A Popular History of the Art of Music

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In their relation to the sonata, these three great masters do not
stand in the same position of _quasi_-equality. Haydn is here the
first, as already in the symphony. But in his sonatas he is always
rather hampered, and never attains the flow of his slow melodies for
the violin. Mozart, also, while a beautiful player upon the pianoforte
of his day, did not possess the prescience of Beethoven, who was able
to see over the pianoforte of his time and write as if he felt the
assurance of the nobler and yet nobler instruments of these later
times. Here he stands with Bach, who in his great Chromatic Fantasia
and Fugue requires and confidently expects the breadth of tone and the
power of the modern piano. It was Beethoven's fortune to live during
the early days of the modern instrument. Just after his death the era
of virtuoso piano playing began, the first appearances of Thalberg
having been made as early as about 1830. He was himself a great
pianist, as we see in the concertos which he wrote, always intending
to play them at some concert or other in near prospect. Occasionally
indeed he overshot his mark, as notably in the fifth, which, being
finished just before his concert in 1809, he found too difficult for
his fingers, whereupon he was obliged to fall back on the third.
Moreover, the pianists Hummel and Dussek were already before the
public, and Clementi had made his concert tours, and established the
lines of the classical technique upon its brilliant side. All these
influences find their illustration in the music of Beethoven, and
especially find illustration in the last and greatest of his
pianoforte sonatas. These beautiful tone poems were long regarded as
impossible. But the genius of Schumann and Liszt came to their rescue
by introducing a new style of touch and technique, which, when once
found, proved to be the link missing for the proper interpretation of
these till then obscure works.

Moreover, Beethoven occupied a different attitude toward the sonata
form from that which he held to the symphony. He deviated from the
sonata form in every direction, and this not alone in his later works,
when we might suppose he had become wearied with the repetition of his
ideas in the same order, but in his works of middle life, when as yet
he might apparently have gone on writing sonatas indefinitely, so
fresh, so novel and so varied were the tone pictures which he gave the
world under this name. He seems to have regarded music as an
improvisation, not to be held to some one fixed type of expression,
but free to go wherever the fancy of the poet took him, to the end
that the entire heavens of the tone world might in time be visited. He
expects of his readers an element of the devotee. It is not for
amateurs that he writes, still less for the votaries of fashionable
society, with its emptiness and repeated insincerities. There is a
suggestion of entering into the closet, and of shutting the door, as a
prerequisite to the full enjoyment of these ineffable pictures and
images which come from his revelation.

In the present full-grown faith in the doctrine of the capacity of man
for a development continually progressive, it would be presumptuous to
say that the three composers, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, have
reached the limit of art, so far as instrumental music goes. In the
nature of the case, there is not, nor can there be an _Ultima Thule_
in art. Whatever the splendor of color, the nobility of conception, or
the sincerity and loyalty of purpose, and however resplendent the
works created by these exceptional talents, there is reason to hope
that better works still may yet be in store. Stronger and yet stronger
imaginations, more perfect technique of expression and finer
inspiration, may yet be the lot of fortunate individuals of the
twentieth century, inheriting the richly diversified musical
experiences of the present time. But in one direction there is little
doubt that these three great masters _did_ carry the art of
instrumental music to a pinnacle beyond which no one as yet has been
able to soar. They represent the climax of classical art. In the
nature of the case, the term classical itself is subject to an element
of uncertainty. According to the philosopher Hegel, the classical is
that art in which the _form_ is beautiful and wholly satisfactory in
symmetry, while the _content_ exactly matches it in fullness and
beauty. Or, in ordinary usage, the classical is the first-class, the
superior, the highly finished, the standard. And since music is a
matter of sense perception, and the impressions resulting from it are
in some degree dependent upon the ability of the hearer to find the
principles of unity (in other words, "the sense of it"), every
generation extends the list of the classical, and includes much which
the preceding one found imperfect and strained. So far as our
knowledge and experience have yet gone, however, there is a sense in
which the productions of these great masters are likely to remain long
unmatched in beauty and worth.

