomplished by earlier writers, and in a fashion later pursued by Mozart’s successors, culminating in the effects created by Wagner and Richard Strauss.

CHAPTER XXVIII
PROGRESS AND PERFECTION OF THE INSTRUMENTAL STYLE
KARL PHILIPP EMANUEL BACH AND JOSEPH HAYDN

In Chapter XIX the incipient formation of an independent instrumental style of composition was considered. To what was there said a few retrospective words may be added.

Primitive music was, as a matter of course, vocal. In its infancy, music—as artistic tone association—was far too crude and imperfect to exist alone; it was nothing more at best than vocalised words and an adjunct of the text; it was not ready, for many centuries, to outgrow its dependence upon the older art of poetry. In the course of time, however, the specific resources of music were recognised, and during the sixteenth century it began to emancipate itself from poetry, to distinguish itself from solo song, and to assert a measure of independence in its occasional exclusive application to some instrument. Slowly but steadily this phase of its artistic mission developed, until, in the early part of the eighteenth century, through the genius of Bach and others, it reached a degree of importance and independence equal to that of the vocal phase. The claims of instrumental music as a distinct domain of the tone art were firmly established; in the course of the following century it advanced still further, superseded the vocal domain, and even compelled recognition as the only genuine sphere of musical conception and utterance.

This gradual shifting of the conception of music from the vocal to the instrumental medium of expression was most noticeable during the eighteenth century in Germany. From Johann Sebastian Bach as the turning-point it ran successively and steadily through his son Karl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714–88), Haydn, and Mozart to its fulfilment in Beethoven. The only purpose of vocal music was to impart greater emphasis and intensity to the words or to the poetic and dramatic idea which they conveyed. Instrumental music, upon emancipating itself from the word and its concrete meaning, was obliged to create or discover an independent means of expression peculiar to itself, within its own specific resources, and to establish forms suitable to these means. In this endeavour immediate success was not to be expected; the earlier eras of the instrumental art, with Bach at the summit, produced simply a theoretically correct system, or, in other words, artistically legitimate music, still controlled and partly dictated by the tradition and influence of vocal practices; and such meagre poetic or emotional essence as it possessed had to be educed directly from the element of tone by and in itself. In that direction it was advanced by Bach as far as progress was possible, and for a higher degree of independence and power it was necessary to discover and adopt new channels for it.

The following era strove to cultivate the spiritual essence of tone art and thus to fit it for the reflection of human emotions through its own abstract mediums; and, by exalting its aim from that of mere collateral illustration of the word, to magnify its power, augment its resources, purify its individuality and lead it nearer the achievement of its true mission. The first master in whose compositions for instruments alone the successful endeavour was made to impart independent life to music, and to transform it into an actual language of human feeling, was Joseph Haydn. From his day up to the present, music has gained greater distinctness and vividness of utterance, greater diversity of form, and the capacity to suggest and arouse emotional impulses beyond the reach of words and human speech.

JOSEPH HAYDN
(FROM A SKETCH BY QUENEDEY)

About the middle of the eighteenth century instrumental forms were more numerous than they now are. The sonata, for one or more instruments, had clarified into an established structural design, its development out of the earlier sonata and the suite having been consummated. At the same time the symphony (a sonata for full orchestra) began to assume its present shape. The parallelism between the symphony and the sonata is somewhat misleading, for, despite their present identity of form, they owe their origin to different sources. The symphony was suggested by and evolved from the Italian overture; so, too, was the three-movement concerto already in vogue. The distinction between the overtures of France and Italy has already been intimated. The French overture consisted, as a rule, of a quick movement between two slow ones; that of Italy, on the contrary, of a grave section between two rapid ones.

For the symphony, these three sections of the Italian overture were detached, and each enlarged into a complete movement of greater breadth and marked individuality, without, however, wholly severing their organic relations. To these three movements (preceded usually by a serious introduction) a fourth movement was soon added; namely, a minuet—borrowed from the suite—probably by Haydn, who is known in history as the “Father of the symphony.” Beethoven, later on, frequently substituted a scherzo or other movement in ¾ for the minuet.

Haydn’s most important predecessor was Karl Philipp Emanuel Bach (1714–88), son of the great Bach. He wrote exclusively instrumental works, chiefly for the clavichord; he was the author of a very famous method for that instrument and justly regarded as an authority of the highest rank. He possessed uncommonly refined taste, played with elegance, delicacy, and tenderness, but was not called for the realisation of great aims. He infused genuine poetic fervour into his musical creations and may be regarded as the originator of the free pianoforte style. Haydn venerated the younger Bach and admitted having learned a great deal from him.

PHILIPP EMANUEL BACH

Joseph Haydn was born March 31, 1732, in Rohrau (Austria). In his youth, which he passed in very needy circumstances, he was admitted to the choir of St. Stephen, in Vienna, on account of his fine voice, and there busied himself diligently with the theoretical works of Fux and Mattheson. In 1759 he received an appointment as music director from Count Morzin; a year later, to the same office, from Count Nicolaus Esterhazy, in whose service he remained for thirty years—until the death of the Prince in 1790. This event left him at liberty to accept an offer from an English manager, Saloman, and he journeyed to London, where he stayed until 1792. In 1794 he repeated the trip to England. Toiling ceaselessly, everywhere revered and beloved, Haydn closed his life, outwardly modest and simple but inwardly active and rich in great achievements, on the 31st of May, 1809.

The enormous volume of Haydn’s works can hardly be determined; the register compiled by Griesinger, and still incomplete, enumerated one hundred and eighteen symphonies, eighty-three string quartets, twenty-four trios, nineteen operas, five oratorios, twenty-four concertos for various instruments, fifteen masses, forty-four clavichord sonatas, and very many more smaller compositions. At an advanced age he created those two works which did probably more than all the rest to establish his popularity and fame, the Creation (1797) and the Seasons* (1800–01).

* To the poem by James Thomson (1700–48), published in 1730.

SILHOUETTE PORTRAIT OF JOSEPH HAYDN

Haydn’s greatest power lay in the instrumental style. In his operas and sacred vocal works he was content to float quietly with the current of his day. But the symphonic forms, whose outlines were, to be sure, already fixed, he developed in so original and radical a manner that he is justly regarded as their actual founder. Reaching out beyond any of his forerunners, Haydn systematised and diversified the form and enriched it with an extraordinary wealth of entirely new effects. He was singularly fond of the free polyphonic treatment of motive development, and strikingly successful with it. By thus employing thematic manipulation as a means of securing broader architectural design, he accomplished results quite foreign to the older, rigid polyphonic practices, as seen in the fugue, canon, and similar earlier forms. Haydn adapted the polyphonic means to the homophonic end in a manner surpassed only by Beethoven and Brahms, both of whom, in their symphonies and chamber-music, often evolve the whole imposing tone structure in close logical sequence out of small and apparently unimportant melodic germs.

This novel mode of thematic treatment was practised by Haydn with the most supreme felicity in his string quartets, a form of composition which, though in existence long before his day, may also claim Haydn as its originator in the established form it has ever since retained. The string quartet, as most transparent and refined of all styles of musical composition, is best adapted for free polyphonic treatment and, therefore, was of precisely the character that fitted Haydn’s musical taste and conception.

Notwithstanding the fact that Haydn’s instrumental music flows as smoothly and freely, in the cheerful glow of his childlike disposition, as if it all came quite of itself, evincing neither effort nor restraint, and notwithstanding his incredible productiveness, he was by no means a careless, hasty, or superficial writer. Like Schubert, he possessed a source of musical fancy from which there issued an incessant flow of melody. Composing, to him, was a pleasure and a necessity; but he himself declares “that he always wrote with care and diligence,” and his technical command of all harmonic and contrapuntal detail was supreme. Without being in any sense inconsistent in his attitude toward absolute music, or requiring that music express any ideas antagonistic to its nature, Haydn occasionally yielded to a fashion of earlier days, and then still in vogue, of giving titles to some of his symphonies (Morning, Noon, Evening, Night, The Bear, The Surprise), and his two universally popular oratorios are filled with musical illustrations. He was not a “programme” musician, nor did the idea of a tone-poem, in the later sense it acquired with Liszt, ever enter his mind; but he was fully aware of the more obvious coincidences between the dynamic, rhythmic, and melodic movements of music and those of the physical world, and he did not hesitate to record his recognition of them. Hence one important source of the vitality of his music.

The distinctive characteristics of Haydn’s musical nature were cheerfulness, gaiety, and sweetness, to the almost entire exclusion of melancholy, pathos, passion, and even of intellectual depth and grandeur of ideas.

The advance from Haydn to Mozart in the domain of absolute instrumental music is not nearly so great or momentous as that which Haydn achieved beyond his own predecessors. Mozart constitutes a significant connecting-link between Haydn and Beethoven, upon both of whom—since Haydn outlived Mozart by eighteen years—he exerted an influence.

CHAPTER XXIX
MOZART AS INSTRUMENTAL COMPOSER
HIS IMMEDIATE SUCCESSORS

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart* was born at Salzburg, January 27, 1756. He received his first musical training from his father, Leopold Mozart, a man justly noted not only for his musical intelligence but also for his general scientific learning. Young Mozart made such rapid progress that in 1762 (when he was six years old) he was already able to undertake a concert tour, under his father’s protection, to Munich, Vienna, Paris, London, The Hague, and Amsterdam; everywhere he was acknowledged to be a most extraordinary prodigy, and was idolised as much for his childish grace and self-assurance as for his rare artistic talent. His first published work (two sonatas for clavichord and violin) appeared in 1763, when the lad was seven years of age; and mention has been made of the opera he wrote in his twelfth and thirteenth year, at the emperor’s request. In 1770, at the age of fourteen, he is recorded in the Salzburg court calendar as concert-master. In 1769 he travelled with his father to Italy, visiting Verona, Mantua, Milan, and Parma. In December, 1770, his opera Mitridate was given in Milan. (His career as opera composer is traced in Chapter XXVII.) In 1788–90 he created the three masterly symphonies in E flat, G minor, and C major which firmly established his fame as an instrumental composer of most eminent classic genius.

* Mozart’s full name was Johannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus (Amadæus) Mozart.

LEOPOLD MOZART, 1759

Mozart devoted his energies to instrumental composition from his earliest youth, and contributed a greater volume to this kind of musical literature than to vocal music, albeit his fame rests chiefly upon his connection with the opera. Like many masters of that early period, Mozart was incredibly prolific, having written more in his short life than any dozen modern composers together. Besides his operas and other vocal works, he bequeathed to posterity forty-nine symphonies, fifty-five concertos, thirty-three orchestral divertissements, serenades, cassationes, and the like, twenty-two pianoforte sonatas and fantasies, thirty-two string quartets, forty-five violin sonatas and variations, fifteen string duos, trios, and quintets, and a large number of miscellaneous compositions for pianoforte and orchestra. His last and, in many respects, most impressive work was the famous Requiem, written for Count Walsegg of Stuppach but not quite finished. Death overtook Mozart while he was engaged upon this work, December 5, 1791, at the age of a little less than thirty-six years.

MOZART
(FROM AN ENGRAVING BY A. KOHL, MADE IN VIENNA IN 1793)

Mozart was proverbial for his simple cheerfulness, his ingenuous goodness of heart, and his frankness, free from the remotest trace of deceit. Though perhaps not one of the grandest and, intellectually, most powerful of the great masters, he is surely the most amiable character in all music history, as his music is at once the purest and most scholarly. This attribute of musical purity and refinement, proof against the most searching theoretic and æsthetic scrutiny, is the salient trait of his work. The distracting method of life he was compelled to lead did not in the least affect his musical pursuits; he was as serious, tenacious, and thorough in his art as was ever the sternest pedant, but without the slightest taint anywhere of dogmatism or mere scholasticism; his counterpoint is natural because, even when most complex, it seems to unfold as free of technical effort as an improvisation.

Mozart’s greatest strength lay in his dramatic instincts and expression; hence his most significant creations were those in the secular dramatic forms, which he advanced far more than can be claimed for his instrumental forms. The latter manifest all the wondrous purity, beauty, and perfection of form of which he was a master but do not really excel the greatest of Haydn’s instrumental works in anything but superior refinement of detail—surely not in originality or breadth of spirit and conception. This perfection of detail is chiefly evident in Mozart’s manipulation of the orchestra. In consequence of his accurate knowledge of the nature and technic of each single instrument, his orchestration was very much richer and more vital than that of any of his predecessors and became, especially in his operas, a medium of dramatic expression of great musical power, vividness, individuality, and variety.

Had not Beethoven so soon followed Mozart and overshadowed him with his power of reflecting the tremendous passion of universal human emotion, Mozart’s instrumental works would doubtless not have fallen into partial neglect and even oblivion. This is deplorable, but it is a natural consequence of the rapid growth of the art in the early years of the nineteenth century. Nevertheless, there are among Mozart’s instrumental creations many that still glow with immortal lustre sufficient to perpetuate his name in the history of the tone art.

In the domain of pianoforte literature a number of distinguished writers closely followed Mozart (himself an expert pianist), paving the way for Beethoven and that imposing array of revolutionary pianoforte composers whose works created a new and most significant epoch in music history.

Next in renown to Mozart in this field of composition was Muzio Clementi (born in Rome, 1752), the founder of an eminent school of pianoforte technic and style. At the age of thirteen Clementi emigrated to England and studied so assiduously that he was ready to appear before the public, as composer and player, at the age of eighteen, with sensational success. He travelled extensively. In 1781 he met Mozart in Vienna, but less as friend than as jealous foe. He finally established a pianoforte factory and publishing house in London, where he died in 1832. Clementi’s creative ability was far inferior to that of Mozart, but he possessed greater technical dexterity and thoroughness as pianist; his style was noted for great elegance, bravura, intellectual power, and remarkable freedom. In his still famous didactic work, Gradus ad Parnassum (consisting of one hundred technical exercises, studies, and pieces), and his other numerous compositions for pianoforte, Clementi is recognised as one of the great pioneers of the new pianistic era.

MUZIO CLEMENTI

Bravura and virtuosity (brilliant and dashing display at the cost of genuine artistic expression, depth of conscious feeling, and true, wisely guided passion) had already begun to flourish in the superficial strata of Viennese musical life, especially with the newly perfected and very popular pianoforte. One of the first and most serious exponents of the best aims of the new school of pianism was Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778–1837), an enthusiastic admirer, friend, and emulator of Mozart. Hummel’s music possessed very positive beauty and scholarly finish, though based largely on showy technical detail.

JOHANN NEPOMUK HUMMEL

Johann Ludwig Dussek (1761–1812), a few years older than Hummel and therefore inclined more to the substantial characteristics of the simple old school, introduced, with obvious purpose, those elements of song and elegant ornament into his pianoforte music which were subsequently developed by Field and Chopin.

Johann Baptist Cramer (1771–1858) was a pupil and devoted follower of Clementi. His excellent etudes have survived and are of real musical value. Three other famed pupils of Clementi were Ludwig Berger (Berlin, 1777–1839), teacher of Mendelssohn and Carl Tausig; August Alexander Klengel (1784–1852), famous for his very scholarly Forty-Eight Canons and Fugues, patterned after the Well-Tempered Clavichord of Bach; and John Field (Dublin, 1782–1837), one of the most refined and poetical of Chopin’s direct predecessors, both in style and spirit. Field has been described as “one of the most original pianistic phenomena.”* His Nocturnes were a direct inspiration to Chopin.

* Dr. Hugo Riemann.

CHAPTER XXX
LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN

In something of the same historic sequence in which the evolution of ecclesiastic music during the early centuries culminated, in the sixteenth century, in the works of Palestrina; and that of both sacred and secular dramatic art in the eighteenth century in those of Handel and Bach; so the fulfilment of the art of instrumental or absolute music in the nineteenth century is represented by Beethoven, whose name is identified with the greatest classic epoch in all music history.

Ludwig van Beethoven was born December 17, 1770, at Bonn, on the Rhine. Like Mozart, he received his first musical instruction from his father. At the age of sixteen he went to Vienna, where he attracted the attention and interest of Mozart. Six years later he again travelled to Vienna to become a pupil of Haydn. He studied diligently with the latter until Haydn’s second trip to England interrupted the course and compelled Beethoven to look about for another teacher. He chose the celebrated master of contrapuntal art, Albrechtsberger. In 1795, at the age of twenty-five, his public career may be said to have opened, with the publication of his opus 1, three pianoforte trios, and opus 2, three pianoforte sonatas, dedicated to Haydn.

JOHANN GEORG ALBRECHTSBERGER

From this time on, for over thirty years, Beethoven produced an uninterrupted series of masterworks of great variety, and he created them under the pressure of an unhappy existence which, it is true, was in a great measure his own fault. But he bore his burdens with stolid firmness and outward indifference though keenly sensible of life’s disappointments. Beethoven’s absolutely just self-esteem as artist of extraordinary genius provoked constant antagonism with the world about him. Those uninviting, almost rough, traits of personality and conduct, for which he was so unfavourably noted were called forth and nurtured by the great gulf between his restless spirit and the average mind of those with whom he was forced to associate; they rendered all intercourse with him difficult and unsatisfactory and thus gradually estranged him more and more from society and humanity in general. When, in course of time, that most tragic fate that can befall a musician—the loss of hearing—fell to his lot, Beethoven found himself quite alienated and isolated from the world. It was a bitter fate, prepared for him partly by his own genius, which found no suitable companionship among other human associates, partly also by inherent incompatibility and partly, again, through the disappointments and mortification he suffered from his scapegrace nephew Carl, to whom he was more than a father and who appears to have been the only human object of Beethoven’s affection. His death occurred March 26, 1827.

BEETHOVEN MEDALLION
(I. E. GATTEAUX)

It is customary to divide Beethoven’s creative career into three periods: the youthful period, from 1795 to 1803, extending to about opus 50; the middle period, 1803 to 1813, from the third to the eighth symphony, including the opera Leonora (or Fidelio); and the last period, 1813 to 1827, embracing the great D Major Mass, the Ninth Symphony, the last pianoforte sonatas, and the last five string quartets, in which his genius reached out so far beyond his day that their depth, their breadth of dramatic and emotional power, their eloquence and perfection are recognised and appreciated only by the chosen few.

Beethoven seems to have fulfilled all the ideal and structural conditions of absolute (instrumental) music, at least from the classic point of view, and perhaps, also, from the romantic, and every other which calls forth absolute command of material, seriousness of ideal and purpose, and the most complete sympathy with every emotional impulse. No one has ever surpassed Beethoven in any one of these attributes. And the true nobility of his great soul was not wholly to be concealed beneath his somewhat rude exterior. Magnanimity and infinite kindness were, after all, the incentives to all his thoughts and important actions; deafness, misfortune, and uncongenial surroundings might cloud his vision at times and cause him irritation, from a share of which his associates could not escape, but they could not undermine or stifle his never-failing philanthropy. In his art Beethoven was the soul of earnestness, conscientiousness, and untiring diligence; he did not often accept the first suggestions of his imagination but brought his keen judgment to bear again and again upon his themes and their development, incessantly probing, altering, and retesting until his instinct declared the whole to be in harmony with itself and with the constructive purpose to which he desired to adapt his theme.

Beethoven was original but not revolutionary; that is, he did not try to overthrow nature’s laws or to invent new ones for the brief gratification of startling his public with novelties; but his aim was to extend the application of existing laws which his great genius assured him were safe and correct. Beethoven never violated the laws of tone association, but he found entirely new and striking methods of achieving greater results from the broader and bolder application of these laws. This same principle—the skilful tracing of new channels for the operation of the underlying natural law without rebellion against it—was not exhausted in Beethoven’s work, and it never can nor will be. This is the principle that was carried on by the romantic composers, by Wagner, and by Brahms; and the greatness of the succeeding masters who act upon this pure artistic impulse is gauged by the degree, first, of their ingenuity (imagination and skill) and, second, of their loyalty to nature’s fundamental laws.

