Gabriel Faure disliked the Requiems of Berlioz and Verdi, with their emphasis on the terror of Judgment Day and their large-scale dramatic effects. These masses of death are monumental, devastating masterpieces that never fail to impress anyone who hears them - after all, aren't we all afraid of death? But Fauré thought differently. For him, death was not at all terrifying - the inevitable end was filled not with agony, but with resignation and consolation.
Fauré completed his Requiem - his only major work based on a religious text - in 1887 at the age of 42. There has been much speculation about whose death inspired the work, but Fauré later said of the reason for its composition: "I didn't compose it for anyone... just for pleasure, if you'll allow me to say so!" The first version was for small forces and chamber orchestra, but Faure expanded the forces to a larger orchestra, including winds. The premiere of this new version took place in 1900 on the occasion of the Paris World Fair before an audience of about 5000. The Requiem was also played at Fauré's funeral in 1924.
As mentioned above, Fauré's Requiem departs from the traditional Requiem Mass in several ways. Contrary to the traditional order of the Mass, and especially to the compositions of Hector Berlioz and Giuseppe Verdi, Fauré refrained from dramatizing the Dies irae and confined himself to setting its final stanza, the Pie Jesu. On the other hand, he added the In paradisum from the Exequia, which is traditionally sung when the body is taken from the church to the cemetery. Overall, Fauré was concerned to paint a peaceful picture of death. In many passages, the minor tones of the chorus and orchestra glide into atmospheric major chords, providing a comforting tone. "Everything I could muster in terms of religion I put into the Requiem, which, moreover, dominates the piece from beginning to end with a great human sense of belief in eternal rest.
The requiem consists of seven movements:
Introitus et Kyrie (d-minor) Offertory (b minor) Sanctus (E-flat major) Pie Jesu (B-flat major) Agnus Dei and Lux Aeterna (F major) Libera Me (d-minor) In Paradisum (D major)
"The requiem is as gentle as myself."
Listen to: Radio Filharmonisch Orkest & Groot Omroepkoor conducted by James Gaffigan, with Laurence Guillod [soprano] and Thomas Tatzl [baritone] in a registration by the Dutch television.
Enchanted horns lead into dark forests where two brothers vie for the queen's hand, with dire consequences... Inspired by the stories of the Brothers Grimm, Das klagende Lied is Mahler's astonishingly assured Op. 1, a preview of his epic, kaleidoscopic symphonies. Like those, it bursts with the magic and mystery of nature and the joys and fears of childhood. It is also strange, as German fairy tales can be strange and cruel: after a fratricide, a flute is made from the bleached bone of the dead brother, and this flute plays a song that accuses the murderer.
Das klagende Lied is a fairy-tale cantata by Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) for soloists, boys' choir, mixed choir and large orchestra. Gustav Mahler's text is based on Ludwig Bechstein's fairy tale Das klagende Lied and the Brothers Grimm's fairy tale Der singende Knochen. The original version of the three-part work was composed between 1878 and 1880 and was designated by Mahler as his "Opus 1" a few years after it was written. Mahler revised the work in 1893 and 1898 before premiering it in a two-part version in Vienna on February 17, 1901.
There are three parts:
1. Forest Fairy Tale Mahler's poem follows the ballad first, and here the prequel is told. "There was a proud queen...". A young queen rejects all suitors and will only marry the one who finds a certain red flower in the forest. The text then follows more closely the Grimm's fairy tale in its 1819 version. Two brothers, the older violent and the younger gentle, set out to find the flower. When the younger one finds the flower, he puts it on his hat and goes to sleep. The older brother sees the sleeping man under a willow tree, kills him with his sword, and takes the flower.
2. The Minstrel As a transition, the motif of the willow tree is taken up again.
"By the willow tree, among the cool firs, Where jackdaws and ravens flutter, There lay a fair-haired knight Buried under leaves and flowers."
A traveling minstrel, passing by the willow, finds a white bone and carves a flute out of it. The moment he puts the bone flute to his mouth, the flute begins to sing:
"Oh minstrel, my dear minstrel This I must now lament to you: For a pretty little flower My brother has struck me dead! In the woods my young bones were bleached, While my brother was courting a fair lady!" Oh, woe, woe, woe!