Nothing has been done since that surpasses the sustained beauty of the
Beethoven adagios, of which we find the most beautiful specimens
naturally among the orchestral pieces and in the chamber music, where
he could depend upon the long phrases and sustained tones of the
violins. But in the sonatas for pianoforte he is equally at home. He
seems to have foreseen the possibilities of the modern piano. In his
latest sonatas there are passages which foresee the modern technique,
and suggest effects which only the pianoforte of the past thirty years
has been capable of attaining. This is the prophetic element in the
writings of this great master.

The same difference in the sweep of mind shows itself in the lighter
movements. In the minuets Haydn is playful, Mozart is occasionally
tender and arch; Beethoven alone is vigorous and humoristic in the
modern sense. And, in the finales of the sonatas there is a movement
in those of Beethoven which we look for in vain in those of the older
composers. It was not in Haydn, nor yet in Mozart, to play with tones
in this masterly spirit.

Hence the true relation of these great masters might be summed up
without intending to be disrespectful to either, as the following:
Haydn provided the form, the order of keys and the general character
of the contrasts between the two subjects. Mozart invented a myriad of
tender _nuances_ which illustrated the fine points of music, and
imparted to the works a sweetness and pleasing quality which everybody
recognized as irresistible. Beethoven added to these ingredients of
popular music a depth, a soulful quality, an earnestness and a
universal intelligibility to spirits of the necessary depth, which
have stood to all the world ever since as models. Such, in general,
are the points of relation and of contrast.

It is not to be overlooked, however, that the tendency of musical
taste is to leave the works of Mozart behind. Haydn is gaining ground,
relatively, through the admiration of musicians for the cleverness
with which he treats themes. Beethoven holds his own by reason of his
vigorous personality, which is to be felt in every page of his music.
Mozart, however, appeals less to the taste of the present time, and
his pianoforte works are now cultivated chiefly for technical
purposes, in the earlier stages of study.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XXIX.

OPERA IN THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY.

I.

Upon the musical side, and in one instance upon the dramatic side as
well, there were three great forces in opera during this century. The
first of these in order of time was Karl Heinrich Graun (1701-1759). A
native of Dresden, he was educated there, and having early a beautiful
voice became treble singer to the town council--a curious name for a
position in the leading church. He profited by the instruction of the
official directors of the choir and the church, Petzold and Schmidt,
and very early he was an enthusiastic student of the compositions of
the Hamburg director, Keiser, whose style influenced his own in his
later work. Lotti, the Italian composer, who conducted a series of
performances in Dresden with a picked company of Italian singers, was
another force operative in his development. He early commenced to
write cantatas and motettes for the seminary, of which he was a
member, all of which show traces of the Italian influences. In
particular his biographer speaks of a Passion cantata, in which an
opening chorus, "_Lasset uns aufsehen auf Jesum_," is singularly
forcible for the work of a boy of fifteen. His first entrance upon
operatic work was as tenor, when he was scarcely twenty-four years of
age. Being dissatisfied with the music of his part (written by one
Schurmann, a local director), he substituted other airs of his own
composition, which were so popular that he was commissioned to write
an opera, and was appointed assistant director. His first opera,
"_Polliodoro_," was successful, and he was commissioned to write five
others, some in Italian, some in German. Besides these he composed
several cantatas for church use, and several instrumental pieces. In
1735 he was invited to the residence of the crown prince of Prussia,
afterward Frederick the Great. This powerful potentate remained
Graun's friend and patron until his death. Here, among other works, he
composed fifty Italian cantatas, usually consisting of two airs with
recitative. In 1740 Frederick came to the throne, and gave Graun the
post of musical director, with a salary of $2,000. Selecting his
singers in Italy, where his singing was very highly appreciated, he
returned to Berlin and assumed the duties of his position. Here he
composed no less than twenty-seven operas, the last being in 1756, all
in the Italian style, in so far as a German might master it, and all
making the singer the prime person of consideration, and the listener
next. The poet took whatever of opportunity these two might not have
needed. His best talent both as singer and as composer lay in his
power of expressing emotion in _adagios_. In this respect he had, no
doubt, more influence upon the development of the lyric slow movement
than he has generally been credited with. Later in his life he turned
once more to church music, and in his cantatas, and especially in his
oratorio, "_Der Tod Jesu_" ("The Death of Jesus"), a Passion oratorio,
he made a distinct impression upon the practices of his successors. In
Germany this work is held in nearly the same affection as the
"Messiah," of Haendel, in England. Graun's influence upon the later
course of opera, besides the adagio aria already mentioned, lay
principally in his accompaniments, which were often strong and highly
dramatic.