Beethoven’s clear natural instinct made him fully aware of the basic principle of “tonic and dominant “(with sub-dominant as alternative), and the necessary adjustment of every movement in tone association to this basic law, as recognised in every work of art which the normal intelligence of the world calls classic. But he extended the working of the principle by freer modulation (later still further extended by Schubert and Wagner—through the latter by more comprehensive use of the chromatic agency) and added dramatic keenness and tonal beauty by more extended use of the inharmonic auxiliaries (later carried still further by Schumann, Chopin, Brahms, and the modern composers). His treatment of rhythm was moderate and but little more significant than with Haydn and Mozart (this principle was later greatly developed by Schumann, Wagner, Brahms, and Richard Strauss). His most striking service was rendered in his expansion of the form (structure), whose basic laws he applied with greater appreciation of their resources and logical consequences (in this particular he learned from Haydn, and stimulated Brahms to still more imposing architectural results). The instrumental style, with its almost exclusive dependence on form and thematic deduction, gave him ample opportunity to probe and perfect the structure. He adopted Haydn’s method of thematic evolution and carried it forward to an unparalleled grade of effectiveness. To evolve an entire symphonic movement out of one small motive was a masterpiece of thematic logic and boldness unheard of before his day and but seldom since achieved with quite the same success.

But all these details were, after all, merely technical means to an end and would not alone have established Beethoven’s greatness. It was less how he did it than what he did. These were only the means (perfect in themselves, to be sure) through which he gave tangible form to the visions of a truly noble soul—a powerful and intense language for the utterance of the most sublime thoughts and emotions of which the human heart and mind are capable.

Beethoven seemed almost infallible; he is the one figure in music history of whose compositions the daring declaration might justly be made that not one page exists which is not artistically perfect and beyond criticism.

His attitude toward the art of tone impelled him to give marked preference to the instrumental style, which he cultivated almost exclusively. The opera had no especial attractions for him, and only once in his life did he find a theme which appealed to his pure spirit—Leonora. His vague intention of composing music for Goethe’s Faust remained unfulfilled, as did also a tenth symphony and, naturally, many other serious projects. The sphere of ecclesiastic music he touched but rarely—in his oratorio Christus am Oelberge (1800) and his two masses in C and D major.

CHAPTER XXXI
FRANZ SCHUBERT

To this era of music history belongs another veritable genius, so unlike Beethoven in many respects, and again so intimately akin in others that it is impossible to mention the one without recalling the other. This is Franz Schubert. By virtue of his extraordinary melodic genius he became the leader of a new lyric era, regenerating song and restoring the vocal style to a more equal and partly independent rank beside the luxuriant instrumental art.

Franz Schubert was born, January 31, 1797, in Vienna. From an elder brother, Ignace Schubert, he received his fundamental training in music. In 1808 his exceptionally good voice secured him a place in the royal chorus, and while there Rusiczka and Salieri became his teachers. He also studied the violin and in this way made himself intimately acquainted with the string quartets and orchestral works of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. He began very early in life to compose and was fairly successful in gaining a hearing for his works and arousing interest in them. When his voice mutated (in 1813) he was dismissed from the choir and thrown entirely upon his own resources in the struggle with a world which he found selfish and unfriendly; for Schubert was not a favoured child of fortune as far as worldly prosperity was concerned, and was subjected to much humiliation and disappointment. After a series of fruitless efforts to obtain some acceptable position, he finally regarded himself as deserted by his kind and actually endured bitter privations, with but occasional respite, until his early death, November 19, 1828, in his thirty-first year. Of all the great masters of tone, Schubert was the one whose span of life was most briefly measured.

On the other hand, there are very few mortals upon whom nature showered her musical gifts with so lavish a hand as upon him. He seemed quite unable to store the wealth of musical ideas which constantly replenished his mind, despite the incredible mass of compositions that he created in quick succession. The themes and melodies which he carelessly cast aside would have proved more than sufficient for a half dozen ordinary writers. Chiefly in consequence of this productivity, the majority of his instrumental works present frequent evidences of superficiality and haste, and in but few of them is the formal structure even approximately perfect and as well proportioned and effectively balanced as it is in the works of Beethoven. For Schubert gave free rein to his fertile imagination, and it usually impelled itself far past the sober confines of correct architectural arrangement and proportion; but the region into which his impetus leads the listener is at all times and under every degree of stress a region of pure melodic beauty, of most wholesome and inspiring expression.

FRANZ SCHUBERT
(FROM A LITHOGRAPH BY KRIEHUBER)

Schubert is said to have given himself but little concern or trouble with the theoretical side of music, and the study of counterpoint and composition according to the lifeless methods of his day was deeply abhorrent to him. He did not appear to stand in need of anything of the kind; he studied not books but the actual, vital product of his great forerunners and contemporaries. He prosecuted this wise course of study with the alert observation and keen perception of kindred genius; at a glance he comprehended and caught up with all the knowledge that prompted great musical strokes in the masterworks of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, and his power thus became paramount to theirs. This power of observation and appropriation was the genius that nature bestowed upon Schubert, and this it was that gave him the ability, when he so desired, to achieve feats of contrapuntal combination, chord succession, and, above all, striking modulation of such originality and beauty that they have become proverbial of his style.

ANTONIO SALIERI

Schubert was akin to all the great classic masters in one most vital respect: he, too, rested his whole musical faith upon the basic law of “tonic dominant.” Nowhere in all his music is there the slightest trace of rebellion against this principle or of a disposition to search outside of it for any novel effects; and where Schubert and his classic colleagues are most impressive, where they reach the highest climax of dramatic and musical power, is where they fall back upon this basic law and proclaim it in its simplest, most straightforward operation. (The working of this natural principle, through Schubert’s conception of the art of tone, is witnessed, for example, in the first eight measures of his song Wohin—to mention one of countless illustrations.)

Schubert’s greatest instrumental works were, probably, his Symphony in C Major and the unfinished Symphony in B Minor, though one can readily name a score of others that are scarcely less significant tone creations. They fall short of the greater of Beethoven’s works in conciseness, architectural balance, and perfection of technic, no doubt; but they are as surely superior to the latter in ardency of human emotion and beauty of melody. This last-named element, melody, was Schubert’s distinctive excellence, and his place in music history is, therefore, closely identified with the beginnings of modern German lyrics and song in general. The German song was cultivated in some degree by Haydn and Mozart, and at least two of Beethoven’s lyrics (Adelaïde and An die ferne Geliebte) are without a parallel in the province of pure, fervid, emotional melodies. But in Schubert the song is vitalised with the elements of primary melodic simplicity and sweetness as well as depth and force of expression. Schubert’s songs are, for the most part, folksongs exalted to the highest grade of artistic excellence. His characteristic indifference to external matters and the rapidity of his musical conception led him often to a careless and unfortunate choice of words—or neglect of selection—and it is in this respect that later song writers (Schumann, Franz, and especially Brahms) made significant advances in the perfecting and idealising of the lyric art. Schubert’s distinctive melodic gift sought expression, naturally, in both the secular and sacred dramatic forms, and gave rise to many operas—of which Alfonso und Estrella, Der häusliche Krieg, and the melodrama Rosamunde are still widely popular—and a number of masses, Stabat Maters, cantatas, and hymns.

SCHUBERT’S CLAVIER
(PEN-SKETCH BY MORITZ VON SCHWINDT)

Among his very numerous pianoforte works were sixteen sonatas (of which ten or more of supreme beauty and classic solidity are everywhere known), the famous impromptus, many popular dances, and an unusually large number of pieces for four hands—a style to which Schubert attached more importance than did any other classic master. His chamber-music was almost if not quite as significant as that of Beethoven and included twenty string quartets, two trios, the famous Forellen quintet (one movement of which is developed upon his song of the same name, The Trout), and an octet.

SCHUBERT’S BIRTHPLACE, VIENNA

Approximate Table of Musical Progress in Centuries Since the Renaissance

1500 (1525)
Culmination of ecclesiastic art. Lasso. Palestrina.
Birth of Protestant chorale. Music printing. Clavichord and harpsichord. Beginnings of the instrumental style.

1600
Birth of oratorio and opera. Development of solo songs.

1700
Bach. Handel. Domenico Scarlatti. Rameau. Perfection of dramatic forms and emancipation of the instrumental style from the vocal. Haydn. Mozart.

1800
Beethoven. Schubert. Perfection of instrumental forms. Weber.

(1840)
Mendelssohn. Schumann. Chopin. Wagner. Liszt. Development of romantic style. Brahms. Tschaikowsky.

1900
Richard Strauss. Puccini. Debussy. Infusion of the subjective and personal elements into music.

CHAPTER XXXII
ROMANTIC SCHOOL OF OPERA IN GERMANY
CARL MARIA VON WEBER. OPERA IN OTHER COUNTRIES

While the development of the instrumental style was going on in the classic epoch of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, the two branches of vocal (or mixed) art, the sacred and the secular drama, pursued widely different avenues of fortune. The products of the former (oratorio and similar forms) were insignificant in comparison to those in the domain of opera, both in quality and quantity. Haydn and Mozart contented themselves with the easy conditions expected of sacred music in their day, in all but the Creation of the former and the Requiem of the latter, where the impulses of genuine and strong religious feeling are evident. And the monumental Mass in D Major of Beethoven is but an isolated specimen of the sacred drama, which, with all its originality and power, did little or nothing to promote the form.

On the other hand, the secular dramatic forms were again cultivated with growing interest and success, especially in Germany, where the opera subsequent to Gluck and Mozart flourished considerably. But it underwent a change of character that was as momentous as it was comparatively sudden and energetic; it shifted from the tragic and serious to the poetic and fantastic sphere of dramatic expression and soon resulted in the novel school of romantic opera. This class of operatic creation was debarred by its very nature from attaining the same gravity and importance as the more real and substantial operatic ideals of Mozart and Beethoven reached, but it gave birth to many a beautiful product, indirectly influenced the later period of instrumental music (for which it prepared the new elements of poetry and romanticism), and constitutes an important factor in the musical history of the nineteenth century. The three principal exponents of the romantic school of opera in Germany are Spohr, Marschner, and Weber.

Ludwig Spohr was born, 1784, at Braunschweig. From 1822 until his death, in 1859, he was orchestral director at Cassel. Spohr is best known, probably, as one of the most distinguished violinists in history, but he was also a productive composer, having written nine operas, the most noted of which are Faust (1813) and Jessonda (1823), several oratorios, a number of much-admired Symphonies, string quartets, violin concertos, and other works. He possessed greater inclination for emotional and elegiac expression than for the dramatic. He was not endowed with great genius or intellect, but all of his writings exhibit a noble soul, a fine sense of poetic impressions, love of nature, and an irrepressible fancy for veiling all in a romantic atmosphere.

HEINRICH MARSCHNER
(from a drawing by JULIUS GIERE, 1840)

His direct opposite was Heinrich Marschner, born, 1796, at Zittau, and from 1830 to 1861 chapelmaster in Hanover. Marschner, though possessing dramatic ability, lacked the refinement of presentation peculiar to Spohr and that depth of conception in which both Spohr and Weber excelled. The most famous of Marschner’s unique and in part excellent operas are The Vampire (1828), Templar and Jewess (or Ivanhoe, 1830), and Hans Helling (1832). They are characterised by their author’s predilection for weird and demoniac subjects and the realms of wonder and enchantment.

CARL MARIA VON WEBER
(FROM A SKETCH BY ZOELNER)

Far greater than either of these was Carl Maria von Weber. He was born, December 18, 1786, in Eutin. Giving evidence of unusual talent at a very early age, he was soon placed under good instructors. In 1803 he became Abbé Vogler’s pupil. In his boyhood he wrote a number of pianoforte sonatas, variations, etc., and even an opera, which was, however, consigned to the flames. In 1800, when he was fourteen, he had finished another, subsequently called Sylvana, which was repeatedly performed and much admired. In 1801 Peter Schmoll followed. In 1804, after a course of faithful study in Vienna, Weber composed Rübezahl for Breslau. From 1806 until 1810 he was in the service of Prince Eugene of Württemberg, in Schlesien and later in Stuttgart. Returning then to Vienna, he resumed his studies with Abbé Vogler (with Meyerbeer as his classmate) and there produced his Abu Hassan. From 1813 to 1816 he was director of the opera in Prague, and in 1817 he accepted a call to Dresden, where he remained until his early death and where he created those masterpieces of romantic operatic art that made him not only the idol of his own nation but established his enduring fame throughout the musical world. In 1820 came Preciosa; in 1821, Der Freischütz; in 1823 Euryanthe (for Vienna); and in 1826 his last work, Oberon, which was performed in London under his own direction. He was not to see his Fatherland again, for he died in London, June 5, 1826.

Weber surpassed both Spohr and Marschner in creative ability, fertility and imagination, and in readiness and freshness of melodic conception. Through him the romantic opera apparently reached the greatest eminence of which it was capable in that period. His Freischütz is a German folk-opera of enduring youth. Its value consists less in the perfection of its technic than in the truthfulness and purity of its character and the primary simplicity and irresistible charm of its melodies throughout.

As instrumental composer Weber was not nearly so successful; still, among his sonatas and other pieces for the pianoforte and in his chamber-music there are a few movements that have won great favour, and his overtures are, almost without exception, masterpieces of orchestral creation.

Subsequent to this brilliant exponent of the romantic drama, the opera in Germany was cultivated by a number of more or less gifted writers, partly in the romantic style and partly in the dramatic, but chiefly and most effectively in the school of comedy, which for a time led all other styles in Germany as it did also in France. The most significant names in this connection are Konradin Kreutzer (1780–1849); Albert Lortzing (1803–51), justly famous for his delightfully naive, wholesomely humorous, and musically excellent operas Czar und Zimmernann, Waffenschmied, and others; Peter Joseph von Lindpaintner (1791); Otto Nicolai, noted for his Merry Wives of Windsor; Friedrich von Flotow (1812–83), composer of Martha; Edmund Kretschmer (1830); Hermann Goetz (1840–76), the highly gifted author of Taming of the Shrew and two excellent symphonies; Carl Goldmark (1832), famous for his overture to Sakuntala and his operas Queen of Sheba, Merlin (1886), and Heimchen am Herde.

In France, Gluck’s distinguished era was succeeded by two gifted composers who adopted his theories and imitated his style: Johann Christoph Vogel (born, 1756, at Nuremberg; died 1788) and Antonio Salieri (born, 1750, at Legnano; died, 1825, at Vienna). Of Salieri, the German master Gluck had a high opinion and said of him: “This foreigner is the only one who adopts my methods, since no German will learn of me.” Salieri was Mozart’s rival in Vienna, and, though he is described as an amiable and high-minded artist, his envy misled him into unjust excesses against his more eminent colleague. Salieri had very positive talent for the expression of ardent passion though his influence did not prove to be very enduring.

This fact is partly true of Étienne Méhul (1763–1817), a precocious youth who presided at the organ in a Franciscan convent at the age of eleven and offered his first opera for performance at the Paris Grand Opera when he was twenty. It was accepted and favourably received. His best work is Joseph and His Brethren (1807), still a favourite in many French and German cities.

ÉTIENNE MÉHUL

The most distinguished of all the composers for the French stage, subsequent to Gluck, was Luigi Cherubini, born in Florence in 1760, died 1842, and for some years director of the Paris conservatory. It has been said of Cherubini: “A highly developed sense for the beautiful, keen intellectual insight and clearness, rare freedom and mastership in the treatment of the most complex forms of composition, and extremely thorough erudition are the qualities which distinguish Cherubini’s creations, in which the greatest seriousness and dignity of artistic conception and method everywhere shine forth.” Of the many Italian and French operas he wrote, there are only two, Medea and Les deux journées, which are still performed, but nearly all of his overtures have survived as effective concert pieces. His masses and his famous Requiem are not strictly religious but inherently artistic. Cherubini wrote some excellent instrumental works and his text-book on Counterpoint and Fugue is one of the best extant.

A less eminent but interesting and remarkable personage was Gasparo Spontini (born, 1774, at Majolati; died 1851), composer for the Paris Grand Opera. His best works are La Vestale, Ferdinand Cortez, and Olympia. Largely gifted for grand and heroic themes, Spontini was fiery and full of vitality. Theatrical pathos, supported by enormous orchestral pomp and decorative opulence, characterises his style.

LUIGI CHERUBINI

Other eminent composers of this period are Jacques Halévy (Paris, 1799–1862), celebrated for his admirable operas The Jewess and L’éclair; and Jacob Meyerbeer (born, 1791,at Berlin; died, 1864, at Paris). His true name, Jacob Liebmann Beer, was altered by the prefix Meyer to gratify a wealthy relative. Meyerbeer possessed greater talent than artistic scruple; his fame rests upon his grand operas and will probably decline with them; his love of originality overpowered his sense of dramatic truth. But his rhythms were original and effective and his melodies often truly beautiful. His most famous operas are The Huguenots, The Prophet, Robert le Diable, Dinorah, and L’Africaine (produced in 1865).

JACOB MEYERBEER

The French successors of Meyerbeer are Ambroise Thomas (Mignon); Charles Gounod (Faust); Georges Bizet, one of the most promising and richly gifted natures in operatic history, justly famed for his Carmen; Jules Massenet; and Camille Saint-Säens.

The opera comique was represented by Gossec (1734–1829); François Adrien Boieldieu (1775–1834); Daniel François Esprit Auber (1782–1871), also ranked among the most gifted of French writers and author of serious as well as light operas—noted for his Massaniello and Fra Diavolo; and Louis J. F. Hérold (1791–1833), the author of Zampa.

JULES MASSENET

In Italy the opera continued to flourish after its own fashion and brought forth many popular and to some extent delightful products. Among the Italian composers were Salieri, Sarti, Paesiello (1741–1816), Domenico Cimarosa (1749–1801), Vincenzo Righini (1756–1812), Ferdinando Paer, and Nicola Zingarelli. In 1792 Gioacchino Rossini was born at Pesaro—one of the most original and richly gifted representatives of Italian (and also French) opera, a great master of bright, tuneful, vivacious melody; famous for his Barber of Seville, William Tell, Stabat Mater, and very many other dramatic works. He was followed by Vincenzo Bellini (1801–35), Donizetti (1797–1848), and Giuseppe Verdi (1813–1901). Verdi was unquestionably the greatest Italian master of the nineteenth century and possibly the best that the Italian opera has ever known. His marvellous development ran through three sharply defined phases. The first was one of imitation, during which he produced a number of youthful operas in the light but undramatic style of the times; the second phase was one of emancipation, represented by Il Trovatore, Rigoletto, and other works of far better musical and truer dramatic quality; the third phase was one of original creation, marking the later (and very advanced) years of a life of untiring study, conscientious progress, and artistic growth, and produced Aïda, Otello, and Falstaff—operas of a type of musical beauty, power, and originality besides genuine dramatic vitality, that assign them foremost rank in operatic history. Since Verdi there have appeared in Italy Arigo Boito, Pietro Mascagni, Leoncavallo, and Puccini, whose accurate historic estimate cannot yet be determined.

GIUSEPPE VERDI

The historic significance of Russia in musical matters has recently become so great that even the early examples of operatic activity there appear to assume greater importance than they formerly possessed. The list of opera composers is brief, comprising only a few names: Michail Iwanowitsch Glinka (1804–57), regarded as the creator of Russian opera and famous for his Life for the Czar; Stanislaus Moniusko (1819); Anton Rubinstein (1830), who, besides his fame as instrumental composer and pianist, commands the respect of critic and public with his Demon (1875), Nero, Feramors, and his secular oratorios, The Tower of Babel and Paradise Lost, though their enduring qualities are questionable; Pieter Iljitsch Tschaikowsky, probably the greatest musical genius that Russia ever possessed, noted for Eugen Onegin and other operas; and Modeste Mussorgski, whose opera Boris Godunow has met with a sincere reception.

MODESTE MUSSORGSKI

England has recently evinced considerable activity in the field of opera and has produced a number of composers whose works have found recognition at and near home: Michael Balfe, William Vincent Wallace, Arthur Sullivan, George MacFarren, Alexander Mackenzie, C. Villiers Stanford, Frederick Cowen, Edward Elgar—all noted for their secular dramatic works and instrumental compositions.

CHAPTER XXXIII
ROMANTIC SCHOOL OF INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC
FELIX MENDELSSOHN

The so-called classic period of instrumental composition had reached its fulfilment in the music of Beethoven. It, therefore, seemed inevitable that this style of musical expression, like the opera, should cast about for new modes of utterance. This tendency gave rise to a wholly new manner of conception and treatment, characterised by intensification of the emotional and personal phases of tone language. Music became more distinctly individualised and was influenced by more pronounced subjectiveness. Each writer sought to impress the stamp of his own personal emotional life upon his music. And the time had come when this was not only necessary but entirely feasible, since Beethoven had suggested the impulses of personal conception, had demonstrated the powers of music as a genuine, fully established art, as a full-grown medium for the reflection and transmission of the most subtle movements of the human spirit. The day of experimentation with the technical apparatus was past; the grammar of the language was complete and established; its powers of expression tested and understood; it remained only to discover the profounder depths of its spiritual possibilities and to put it to those finer uses for which it had evidently been created.