Every time the minstrel blows on his flute, the same eerie song is heard.
3. Wedding Piece On his travels, the minstrel comes to the royal castle, where the young queen is celebrating her wedding to the (unknown to her) murderer, who is now king. Again the song of the bone is heard. The king snatches the flute from the minstrel and puts it to his own mouth. At this point, the song of the singing bone becomes an accusation against the king:
"Ah brother, dear brother mine..."
The queen faints, the guests flee, and the castle collapses.
Das klagende Lied is in the tradition of late Romanticism under the influence of Wagner (note the leitmotifs!), but even the original version shows Mahler's independent personal style. Mahler had already found his own musical language by the age of 19.
Monteverdi's L'Incoronazione di Poppea is about a love affair that defies all moral and social rules: Emperor Nero, a dissolute weakling, rejects his lawful wife to make his calculating mistress, Poppea, empress; the betrayed empress then instigates Poppea's cuckolded husband to murder the gold-digging upstart. This opera is not about love, but about ambition, libido, and ruthlessness. With a cynicism that is unparalleled in the history of opera, the librettist, Francesco Busenello, has disavowed all of his characters. And so the opera's conclusion can only be described as the apotheosis of sarcasm: The adulterers triumphant on the Roman throne; the murderer and his new companion happily united; the author of the attempted murder dripping with self-pity. Monteverdi was more merciful in this respect: his music restored the dignity of the characters, who had been depicted as grotesques of late Roman decadence, and allowed us to glimpse their hidden feelings, their hopes and fears.
[Poppea, anonymous]
To see how opera had evolved during Monteverdi's lifetime, compare Orfeo (1607) with L'incoronazione di Poppea (1643). The "recitar cantando" is still there, but it is mixed with madrigals and an embryonic form of the aria. The linking recitatives have been accompanied by keyboard, viola da gamba, or lute. I don't think any music lover will regret this change - the recitative-based early operas, with their lack of striking melodies, can become monotonous. This change was caused by commerce: opera had left the palaces and salons of the aristocracy and moved to the theater on a commercial basis - anyone who bought a ticket had access. In the commercial city of Venice, opera was for sale, and the city had dozens of opera houses. Not only composers, but also singers and, above all, impresarios became important in this new public genre. This also led to a new kind of operatic entertainment. The audience for opera, drawn from the carnival crowds that swelled the city's population each year, was unusually large; it was also unusually diverse.
Poppea is the first opera about historical figures, portrayed with biting realism as beings driven by political ambition and sensual love in the year 65 CE. This is a clear break with the morality of earlier decades - in the courtly opera of the 1600s such a subject would have been unthinkable.
Monteverdi's last opera premiered in the fall of 1642 at the Theatre SS. Giovanni e Paolo in Venice. The libretto is by the Venetian lawyer Francesco Busenello (rather freely) after the Annals of Tacitus, with Suetonius and others as secondary sources.
Two different manuscript scores exist, which were probably used in the 1651 re-enactment in Naples (the scores used in Venice during the carnival 10 years earlier have been lost - no one bothered to preserve them). It is now widely believed that not all of the music was originally by Monteverdi, but that these scores contained interpolations by other composers. Two handwritten libretti have survived, along with a printed copy from 1646, which Busenello is said to have created himself. The latter libretto is incomplete; in particular, the final duet of the third act is missing.
[Bust of Poppaea Sabina at Palazzo Massimo alle Terme]
Historical realism is low. Historically, there has never been an attempted murder of Poppaea Sabina, the character on whom Poppea is based. But the opera includes a wide range of human emotions, especially those that make good music, such as love, hate, jealousy, fear, and (especially) unbridled sexual desire. In addition, lower-class comic characters ridicule the quarrels of their noble principals.
In the prologue, Fortune, Virtue, and Amor vie for omnipotence over gods and men. Amor wins, and that very day promises to show how far his influence extends.