[Illustration: Fig. 60.]

The great operatic mind of this century, and one of the greatest of
all time, was that of Christopher Willibald von Gluck (1714-1785). By
the middle of the eighteenth century the influence of the Italian
composers, helped out by the superficial German composers, such as
Graun and Hasse, had reduced the Italian opera to a collection of mere
showpieces of singing, the arias having indeed an excuse in the story,
but the action of the drama had been lost entirely, owing to the long
stretches of time needed for these elaborate arias and the recalls to
which they inevitably gave rise. During these pauses the action ceased
entirely, as we see at the present day in many Italian operas still
current--as in the "mad scene" from "_Lucia_," for instance. In that
scene where everything ought to be wild excitement, the chorus
singers, representing the relatives and friends of poor Lucia, stand
around while she sings long cadenzas with the flute, in such trying
relationships as would test the vocal technique of a sane person. In
the time of Gluck this abuse had reached about the same height, and to
make the matter less bearable, the Italian composers had not yet
attained the art of expressing sentiment simply and directly, but were
intent upon sweet-sounding trivialities calculated to please the
groundlings, but of little or no relation to the drama. Gluck sought
to restore the ideal of the original inventors of opera, with such
unconscious modification as had been made meanwhile. But before
undertaking this he had to undergo the usual long and severe
apprenticeship of reformers. In his time the rules for a composer had
become well settled, every personage must have his or her aria
immediately upon their first entrance. The character of the arias had
been well settled. There was the _aria cantabile_, a flowing melody,
very lightly accompanied, affording opportunity for embellishments;
the _aria di portamento_, introducing long swelling notes, affording
the singer opportunity for illustrating his length of breath and
sustaining power. And so on with several other forms of aria. The
part of hero, whether male or female, was assigned to a man, an
artificial soprano, although it might be a hero--like Hercules, for
example. The subject had to be classical, and the _denouement_ happy.
There were invariably six principal characters, three men and three
women. The first woman was always a high soprano; the second or third
a contralto; the first man, always the hero of the piece, an
artificial soprano. The second man might be an artificial soprano or a
contralto. The third man might be a bass or tenor. But it was not at
all unusual to confide all the male parts to artificial sopranos. Each
principal character claimed the right to sing an aria in each of the
three acts of the drama. Each scene ended with an aria of some one of
the classes already mentioned, but no two arias of the same class were
permitted to follow each other. Gluck was the reformer destined by the
fates to rectify some of these artificial traditions. He was educated
at the Jesuit seminary in Komotow, and later in Prague. He was engaged
in the musical forces of Prince Melzi, who took him to Italy, where he
became a pupil of the famous Italian composer and teacher, Sammartini.
To this fact, no doubt, is due his early attachment to the Italian
opera.

Here he wrote several operas, all more or less in the Italian style as
he had been taught it, and as he heard it upon every hand. His first
work, "_Artaserse_," the book by Metastasio, was produced with such
success in Milan, in 1741, that he presently wrote several others for
other Italian theaters. For Venice in 1741, "_Demetrio_," and
"_Ipermestra_"; for Cremona, "_Artamene_" (1743); for Turin,
"_Alessandro nelle Indie_" (1745); for Milan, "_Demofoonte_,"
"_Siface_" and "_Fedra_" (1742-1744); in all, eight operas in five
years. None of these works in their complete form are now in
existence; fragments alone have been preserved. If any inference is
justified from these extracts the style throughout was that of the
Italian opera of the day.