It is not surprising that the application of the language to these purposes should at first have been awkward and but partly convincing. The younger composers, in thus endeavouring to give vent to their subjective feelings in tone, ran to extremes, and frequently produced extravaganzas of childish sentimentality. But there were men among them of genius, able and determined to direct the dangerous stream of emotional freedom into safe and proper channels and to hold it within the bounds of reason and sense. Foremost among these were Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Chopin, who, like Bach, Handel, and Scarlatti, or Lasso and Palestrina, entered the new domain almost simultaneously.

Felix Mendelssohn, who affixed the surname Bartholdy to his name in honour of an uncle, born February 3, 1809, at Hamburg, was the grandson of the eminent philosopher Moses Mendelssohn. He had the good fortune to receive throughout his boyhood most efficient and thorough education as well as musical training. The change of residence from Hamburg to Berlin was momentous for the youth, who was thus brought into contact with Zelter and Berger, whose pupil he became. His progress was rapid and at the age of eight he was already regarded as one of the best pianists in Berlin. No less precocious in composition, Mendelssohn had written four operas for private presentation by the time he was fifteen. In 1824 he made the acquaintance of the celebrated pianist Ignace Moscheles, who became his teacher and subsequently his warm friend and colleague. Mendelssohn’s career as musical artist was determined the following year (1825) upon a visit to Paris, where he met Cherubini. To the latter he showed his B-minor quartet, and won from him most favourable recognition.

FELIX MENDELSSOHN-BARTHOLDY

Meanwhile, however, Mendelssohn did not neglect his academic course but entered the university in 1827. In 1829, acting upon Moscheles’s advice, he undertook his first trip to London; and this signalised the actual beginning of his artistic career, the centres of which were Düsseldorf (1833) and Leipsic (1835 to 1847). Until 1841 he was director of the famous Gewandhaus-konzerte in Leipsic; then he accepted a call to Berlin, but very soon returned to Leipsic to take part in the newly organised conservatory there, of which he was, in fact, the founder. Here he laboured until his early death, November 4, 1847.

Mendelssohn’s greatest artistic achievements were realised in the smaller song forms and in those instrumental designs directly related to and derived from them. These song forms assumed such distinctly bounded musical outlines at his hands that the poetic and metric support of the text appeared superfluous; thus, he actually originated a musical style, based upon the principle of abstract tone expression, for which no other title could have been so appropriate as the one which he selected the Song Without Words. This is the key to Mendelssohn’s whole musical conception and attitude.

He occupies an intermediate position between the classic and romantic eras and may be said to represent them both to some extent. Like both Schumann and Chopin, though less emphatically than either, he took his start from the pianoforte, and in his music many a characteristic trait of the new romantic trend of thought is recognisable from the very beginning. The hollow display and superficiality of the popular virtuoso style was abhorrent to him; and, though one may detect in some of his works signs of similar external polish, somewhat at the cost of great depth of purpose, it was not from any weakness or uncertainty on his part, but the natural consequence of his simple and rather sentimental disposition. His diligence and earnestness in study had given him command of all the technical factors of composition, and his works invariably exhibit classic perfection of structure. This mastership of music form it was that made Mendelssohn so eminently successful as an instrumental composer.

None of his works is of stupendous character or imposing ideals; it was not the mighty, awe-inspiring subjects that he chose for his musical portraiture; his pleasant, amiable, and exquisitely refined tone speech discourses of poetry and of those visions which his fancy saw in fairyand, or of the deep, untarnished devotion of a sincerely religious heart.

In his overtures (Midsummer Night’s Dream—composed at the age of seventeen—Fingal’s Cave, Melusine), in his Scotch and Italian Symphonies, and particularly in the scherzo movements of his chamber-music, Mendelssohn manifests an unexcelled originality of tone speech, of refinement and of purity of technical finish.

His dramatic works are far less numerous than his instrumental compositions; they are powerful in a certain sense, though never overwhelming. The melodramas Antigone, Œdipus, Athalia, and the unfinished opera Lorelei are of less value as a whole than his two great oratorios, St. Paul and Elijah; and in his other sacred works—the fragment of Christus, the Psalms, motettes, hymns, and the symphony cantata (Song of Praise)—all the fervency of his beautiful melody is wedded to a counterpoint of rare artistic excellence.

MENDELSSOHN’S “JÄGERS ABSCHIED”

CHAPTER XXXIV
ROBERT SCHUMANN

The novel current of romanticism was pursued with far more obvious purpose by Robert Schumann, in whom the peculiar tendencies of the new musical era attained a definite aim and achieved signal realisation. He is, therefore, to be regarded as the most powerful if not, indeed, the first pioneer of the school of modern romanticism in music.

Robert Schumann was born June 8, 1810, at Zwickau in Saxony. His father gave close attention to his education and, recognising his unusual musical talent, planned to place him under the tuition of Weber. But upon his father’s death Schumann yielded to his mother’s wishes and adopted the study of law at the University of Leipsic. Here, however, as well as at Heidelberg, he was more interested and zealous in his musical occupation than in his attention to jurisprudence and finally obtained his mother’s consent to discontinue the latter and devote his life to music.

Upon beginning his pianoforte studies with Friedrich Wieck he proceeded so rashly in his technical exercises as to injure a finger permanently; this accident, though the cause of bitter regret to himself at the moment, was no doubt all the more fortunate for posterity, for it compelled him (not altogether against his inclination) to turn his attention almost exclusively to composition. In 1831 his first works were published; they were for the pianoforte, the Abegg Variations and the Papillons. Up to and including opus 23 he wrote nothing but pianoforte pieces. It was not until he finally surmounted her father’s persistent objections and married Clara Wieck (the daughter of his old teacher, and herself an accomplished pianist) that the thought of vocal writing seems to have entered his mind. In 1840, the year of his marriage, his first book of songs appeared as opus 24. At the same time he began to give voice to his advanced and almost revolutionary artistic views and convictions, in literary form, and wrote not only in the interest of his own principles but as unselfish champion of the new and not generally accepted creations of Chopin, particularly, and also of Schubert, Mendelssohn, and Brahms. The assistance he thus rendered to these and many other young authors was significant. Composition, however, continued to be his chief occupation, and after the publication of his first symphony (opus 38, in 1841), his productions appeared in rapid succession. In 1845 he moved from Leipsic to Dresden; in 1850 to Düsseldorf, in which city, early in 1854, his reason succumbed to a lurking brain disease, probably congenital, which had been haunting him for many years. He threw himself into the Rhine, whence he was rescued, but only to be transported, hopelessly insane, to an asylum in Endenich, where he died July 29, 1856.

ROBERT SCHUMANN

It has been shown that Schumann took his start from the pianoforte. From the very outset he opened up a new world of musical expression. No other composer ever manifested his originality so abruptly and comprehensively as did Schumann, and it would be difficult to name another whose individuality was as striking and radical as his. His tone images cannot be compared with anything in music before his day—except such transient suggestions as may be found in the all-embracing art of Bach and Beethoven. They were attempts to achieve the greatest possible distinctness of expression; poetic moods, thoughts, and scenes are clothed in musical idiom and framed in unique small forms quite peculiar to Schumann. The elements of poetry, of humour, and most vivid fancy are all represented in his music, and through them all the reflective mind of the German philosopher can be traced, imposing, at times, strange fetters upon an imagination whose power they but imperfectly restrain.

CLARA SCHUMANN
(BUST BY FRIEDRICH HAUSMANN)

It is undeniable that Schumann’s genius lacked the perfect poise and mental control possessed by Beethoven and other masters. In very few of his works can one prove the presence of both instinct and intellect in equal balance. He may have been conscious of this, for in all his works and throughout his life one recognises an unceasing yearning, a struggle after some unrealised ideal, the evidences of which are often as disappointing to the listener as they must have been to the composer himself. Very few of his ideas find such easy voice as did those of Mozart and Schubert; few appeal to us with the force of simple, plain truth. Even in his most flowing and unconstrained movements, frequent halts and other signs of uncertain logic mar the continuity and coherency of the formal structure as a whole and disturb quiet enjoyment. Hence, there are few if any of Schumann’s compositions that leave an entirely satisfied impression. In every separate particle they are of thrilling originality and melodic and harmonic beauty; but the particles do not wholly harmonise with each other, do not develop one out of another with that truthfulness and simplicity of logical sequence that is distinctive of perfect musical form, so admirably achieved in the classic products of Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms.

In a word, much of Schumann’s music is eccentric. It contains more of each single emotional attribute than is present in the music of any composer before his day, but often in such haphazard succession and under such insufficient control that it disappoints while it transports the listener. This was the inevitable consequence of the peculiarity of his musical conception; in his lifelong struggle to realise effects for which musical speech was not yet fitted, in the conflict between his own extravagant fancies and the medium of their utterance, he found neither inclination nor time to busy himself with the conditions of formal structure. His eccentricity found ready expression in original and singular rhythmic formations—so divergent from foregone models that they aroused the comment, at times, that Schumann strove after effect. That was never true; he was both too richly endowed and too noble-minded for this, a trait so common among the virtuosi of his day; he simply aimed to obtain the clearest and most accurate expression of his ideas and employed what he deemed the most suitable means.

In his songs Schumann appeared at his best; here the guidance and support which the distinct form and signification of the words afforded him, withheld him from digression and uncertain experiment. They are not only the best of Schumann’s creations but rank among the most poetic and musically perfect types in the sphere of lyrics. In these the instrumental accompaniment ceases to be a mere auxiliary, as in the songs of earlier writers (even including Schubert, for the greater part), and becomes an essential and co-ordinate factor in their creation. The same is true of his larger vocal works, the cantatas. Paradise and the Peri, Pilgrimage of the Rose, and very notably in the music to Goethe’s Faust. Of his one opera, Genoveva, it is obvious that Schumann had undertaken a task of such magnitude as his restless mind could not completely encompass.

Among Schumann’s best instrumental works are the quartet in E flat, the quintet, the trio in D minor—for pianoforte and strings; the impressive pianoforte concerto in A minor; the pianoforte sonata in G minor; and the symphonies in B flat and D minor, albeit the latter (the symphony in D minor), in common with his other symphonies and overtures, is an almost aggravating mixture of transcendent beauties and mortal frailties, fascinating and replete with great genius in each separate detail but inadequate in orchestration and illogical in formal structure.

CHAPTER XXXV
FRÉDÉRIC CHOPIN

Far more placid and harmonious in themselves, though less strikingly original than those of Robert Schumann, are the compositions of Frédéric Chopin. This remarkable tone-poet was born February 22, 1810, near Warsaw. His father was French, his mother a native of Poland. At the age of nine Chopin appeared before the public and was recognised as a prodigy of extraordinary promise. In 1828 he left his native city, a full-fledged pianoforte virtuoso of the most serious-minded class, and turned his steps toward Paris by way of Vienna and Munich. He has been compared to a meteor in the musical heavens, shining with dazzling brilliancy during a brief career and then vanishing, but not without leaving an indelible impression upon his era and upon the whole range of music history.

Schumann was one of the first to recognise Chopin’s genius and to direct attention to his original art creations. Chopin’s opus 2 (the Don Juan Variations) revealed to Schumann’s keen vision the unmistakable gift of its author. At that time Chopin was, indeed, a finished master, especially of the pianoforte style. His two Concertos in E minor and F minor, whose excellence he himself probably never surpassed in his later works, were lying finished in his portfolio as he journeyed to the French capital. There he was immediately welcomed and idolised as an inimitable virtuoso and much sought after as teacher. His sensitive, though by no means melancholy, disposition was seriously affected and his bodily health undermined soon after by a pulmonary disorder which proved to be progressive, and was destined to hasten his end. In 1838 he went to Majorca for his health in company with Madame George Sand, the celebrated writer. His condition grew steadily worse. In the spring of 1849 he, nevertheless, yielded to his long-cherished desire to visit England and Scotland. Returning shortly, completely exhausted, to Paris, he died there October 17, 1849.

Chopin’s creative labour was confined (excepting only a few songs) to composition for the pianoforte. He, also, like his great contemporary Schumann, did not suffer the technical rules of form to trammel his imagination; but for a different reason. It cannot be declared that Chopin’s works are without correct and adequate structural fundament, for their continuity of development and their harmony of proportions render them as faultless in their sphere as were the forms of Beethoven. If he did not adopt the traditional formal designs of the classic masters, he, nevertheless, succeeded always in finding the appropriate setting for ideas which are of singular poetic import and depth. He never betrays any effort which might imply calculation or search after a given design. His mastership of his material and of the specific nature of the pianoforte is nowhere more apparent than in his treatment of the details; in this respect he discovered wholly new paths and manifested a degree of technical skill, refinement, and accuracy of expression that are inimitable.

FRÉDÉRIC CHOPIN
(AFTER THE PORTRAIT BY ARY SCHEFFER)

Chopin was the founder of an original style of pianoforte melody and technic unknown before his time save as dimly foreshadowed here and there in the writings of Hummel, Dussek, and Field. The charms of his melody and harmomy are as unique as they are eminent and enduring; one does not tire of his vivid tone pictures, reflecting a realm of beauty that no other vision seemed to reach but his. The limitation of his musical conceptions to one instrument (the pianoforte) was no sign of weakness or of narrow genius but was rather a self-imposed concentration upon that which he wisely refrained from overstepping.

Of these three great exponents of the romantic school of instrumental composition, Mendelssohn was most nearly akin to his classic predecessors. In his music are found that simplicity, repose, and dignity, that technical clearness and exactness distinctive of the classic school, enlivened by just enough freedom and passion to assign him a place among the romantic composers. Schumann, on the other hand, displays far less of these classic attributes; he is the exponent of the dramatic and fantastic conception. Chopin, in his turn, represents the lyric school, and possesses no other quality of the classic conception than that of purity and refinement of expression.

Mendelssohn’s chief merit lies in the perfection of his forms; that of Schumann in his original harmonies and rhythms; that of Chopin in his poetic melodies. Mendelssohn and Chopin have less breadth, grandeur, and intellectual acumen than Schumann, but both possess far greater control than he. Schumann struggles like a mighty giant for the mastery in a contest of great moment and extent; Mendelssohn and Chopin engage in less momentous issues but are all the more complete masters in their smaller spheres.

CHAPTER XXXVI
THE HYPER-ROMANTIC SCHOOL
HECTOR BERLIOZ. FRANZ LISZT

The principle which gave birth to the romantic school of composition—the principle of distinct characterisation and of exactness and emphasis of personal expression—was pursued by other contemporaries of Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Chopin with an eagerness which produced many striking and valuable results, but also impelled some writers into extremes and a great exaggeration of subjective musical presentation. The era closely following that of the three romantic masters was one of intensified expression, to which the names new-romantic, hyper-romantic, and (by the Germans themselves) new-German were given.

The beginnings of this school extend back, in fact, to a Frenchman, Hector Berlioz, who antedates the other representatives by a decade. Pursuing the ideas originated by Lully in his own country and developed by Gluck and Weber, Berlioz evolved a style which, in its turn, exerted a significant influence upon Liszt, Wagner, and others. For this reason Berlioz, though but indifferently successful himself, is regarded as the originator of this more modern phase of the tone art.

Hector Berlioz was born, December 11, 1803, at Côte St. André. His father, a physician, designed to have Hector adopt his own profession; and this determination was insisted upon with such obstinacy that the youth finally ran away from home, entered the Paris conservatory and joined a theatre chorus for his living. He appears to have disliked the dry study of musical theory, for he soon withdrew from the classes of the conservatory and continued his studies alone in his own peculiar fashion. A mass, the overtures to Waverley and Les Francs-juges, and a fantastic symphony, Episode de la vie d’un artiste, had already been publicly performed when, in 1830, Berlioz won the Roman prize with a cantata, Sardanapale. During the succeeding period of study in Italy he created some of his best works and, like Schumann, defended his original style and the claims of programme music in general by a series of literary essays of unusual power.

In 1843 he visited Germany; in 1845, Austria; in 1847, Russia—everywhere presenting his works and experiencing the natural mixture of ardent opposition and approbation. From 1839 until his death, March 9, 1869, Berlioz was librarian of the Paris conservatory.

HECTOR BERLIOZ

Berlioz is, without question, one of the most interesting and eminent geniuses in the history of French music. He adopted the German classics as his models and surpassed his forerunners in the seriousness of his endeavours and the loftiness of his aims. His highest ideal was Beethoven, though he trod a radically different path. By many, Berlioz’s whole musical point of view is regarded as a strange error; he intensified musical characterisation to a superlative degree and very frequently failed to preserve the desirable structural logic and beauty of presentation. He aimed to realise novel tone effects and “tone-colours” of the most vivid nature in the service of his dramatic and poetic purpose. To this end Berlioz made a comprehensive study of the resources of the orchestra, of which he became the greatest master of his day, originating many very striking effects and combinations, and founding the style adopted and further developed by Wagner and his followers.

The most successful and popular of Berlioz’s compositions are his music-drama Damnation of Faust, his symphony (or symphonic poem) Romeo and Juliet, and his four operas. In striking contrast to his prolific predecessors, Berlioz wrote but a small number of works (extending only to opus 29 b), but they are almost all of broad proportions. Among them are six overtures, five symphonies, four operas, the dramatic legend Faust, two oratorios, cantatas, a requiem, a Te Deum, a hymn, and his celebrated Treatise on Instrumentation*.

*This work has recently been edited and augmented by Richard Strauss, the most advanced master of orchestral resources.

Receding somewhat from the instrumental standpoint of the classic masters, Berlioz divided his attention so evenly between the instrumental and the vocal styles that it is not possible to define his standing. In thus conceding to each style equal value and dignity, Berlioz made the first decided step in the direction of that more complete amalgamation of the two, subsequently achieved by Wagner in such a signal manner and projected with still greater emphasis into the most modern era of the art.

The same style of subjective expression is exemplified in a wholly different manner in the music of Franz Liszt. Though in point of fact pre-eminently a pianoforte virtuoso, Liszt assumed justly his rank among the hyper-romantic composers, whose contributions to music literature he increased by a large number of works whose originality and boldness compensate for their alleged artistic shortcomings.

Franz Liszt was born, October 22, 1811, in Hungary. Under his father’s guidance his musical talent unfolded so vigorously and with such rapidity that he was soon (in 1821) ready to undertake a journey to Vienna and prosecute his further studies with Carl Czerny and Antonio Salieri. In 1823 he travelled with his father to Paris, where he was refused admission to the conservatory by Cherubini, but where he won the protection of the composer Paer and the theorist Reicha and where he soon became the favourite of aristocratic circles. Liszt may be said to have acquired his musical education and schooling in the public concert hall. His most efficient tutors were public taste and demand, and these his practical insight enabled him quickly to realise and pursue. His principal aim was, no doubt, public triumph. He thirsted for adulation, not in an ignoble sense but none the less eagerly and with conscious purpose. His genius was the innate faculty of delighting and amazing his audiences, no matter what grade of intelligence or refinement they might chance to represent. And this his originality, his ready adaptability, and his great musical and technical endowment made it possible and easy for him to do from the very outset.

In 1824 he undertook his first journey to England with his father. In 1825 he produced an operetta, Don Sancho. Upon his father’s death, in 1827, which was a terrible blow to the youth, as it not only robbed him of one to whom he was devotedly attached but left him alone without a natural guardian in Paris at a still tender age, Liszt sent for his mother and devoted himself for a time to the arduous vocation of teaching.

FRANZ LISZT

Of immense significance were the impressions he received upon the appearance of Nicolo Paganini (in 1831), whose violin performances filled him with amazement and the determination to equal upon his own instrument (the pianoforte) the almost superhuman proficiency of this virtuoso; and it is quite certain that the unusual and superior qualities of Liszt’s pianoforte style may be ascribed to his emulation and imitation of Paganini. Further, Liszt was confirmed in his conceptions of the tone art by Berlioz, who returned to Paris from Italy shortly after this with some of his best and most distinctive works. And, finally, Liszt’s intimate intercourse with Chopin had also great influence in moulding and fixing his artistic style.

Liszt was an indefatigable student not only of his own art but of all the arts. He became a literary writer of marked ability, mastered several languages, and expanded his mind in many directions. From 1835 to 1839 he lived in Geneva and from 1839 to 1849 he continued his career as virtuoso, his course through all the principal cities of Europe being marked with triumph and enthusiasm. In 1847 he accepted the office of court orchestral director at Weimar and remained there for twelve years, reviving the same spirit of enthusiasm in the realm of music which earlier animated this famous little Thuringian town in the sphere of poetry under the inspiring presence of Goethe and Schiller.