In the opera, the Roman emperor Nero is in love with the courtesan Poppea and wants to marry her and disown his lawful wife Ottavia. The plot is thickened by further love entanglements and by a disapproving moral philosopher, Seneca. Seneca finds Nero's plans morally and politically reprehensible and is forced to pay for his opposition with his life. The desperate Ottavia decides to have Poppea killed and blackmails Otho, Poppea's cuckolded husband, into carrying out the attempt. Otho enlists the help of Drusilla, whom he left for Poppea. Torn between love and resentment, Otho, disguised in Drusilla's cloak, sneaks up on Poppea as she sleeps. The murder is thwarted, however, by Amor, who promises to have Poppea crowned empress that very day. Drusilla, whose cloak is recognized, is arrested and taken to Nero, who interrogates her harshly. To protect Otho, she takes all the blame. When Otho hears this, he tells the true story. Otho is banished, and as a reward for her loyalty, Drusilla is allowed to accompany him. Nero now has good reason to disown Ottavia and banish her from Rome forever. Poppea is crowned empress, and in a euphoric final duet, Nero and Poppea sing of their love.
[John William Waterhouse - The Remorse of the Emperor Nero after the Murder of his Mother]
With biting irony, the opera paints a very negative picture of the rulers. The story is very different from the one in Tacitus. In Tacitus there was just one good-for-nothing scoundrel full of murderous lust: Poppea. But in Bussenello/Monteverdi, everyone gets a slap on the wrist. Ottavia, in particular, who was previously nothing more than a victim, turns out to be a murderous schemer who rivals Poppea. Seneca is not only a worthy philosopher, but has the features of a trembling graybeard. And where is Nero's cruelty? The murder of his own mother, which he commits in order to marry Poppea, is covered up. It is an amoral game with unpredictable outcomes; it ends with Nero and Poppea shamelessly singing their love, having achieved their goal. Only the winner counts, and they (Nero and Poppea) are the embodiment of political ambition and sensual love. (There is a terrible, grim irony here for those who know their history: the historical Poppea was kicked to death by Nero while pregnant with his child. In that sense, Poppea is not a celebration of murder and lust, but rather a cautionary tale).
Monteverdi's music adds depth and contrast to the libretto. The variety of characters and moods is musically staged in a very expressive way, with music that is more lyrical and contains more arias than before. Nero and Poppea use the form of arioso, aria and duet in 3/4 time to express their lyrical outpourings filled with joy. Ottavia speaks in sharply etched recitatives to express her anger. Otho's music seems to lack a core, hesitant and limited as he yields to Ottavia. Seneca is finally brave as he stoically faces his death. The final love duet, incidentally, was not part of the first performance of Poppea and was added later, either by Monteverdi himself or by other hands. It works beautifully as a finale (there were no choruses yet) and would become a staple in other operas.
It's an ugly story, but aren't there plenty of similar things going on around us, where people who brazenly cheat the system too often get away with it?
Poppea is the greatest achievement of Venetian opera.
This Lobgesang (Hymn of Praise) is a work with which critics don't feel comfortable: what genre is it? Is it a cantata? Is it a symphony with choral finale, like Beethoven's Ninth? Mendelssohn himself called it a "Symphony-Cantata on Words of the Holy Bible for Soloists, Choir and Orchestra." But after his death it was published as his Symphony No. 2 in B-flat major, a naming and a numbering that are not his. Although extremely popular during Mendelssohn’s lifetime, the Lobgesang became one of the least performed of his major works. That said, it also seems that in the last couple of decades it has begun to enjoy something of a revival. So what is this work like?
The Lobgesang was commissioned by the city of Leipzig (where Mendelssohn worked as Kapellmeister) for a celebratory concert given in 1840 to mark the 400th anniversary of the invention of printing by Johannes Gutenberg. Mendelssohn wrestled for a long time with the appropriate form for the
work, thinking of an oratorio or a large-scale psalm setting, until he
finally found the form that suited him in a mixture of symphony and
cantata. Mendelssohn selected the words himself from the Lutheran Bible, mainly
verses describing ‘triumph over darkness’ from the Psalms, Isaiah and
two of Paul’s Epistles. This is how the Lobgesang came into being, which was first
heard on 25 June 1840 in a large festive concert in Leipzig's
Thomaskirche. Later, Mendelssohn expanded the work with several more
movements. The second version of the work was first performed in Leipzig
on 3 December 1840.