The fame of Gluck had now extended to England, and in 1745 he was
invited to London to compose operas for the Haymarket theater. He came
and wrote the year following (1746) "_La Caduta de Giganti_," after
which he produced the Cremona opera. Haendel assisted at the production
of these two operas, and is reported to have said that the author knew
no more of counterpoint than a pig. Naumann thinks that Gluck learned
much from hearing Haendel's oratorios in England, and that his
subsequent deeper and nobler dramatic style was formed upon these
great models. The two operas produced in London made but a moderate
success, and Gluck was commissioned to write a "_pasticcio_" or medley
of styles. He did so, imitating all styles according to the best of
his ability, but it made no better effect than the works before it.
This was the turning point in his career. The failure mortified him
deeply, and led him to reflect concerning the nature of dramatic
music. On his way back to Vienna he passed through Paris, where he
heard certain operas of Rameau, which also influenced his style later.
The declamation and the dramatic treatment of the recitative were the
points upon which his attention principally dwelt. Upon reaching
Vienna he wrote a number of instrumental pieces, bearing the name of
symphonies, pieces which in no way differed from the conventional
music of the day. The Haydn symphony had not yet been invented, and
the form was wholly indeterminate. There was an opera in this year;
also a love affair. Gluck was deeply in love with the beautiful and
charming daughter of a rich merchant, who upon no account would
consent to her marriage with a musician. So Gluck went back to Italy,
and there he wrote another opera, rather better in quality than his
previous ones. Early in 1750 the inexorable parent died, and late in
the year Gluck married the woman of his choice, who made him a model
wife, being educated above the average of her times, and entering into
his ideals and aspirations with ever ready sympathy. Her wealth also
placed the composer in an easy position as regarded the world, and
permitted him to devote himself to study. For nearly ten years
following Gluck produced occasionally an opera, but as yet the _man_
had not arrived; all these were early and apprentice works. At length
in 1762 was produced his first master work, "Orpheus and Eurydice,"
the libretto having been written by the imperial councillor Calzabigi.
The novelty of this great work was not above the appreciation of the
Viennese public of the day. "Orpheus" made a decided success. Its
principal innovations consisted in its more powerful instrumentation,
the introduction of a chorus having an integral part in the movement
of the piece, and in the highly dramatic treatment of the second act,
where Orpheus descends into the lower world to seek his lost love.
Nevertheless, the composer had not reached true self-consciousness. A
retrogression followed. He went back to Metastasio, and in conjunction
with him produced three or four small operas, all in his earlier
style. But in 1767 he returned to Calzabigi, and upon a libretto of
his wrote "_Alceste_" which was produced at the Vienna opera house in
1767 with vastly more success than "Orpheus." The story is that of the
tragedy of Euripides, and the music is exclusively severe and tragic.
The public was divided concerning the merit of the new work. Already
the notion of a music of the future had been conceived, and the notion
suggested that only in a more self-forgetful future would a work of
such severity and of such lofty aim find acceptance.

In the dedicatory epistle to the duke of Tuscany, prefixed to the
score, Gluck defines his intentions. He says: "I seek to put music to
its true purpose; that is, to support the poem, and thus to strengthen
the expression of the feelings and the interest of the situation,
without interrupting the action. I have therefore refrained from
interrupting the actor in the fervor of his dialogue by introducing
the accustomed tedious _ritournelle_; nor have I broken his phrase at
an opportune vowel that the flexibility of his voice might be
exhibited in a lengthy flourish; nor have I written phrases for the
orchestra to afford the singer opportunity to take a long breath
preparatory to the accepted flourish; nor have I dared to hurry over
the second part of an aria, when such contained the passion and the
most important matter, to find myself in accord with the conventional
repeat of the same phrase four times. As little have I permitted
myself to close an aria where the sense was incomplete, solely to
afford the singer an opportunity of introducing a cadenza. In short, I
have striven to abolish all these bad habits, against which sound
reasoning and true taste have been struggling now for so long in
vain."

There were several numbers in "_Alceste_" which exercised an influence
upon subsequent composers, among the more notable being the speech of
the oracle, which Mozart must have had in mind in writing the
commandatore's reply to Don Giovanni; and the sacrificial march,
which probably influenced the priests' march in the "Magic Flute."
Gluck was forty-eight when he wrote "Orpheus," and fifty-three when
"_Alceste_" appeared.