Weimar became, through Liszt, the rendezvous of many brilliant musicians of the period: Von Bülow, Wagner, Raff, Tausig, Rubinstein, Peter Cornelius, Ferdinand David, Joachim—not to mention the numerous celebrities from the ranks of the sister arts. Here it was that Liszt turned his attention to the more serious forms of composition and wrote his symphonic tone-poems, in which the musical individuality of their author is most clearly displayed. From 1861 until 1870 Liszt made his home in Rome, becoming Abbé in 1865. Subsequently he spent the summer months of each year in Weimar, dispensing his knowledge and the fruits of his talent and experience to a number of youthful pianists and composers who were eager to profit by contact with him. This purely benevolent practice Liszt maintained until his death, August 1, 1886.

Liszt was undoubtedly the greatest pianoforte virtuoso who has ever been known to the music world; what he accomplished through that instrument appeared unsurpassable. To be sure, he lived in an age when it was possible to create and sustain a potent individuality based largely upon technical bravura, and Liszt was the founder of modern virtuoso technic—an element which is becoming so common and so much easier to acquire, since Liszt and his followers pointed out the way, that it is not ranked as highly nowadays among the many indispensable requirements of the tone artist as it was a half century ago. But, aside from this historic issue, it is certain that Liszt’s technic verged upon the marvellous. His sensibilities were keen and responsive; his ability to transmit every shade of emotional impulse through the medium of the pianoforte was unbounded; so, too, was his power of modifying the expression by his subtle sense of touch. His command of the mechanical interaction of hand and keyboard was fabulous, and to all was added the magnetism of his thoroughly noble-hearted, generous personality.

These traits represent the chief attributes of Liszt’s greatness. As composer he was original and exerted a certain influence upon the music of his century, especially upon that for the pianoforte. He therefore commands respect and has many warm admirers; but history regards his creative activity as of secondary importance. He was more richly gifted with the faculty of ornamentation than with that of creation; hence, his best and probably most enduring works are his transcriptions of other masters’ vocal or orchestral compositions, the original beauties of which are often greatly enhanced by the wonderful charm and delicacy and vital apprehension of Liszt’s genius. Examples of this phase of his artistic labour are the Hungarian rhapsodies, some of Schubert’s songs, the Soirées de Vienne (dances of Schubert). In his original compositions Liszt betrayed a lack of true creative power, a leaning toward bombast and eccentricity, mitigated by the same marvellous skill of ornamentation and effective presentation so exquisite in his transcriptions.

CHAPTER XXXVII
RICHARD WAGNER

The distinctive dramatic composer of the nineteenth century was Richard Wagner, one of the most powerful and energetic intellects of modern history, almost equally eminent as poet and as musician. He was born, May 22, 1813, at Leipsic. His father died when he was an infant, whereupon the family moved to Dresden. In his earlier days Wagner’s musical inclinations seem to have been of a superficial nature while his taste ran with preference to poetry. For some time he cherished the plan of writing a tragedy in the style and proportions of the dramas of Shakespeare. Upon his return to Leipsic his interest in music was aroused and his love for it grew daily stronger; hand in hand with his university courses, he engaged diligently in the study of counterpoint under the tuition of Weinlig.

Wagner’s first works—a pianoforte sonata, opus 1, Polonaise, opus 2, a Fantasie, a string quartet, and four overtures—are in no sense extraordinary, but reveal some of his subsequent characteristic traits. In 1833 he wrote his first opera. Die Feen, for the presentation of which he laboured in vain. In 1834 he became music director in Magdeburg, where he composed a second opera. Das Liebesverbot, performed in 1836 with indifferent success. In 1837 he went to Riga as orchestral director and in 1839 he undertook a trip to London and to Paris, where he soon fell a prey to most unfortunate and straitened conditions. In order to earn a scanty living he was compelled to prepare popular opera arrangements for the publishers. It was during this period of distress that he wrote his Faust Overture, finished his third opera, Rienzi (begun in Riga), and composed the libretto and music of the Flying Dutchman. In 1842 he returned to Germany to attend the first performance of Rienzi. In 1843 the Flying Dutchman was given in Dresden.

RICHARD WAGNER

The attention and interest which these operas aroused were so great that the whole musical community immediately embraced antagonistic views of the merits of Wagner’s original methods and began that famous feud between Wagnerites and anti-Wagnerites which was at times extremely bitter, extended all over musical Europe, and lasted nearly a half century. Despite these contentions and the opposition brought to bear upon him, Wagner laboured on with an energy and persistency that were a part of his genius. In 1845 his Tannhäuser appeared; in 1847 Lohengrin was written, and was brought out at Weimar, in 1850, through the influence of his warm friend and advocate Liszt.

In the years 1849 to 1853, when Wagner’s attitude toward the political upheaval in Germany rendered it expedient for him to take flight (to Paris, and Switzerland), he developed that great literary power for which he became almost as famous as for his musical genius and which became a potent agent in securing for his artistic principles and for his music-dramas their just recognition. In 1861 his Tannäuser was presented in Paris and met with sensational opposition. In the meantime an amnesty had been issued and Wagner was permitted to return to his native country. In 1859 he had already finished Tristan und Isolde, but it was not produced until 1865, in Munich.

In 1864 Wagner at last began to emerge from the array of disappointments which had harassed him during the earlier periods of his career, and found himself placed in a position where the fulfilment of his larger plans seemed likely to be realised. The unfortunate King Ludwig of Bavaria, a warm admirer of Wagner’s music, invited him to Munich, gave him a villa, and became his enthusiastic protector. In 1868 the Meistersinger was produced; the following year he married Cosima, a daughter of Liszt and divorced wife of Hans von Bülow.

All obstacles being removed, he now set about completing the most pretentious and characteristic of his dramatic tasks, the Ring of the Nibelung, comprising four operas, the first one of which (the prelude, Rheingold) was produced with such signal success that Wagner ventured to prosecute his unique design of having a Wagner theatre (Festspielhaus) erected in Baireuth for the exclusive performance of his operas. In this he was successful, and the first public presentation of the Ring (Rheingold, Valktire, Siegfried, and Götterdämmerung) took place in his own theatre in Baireuth between August 13 and 30, 1876, marking one of the most novel and notable events not only in the history of music but of modern civilisation, Wagner’s last work was Parsifal, a sacred musical drama, the leading thought of which is the relation of the Holy Spirit to humanity, presented with the utmost reverence and artistic seriousness. The Holy Grail is its symbol, Parsifal is an embodiment of the Christ, Kundry of Mary Magdalene. This opera was first given on July 26, 1882, at Baireuth. The following winter Wagner died in Venice, February 13, 1883.

Great though the purely musical beauty and value of the classic operas of Gluck, Mozart, Weber, and Beethoven were, their dramatic contents and designs were marred by the fashions and weaknesses of their era. Gluck had accomplished wonders in purifying and vitalising the dramatic basis and Weber and Berlioz had proceeded still further in the same artistic purpose; but their apparent fulfilment was reserved for Wagner.

The fundamental idea of Wagner’s whole artistic aim is expressed by himself in the motto to his book, Opera and Drama, in which he says: “The [traditional] opera is an error; for in this form of art a means of expression (music) appears as the object, while the object of expression (the drama) appears only as a means.” His weapons were, therefore, directed mainly against the shallow operatic products of Italy, always distinguished for their almost total lack of dramatic point and object and existing, as a rule, chiefly as an opportunity for vocal technical display. But Wagner also opposed the spirit of those French operas in which bombast and the affectation of pathos had usurped the place of dramatic truth. There also, as in Italy, the libretto was of little consequence; scarcely more than a framework upon which to trail and exhibit the music and the voice. Wagner believed and demanded that the dramatic idea should be of the very first moment and that the musical factors, while preserving their own dignity and artistic beauty, should serve principally to clothe and reinforce this idea—in a word, that a closer co-ordination should be established between the sister arts of poetry and music, or, in the case of any inequality, that preference should be given to the dramatic purpose; furthermore, not only poetry and music, but the other arts as well, should be enlisted in the service of this idea and its full and emphatic realisation.

This was Wagner’s ideal of the opera and this defines the function which his music performs in it. But he also knew that music as an abstract art, in and by itself as in the pure instrumental style of composition, neither can nor should be so applied, and he never declared or assumed that the opera was the only true form of musical art. This is demonstrated in his overtures and in the frequent instrumental episodes of his larger operas, which well deserve to be classed as absolute music, though they pertain to the sphere of tone poetry in their direct contiguity to the dramatic situations and their consequent illustrative qualities.

Whatever may have been said in discredit of his musical talent, it is certain that Wagner was a master of dramatic musical expression and that he was the originator of a style of operatic art vastly richer and more impressive than any other ever conceived. His music, from the severest critical point of view, contains moments of transcendent beauty and power, and through the combination of the musical and dramatic pulses he achieves climaxes that are unparalleled in operatic art.

A novel peculiarity of Wagner’s style is the so-called “leading motive,” which he employs not only to obtain unity and continuity but to suggest and characterise the various individualities and other dramatic features of the text. His creative faculty in this respect was powerful both in originality and in precision and is equalled only by his facility of technical and contrapuntal treatment, the richness and variety of his harmonic and modulatory movements. All these traits are thrown into the strongest light by his manipulation of the resources of the orchestra.

CHAPTER XXXVIII
JOHANNES BRAHMS

The strong current of romanticism, active from the early years of the nineteenth century, which so influenced the style and character of modern music that it has become the ruling pulse of musical thought, has not, however, drawn everything into its centre. Probably no composer can henceforth ever free himself from this influence so completely as to overcome the seductions of free individual expression or refrain from more or less extensive use of the methods of the romantic and hyper-romantic schools.

But, at the same time, there are and always will be some serious minds emmently fitted by genius, by temperament, and by conviction, to endeavour to subdue the menacing force of this current and to constrain it within sensible bounds.

The greatest of these protectors of classic ideals in the modern era of music is Johannes Brahms, one of the few monumental figures in the whole wide range of music history. Brahms was born, May 7, 1833, at Hamburg (North Germany—that section of Europe which gave birth to Bach, Handel, Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Wagner). His musical studies were first guided by his father and later by Edward Marxsen. Schumann, in the last article he ever wrote for publication (October, 1853), called the attention of the musical world to Brahms in a striking prophecy regarding his future, which Brahms more than fulfilled. From that time on, his career was one of slow but sure realisation of the highest achievement which the promises of youth can foreshadow. Brahms was for a few years director of music in Detmold, after which he returned to his native city, studying and composing with great diligence, cherishing an inspiring friendship with Robert and Clara Schumann, Joachim, and other equally serious-minded artists.

In 1862 he went to Vienna, where he founded his second home, always returning thither after brief periods of absence in Hamburg, Zürich, Baden-Baden, and other cities. From 1871 to 1874 he conducted the Gesellschafts-Konzerte in Vienna; then he went to Heidelberg, gravitating to Vienna again in 1876. The degree of doctor honoris causa was bestowed upon him by the University of Cambridge (England) in 1877 and by that of Breslau in 1881. He died, April 3, 1897, at Vienna.

The qualities which secure Brahms a place among the greatest masters of the tone art are the depth, fervour, and truth of a conception to which he gave expression in logical and appropriate forms. His creations, excepting only a few of the very earliest (in which are evinced some of the obscurity and unbridled imagination of youthful genius) reveal their beauties more and more upon closer acquaintance. His harmony is rich in new and unaccustomed changes, his melody thoroughly classic but singularly original, and his counterpoint complex; for these reasons the ready apprehension of his thematic design is difficult, but it all becomes more and more fascinating as its beauty and perfection of structure become more apparent. The eminence of Brahms’s genius, the singular loftiness of his conception (in an age of romantic freedom and uncertain quest after novel effects), is so far from the beaten track, so far above the common range of vision, that comprehension and enjoyment of his works can be gained only through close attention, and familiarity with his unusual idiom.

JOHANNES BRAHMS

Brahms is classic in his attitude but modern in his expression. He is master of the emotional impression, as a whole, to a remarkable degree. With a few simple strokes he fixes the emotional outlines and then firmly maintains them to the end without wavering or confusion. And he is similarly master of each single emotional phase, most especially of the sombre shades, in which his serious, essentially classic spirit delights. But he can also be cheerful and gay; he utilises the quick-footed rhythms and lucent melodies with equal grace and effectiveness.

The same conscientiousness and concentration which distinguished Beethoven may also be ascribed to Brahms. In his treatment of both form and material he takes rank with Bach and Beethoven, with whom he is closest of kin in the rigid thoroughness of his artistic nature. The false charge that Brahms’s music emanates from the head instead of the heart can be advanced only by those critics who cannot fathom the depths of that heart and wholly misapprehend the great import of a style which must needs employ unusual means for its presentation. His technic is masterful, but it is never employed in any other sense than as a means to an end.

Brahms is not revolutionary but reactionary. His influence upon the healthy growth of the tone art can scarcely be estimated. His imposing manner, his sturdy artistic principles are matched against all the licence and unbridled passion of the new romantic school. He points sternly back to the ideals and methods which marked the age of classic creation and which appear to be alone able to impress the sanction of truth upon a work of art. But, while he models his works after these classic types, he vitalises them with the most enduring and effective acquisitions of modern art.

Brahms’s compositions, to opus 122, comprise four symphonies, two overtures, three string quartets, three pianoforte sonatas, three pianoforte quartets, two pianoforte concertos, five trios, six duos, a number of other chamber works and piano pieces, a very large number of songs, and a few motets and cantatas. The greatest of his vocal creations is his German Requiem, a masterpiece that ranks with Bach’s Passions and Beethoven’s Mass in D Major.

CHAPTER XXXIX
REFERENCE LISTS OF MUSICAL CELEBRITIES OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY

The following classification is given as a ready reference list of composers and reproductive artists of to-day and recent times, and includes biographical notices of those who have achieved marked distinction but whose relation to the essential history of music is yet to be determined. The reader is referred to Chapter XLI for the names of American composers, artists, and writers.

A. The era of German Song, inaugurated by Schubert and further represented by Mendelssohn and Schumann, embraces the following names:

Carl Loewe (born 1796), famous for his ballads. Wilhelm Taubert (1811). Robert Franz (1815). Franz Abt (1819). Brahms (1833). Adolf Jensen (1837). Grieg (1843). Wilhelm Kienzl (1857). Hugo Wolf (1860). Richard Strauss (1864).

B. As concerns the technic of song, it is apparent that the old and hitherto universally respected Italian vocal methods are gradually yielding to newer ones, necessitated by the advances and changes in German opera and song during the last half century. Still, the Italian method has not lost its hold upon the student world, and probably never will do so, for its superiority as vocal method seems to be unquestionable. Among the celebrated Italian vocal teachers and singers were:

Ronconi. Concone. Bordogni. Panofka. Lamperti. Manuel Garcia (father of Malibran and Viardot). Marchesi (both husband and wife). Duprez.

In Germany: Franz Hauser. Julius Stockhausen. Julius Hey. Ferdinand Sieber. Franz Betz. Emil Goetze. Franz Nachbaur. Emil Scaria. Anton Schott. Josef Staudigl.

The distinguished women vocalists: Catalani. Sonntag. Jenny Lind. Albani. Malibran. Désirée-Artot. Viardot. Pasta. Tietjens. Patti. Lucca. Sembrich. Peschka-Leutner. Schroeder-Devrient. Destinn. Gadsky. Gerster. Mallinger. Materna. Melba. Schumann-Heink. Nordica.

Famous male vocalists: Braham. Rubini. Duprez. Roger. Reeves. Tamberlick. Stockhausen. Lablache.

C. In the domain of pianoforte composition there appeared, early in the century, a class of players (and writers) who cultivated the so-called “elegant” style and produced enormous quantities of light, effective music designed chiefly for the display of technical dexterity. Many of them were, however, efficient pedagogues who advanced the technic of the instrument and paved the way for the achievements of Chopin and Liszt. They constituted what may be termed the school of juvenile virtuosity, as it was the infancy and childhood of the eminent virtuoso style of Liszt and of modern days. The early era embraces the names:

George Onslow (1784). Ferdinand Ries (1784). Alexander Fesca (1789). Carl Czerny (1791). Ignace Moscheles (1794). Karl Gottlieb Reissiger (1798). Ferdinand Hiller (1811). Sigismund Thalberg (1812). Theodore Kullak (1818).

D. The composers of the past century, while taking their start from the pianoforte as an almost universal rule, turned their attention also, in many instances, and often with marked success, to the broader fields of composition. Thus, under the invigorating influence of greater masters (Mendelssohn, Schumann, Chopin) the literature of the pianoforte gradually rose to a better and nobler level and many notable contributions were added to the higher grades of musical creation. The long list of composers in general embraces:

Karl Gottlieb Reissiger (1798). Edward Grell (born, 1800, Berlin), renowned teacher and conductor and author of much excellent sacred music in the severe contrapuntal style. Franz Lachner (1803), the elder of three brothers, all famous writers. Julius Benedict (1804) and Michael Costa (1810)—both English composers of merit. Carl Grädener (1812). Adolf Henselt (1814). Stephen Heller (1815), fruitful composer of an excellent grade of the “elegant” style, noted for his fertile imagination and originality. Robert Volkmann (1815), distinguished composer of symphonies and superior chamber-music. Johannes Verhulst (1816), a Dutch writer of distinction. W. Sterndale Bennett (1816, England). Niels W. Gade (1817), one of the most eminent of Scandinavian writers of the earlier school, author of many symphonies, overtures, cantatas, and much interesting chamber-music. Halfdan Kjerulf (1818, Norway). Henry Litolff (1818). Antonio Bazzini (1818), one of the best modern Italian composers. Cornelius Gurlitt (1820). Frederick Kiel (1821, North Germany), a writer of unusual talent and learning, the author of distinguished oratorios and other large works.

JOACHIM RAFF

Of more than passing distinction was Joachim Raff; he was born, 1822, in Switzerland, pursued an academic career until his love of music overcame his parents’ objections and induced him to adopt composition as his profession. His life for some time was one of disappointment and hardship. The marked triviality of many of his earlier pianoforte pieces, side by side with works of superior merit, prove how often he wrote more from necessity than from artistic impulse. But the friendship of Liszt and the support of the influential circle of Weimar enthusiasts finally gave him the means to extricate himself from misfortune and thus to win recognition and success. Raff’s most famous work is his third symphony, In the Forest. In 1877 he was appointed director of the Hoch conservatory in Frankfort, where he remained until his death in 1882. Had Raff been able to maintain, throughout, the eminence of some of his larger works he would doubtless have become one of the foremost composers of his century. As it is he ranks high and has a host of admirers.

CARL REINECKE

Carl Reinthaler (1822). Carl Reinecke (1824), the highly esteemed composer and teacher in Leipsic. Theodore Kirchner (1824). Peter Cornelius (1824), an adherent of the new German school, zealously supported in his artistic ambitions by Liszt and famous for operas of striking originality and artistic value. Friedrich Smetana (1824), a powerful Bohemian composer. Anton Bruckner (1824), who in recent years has been assigned, by many critics, a rank among the most eminent masters. Later appeared Ivar Hallström (1826). Waldemar Bargiel (1828). Hans von Bronsart (1830). Hans von Bülow (1830), chiefly noted as pianoforte virtuoso; and Anton Rubinstein, one of the most richly gifted musicians of the past century and a pianist of very uncommon power and magnetism.

PETER CORNELIUS

Rubinstein was born, 1830, near the Russian frontier of Bessarabia; he spent his childhood in Moscow and appeared in public at the age of ten; in 1848 he settled in St. Petersburg, where he composed a number of operas; in 1854 he made a concert tour through Germany; founded the St. Petersburg Conservatory in 1862; made his first journey to America in 1872. He died November 20, 1894. Rubinstein has written works in almost every style of composition and was quick and prolific in conception. His native talent was of an exceedingly high order, powerful, rich, and original. His melodic themes are always striking, unusually replete with strong passion or delicate beauty, and often both, but he lacked the gift of concentration and continuity, wherefore he often fails to do justice to his splendid themes and leaves the hearer very frequently, indeed, in a state of disappointment.