The premiere of the Lobgesang was a considerable success, and the
piece became one of Mendelssohn's most performed works during his
lifetime. For Mendelssohn personally, the work represented the turning
point after a creative crisis lasting a decade and a half, during which
he had been unable to bring a multi-movement symphonic work to a
satisfactory conclusion. The composer had retreated from his
"Reformation" Symphony after unsuccessful performances, and he had
postponed work on both his "Italian" and "Scottish" symphonies because
he was no longer convinced of the beginnings of his compositions.
In the case of the "Lobgesang", the commissioner specified the
combination of a symphonic work with chorus, but it was this impulse
that enabled Mendelssohn to solve a typical aesthetic problem of
Romanticism and find a credible form for the interaction of poetry and
music. After solving this task, Mendelssohn was inwardly freer to bring
other works into a satisfactory form as well: He completed his
"Scottish" Symphony and published it in print as well as Die erste
Walpurgisnacht as his second symphonic cantata and secular counterpart
to the Lobgesang.
In 1842, Mendelssohn had published his "Scottish" Symphony as Symphony
No. 3, but a Symphony No. 2 had not appeared during his lifetime. The
composer had presumably intended this number for his earlier "Italian"
Symphony, which he had shelved for revision after its premiere in 1833
but never completed. The "Italian" was then published posthumously as
Symphony No. 4. Probably to close the numbering gap, the Lobgesang was
later, decades after Mendelssohn's death, included in the old
Mendelssohn Complete Edition as No. 2 in the series of symphonies,
although there is no indication that this corresponded to the composer's
intentions. In the new Mendelssohn catalogue raisonné (2009), the
Lobgesang is no longer listed among the symphonies, but among the vocal
works.
The work is in B flat major and is formally divided into two parts: the first, symphonic part, which accounts for about one third of the performance duration and consists of three instrumental movements that flow into each other without a break, is followed by the cantata part, which consists of numbers 2 to 10 of the work. However, the two parts of the work do not stand unconnected to each other, but are linked through the treatment of the musical themes. Thus, the powerful opening motif is only really revealed to the listener when it later frames the cantata section on the text "Alles was Odem hat, lobe den Herrn" and thus also gives the work its title.
The composer composed the text of the work from biblical quotations and the Protestant hymn "Nun danket alle Gott" by Martin Rinckart, working out three main themes: the praise of God, God's faithfulness to those who wait for his help and comfort, and the rise of God's people from darkness to light. Mendelssohn especially emphasizes the latter theme because he succeeds in linking the biblical themes to the occasion of the work: the development of printing and Gutenberg's first printed Bible are thus interpreted as the key event that leads Christianity out of the dark age of ignorance into a new epoch of enlightenment (!). This is brought out forcefully at the work's dramatic climax, when the solo tenor's repeated and increasingly pleading question "Guardian, is the night soon gone?" is affirmatively answered first by the soprano and then in the radiant tutti: "The night has passed!" Mendelssohn writes in a letter about this passage: "For the introduction to the chorus 'Die Nacht ist vergangen' I found words in the Bible that are not conceivable in a more beautiful way, and fit as if they had been written for this music ..." Several times, Mendelssohn also has passages of text first performed by the soloists and then repeated by the choir, symbolizing the spread of enlightenment among God's people.
A highlight is indeed the opening of the cantata section, scored for solo soprano, chorus and orchestra. The entrance of the choir with the words "Alles, was Odem hat, lobe den Herrn" makes a profound impression. The best-known section of Lobgesang is the duet for sopranos with chorus "Ich harrete des Herrn" (I Waited for the Lord) which forms the fifth movement. Right from the very beginning this movement has a dramatic effect. Devout and expressive, the Lobgesang maintains throughout a notable weight of sound.
So what is it? The long orchestral introduction forms the prelude to a large-scale and festive choral composition - in other words, a cantata, this is certainly not a symphony - also not a symphony with a choral finale, for the instrumental first movement is too short and not impressive enough to carry much symphonic weight - but as a prelude to a cantata it is perfectly suitable. Mendelssohn himself called Lobgesang a "universal hymn to the words of the last psalm: 'Everything that has breath, love the Lord'."
And to answer the question posed at the beginning: is it still worth listening to?, I can give a resounding "Yes!" I immensely enjoyed this unknown work by Mendelssohn, which I also heard for the first time.
Listen to: Radio Filharmonisch Orkest, Groot omroepkoor & soloists, conducted by Markus Stenz.