Galled by the criticisms of his countrymen, and encouraged by the
friendship of the French ambassador, Gluck now went to Paris, where
his operas were presently brought out, but with the same varying favor
as at home. Marie Antoinette, who had been his pupil, befriended him
and granted him a pension of 6,000 francs. Thus supported, he brought
out still another grand opera in the French language, "_Iphigenie en
Aulide_," produced at Paris in 1774. In this work classical severity
was scrupulously observed, and the opera is full of telling points of
dramatic musical coloration. In "_Armide_," 1777, he endeavored to
show that he was equally at home in richly conceived sensuous music,
and succeeded so well that the famous controversy was precipitated
with the Italian composer, Piccini, who had just arrived in Paris,
preparatory to bringing out his opera of "Roland." Volumes were
written in praise of Italian music, and in disparagement of the
roughnesses of that of Gluck. On the other hand, the friends of Gluck
stood up for him manfully, and the contest raged fiercely--with the
usual result of thoroughly advertising the music of both. Gluck's last
opera for Paris was "_Iphigenie en Tauride_," 1779, the same subject
already having been treated by his rival Piccini. The superiority of
Gluck's was incontestable. He died at Vienna, of apoplexy, November
15, 1787.

Gluck's place in art has been well summed up by Padre Martini, and the
opinion is all the more worthy of attention from the general charge of
Gluck's enemies that his music had overturned the traditions of pure
Italian art. He says: "All the finest qualities of Italian, and many
of those of French music, with the great beauties of the German
orchestra, are united in his work." This is tantamount to crediting
Gluck with having created a cosmopolitan music--which is precisely the
position which posterity has assigned him. For the time when he wrote,
his music is wonderfully fine. It still retains its vitality, as has
been vividly shown in several revivals of his "Orpheus" within recent
years, in two of which (in America and in Italy) the American prima
donna, Mme. Helene Hastreiter, has nobly distinguished herself.

The third force alluded to at the outset of the chapter, as having
been mainly influential in German opera during the eighteenth century
(and until our own time, it might be added), was Mozart, whose works
have already received attention in former pages of the narrative. It
must suffice here to remind the reader of the successes and qualities
of his operas, in order that he may be remembered in this connection;
for, like Gluck, his art was cosmopolitan, having in it the sweetness
of the Italian, the richness of the German, and occasional traces of
the declamation of the French.

II.

After Lulli, the next great name in the history of French opera was
that of Jean Philippe Rameau (1683-1765). This great master was one of
the most versatile men of whom we have a record in music. He was a
mathematician, physicist, a profound theorist, and a virtuoso upon the
piano and harpsichord. He is one of the four great names in music of
the period of Bach and Haendel, the fourth being Scarlatti. His
education in music began while he was very young, and it is said of
him that such was his talent that he could improvise a fugue upon any
theme assigned, when he was but fourteen years of age. His father
wished him to be trained for the law, but music had greater charms for
him, and the margins of his books were marked over with crotchets and
quavers. Having become desperately in love with a fascinating young
widow, whom his father was opposed to his marrying, he was sent at the
age of seventeen to Italy, ostensibly to study. He came, therefore, to
Milan about 1701, a few years before Haendel came there. Italian music
was little to his taste. The dignified declamation of the Lulli operas
seemed to him better worthy the attention of men than the tunes of the
Italians. Accordingly he took service as a violinist with a traveling
operatic troupe, and in this capacity visited the south of France. In
Paris he became a pupil of the court organist Marchand, of whom we
hear again in connection with certain tests of proficiency with
Haendel. Marchand was at first delighted with his new pupil, but
presently dropped him when he discovered how talented he was, and
liable to prove a dangerous rival. Accordingly he left Paris and took
service as organist at Lille, which post he exchanged afterward for
one at Clermont. In this quiet town he devoted himself to the study of
harmony, and to reflection upon the principles of music. He read here
the works of Zarlino, and other Italian theorists, and in 1721 he
returned to Paris and published his treatise on harmony, in which he
propounded the theory of inversions. His second treatise on harmony,
"New System of Musical Theory," was published in 1725. These works
excited a great deal of attention and brought the author renown, but
his soul yearned for recognition as composer, and in 1730 he obtained
from Voltaire a libretto, "Samson." This work was declined at the
national opera, on the ground that the public was not attracted by
Biblical subjects. Three years later, however, he composed another,
"_Hypolite et Arcie_," which was performed with moderate success. He
had now reached the age of fifty, and entered upon the second stage of
his artistic career, and the second period of the French opera. The
admirers of Rameau invited appreciation of the new works upon the
ground of their being better than those of Lulli, and all Paris was
divided into two opposite camps. Rameau is entitled to having
developed his operas more musically than those of Lulli, and the later
ones became still richer upon the orchestral side.

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