ANTON RUBINSTEIN

Salomon Jadassohn (1831). Carl Goldmark (1832). Karl Ernst Naumann (1832). Franz Wüllner (1832). Alexander Borodin (1834, Russia). Albert Becker (1834), one of the most skilful contrapuntists of his time. Cesar Cui (Russia, 1835). Bernhard Scholtz (1835). Felix Dräseke (1835). Camille Saint-Saëns (1835), one of the best pianists, organists, and composers which France has ever produced, whose music is original and full of beauty but possibly noted more for cleverness of technical detail than for loftiness of conception and ideals. Further: Nicolas Rubinstein (1835), younger brother of Anton and a most distinguished teacher. Mily Balakirew (1836, Russia). Léo Delibes (1836, France). Max Bruch (1838), a sturdy German master who ranks high among those eminent composers who have made their country so prominent in music history. Bruch is famous for his two excellent violin concertos and his numerous secular oratorios.

Friedrich Gernsheim, Josef Rheinberger, and Eduard Napravnik (Bohemia), all born in 1839. Hermann Goetz (1840). Ernst Rudorff (1840). Johann Svendsen (1840, Norway). Pieter Ilyitch Tschaikowsky, probably the most powerful exponent of the modern Russian school and in many respects the greatest composer that country has brought forth. He was born in 1840, died November 7, 1893. Tschaikowsky was a master of structural technic, serious in his artistic ideals, and of a warm, sympathetic nature which finds free emotional expression in his music. His most popular work is his last (Pathetic) symphony.

CAMILLE SAINT-SAENS

CAESAR CUI NIKOLAI RIMSKY-KORSAKOW

A GROUP OF RUSSIAN COMPOSERS

Of equal eminence was Anton Dvořák, who ranks in the history of Bohemian music as Tschaikowsky does in that of Russia, or Grieg in that of Norway. Dvořák was born in 1841. In his youth he earned his living, and obtained his musical education, as violinist in a small orchestra until he gained a prize, and also the recognition and admiration of his critics, with a hymn for chorus and orchestra. He was warmly befriended by Brahms and his reputation grew rapidly. Dvořák was endowed with a singularly active imagination; his ideas flowed freely and rapidly—like those of Schubert, whom Dvořák resembles in many ways—and they are original, quaint but thoroughly wholesome. His best works are his Requiem, Stabat Mater, chamber-music, and symphonies—particularly his last one. From the New World, written in America in 1894, while he was musical director of the National Conservatory in New York City. He returned to Europe in 1895 and died there May 1, 1904.

ANTON DVOŘÁK

Heinrich Hoffman (1842). Giovanni Sgambati (1843), an admirable Italian composer. Heinrich von Herzogenberg (1843). Edward Grieg, born, 1843, in Norway, the most original and popular Scandinavian master since the day of Niels Gade.

EDWARD GRIEG

Grieg’s works bear a pronounced national character and are, therefore, of a somewhat narrow type; his music glows with weird harmonic and modulatory effects that are irresistible, and he displays unique skill in the manipulation of small motives.

Nikolas Rimsky-Korsakow (1844, Russia). Franz Ries (1846). Alexander Mackenzie (1847, England). Madame Agathe Bacher-Grondahl (1847, Norway). Benjamin Godard (1849, France). Xaver Scharwenka (1850). Hans Huber (1852, Switzerland). Frederic H. Cowen (1852, England). Charles V. Stanford (1852, England). Jean L. Nicodé (1853, Germany). Engelbert Humperdinck (1854). Edgar Tinel (1854, Belgium). Moritz Moszkowski (1854). Edward Schütt (1856). Edward W. Elgar (1857, England). Ignace Paderewski (1859). Gustav Mahler (1860). Ludwig Thuille (1861). Eugen d’Albert (1864), a composer of great distinction and serious purpose. Jean Sibelius (1865, Finland). Granville Bantock (1868, London). Arthur Hinton (1869). Max Reger (1873). Josef Suk (1874, Bohemia). S. Coleridge Taylor (1875).

EDWARD ELGAR

E. The list of celebrated violin players and writers is headed by the venerable Giovanni Battista Viotti (born 1753), the father of the modern school. Then follow, in chronological order:

Rodolphe Kreutzer (1766). Pierre M. F. Baillot (1771). Pierre Rode (1774). Nicolo Paganini (1782), the most famous virtuoso in music history. Ludwig Spohr (1784), already cited. Karl Joseph Lipinski (1790). Charles A. de Bériot (1802). W. Bernhard Molique (1803). Ole Bull (1810). Ferd. David (1810). Heinrich W. Ernst (1814). Jean D. Alard (1815). Henri Vieuxtemps (1820). Joseph Joachim (1831), called the king of modern violinists, and a composer of very great talent and classic seriousness. Edmund Singer (1831). Johann C. Lauterbach (1832). Ferdinand Laub (1832). Henri Wieniawski (1835), probably next in rank to Joachim. Pablo de Sarasate (1844). Leopold Auer (1845). August Wilhelmj (1845). Émile Sauret (1852). César Thomson (1857). Eugene Ysaye (1858). Karl Halir (1859). Franz Kneisel (1865). Fritz Kreisler (1875).

F. Distinguished violoncellists were:

Luigi Boccherini. Bernhard Romberg. Servais (father and son). Auguste Franchomme. Karl Davidow. Julius Rietz. The brothers Goltermann. The brothers Grützmacher. Bernhard Cossmann. Robert Hausmann. David Popper. Julius Klengel.

G. Among the famous organists and composers were: Johann C. H. Rinck (1770). The brothers Schneider (1786, 1789). Johann G. Töpfer (1791). Adolf Hesse (1809). Karl August Haupt (1810). August G. Ritter (1811). Wilhelm Volckmar (1812). Moritz Brosig (1815). David Herm. Engel (1816). Karl L. Thiele (1816). Heinrich Stade (1816). César Franck (1822). Immanuel Faisst (1823). Gustave Merkel (1827). Karl Müller-Hartung (1834). Camille Saint-Saëns (1835). William T. Best (1836). Alexandre Guilmant (1837). Charles M. Widor (1845).

H. The extended list of able and distinguished pianists embraces:

Adolf Henselt. Felix Dreyschock. Charles Hallé. Julius Schulhoff. Louis Brassin. Theodore Leschetizky. Brahms. Hans von Bülow. Anton Rubinstein. Carl Tausig. Dionys Pruckner. Carl Heymann. Vladimir de Pachman. Bernhard Stavenhagen. Emil Sauer. Moritz Rosenthal. Ignace J. Paderewski. Alfred Reissenauer. Ferruccio Busoni. Harold Bauer. Josef Hofmann. Clara Schumann. Sophie Menter. Annette Essipoff. Mary Krebs. Anna Mehlig. Teresa Careno. Martha Remmert, and many others.

I. Famous orchestral conductors whose influence, in their interpretation of the works of choral and orchestral composers, has been significant:

Charles Hallé (born 1819). Karl Reinecke (1824). A. F. Manns (1825). Hans von Bülow (1830). Leopold Damrosch (1832). Charles Lamoureux (1834). Theodore Thomas (1835). Edouard Colonne (1838). Hermann Levi (1839). Hans Richter (1843). Wilhelm Gericke (1845). George Henschel (1850). Anton Seidl (1850). The brothers Steinbach. Arthur Nikisch (1855). Emil Paur (1855). Felix Mottl (1856). Frank van der Stucken (1858). Karl Muck (1859). Gustav Mahler (1860). Wasili Safonofly. Max Fiedler. Henry Wood. Felix Weingartner (1863).

J. Finally, honourable mention must be made of the modern historians, theorists, critics, and great teachers who have thrown light upon the history and æsthetics of the art and whose labours have so lightened the task of those who study:

R. G. Kiesewetter (1773). Carl G. A. Winterfeld (1784). F. J. Fétis (1784). Moritz Hauptmann (1792). S. W. Dehn (1796). Johann C. Lobe (1797). Adolf B. Marx (1799). Charles E. Coussemaker (1805). N. H. Reber (1807). Ernst Richter (1808). Carl F. Weitzmann (1808). Carl F. Brendel (1811). Franz Commer (1813). Otto Jahn (1813). George MacFarren (1813). Carl H. Bitter (1813). August W. Ambros (1816). Edward F. Rimbault (1816). M. G. Nottebohm (1817). A. W. Thayer (1817). Sir George Grove (1820). Joseph W. Wasielewski (1822). Frederick A. G. Ouseley (1825). Otto Kade (1825). August Reissmann (1825). Eduard Hanslick (1825). Friedrich Chrysander (1826). Rudolf Westphal (1826). Emil Naumann (1827). Gavaert (1828). Arrey von Dommer (1828). Johann G. Bellermann (1832). Wilhelm Langhans (1832). Ebenezer Prout (1835). Phillip Spitta (1841). Heinrich Adolf Köstlin (1846). Hugo Riemann (1849). J. A. Fuller-Maitland (1856, London). William H. Hadow (1859).

CHAPTER XL
THE PRESENT ERA

The ultra-modern schools of musical art appear to have severed the last thread of connection with those of the classic era. The present is an era of musical extravagance which has cut loose from tradition and diverged more suddenly and more radically than has ever before been witnessed in the transitions from period to period in music history. Its aim is a still more intense and exclusive expression of personal emotion, so far removed from the scientific conditions of tone relation and tone association that rules are not only superfluous but impeding; each composer of the present age repudiates the hitherto acknowledged and accepted laws and becomes a law to himself. Notes are thus arranged upon the page, not because the rules of the art dictate such arrangement, but merely because the composer himself wants them to be so arranged and combined, the ostensible incentive and law therefor being the creation of certain hitherto unknown and untried tone effects which reflect or express emotions too subtle for the constraint of rule and system.

In some instances the results seem wilful, expressly ugly, and distressingly artificial; in others the experiments afford occasional convincing glimpses of new, wider, and singularly powerful resources which hold forth encouraging promises of the possibility of penetrating deeper into the visions and susceptibilities of the human soul and of opening up new and valuable avenues of musical expression.

From a purely theoretical standpoint, the novel methods of tone association cannot be condemned; for classic theory and practice recognise the perfect legitimacy of “any conceivable chord succession” when made smoothly and through the agency of chromatics or enharmonics; recognise the legitimacy and necessity of the dissonance, and of embellishment with the inharmonic “neighbours” of the harmonic intervals—declare, in a word, there is no combination that may not be justified by proper reasoning from the tenets of physical tone relation. But the classic conception also recognised the natural limits and proportions in the employment of the dissonances and the “neighbours,” and these the ultramodern era apparently ignores. There is a tendency to multiply dissonances and increase the volume and prominence of the inharmonic tones which threatens to disrupt the beliefs in what music should be.

CESAR FRANCK

Mozart’s wonderfully sensitive musical conscience, which insisted upon preserving fundamental relation and consequent natural cohesion between each group of two or three chords and the next similar group, seems a dead factor in modern music, where very often chords are placed abruptly side by side between which no relation whatever can be traced. Not only the classic standard but all standards seem swept aside, and on some modern pages it is difficult to discriminate between misjudgments and misprints.

GUSTAVE CHARPENTIER

What the ultimate issue of this peculiar tendency may be cannot be foretold; but it was as inevitable as it was necessary, and, as intimated, it has already vindicated itself in some measure.

The earliest pioneer in the new art endeavour was César Franck (born December 10, 1822), a French master of rare genius, with a fine sense of those tone affinities which transcend the theoretically defined tone relations; and a scholar whose mastery of counterpoint forcibly recalls the art of those early Netherland masters, natives of the same geographical zone that gave birth to Franck. His forms are perfectly logical and as broad and great as those of Beethoven; his style is very vigorous, and the effects he creates are fascinating and very beautiful.

Franck was followed in France (where the ultra-modern style seems to flourish most vigorously) by Vincent d’Indy—equally scholarly but less coherent than Franck and less considerate of tonal beauty—and Claude Debussy, whose curious tone effusions are a mixture of effects that are often amazingly beautiful and often strikingly disagreeable, at times vague and uncertain, and again as clear as sunlight. Other French writers of similar revolutionary tendency are: Lekeu, Ravel, Dukas, and Charpentier.

RICHARD STRAUSS

The most original and powerful exponent of the ultramodern conception is Richard Strauss, who promises to be one of the most striking figures in music history. Strauss was born, June 11, 1864, at Munich, son of the first horn-player in the court opera-house. In 1885 he was appointed orchestral director at Meiningen, from 1889 to 1894 was chapelmaster in Weimar, then conductor in Munich. He has recently travelled much and composed incessantly.

Strauss is undoubtedly a musical genius of extraordinary endowment and intellect and commands a wide range of original resources. His harmonies are rich; his melodies often peculiar but quite as often filled with the spirit of classic naturalness and beauty; his rhythms are vital, energetic, and novel; his counterpoint infinitely scholarly and free; and his orchestration extremely opulent and vivid.

He is almost as complete a master of the climax as was Richard Wagner, but his contrasts are more often striking than wholly pleasurable. Strauss is apparently sincere in his artistic attitude and serious in his aims, though so revolutionary and daring that he sometimes arouses the suspicion of aiming for effect only. His most pretentious creations are his symphonic poems, Also sprach Zarathustra, Till Eulenspiegel, Don Quixote, Heldenleben, Sinfonia domestica, and his operas Salome, Elektra, Rosenkavalier, etc. His songs, already numerous, are exceedingly impressive and often of fascinating beauty and emotional depth.

CHAPTER XLI
MUSIC IN AMERICA

Music in North America during the early period of colonisation was but a faint reflex of the musical conditions and practices of those European countries which contributed to the peopling of the western hemisphere.

It continued thus until within little more than the past century. Those who sought the New World were animated by sterner purposes and had little time and possibly little inclination to occupy themselves with the pursuit of music. There were, no doubt, some among them whose love of music was deep and not easily repressed. The more cultured emigrants were familiar with the musical activities of the mother country and carried to their new home memories of its madrigals, glees, ballads, and even, perhaps (in later days), of the early operas. But there was no possibility of continuing this form of entertainment in the new and primitive surroundings, and their musical cravings must needs be satisfied with the strains of a fiddle, or flute, or bass viol, with which its owner would not part even when embarking with scanty belongings on the perilous western voyage. In wealthy homes a harpsichord or spinet was sometimes found. In the South the Spanish lutes were fairly common and led, in time, to the guitar, banjo, and mandolin of to-day. Social choirs were probably cultivated to some extent, and the music of the churches soon became a matter of real concern—indeed, the most significant factor in preserving the life of music in America, especially in the more northern colonies.

But it is evident that music on this side of the Atlantic was like a flower cut from its stem. For more than a century after the landing of the Pilgrims, practically all but the most slender threads of contact with the old world were severed, and it was almost as if the history of music was to begin again in the New World, in all excepting its fundamental traditions. Then, very gradually, fuller contact was established, and music began to thrive in America with slowly increasing vigour.

About the middle of the eighteenth century, English ballad operas and popular plays were occasionally introduced into the colonies, and interest in various phases of music-making slowly awakened. The interest in secular music, however, continued for some time to be secondary to that attached to the music of the church; while the former was tolerated, and to some extent enjoyed, church music was regarded as essential and worthy of active participation. The hymn tunes of Hopkinson (who died in 1791), William Billings (Boston, 1746–1800), Oliver Holden (Massachusetts, 1765–1834), and a few others, though in no musical sense significant or calculated to contribute in the slightest measure to actual musical promotion, were, nevertheless, distinctively American products. Of far greater lasting worth were the works of Thomas Hastings (1787–1872) and particularly of that distinguished pioneer Lowell Mason (1792–1872), both of whom continued to supply the church with hymn tunes and anthems of appropriate character and constantly improving quality.

LOWELL MASON

After a while renewed attempts were made to bring European opera across the water. New Orleans organised an operatic enterprise as early as 1791, utilising works of French and Italian origin. Philadelphia and New York followed with similar projects in 1793. In the lattter city early efforts were made in operatic composition by native-born musicians, though American opera could boast of nothing enduring before the days of William H. Fry (Philadelphia, 1813–64), whose Leonora was presented with a measure of success in 1845. The English Beggar’s Opera and ballad operas became popular in New York in 1850. In 1825, members of the celebrated Garcia family began a series of operatic performances, in the serious style, in New York. An Italian opera-house was opened in 1833.

From this it is apparent that during the first half of the nineteenth century the United States was beginning to attract the attention of European artists (or of their enterprising managers), and then it was that the stream of modern troubadours began to flow into the New World—a stream that was to bring to the music lovers of the western hemisphere all the wealth of the parent countries and to stimulate and confirm more wide-spread and enthusiastic interest in the art of music.

The Garcias were followed by the violinist Ole Bull (in 1843), Jenny Lind (1850), Henriette Sontag (1852), the violinist Camilla Urso (1852), the singers Alboni (1853), Grisi and Mario (1854), Madame La Grange (1855), and Adelina Patti (1859); later by eminent instrumentalists: Anton Rubinstein and Henri Wieniawski (both in 1872), Hans von Bülow, Eugen d’Albert, Ignace Paderewski, and a multitude of others, until to-day no European virtuoso thinks of omitting America from his concert tours. Through these artists the best that the Old World produces is brought to our doors, and the artistic standing of the two continents is in this manner steadily and surely approaching the inevitable equilibrium.

Meanwhile, through the founding of various musical organisations (whereby the impulse and influence of Europe is again noteworthy), music in America may be said to have awakened by the middle of the nineteenth century to something like an independent existence and to have begun to assume a vital place in the life and artistic history of the nation.

THEODORE THOMAS

The earliest choral or musical association in America, called into existence to gratify the craving for a wider social participation in musical and choral practice than was obtainable in fireside song, was founded about the beginning of the war of independence. This was the Stoughton Musical Society (Massachusetts). The next was thefamous Handel and Haydn Society, organised in Boston shortly after the close of the second war with England (in 1815). About 1799 Gottlieb Graupner, a German, founded the first primitive orchestra, the “Philharmonic,” which continued in existence until 1824. This was followed by the Musical Fund Society in Philadelphia (1821 until 1857), devoted to both vocal and instrumental music, the New York Choral Society in 1823, and the Boston Academy of Music in 1833. The Academy Orchestra was organised in Boston in 1840, the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in 1842 by U. C. Hill, one of the first Americans to study in Germany, and the Germania Orchestra about 1850. In 1864 Theodore Thomas founded his own orchestra in New York. In 1866, the Harvard Musical Association was organised in Cambridge, with Carl Zerrahn as its leader. Then followed the New York Oratorio Society, founded in 1873 by Leopold Damrosch; the Cecilia Society in 1877 (Boston, directed by Benjamin J. Lang); the New York Symphony Orchestra (1878, Leopold Damrosch); the Boston Philharmonic in 1880 (Bernhard Listemann); the Musical Art Society (New York, Frank Damrosch); and the Boston Symphony Orchestra, which, under the successive direction of George Henschel, Wilhelm Gericke, Arthur Nikisch, Emil Pauer, and other eminent European musicians has achieved a rank of artistic excellence second to none in the world. The equally significant organisation of the New York Metropolitan Opera took place in 1883. Then came the Chicago Orchestra of Theodore Thomas in 1890; and at present Baltimore, Philadelphia, Cincinnati, and many more American cities maintain their permanent orchestras.

These larger bodies provided both the incentive and the material for chamber-music associations whose educating and refining influence was of equal though less obvious and wide-spread significance. The first string quartet appeared in 1843, the Mendelssohn Quintet Club in 1849, and the list of similar organisations, up to the Kneisel and Flonzaley string quartets, has steadily increased in number and importance.

Further opportunities of popularising the classic products of European masters and of securing a hearing for original American works were furnished by the numerous periodic music festivals, among which those of Worcester (Massachusetts), Chicago, the May festivals in Cincinnati, and the Bach festivals in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, have become noteworthy national institutions.

LEOPOLD DAMROSCH

These mediums of broader public education were most powerfully supplemented by the establishing of music schools which supplied direct private instruction to the people. Foremost among the pioneers in this movement was Eben Tourjée (born in Rhode Island in 1834), who founded a musical institute in East Greenwich in 1859, the Providence (Rhode Island) Conservatory of Music a few years later, and, in 1867, the New England Conservatory of Music in Boston. Other important music academies are the Cincinnati College of Music, the National Conservatory of New York, the Institute of Musical Art of New York (founded in 1905), besides a host of smaller schools, of greater or lesser efficiency, representing every large city in the country. In recent years dignity has been lent to these systems of education by the recognition and establishment of regular music courses in nearly all American universities.

In this connection special mention must be made of the eminent services rendered by such teachers as William Mason, Rafael Joseffy (Hungary), and Carl Baermann (Germany).

Powerful agents in the dissemination of musical knowledge were the rapidly increasing music-publishing houses, through which the best and newest compositions from abroad and from home became accessible. The first of note was that of Oliver Ditson (Boston, 1832), followed by G. Schirmer (1861), Theodore Presser (Philadelphia), A. P. Schmidt (Boston, 1876), Lyon & Healy (Chicago).

The equally momentous pianoforte industry dates back about a century; that of the organ still farther. The first American organ is said to have been built as early as 1745 by Edward Bromfield. John Harris (Boston) is recorded as repairer and maker of spinets and harpsichords in 1769. Jonas Chickering (born, 1798, in New Hampshire) began to manufacture pianofortes in 1823. The Steinways came from Germany to New York and founded their great pianoforte industry there in 1853, to be followed shortly by Knabe, Weber, Mason & Hamlin, and many other makers.

From all this the reader may verify the rapidity and vigour of the development of music in America. Aboriginal music was absolutely valueless, bearing no other relation to this progress than has been ascribed to that class of primitive utterance treated in the first chapters. The dormant art, kept alive for a time by faint echoes from Europe, awakened and accumulated in but little more than a century a vitality which has elevated it to a degree of independent excellence that now compels the attention of other musical nations. Though the latter still look with some mistrust upon the American composer, it is undeniable that the long list of those whose creations are distinctive—beginning with that modest writer of popular songs, S. C. Foster (1826–64), and including such names as J. K. Paine (born, 1839, in Maine), F. G. Gleason (1848), Arthur Foote (1853, Massachusetts), George W. Chadwick (1854, Massachusetts), Edgar Stillman Kelley (1857, Wisconsin), E. A. MacDowell (1861, New York), Arthur Whiting (1861), Horatio W. Parker (1863, Massachusetts), Mrs. H. H. A. Beach (1867, New Hampshire), H. K. Hadley (1871), F. S. Converse (1871)—is securing the recognition of a musical spirit that is rapidly becoming as active and significant as that of the Old World. This list has been strongly reinforced by foreign-born composers: Louis Maas (1852, Wiesbaden), Victor Herbert (1859, Dublin), C. M. Loeffler (1861, Alsace), and Walter Damrosch (1862, Breslau), who have made America their home. The American spirit has been vitalised by the transient visits of such educators as George Henschel, Antonin Dvořák (New York, 1892–5), and Ferruccio Busoni (Boston, 1891–2).

STEPHEN C. FOSTER

To all of these influences must be added that of the literary men whose critical writings have contributed to the enlightenment and judgment of the public. This list embraces, among many others, the names of J. S. Dwight (born, 1813, in Boston), A. W. Thayer (1817, Massachusetts), F. L. Ritter (1834, Strassburg), G. P. Upton (1835, Boston), W. S. B. Matthews (1837, New Hampshire), W. F. Apthorp (1848, Boston), Louis C. Elson (1848, Boston), Henry E. Krehbiel (1854, Michigan), Philip Hale, H. T. Finck, W. J. Henderson, and J. G. Huneker.

America has produced a number of distinguished pianists, who, though indebted to European masters for their training, have demonstrated the sterling quality of their talent and have exerted a powerful influence upon American musical life. This phase of artistic activity is represented by Louis Moreau Gottschalk, Sebastian Bach Mills, William Mason, William H. Sherwood, Fanny Bloomfield-Zeisler, Julia Rive-King, and many of the above-mentioned American composers. American organists of distinction are: George W. Morgan (1822), G. W. Warren (1828), Frederick Archer (1838), Dudley Buck (1839), S. P. Warren (1841), S. B. Whitney (1842), George E. Whiting (1842), Clarence Eddy (1851), Wallace Goodrich (1871).

CHAPTER XLII
THE ESSENTIALS OF A MUSIC LIBRARY*

* Contributed by Frank H. Marling.

At the outset of this chapter the reader is earnestly urged to form a personal music lirary of his own. It is often advisable and, indeed, necessary to consult books in a public library, but there are a pleasure and satisfaction in having one’s own books which are well worth the necessary outlay or sacrifice, and such purchases constitute an investment which will yield abundant interest. To have books on one’s own shelves for reading or consultation at any time not only gives them a great added interest but creates a sense of ownership and affectionate regard for the volumes which is an invaluable stimulus to the student and is not likely to be fostered in any other way.

In making such a collection it is well to bear in mind that it is not necessary to buy a lot of books at one time, but that it is better to build it up by degrees and to ascertain carefully just what is likely to be permanently useful. Several well-chosen books added each year at a comparatively small cost will result in course of time in the formation of a library which will be a constant source of delight and practical service.

The suggestions herein made are far from exhaustive or inclusive of all phases of the art, as to cover its literature adequately would require a whole volume. The endeavour has been made, however, to give some helpful hints and suggestions in an attractive field of study. For convenience of reference, and following the natural sequence of the varied interests of the reader, the material has been grouped under various divisions, making the information more easily accessible. By this method the special student in any form of music is able to find particulars regarding books in his own department. The publisher and price have been mentioned in each case, as it is believed that these practical details will greatly assist the reader in his choice. Care has been taken to include only volumes in print (with rare exceptions, as indicated) so that those recommended should be procured without much difficulty. It has been the aim of the compiler to mention only works of genuine worth, though, for lack of space, some excellent books have had to go unrecorded. It is also deemed wise to confine the list to works in the English language, as in this way the needs of the great majority of readers will be met, and to go into foreign literature would open a field impossible to cover within the prescribed limits. For the same reason there have been included very few of the numerous works on method and technic.

Works of Reference

An almost indispensable work in a musical library of any completeness is Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians (five vols., $25, Macmillan). A new and revised edition has recently appeared, devoting special attention to American music and bringing the information generally down to date. It is without an equal in the English language for a comprehensive and scholarly treatment of all branches of the art, and forms an invaluable storehouse of facts on musical matters of all kinds.

Of special value are its critical and scientific articles and its monographs on the great composers, written by specialists. Its possession will obviate the necessity of purchasing many smaller and more fragmentary works.

Another reference work is Famous Composers and Their Works, by J. K. Paine and others (six vols., $24, J. B. Millet Company), a work of unusual charm and interest, covering the whole field of music and treating all schools and nationalities in a fascinating way. The chapters are the work of different American, English, and foreign noted critics, each full of enthusiasm for his theme. A distinctive feature is its wealth of illustrative matter of all kinds.

For those who cannot afford such expensive works there is an excellent one-volume (Riemann’s) Dictionary of Music ($4.50, Presser), by the well-known German critic and writer, which gives the most essential information in concise and accurate form.

The Musical Guide, by Rupert Hughes ($1.50, Doubleday. Page & Company), is a one-volume work constituting a multum in parvo on musical lines, containing, as it does, a pronouncing and defining dictionary of terms and instruments, with a key to the pronunciation of sixteen languages and a pronouncing biographical dictionary.

Admirable, also, are the two dictionaries by Theodore Baker, Biographical Dictionary of Musicians ($3.50, Schirmer) and Dictionary of Musical Terms ($1, Schirmer), both being models of authoritative and condensed statement.

Another useful book is Lavignac’s Music and Musicians ($1.75, Holt), which includes a large variety of invaluable facts about the technical side of music and some chapters on American and European composers.

A handy series of reference books on music is the Music Story Series (thirteen vols., each $1.25, Scribners). These embrace a wide range of historical research and comprise musical form, notation, the carol, minstrelsy, the violin, organ, etc. The student can obtain in them much detailed knowledge in any special department for which the ordinary musical dictionary has no room, and the numerous illustrations are of additional value. One of the first books to present music as a language was Music Explained to the World by F. J. Fétis ($1.50, Ditson). This was the forerunner of a number of volumes that have attempted to bring the message of music to the seeker after culture.

F. J. FÉTIS

Histories of Music

The most scholarly and comprehensive history of music in print is doubtless the Oxford History of Music (six vols., 8vo, $30, Oxford University Press), though its size and price and severely critical and technical form make it unavailable for most students.

The old histories of Burney and Hawkins, though full of antiquarian interest to the lover of old times, are, of course, now entirely out of date and lack in modern scientific authority.

The General History of Music, by W. S. Rockstro ($3.50, Scribners), is by an accomplished English musical writer and contributor to Grove’s Dictionary. It is in the main accurate and fair though somewhat lacking in appreciation of the modern schools.

Professor Waldo S. Pratt’s History of Music ($3, Schirmer) is to be commended for its skilful condensation of its vast array of materials, having been well characterised as “a sort of combined history and biographical dictionary and a minute and scholarly treatise.”

An invaluable summary of musical history for the guidance of students is the Study of the History of Music, by Edward Dickinson, the well-known professor of musical history at Oberlin University ($2.50, Scribners). The story is told in clear, outline form, and a feature of exceptional usefulness is the very full references to musical literature for further study throughout every section and chapter.

A smaller work is Hunt’s Concise History of Music ($1, Scribners), an old favourite packed full of the essential details and dates in abbreviated form.

More recent works, each of which has found acceptance with students, are Hamilton’s Outlines of Music History ($1.50, Ditson) and Mathews’ Popular History of Music ($2, Mathews’ Publishing Company).

The History of Music, by J. F. Rowbotham ($2.50, Scribners), comes down only to the time of the troubadours, but is specially explicit on ancient and mediaeval music.

The English composer C. H. H. Parry is also an accomplished writer. His Evolution of the Art of Music ($1.75, Appleton) is described by a competent judge as “a series of thoroughly admirable essays, scientific in spirit, and sound.”

EDWARD DICKINSON

Histories of Modern Music

A timely book in this sphere is Modern Composers of Europe, by Arthur Elson ($2, L. C. Page & Company), which gives an account in moderate compass of the noted composers of all schools of the day, about whom it is often difficult to get definite information.

Other studies dealing, with intelligence and acumen, with the very latest writers are Oilman’s Phases of Modern Music ($1.25, John Lane Company), and The Music of To-Morrow and Other Studies ($1.25, John Lane Company), by the same author, treating of Debussy, Richard Strauss, and others.

Masters of Italian Music, by R. A. Streatfeild ($1.75, Scribners) presents an interesting interpretation of Italian contemporary composers.

History of National Music and Folk-Lore

Primitive Music, by A. Wallaschek ($4.50, Longmans), is a comprehensive and learned review of the origin and development of the music, songs, instruments, and dances of the savage races.

Carl Engel’s Study of National Music (out of print) and his Literature of National Music ($2, Novello), also Music of the Most Ancient Nations ($3.50, Reeves), embody the matured convictions of a patient and thorough investigator of historical sources.

The National Music of the World, by H. F. Chorley ($1.50, Reeves), a noted London music critic, is probably the most readable and popular account for the general reader.

H. E. Krehbiel’s Afro-American Folk Songs ($2, Schirmer) is a study in racial and national music, the outcome of many years of patient and loving labour, and forms a pioneer work on this theme which is handled with Mr. Krehbiel’s acknowledged originality and ample scholarship.

History of Music in America

The most considerable work in this department is History of American Music, by L. C. Elson ($5, Macmillan), an ample volume crowded with illustrations and treating a difficult subject with sympathy and impartiality; readable in style and forming, on the whole, the most complete all-around review extant of our country’s musical institutions and men.

One Hundred Years of Music in America, edited by W. S. B. Mathews ($3, Presser), is a thick octavo volume with much detailed information of native musicians though not possessing large critical or discriminating value.

Famous American Composers, by Rupert Hughes ($1.50, L. C. Page & Company), is to be noted for its enthusiasm, vivacity, and intimate acquaintance with the compositions of our countrymen, particularly those of the present time.

In Famous Composers and Their Works, mentioned before, Mr. Krehbiel has a chapter on American composers giving a fair and trustworthy estimate of their achievements, and the same writer has some valuable comments on the same topic in the appendix to Lavignac’s Music and Musicians ($1.75, Holt).

Biographical Works

We must first chronicle some general biographical series, the most recent of which is Masters of Music, edited by F. J. Crowest (twelve vols., each $1.25, Dutton). This covers satisfactorily nearly all the great composers, who have been intrusted to competent hands that have made workmanlike use of their materials. In size, illustrations, and form they are all most attractive.

A similar series of able monographs by British writers, called The Great Musicians edited by Francis Hueffer (ten vols., each $1, Scribners), have been on the market for many years, being pioneer works in this field, and have recently been reissued in improved form.

Another compilation is the George T. Ferris Series of Music Biographies (five vols., each $1, Appleton), a most engaging little set, including the great German, Italian, and French masters as well as the great singers, violinists, and pianists. They are extremely readable and abound in apt anecdote and vivacious description.

Not to be overlooked is the series Living Masters in Music, edited by Rosa Newmarch (ten vols., each $1, John Lane Company), of special timeliness for its very full accounts of contemporary musicians, in which the student will find most interesting particulars about such “moderns” as Debussy, Leschetizky, Paderewski, Puccini, Richard Strauss, and others. We would also include in this connection, the invaluable set of Famous Composers and Their Works, with its ample chapters on musicians, and Baker’s Biographical Dictionary of Musicians, both mentioned before.

Many students will have to begin their biographical study with a work grouping the lives of the greatest composers in one volume.

We quote as serviceable examples of this class A Score of Famous Composers, by N. H. Dole (75 cents, Crowell); Makers of Music, by H. F. Sharp ($1.75, Scribners); Standard Musical Biographies, by George P. Upton ($1.75, McClurg).

Lives of Individual Composers

Philip Spitta on J. S. Bach, the monumental Life of Bach, by Philip Spitta (three vols., $15, Novello), is a wonderful example of German accuracy and profundity and the final authority on all matters connected with the composer, though beyond both the purse and the time of the average reader.

A thoroughly competent life in more moderate compass is the Life of Bach, by C. H. H. Parry, the English composer ($3.50, Putnams).

Smaller compendiums, each adequate so far as their scope admits, are Life of Bach, by Stanley Lane Poole ($1, Scribners), and Life of Bach, by Abdy Williams ($1.25, Dutton).

The magnum opus in Beethoven Literature Is Thayer’s Life of Beethoven in several volumes, a remarkably comprehensive work originally published in German, of which an English translation by Mr. H. E. Krehbiel will shortly be issued by the Scribners, It will doubtless be the final court of resort on Beethoven for years to come.

Another account is by Schindler and Moscheles ($1.50, Ditson), both personal friends, which contains first-hand information. There are also shorter sketches by Crow-est ($1.25, Dutton), and by H. A. Rudall ($1, Scribners).

The romantic career of Chopin has been told with painstaking detail by Professor Niecks in his Life of Chopin (two vols., $10, Novello), but the most brilliant account is found in Chopin, the Man and His Music, by James Huneker ($2, Scribners), in which this accomplished critic tells the story and expounds his compositions in his inimitable and fascinating style.

Liszt’s Life of Chopin ($1.25, Ditson) is more an aesthetic essay than a biography, though interesting for his interpretation of the composer’s character and ideals.

Brahms has been commemorated at length in Florence May’s Life of Brahms (two vols., $7, Longmans), and by J. A. Fuller-Maitland, a careful English writer, in a volume of the New Library of Music Series ($2.50, John Lane Company).

Probably the most modern and scientific account of Handel is Life of Handel, by R. A. Streatfeild ($2.50, John Lane Company).

In smaller compass and good of their kind are Mrs. Julia Marshall’s Handel ($1, Scribners) and Abdy Williams’s Handel ($1.25, Dutton).

There is no extended life of Haydn in English, but J. Cuthbert Hadden’s monograph in the Master Musician Series ($1.25, Dutton) is trustworthy, and there is a still smaller book by Ludwig Nohl (75 cents, McClurg).

The Life of Liszt has been done in a most picturesque and illuminating way by James G. Huneker ($2, Scribners).

The Mendelssohn literature is quite extensive. His interesting letters (two vols., each $1.25, Ditson) and letters to Moscheles ($3, Houghton, Mifflin & Co.) can be cited. There are a number of sketches and reminiscences of Mendelssohn of more or less value, such as the volume by Lampadius ($1.25, Ditson) with valuable recollections by his friends.

The Mendelssohn Family, by Hensel (two vols., $5, Harpers), is of special interest for the light it throws on his education and family life.

The article by Sir George Grove in his Dictionary is excellent for its enthusiastic appreciation and characterisation. One of the most impartial and critically helpful short works is the Life, by Stratton in the Master Musician Series ($1.25, Dutton).

Mozart has been honoured in the great and scholarly work by the accomplished Otto Jahn (three vols., $15, Novello), described by a leading musician as “in many respects the most perfect specimen of critical biographical writing in the whole field of music history,” though its great bulk and enormous mass of detail necessarily limit its availability.

Valuable additional works are Mozart, by W. H. Hadow ($2.50, John Lane Company), Gehring’s Life of Mozart ($1, Scribners), and Breakespeare’s Life of Mozart ($1.25, Dutton), any of which will supply the necessary facts for the general reader.

It is a singular fact that no adequate life of Schumann has appeared in English, but one of the best existing is that by Reissmann ($1, Macmillan).

OTTO JAHN

In more abridged form are Fuller-Maitland’s Life of Schumann ($1, Scribners), and Wasielewski s Life of Schumann ($1.25, Ditson).

The most complete work in English on the life and career of Franz Schubert was written by Kreissler von Hellborn in two octavo volumes, issued in London in 1869 and now out of print, though possibly available in second-hand condition occasionally.

An admirable account is also contained in Sir George Grove’s article in his Dictionary of Music, and there is a compact smaller life by E. Duncan in the Master Musician Series ($1.25, Dutton).

The son of Weber, Max Weber, has written an excellent critical biography of his father (two vols., $2.50, Ditson), and Sir Julius Benedict’s monograph in the Great Musician Series ($1, Scribners) has the merit of being written by a friend and pupil who was himself an able musician.

The Wagner literature is extremely voluminous, and it is impossible to mention a tithe of the biographical material. One of the most satisfactory lives is Henry T. Finck’s Life of Wagner (two vols., $4, Scribners), noteworthy for its clearness, picturesqueness, vigour, and variety.

Another important volume is W. J. Henderson’s Life of Wagner ($1.50, Putnam).

The monumental work by Glasenapp and Ellis, of which six octavo volumes (each $6, Paul Trench & Co.) have been issued, is splendidly written, though too voluminous for general use.

Carl Glasenapp

More within the needs of most persons are two biographies of high critical merit—one by Ernest Newman ($3.50, Dutton) and a more recent issue by J. F. Runciman ($3.50, Macmillan).

Two short lives, each worthy of chronicle, are Life of Wagner, by C. A. Lidgey ($1.25, Dutton), and Life of Wagner, by Francis Hueffer ($1, Scribners).

Wagner’s own autobiography is, of course, of high importance (two vols., $8.50, Dodd, Mead & Company), but has not yet appeared in a popular edition. His correspondence and letters cover a number of volumes, the most outstanding of which are the celebrated Wagner-Liszt Correspondence (two vols., $5, Scribners) and his famous Letters to Mathilde Wesendonck ($4, Scribners).

Critical Works

Books of Essays, Appreciation, Handbooks, etc.

The pioneer work in the literature of musical appreciation was undoubtedly How to Understand Music, by the veteran New York critic, Henry E. Krehbiel ($1.25, Scribners), and though it has had many competitors since it appeared, it has probably not been surpassed for general acceptability by the American musical public, whose needs it has most successfully met.

Of a different class, but of much value to the student and music lover, are George P. Upton’s skilfully compiled and well-illustrated series of handbooks, The Standard Operas ($1.75, McClurg), The Standard Concert Guide—to symphonies, cantatas, oratorios, etc. ($1.75, McClurg), The Standard Concert Repertory—of the minor compositions and musical forms ($1.75, McClurg). All these have been tried and tested and pronounced trustworthy worthy for their compact marshalling of information constantly needed in reading and studying musical works.

Henry E. Krehbiel

Among such works there must not be omitted the mention of Sir George Grove’s Beethovens Nine Symphonies ($1, Novello), one of the best books of musical appreciation ever written.

And also Philip H. Goepp’s Symphonies and Their Meanings (three vols., each $2, Lippincott), a work full of stimulus and inspiration.

Stories of Symphonic Music, by Lawrence Gilman ($1.25, Harpers), is an indispensable guide to the understanding of symphonies new and old.

The Story of Chamber-Music, by N. Kilburn in the New Music Library Series ($1.25, Scribners), is the only volume in English devoted entirely to this subject and gives detailed accounts of chamber compositions with analyses and numerous examples, illustrations, and portraits.

Mr. W. J. Henderson, among other creditable musical achievements, has written an excellent monograph, entitled What Is Good Music ($1, Scribners), full of suggestive instruction for the numerous class who desire to cultivate a taste in musical art and is marked by its brevity, sturdy common sense, and well-compacted information. Other works of Mr. Henderson, with valuable material, are The Story of Music ($1, Longmans) and Preludes and Studies ($1, Longmans).

A more recent writer, Daniel Gregory Mason, in his volumes, A Guide to Music for Young People and Other Beginners ($1.50, Doubleday, Page & Company), The Orchestral Instruments and What They Do ($1.50, Double-day, Page & Company), and The Appreciation of Music (with T. W. Surette) ($1.50, Doubleday, Page & Company) has revealed unusual gifts of clear statement and literary-skill in popular exposition. The same author has also brought out some fresh and suggestive critical studies of the old and new composers, issued by the Macmillans, From Grieg to Brahms ($1.75), The Romantic Composers ($1.75), Beethoven and His Forerunners ($1.75).

W. J. HENDERSON

One of the most pungent, original, and distinctive of all our American writers is James Huneker, whose brilliantly written volumes have won for him a high place in the musical world, both here and abroad. His books, Overtones ($1.25, Scribners), Mezzotints in Modern Music ($1.50, Scribners), and also his lives of Chopin and Liszt, mentioned elsewhere, all reveal the author’s contagious enthusiasm, breadth of knowledge, and wide catholicity of taste, especially in the interpretation of the modern school, of which he is a specially gifted exponent.

The Education of the Music Lover ($1.50, Scribners) is by Professor Edward Dickinson, who calls it “a book for those who study or teach the art of listening.” By it he places both professional and amateur readers in his debt by his rare faculty of writing about music in a vitalising way. He is eminently fair-minded and his liberally broad scholarship makes him an admirable leader in the formation of intelligent judgment in musical affairs.

Henry T. Finck, for many years in the forefront of American musical circles as critic of the New York Evening Post, has issued a volume the title of which is Success in Music and How It Is Won ($1.25, Scribners), which should be in the hands of all professional musicians, as he there describes in a very readable and attractive way how the world’s greatest singers, pianists, and teachers have made their way. His practical hints on a professional musical career cannot fail to be most invaluable to those pursuing music as a profession.

JAMES HUNEKER

The composer Schumann’s critical essays, collected under the title of Music and Musicians (two vols., $7.50, Reeves), are unique in musical literature as evidencing the union in one personality of great creative power with rare critical acumen and abound in incisive thoughts and pithy sayings.

The lectures of our own E. A. Macdowell, delivered while professor of music at Columbia University and gathered together under the title of Critical and Historical Essays ($1.50, Schmidt), have also a peculiar value and interest on account of his remarkable gifts as a composer.

Music and Poetry, by Sidney Lanier ($1.50, Scribners), gifted poet and musician, is a clear and engaging outline of important aspects of musical criticism, full of delicate analysis, educated enthusiasm, and feeling.

Purity in Music, by J. F. Thibaut ($1.25, Reeves), is a classic in criticism, especially recommended by the composer Schumann, who advises his friends to read it frequently for its advocacy of the highest musical ideals.

Very popular musical works, though to be read with caution on account of an occasional “amateur” quality in them, are Music and Morals ($1.25, Longmans) and My Musical Life ($1.25, Longmans), both by H. R. Haweis, written in a singularly attractive style and calculated to awaken a decided interest in the subject especially on the part of a beginner in musical reading.

Musical Esthetics

The Beautiful in Music ($1.75, Novello), by E. Hanslick, of Vienna, is characterised by a high authority as “one of the most gracefully written as well as one of the keenest discussions of the nature and essence of music extant.”

E. HANSLICK

The Boundaries of Music ($2, Schirmer), by A. W. Ambros, is designed as an answer to Hanslick’s work, an opposite view being taken regarding the power of music to express emotions and feelings.

Another well-known and valuable aesthetic work is The Æsthetics of Musical Art, by Ferdinand Hand ($2, Reeves).

Church and Sacred Music

Music in the History of the Western Church, by Edward Dickinson ($2.50 net, Scribners), is practically a complete history of church music. It is catholic and judicial in tone, reveals wide and exact scholarship, is written in a dignified style, and may safely be taken as an authority in its important field.

Suggestive volumes in the same department are J. S. Curwen’s Studies in Worship Music (two vols., $2.75, Curwen), by an experienced English musician, dealing largely with congregational singing and worship in a fair and candid way. Of a similar nature but more practical in its details is Practical Church Music ($1.50, Revell), by J. E. Lorenz, an American church musician, which is a discussion of methods, purposes, and plans and contains valuable counsel and suggestions.

Professor W. S. Pratt, of Hartford Theological Seminary, and a wise and efficient worker in this field for years, has published an admirable volume conveying his experience and entitled Musical Ministries in the Church ($1.25, Schirmer).

The Organ and Organists

One of the most elaborate and complete books on the construction of the organ is Practical Treatise on Organ Building, by F. E. Robertson (two vols., $10, Schirmer).

A smaller work, interesting for its detailed account of the newest modern improvements and innovations, is Modern Organ Building, by Lewis ($3, William Reeves).

Still more compact are two books by H. Abdy Williams in the Music Story Series, The Story of the Organ and The Story of Organ Music (each $1.25 net, Scribners), both enriched by hundreds of pictures and full of facts about the instrument and its music, photographs of celebrated modern organs, and sketches of the great organists of all schools.

Musical Instruments

(see also under piano and under violin)

A standard compendium in this line is Musical Instruments, by Carl Engel ($1.75, Chapman & Hall), a capital handbook by an expert antiquarian. There are also some good illustrations and descriptions of musical instruments in English Music from 1604 to 1904 ($1.25, Scribners).

The most elaborate treatise in English on this topic is Musical Instruments, by K. Schlesinger (two vols., $6, Scribners), with hundreds of authentic illustrations of ancient and modern examples.

Modern orchestral instruments are fully described in several works, namely: Orchestral Instruments and Their Use, by Arthur Elson ($2, L. C. Page & Company); The Orchestral Instruments and What They Do, by D. G. Mason ($1.25, Doubleday, Page & Company); How to Listen to an Orchestra, by Annie W. Patterson ($1.75, James Pott & Co.); The Orchestra and Orchestral Music, by W. J. Henderson ($1.25, Scribners), all excellent treatises and fulfilling well their purpose.

The Opera

The most compact monograph in the operatic field as a whole is The Opera, Past and Present ($1.25, Scribners), by a musical scholar of rare culture and high ideals, W. F. Apthorp, of Boston, which discards biographical details and concentrates attention on the growth and expansion of the various features of the art and the parts played in its development by the different composers.

On an entirely different plan but of unquestionable value in its own wav is Arthur Elson’s Critical History ($1.50, L. C. Page & Company). One of Mr. H. E. Krehbiel’s deservedly popular works is his A Book of Operas ($1.75, Macmillan), which gives, with the author’s abundant familiarity with the theme and trained capacity for literary expression, their histories, their plots, and their music. Another operatic production of his pen is Chapters of Opera ($2.50, Holt), a real contribution to the history of music in New York, Of fine critical quality is The Opera, by R. A. Streatfeild ($1.25, Lippincott), an English writer of high repute, which includes full descriptions of every work in the modern repertory.

In the useful Music Story Series is contained the Story of the Opera, by E. Markham Lee ($1.25, Scribners), which presents a great variety of topics, some of which are not touched upon in other books.

Handbooks to the Opera

Of handbooks and guides to the operas and their plots there is no lack. The oldest and probably the most popular and generally satisfactory is The Standard Operas, by George P. Upton ($1.75, McClurg), now brought out in a much enlarged and superior form.

Other worthy handbooks are Guide to the Opera and its companion volume Guide to the Modern Opera, by Esther Singleton (each $1.50, Dodd, Mead & Company), full of striking and glowing analyses; The Standard Opera Glass, by Charles Annesley ($1.50, Brentano), and The Opera Goers Complete Guide, by Leo Melitz ($1.50, Dodd, Mead & Company), both of which are particularly noted for the very large number of operatic works included in them even though the notices are necessarily much condensed.

The critical works dealing with the Wagner operas would form almost a library in themselves, so we must, perforce, confine our suggestions to a small number. According to many well-informed judges the best all-around book is the Music Dramas of Richard Wagner, by A. Lavignac ($2.50, Dodd, Mead & Company), notable for its clearness, conciseness, and impartiality.

The Legends of the Wagner Drama, hy Jessie L. Weston ($1.75, Scribners), gives accurate knowledge respecting the historic legends on which Wagner based his dramas, and H. E. Krehbiel’s Studies in the Wagnerian Dramas ($1.25, Harper), contains illuminating Wagnerian criticism.

Among the numberless guides to the motifs of the Wagner dramas. The Wolzogen series in several volumes is authoritative (75 cents each, Schirmer).

Oratorio, Cantata, and Choral Music

A single volume covering altogether the subject of oratorio music is called The Story of the Oratorio, by Annie W. Patterson ($1.25, Scribners), and is the most complete and fully illustrated, consecutive, and historical treatment of this art form now available.

George P. Upton’s volumes, the Standard Oratorios and the Standard Cantatas, are now incorporated into his excellent work the Standard Concert Guide ($1.75, McClurg), which gives full sketches of the stories, analyses of the music, and particulars about composers.

Arthur Mees, the well-known musical conductor, has contributed to the Music Lover’s Library a work entitled Choirs and Choral Music ($1.25, Scribners), which practically occupies this field alone, so far as systematic treatment is concerned, and presents the necessary data about choral works, choral societies, and the conducting and management of choirs and choir singing in concise but satisfactory form.

Pianists and the Pianoforte

For piano students there is no more appetising work to begin with than Amy Fay’s Music Study in Germany ($1.25, McClurg). Though issued years ago, it is still widely popular as a fresh and vivid picture of the struggles and the successes of an American student abroad with its lifelike and graphic accounts of the teaching methods of Liszt, Deppe, and other great masters.

On the great virtuosos we find Great Violinists and Pianists, George T. Ferris ($1, Appletons), with its glowing and highly rhetorical sketches of players from Clementi to Paderewski.

A standard reference book is A. Ehrlich’s Celebrated Pianists ($2, Presser), with carefully collected biographical notices of over one hundred and fifty performers, in alphabetical arrangement and with numerous portraits, including sketches of twenty-five noted American pianists.

The lives of the pianists Chopin and Liszt, important in this connection, have been already mentioned in the biographical section of this chapter.

To these we may add the little volume on Paderewski,^ by E. A. Baughan, in the Living Masters of Music series ($1, John Lane & Company; the Autobiography of Rubinstein ($1, Little, Brown & Company).

Possibly, the volume giving most, information to the general reader will be The Pianoforte and Its Music, by H. E. Krehbiel ($1.25, Scribners), in which he has compassed the whole subject in a sound and thorough manner, treating of the instrument itself, the composers of its music, and the great players, giving the typical student or amateur just the sort of information most needed.

A book valued by many is J. C. Fillmore’s Pianoforte Music ($1.50, Presser), with clearly arranged biographical sketches and critical estimates of the schools and composers.

More elaborate volumes are: History of the Pianoforte and Its Players, by Oscar W. Bie ($6, Dutton), embellished with attractive illustrations, and also History of Pianoforte Playing and Piano Literature, by C. F. Weitzmann ($2.50, Schirmer), somewhat formal in style but exact in its facts.

A. J. Hipkins’s Description and History of the Pianoforte ($1.25, Novello) is by an expert on instruments and contains valuable plates showing various historical forms of the instrument.

On the analysis of pianoforte compositions, a subject of growing interest among musical students, there are several books, among them being Descriptive Analysis of Piano Works for Clubs and Program Making, by E. B. Perry ($2.00, Presser); Well-Known Piano Solos, by C. W. Wilkinson (four parts, each 40 cents, Scribners), showing how to play them with understanding, expression, and effect, and Elterlein’s book on Beethoven’s Sonatas ($1.25, Reeves).

On Chopin’s works we can recommend A Handbook of Chopin’s Works, by G. C. Ashton Jonson ($2, Scribners), in which each opus is placed in its proper sequence and followed by lucid explanations and brief critical extracts, forming an invaluable book of ready reference.

We must also refer here to Huneker’s well-known work on Chopin, the Man and His Music, mentioned in the biographical section, which includes masterly analyses of Chopin’s piano compositions.

The Great in Music, by W. S. B. Mathews (two vols., $3.50, Mathews’ Company), is a systematic course of study in the music of classical and modern composers, and is a work of great suggestiveness and practical helpfulness for student clubs. And on the same line is Music Club Programs, by Arthur Elson ($1.25, Ditson), which embraces historical outlines of all nations, schools, and composers, with questions for study.

The Violin and Violinists

The literature on the violin is much larger than that on any other instrument. A peculiar fascination, felt by all lovers of the instrument, attaches to its history. A most valuable collection of books in this division is the Strad Library (about twenty vols., each $1. The Strad, London), covering exhaustively all phases of the instrument, manufacture, playing, etc.

The Story of the Violin, by Paul Stoeving ($1.25, Scribners), is a concise and closely packed brochure, with pertinent facts and abundant illustrations to brighten its pages.

On the old and classic instruments no book stands higher as an authority than that by the English violin maker George Hart, called The Violin, Its Famous Makers and Their Imitators ($6, Dulau & Company), and its companion volume by the same writer, The Violin and Its Music ($5, Dulau & Company).

, On violin manufacture and construction. Heron Allen’s Violin Making as It Was and Is ($3, Scribners) is very thorough and practical, with all kinds of specifications and plans. On a smaller but most useful scale is Broadhouse’s The Violin and How to Make It ($1.50, William Reeves).

On lives of the violinists the reader will find Ehrlich’s Celebrated Violinists, Past and Present ($2, Scribners), though not adapted for consecutive reading, useful for consultation, with its numerous carefully gleaned biographical details.

More vivacious volumes are Great Pianists and Violinists, by G. T. Ferris ($1, Appletons), and Famous Violinists of To-Day and Yesterday by H. C. Lahee ($1.50, L. C. Page & Company).

Among the many technical works on violin playing we may mention Technics of Violin Playing, by Carl Courvoisier, a well-known authority ($1, The Strad); Chats to Violin Students, by G. C. Corrodus ($1, The Strad); True Principles of Violin Playing, by George Lehman ($1, Schirmer); and Catechism of Violin Playing, by C. Schroeder ($1, Augener), all the works of acknowledged experts in the field.

The Voice and Singing

It is impossible to give here any account of the numberless voice methods of varying degrees of excellence, and only a few of the most famous books which have been tested by time and experience can be cited. Among these are Voice, Song, and Speech, by Brown and Behnke ($2, Putnams), two noted London specialists; The Hygiene of the Vocal Organs, by Dr. Morell Mackenzie ($1.25, Werner); How to Sing, by Lilli Lehman ($1.50, Macmillan); Hints on Singing, by Manuel Garcia ($1.50, Schuberth); The Philosophy of Singing, by Clara Rogers ($1.50, Harpers); The Art of the Singer, by W. J. Henderson ($1.25, Scribners), a book of general all-around interest; and a host of others.

On the literature of songs there is a delightful little account by H. T. Finck called Songs and Song Writers ($1.25, Scribners), filling a niche all by itself and aptly called “a song Baedeker,” so crowded and crammed is it with good things.

The lives of great singers is a subject of vivid interest to many and there are two small volumes by George T. Ferris, entitled Great Singers (two vols., each $1, Appleton), written with literary colour and charm.

Henry C. Lahee’s Famous Singers of To-Day and Yesterday ($1.50, L. C. Page & Company) gives carefully gathered information.

The life of the celebrated voice teacher Madame Mathilde Marchesi, called Marchesi and Music ($2.50, Harpers), though marred by egotism, abounds in interesting passages.

Especially attractive is the story of the renowned Garcia, the inventor of the laryngoscope, who lived to the great age af one hundred and knew personally every great musician of three generations, called Garcia the Centenarian, and His Time, by M. S. Mackinlay ($4, Appletons).

CHAPTER XLIII
EXAMINATION PAPERS IN MUSIC HISTORY, SET BY SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES

The papers that follow will give the reader a comprehensive idea of the scope and extent of music history as a study in schools and colleges. In nearly all instances the subject, presented in the form of lectures, requires work based upon one or more text-books and, in addition, a certain amount of research over a somewhat extensive bibliography.

No. I. NEW YORK STATE EDUCATION DEPARTMENT

History of Music

Answer six questions from this group.

Group I.

What do the terms “classic” and “romantic” signify as applied to periods of music history? Give the approximate date of the beginning of each period and name six important composers belonging to each.

Name three great oratorios by different composers and briefly describe each.

What composer is called the “creator of the modern song”? What did he do for the song to justify this praise? Name four of his greatest songs.

Give an account of the origin and development of the orchestra.

What composers have written the finest music for the orchestra? Name four of the greatest symphonies the world has yet known.

State the distinctive influence on opera or the contribution to opera of each of the following composers: Gluck, Wagner, Weber, Beethoven, Verdi, Mozart, Rossini, Gounod. Arrange the names in chronologic order and name one opera of each.

For what is each of the following musicians most esteemed: J. S. Bach, Muzio Clementi, Hector Berlioz, Paganini, F. Chopin, Franz Liszt, Georges Bizet, Anton Rubinstein, Peter Tschaikowsky, Anton Dvořák, Edvard Grieg, Edward Elgar?

Why are Bach, Beethoven, and Brahms often ranked together? Write quite fully concerning the life and work of one of these musicians and briefly concerning the work of the other two.

No. 2. NEW YORK STATE EDUCATION DEPARTMENT History of Music

Answer eight questions from this group.

Write briefly on the contrapuntal, classic, and romantic schools of music, stating the characteristics of each and naming its most distinguished representatives.

Write briefly on the music of Richard Strauss and Claude Debussy. State what, in your opinion, individualises the work of each. Name at least three of the representative compositions of each.

Answer both a and b:

Name four European composers specially esteemed for their songs, state where and when each one lived, and name two well-known songs of each.

Name three eminent American song composers and mention two songs of each.

Name at least two distinguished musical contemporaries of (a) Louis XIV, (b) Napoleon, (c) Queen Victoria.

Describe briefly the classical symphony. Name six symphonic writers. Give a list of symphonies that you have heard or studied.

Answer a, b, c, and d:

When was the pianoforte invented? What did it supersede?

When did Clementi live? What influence had he and his followers on the growth of piano composition and technic?

Name some of the piano compositions of Chopin, Beethoven, Schumann, and Liszt. Write briefly of the style of each.

Name six famous pianists now living.

Give the prevailing characteristics of music in the period between (a) 1400–1600, (b) 1600–1700, (c) 1700–1800, (d) 1800–1900.

Distinguish between the forms in each of the following groups: (a) cantata and oratorio, (b) grand opera, romantic opera, and opera comique, (c) symphony and symphonic poem. Name one composition of each class, with its composer.

Write briefly on the general characteristics of (a) classical music, (b) romantic music, (c) programme music. Name three representative composers of each style with one work of each.

No. 3. (a). INSTITUTE OF MUSICAL ART OF THE CITY OF NEW YORK

Examination in Music History

Special Course

Remark on (a) The contrast between the ancient and the modern conception of music, Or (b) The growth of musical notation.

Contrast the piano with preceding keyboard instruments.

Describe the origin and purpose of the opera as an art form.

What is a sonata and by whom and when was its modern form specially determined ?

Give an account of the orchestra and the styles peculiar to it. N. B. Any one question may be omitted for the sake of answering the others more fully.

No. 3. (b).

Examination in Music History

General Course

What forms or styles of composition were already prominent before 1700? Give a brief account of one of these.

What was Handel’s preparation for oratorio writing? When and why did he enter upon it and with what results?

Give an outline of Bach’s life with special comment on some one aspect of his style and genius that interests you.

Compare Haydn and Mozart as to personality, career, style, and influence.

Remark on Beethoven’s life and work in relation to the advance of musical art at the opening of the nineteenth century.

N. B. Any one question may be omitted for the sake of answering the others more fully.

No. 4. HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Music 3

The given order of questions to be followed. Write legibly. Express yourself clearly.

Name four composers between Schubert and Richard Strauss who have contributed to the development of the German Lied. Name four well-known lyric poets from whom the texts for their songs were often taken. What are the special features of the German art song in distinction from the folk-song? Give the titles of six representative German songs, one, at least, of each of the composers treated above.

State the leading facts in the life of Von Weber. In what important respects did he differ as a musician from his predecessors? What were the national tendencies of his time and how do his works embody these tendencies? Describe the characteristics of romantic opera as conceived by Von Weber and name his chief works in this field. Who were three of the lesser composers of this type of opera associated with him?

Describe the prominent characteristics of Chopin’s music and name the works which best represent his style. Give a list of the celebrated artistic and literary people with whom Chopin associated in Paris during the decade 1830–40.

In what three classes may all programme music be grouped? Name a representative composer of programme music in the seventeenth, eighteenth, and nineteenth centuries. Describe clearly what has been the influence of Berlioz and of Liszt upon modern orchestral music. Name several important works of each composer. What term did Liszt invent and apply to his orchestral works? What is the essential difference in content and treatment between works of this type and the classic symphony? What were some of Liszt’s manifold activities? What four cities are prominently associated with his career?

Name standard compositions by various composers which find their source in the works of the following authors: Shakespeare, Goethe, Schiller, Scott, Byron, Hugo. Comment briefly on the connection in any one of these works between the literary basis and the musical treatrhent.

Name the composer and branch of music of each of the following compositions: Fingal’s Cave, L’Africaine, Prince Igor, The Merry Wives of Windsor, 1812 Overture, Hans Heiling, Tod und Verklärung, Reflets dans l’eau, Sampson and Delilah, Scheherazade, Sakuntala, Louise, Boris Godounow.

Describe the social and political conditions of Italy during the first seven decades of the last century. In the works of what composer are these conditions most vividly reflected? Name several of his works. What striking use was often made of his name? Who is the most prominent living exponent of Italian music? Name three of his well-known works.

Take either question 8 or 9

Contrast briefly the essential characteristics of Russian, Norwegian, and Hungarian folk music.

State the prominent characteristics and mention at least one representative work of each of the following masters: Grieg, Dvořák, Tschaikowsky, César Franck, Chabrier, Brahms, Debussy, d’Indy.

What are the striking differences between the music-drama of Wagner and the former type of opera? Give a chronological list of Wagner’s works and describe the changes in his dramatic ideals and musical style which these works embody. Mention two incidents in Wagner’s life which influenced strongly his inspiration. Explain the terms “leading motive” and “transformation of motive.”

No. 5. HARVARD UNIVERSITY

Music 3

Give some account of the influence of Beethoven during the nineteenth century. On whom did he react and in what manner?

Compare and differentiate the romanticism of Weber (instrumental music), Mendelssohn, Schubert, and Schumann.

Trace the general course of programme music from Beethoven to the present day. Mention as many specific works as possible to give point to your statements.

State wherein consists the greatness of Chopin. What were the sources of his piano style and of his forms? What was his treatment of sonata form? Comment on Chopin as nationalist.

In what respects was Berlioz a pioneer? Show clearly the relation between the artistic and sociological conditions of the times and Berlioz’s musical standpoint. Describe his personality as man and artist. What contemporaries were influenced by him? What was Berlioz’s attitude toward opera? Toward sonata form?

Describe Liszt’s attainments and influence as a pianist. What were the sources of his epoch-making technic? Comment on Liszt as transcriber. What did he accomplish at Weimar? Describe the symphonic poem in respect to form and contents. Where and on whom has the influence of Liszt reacted most noticeably?

Outline briefly the conditions existent in French and Italian opera during the first half of the nineteenth century. Wherein consisted Wagner’s “reform” of opera. What are the important stages in his work as a dramatic composer? What were the origin and function of the leading motive? Comment briefly on Wagner’s use of the orchestra.

Compare and differentiate the critical activity of Schumann, Berlioz, Liszt, and Wagner.

Select any six of the following names for a concise summary of their characteristics as composers and their historical influence: Brahms, Tschaikowsky, Bruckner, Saint-Saëns, Richard Strauss, César Franck, Grieg, Dvořák, Moussorgsky, Debussy, Elgar, Rimsky-Korsakow, d’Indy, MacDowell.

No. 6. YALE COLLEGE

Semiannual Examination

Music 3—History of Music

How is design in music shown? Is painting a more imitative art than music or less?

Contrast Chinese and Hindu scale systems. Of what nature are modern European scales? Give a short account of ancient Greek and mediæval church scales.

Define organum, counterpoint, discant. Describe the steps taken during the Middle Ages toward the development of harmony.

Who was Adam de la Halle, Frescobaldi, Guido of Arezzo, John Dunstable, Henry Purcell, Orlando Lasso?

Give an account of the Netherlands school of composers with names and approximate dates.

Write a short biographical sketch of Palestrina. To what kind of music did he restrict himself? What is the present importance of his music? How does it differ from the music of our own time?

Compare folk music and art music.

State the achievements and limitations of early choral music.

What serious errors in church music was Palestrina called upon to correct?

Describe early musical instruments and the style of music written for them.

No. 7. YALE COLLEGE

Semiannual Examination—History of Music

Write a biographical sketch of Bach with a discussion of his position in music.

What important influences tended to make Handel’s style different from that of Bach? In what does this difference consist?

Give a brief history of oratorio, naming important composers and their works.

Describe the growth and climax of sonata form.

Wherein lies the greatness of Beethoven?

Contrast and explain classicism and romanticism. Classify under these two heads the French and German composers from the time of Bach to that of Wagner. Arrange the names chronologically.

How many symphonies are known by Beethoven, Brahms, Schumann, Tschaikowsky, Wagner.?

Give an account of the development of opera in Italy from its beginning to the present, with composers’ names, dates, and works.

Give a like account of opera in Germany.

Explain the Wagnerian system of opera and name as many of Wagner’s operas as you can.

Mention important works by each of the following composers: Haydn, Mozart, Handel, Liszt, Chopin, Weber, Saint-Saëns, Verdi, Berlioz, Schumann.

What is a symphonic poem? What composer is identified with the earliest examples of this kind of music? Name three of his works.

No. 8. TUFTS COLLEGE

Write for about fifteen minutes on one of the following subjects: (a) Ambrose and Gregory, (b) Palestrina and Lasso, (c) Minnesingers and mastersingers.

Indicate briefly the significance of the following: (a) Antiphonarium, (b) canon, (c) Bayreuth, (d) aria, (e) ballad, (f) chorale, (g) figured bass, (h) discant, (i) recitative, (j) mode, (k) equal temperament, (l) opera comique.

Name, with approximate dates, some composers who have had important influence on the development of opera, and state, if you can, the contribution which each made to that development.

Give author, nature, and approximate date of the following works:

St. Paul.

The Creation.

The Unfinished Symphony.

Benvenuto Cellini.

The Huguenots.

Iphigenia in Tauris.

Oberon.

Carmen.

Kaiserquartet.

Pastoral Symphony.

The Lamentations.

Genoveva.

Mors et Vita.

Life for the Czar.

Aïda.

Romeo and Juliet.

Marriage of Figaro.

Ein Heldenleben.

Pathetic symphony.

Parsifal.

Kreutzer Sonata.

Judas Maccabæus.

Summer is a-coming in.

Give approximate date and chief claim to fame of the following: C. P. E. Bach, Berlioz, Chopin, Lully, Kuhnau, Dufay.

Take a topic, biographical or historical, which has interested you and outline an essay upon it. Use syllabus form if you choose.

N. B. If, in No. 4, you discover any names applying to two works, name both.

No. 9. OBERLIN CONSERVATORY

What circumstances brought Handel to England? In what period of his life did he compose his Italian operas, and what was their general character?

Why did he turn to writing oratorios?

How does the oratorio differ from the opera and from church music?

Where is the influence of the Italian opera shown in Handel’s oratorios?

What can be said of his choruses: range of style and expression, variety of structure, dramatic quality, etc.?

Under what conditions was the work of Sebastian Bach produced? What different national influences are found in his music? What has been the nature of his influence upon later art?

What were the leading movements in music just after Bach’s time?

Give an outline of the development of the symphony up to Beethoven.

What is the sonata form?

How was the orchestra constituted in the time of Haydn and Mozart? What additions were made by Beethoven?

How did Beethoven complete the form in symphony and sonata?

What is the significance of Beethoven in the development of expression?

What do you consider the chief elements in the greatness of Beethoven?

INDEX OF NAMES

Adam (de la Halle), 66, 85, 128.

Agricola, M., 113, 187.

Ahle, J. G., 157.

Ahle, J. R., 157.

Albrechtsberger, J. G., 215, 252, 254.

Allegri, G., 127.

Amati, 187.

Ambrose, St., 34, 35, 50, 128.

Animuccia, G., 127, 143.

Aribo, 53.

Ariosti, A., 148, 218.

Aristoxenos, 25.

Arkadelt, J., 103.

d’Astorga, E., 196.

Auber, D. F. E., 271.

Bach, J. A., 221, 223.

Bach, J. Ch., 221.

Bach, J. S., 139, 157, 165, 177, 221,

224. Bach, P. E., 177, 240, 242, Bach, v., 221. Bach, W. F., 225. Balfe, M., 273. Bardi, G., 143.

Beethoven, L. van, 252 et seq. Bellini, V., 272. Benda, G., 232. Bennett, J., 127. Berchem, J., 112. Berger, H., 275. Berger, L., 250. Berlioz, H., 287. Bizet, G., 271. Bodenschatz, E., 131. Boes, J. van, 112. Boieldieu, F. A., 271. Boito, A., 272. Bononcini, G., 196, 218. Bordoni, F., 209.

Brahms, J., 299. Briegel, W. C, 157. Bruhns, W., 169. Brumel, A., 102, 105. Bull, J., 127, 184. Bull, O., 323. Billow, H. von, 291. Busnois, A., 84, 97, 98. Buxtehude, D., 169. Byrd, W., 127, 184.

Caccini, G., 144. Caldara, A., 196. Calvicius, S., 137. Cambert, R., 205. Carey, H., 206. Carissimi, G., 127, 148, igo. Caron, F., 96. Cavalieri, E. del, 144. Cavalli, F., 148, 190. Cesti, M. A., 148, 190. Charlemagne, 62. Charpentier, G., 317. Chatelaine de Coucy, 63. Chaucer, G., 60, 77. Cherubini, L., 269, 275, 290. Chopin, F., 65, 284. Christofori, B., 176. Cimarosa, D., 271. Clari, G. M., 196. Clayton, T., 206. Clement (non Papa), 112.^; Clementi, M., 249. Colonna, G. P., 196. Compere, L., 105. Conti, F., 197. Corelli, A., 127, 187. Cornelius, P., 291. Cottonius, J., 53. Couperin, F., 177, 179, 181.

INDEX

Cowen, F., 273. Cramer, J. B., 250. Croce, G. della, 126. Cruger, J., 139. Czerny, C, 290.

Danican, A., 204. Darwin, C, 6. David, F., 291. Davidson, T., 24. Debussy, C, 317. Dietmar von Kürenberg, 71. Dittersdorf, C. D. von, 231. Donati, B., 126. Dovvland, J., 127. Dufay, G., 96, 98, 128. Dukas, P., 317. Dunstable, J., 95. Durante, F., 127, 190. Dussek, J. L., 250. Dux (Ducis), B., 105. Dvořák, A., 310.

Eccard, J., 138. Elgar, E., 273. Engel, C., 19. Ephraem, St., 38. Epictetus, 32.

Faber, D., 174,

Farnaby, G., 184,

Faugues, V., 96.

Feo, F., 127, 191,

Ferrabosco, D., 127.

Ferrari, B., 148.

Festa, C., 112, 127.

Fétis, J. F., II, 191.

Field, J., 251.

Finck, Heinrich, 106, 113.

Finck, Hermann, 106, 107.

Flotow, F. von, 268.

Forkel, J. N., 106.

Fortsch, J. P., 212.

Franck, C., 317.

Franck, J. W., 212.

Franck, M., 139, 152.

Franco of Cologne, 55, 90, 128.

Franco of Paris, 55, 90, 128.

Freschi, G., 166, 182.

Frescobaldi, G., 166, 182. Froberger, J. J., 168. Fulda, A. de, 113. Fux, J., 186, 196, 207, 215.

Gabrieli, A., 126.

Gabrieli, G., 126, 139, 154.

Gafurius, F., 54, 112.

Galilei, V., 145.

Galuppi, B., 196.

Gasparini, F., 195.

Gastoldi, G., 126.

Gaultier, D., 179.

Gay, J., 218.

Gerbert, M., 53.

Gibbons, O., 127, 184.

Glareanus, H., 112.

Glinka, M., 273.

Gluck, C. VV. von, 233, 269.

Goetz, H., 268.

Goldmark, C, 268.

Gombert, N., 103, 108.

Gossec, F. J., 202, 203, 271.

Gottfried von Strassburg, 72.

Goudimel, C, 112, 126, 127.

Gounod, C, 271.

Graun, K. H., 208.

Gregory, 17, 36, 38, 128.

Gretry, A., 204.

Grieg, E., 310.

Guarneris, 187.

Guido of Arezzo, 47, 51, 53, 89, 92,

128. Guillaume de Marchant, 91.

Halevy, J., 270. Hall, J. L., 42. Halleck, R. P., 42, 77, Hammerschmidt, A., 139. Handel, G. F., 213, 216. Hartmann von Aue, 72. Hasse, J. A., 208. Hassler, H. L., 137. Hastings, T., 322. Haydn, J., 231, 240, 242. Heinrich von Meissen, 72. Heinrich von Morungen, 72. Heinrich von Veldecke, 68. Helmore, Rev. T., 39.

Hermann, N., 135.

Herold, L. J. F., 271.

Hilarius, 40.

Hiller, J. A., 251.

Hilton, J., 127.

Hobrecht, J., 102.

Holden, O., 322.

Hollander, C, 118.

Holzbauer, I., 233.

Horn, J. C, 188.

Hucbald, 44, 51, 89, 91, 92, 128.

Hummel, J. N., 250.

Humphrey, P., 184.

Isaac, H., 106, 136.

Jannequin, C, 104, 107. Jean de Garlande, 90. Jean de Muris, 57, 91. Jerome, of Moravia, 57, 91. Jerome, St., 32. Joachim, J., 291, 300. Jommelli, N., 191.

Josquin des Prés, 102, 105, 107, 116, 128.

Reiser, R., 122. Kerll, J. K., 208. Kirnberger, J. P., 215. Klengel, A. A., 250. Koninck, 96.

Konrad von Würzburg, 72. Kretschmer, E., 268. Kreutzer, K., 268. Kugelman, H., 135. Kuhnau, J., 185, 186, 221. Kusser, J. S., 212.

Lane, E. \V., 13.

Lasso, O. di, 114, 128.

Lcgrcnzi, G., 148, 195.

Lekeu, G., 317.

Leo, L., 127, 190.

Leoncavallo, R., 272.

Leonin, 90.

Lind, J., 323.

Lindpainter, P. J. von, 268.

Liszt, F., 289.

Locke, M., 205.

Lortzing, A., 268. Lotti, A., 195. Lotti, G., 195. Lully, G. B., 197, 199. Luther, M, 132, 134.

MacFarren, G., 273.

Mackenzie, A., 273.

Mandeville, Sir J., 77.

Marcello, B., 127.

Marcellus H, 124.

Marchetto of Padua, 57.

Marenzio, L., 127.

Marpurg, F. W., 215.

Marschner, H., 266.

Marullo, B., 186.

Marxsen, E., 299.

Mascagni, P., 272.

Mason, L., 322.

Massenet, J., 271.

Mattheson, J., 177, 186, 213, 214.

Mazarin, Cardinal, 198.

Mehul, E., 269.

Melanchthon, P., 135.

Mendelssohn, F., 275.

Merulo, C, 126, 166.

Meyerbeer, J., 270.

Mingotti, A., 215.

Molinari, 148.

Moniusko, S., 273.

Monsigny, S. A., 204.

Monte, P., 118.

Monteverde, C, 144, 146, 148, 150,

188, 190. Morley, T., 127, 184. Moscheles, L, 275. Mozart, L., 247. iMozart, W. A., 236, 246. Muffat, G., 179. Muffat, T., 186. Müller, W., 232. Mussorgski, M., 273.

Nanini, B., 127. Nanini, G., 127. Naumann, E , 58, 86. Neri, P., 142, 150. Nicolai, O., 268. Nithardt von Reucnthal, 72.

INDEX

Odington, W., 57, go, 95.

Okeghem (Ockenheim), loi, 106, 116,

128. Osiander, L., 137. Ovid, 32.

Pachelbel, J., 168.

Paer, F., 272.

Paesiello, G., 193, 194, 271.

Paganini, N., 291.

Palestrina, L., 112, 116, 121, 128.

Pasquini, B., 167, 190, 195.

Paumann, C, 166.

Pergolesi, G. B., 191, 192.

Peri, J., 144, 146, 198.

Perotin, 90.

Petrucci, O., 105.

Petrus de Cruce, 57, 90.

Pezelius, J., 188.

Phillip de Vitry, 57, 91.

Philo, 33.

Piccini, N., 192, 193, 235.

Pierre de la Croix (Petrus de Cruce).

Pitoni, G. O., 195.

Plato, 26.

Politianus, 142.

Porpora, N., 191.

Praetorius, M., 138, 187.

Puccini, G., 272.

Purcell, H., 184, 205.

Pythagoras, 25.

Quinault, P., 199. Quintilian, 32.

Raff, J., 291, 305. Rameau, J. P., 182, 202. Ravel, M., 317. Regis (de Roi), 96. Reichardt, J. F., 233. Rcinmar von Zvveter, 72. Reischius, G., lOO. Rhau, G., 136. Righi, F., 148. Righini, V., 271. Robert of Sabillon, go. Rore, C. de, iii. Rosenmviller, J., 157. Rossini, G., 272.

Rousseau, J. J., 202, 232. Rubinstein, A., 273, 291, 307. Ruggieri, G., 148. Rusiczka, 258.

Sachs, H., 73, 74.

Saint-Saens, C, 271.

Salieri, A., 258, 260, 269, 271, 290.

Salinas, F., 113.

Sarti, G., 271.

Scarlatti, A., 127, 148, 149, igo.

Scarlatti, D., 127, I4g, 180, 182, 183.

Scheidt, S. G., 158.

Schein, J. H., 139, 157.

Schelle, K. E., 38.

Schenck, J., 232.

Schubert, F., 258.

Schumann, C, 300.

Schumann, R., 279, 29g, 300.

Schütz, H., 136, 137, 153, 168.

Sebastiani, J., 157.

Senfl, L., 136.

Spencer, H., 6.

Spervogel, 71.

Spohr, L., 266.

Spontini, G., 270.

Staden, S. G., 158.

Stanford, C. V., 273.

Steffani, A., ig5.

Stradella, A., 148, I4g.

Stradivari, A., 186, 188.

Strauss, R., iii, 289, 318.

Strunck, N. A., 212.

Sullivan, Sir A., 273.

Sweelinck, J. P., 113, 168.

Sylvester, 40.

Tallis, T., 127, 184. Tartini, G., 187. Tausig, C, 291. Telemann, G. P., 214. Terpander, 25. Theile, J., 158. Thibaut, 62. Thomas, A., 271. Tinctoris, J., 108, 112, 126. Torelli, G., 187. Tschaikowsky, P. I., 373. Vaet, J., 118. Valdecke, H. von, 68, 71. Vecchi, O., 148. Verdelot, P., 112. Verdi, G., 272. Viadana, L., 144. Viotti, G. B., 187. Vitry (Phillip de V., q, v.). Vittoria, L. de, 127. Vogel, J. C, 268. Vogler, Abbe, 267.

Wagner, R., 69, 75, 76, III, 291,

294. Wallace, W. V., 273. Wallaschek, R., 6. Walther, J., 135, 136.

Walthcr von der Vogelweide, 72.

Ward, J., 127.

Weber, C. M. von, 267, 279.

Weelkes, T., 127.

Wieck, C, 280.

Wieck, F., 279.

Wiegl, J., 232.

Willaert, A., 108, no, 119, 126, 128.

William, abbot of Hirschau, 53.

William of Poitiers, 63.

Winter, P. von, 232.

Wolfram von Eschenbach, 72.

Zarlino, G., no, n3, 165. Zeelindia, 96. Zelter, C. F., 275. Zingarelli, N., 272.

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