[Incorporates translated and edited text from the article about Lobgesang in the German-language Wikipedia]
L'Orfeo, written in 1607, is (almost) the oldest opera (dramma per musica) in the classical canon, and miraculously, after so many centuries, it is still (or rather: again) part of the repertoire. It marks an important turning point in the history of music and symbolizes the border between the Renaissance and the Baroque. The libretto by Alessandro Striggio, inspired by the legend of Orpheus as told by Ovid in his Metamorphoses and certain passages from Virgil's Georgics, tells the story of Orpheus' descent into Hades and his unsuccessful attempt to bring his dead bride Eurydice back to the world of the living. L'Orfeo makes use of all the resources known to the art of music at the time.
In the 1580s, a small group of Florentine artists, statesmen, writers, and musicians known as the Camerata decided to create a mixture of music and theater based on Greek drama. They actually had no idea what Greek drama sounded or looked like (something that remains a mystery), but they proposed a drama with a single vocal line supported by a simple accompaniment that would reproduce the rhythms of natural speech and emphasize the words: this became known as "recitar cantando" or recitative. The result was a simply sung, or rather declaimed, piece.
The first to write an opera in this vein was one Jacopo Peri, who composed Dafne in 1597 (now lost) and Eurydice in 1600, but the first great composer to write in the new genre was Claudio Monteverdi (1567-1643): his Orfeo (1607) is one of the earliest operatic works ever written, and certainly the earliest in the regular operatic repertoire. Moreover, it was a rather symbolic beginning, since the Greek hero Orpheus is the ideal operatic protagonist, a musician who enchants the gods with his singing in order to win back his dead wife Eurydice. The power of music! In Renaissance Neoplatonist philosophy, the figure of Orpheus (who undergoes a kind of resurrection) was also identified with Christ, giving the story an additional allegorical dimension.
Although Monteverdi followed precedent in making the music the servant of the text, he also realized that something more musically interesting was needed to hold attention than simple declamation, and so Orpheus' declamation often blossoms into songs with dancing rhythms and sophisticated instrumental accompaniment. Strong melodies are also found in the ritornelli, instrumental passages that punctuate the drama. Monteverdi was inspired not only by the experiments of Peri and others, but also by the ornate and dramatic tradition of Venetian sacred music, and even medieval mystery plays - and he combined these elements into a convincing whole. Nevertheless, the opera gives us a good idea of the simplicity and directness to which he aspired. And it also set a trend: the history of opera is a repetitive cycle of the gradual "corruption" of this ideal by an ever greater emphasis on purely musical and vocal beauty and the attempt to return to something like pure first principles.
Another characteristic of the operas of Monteverdi and his contemporaries was that he wrote in a courtly environment with private commissions. Monteverdi's employer was the court of the Gonzagas at Mantua in Lombardy, northern Italy. Orfeo was first seen and heard not in a theater, but in a private room in the Duke of Mantua's palace, before a small audience placed very close to the singers - a place that facilitated the intensity of the experience.
[Anselm Feuerbach - Orpheus und Eurydike - 1719]
In the classical version of the myth, Orpheus cannot resist the temptation to look at Eurydice, the condition for her return. When he looks back, he sees her disappear forever into the underworld. Embittered, he is later murdered by the Bacchantes and reunited with his beloved. This was the libretto at its first performance in 1607, but this dark ending may have been less suitable for a performance in the formal setting of a court in the early 17th century. Monteverdi and his librettist Striggio (court secretary of Mantua) chose a dramaturgically more spectacular but psychologically much more superficial solution when the opera was performed again in 1609, drawing on Hyginus' Astronomia: Apollo descends from heaven and takes his son Orpheus with him, where he is comforted by the image of Eurydice in the stars. (Things turn out even better in Christoph Willibald Gluck's 1762 opera Orfeo ed Euridice: Orpheus is about to commit suicide the moment Eurydice disappears into the underworld, but Amor stops him and unites the lovers, who then live together in Amor's world).
The opera is divided into five acts, as follows
Prologue Consists of an instrumental toccata and a vocal "La musica. The toccata is a virtuoso performance by Renaissance wind instruments such as: cornetto, sackbut and baroque trumpet. La musica" is a vocal performance of five verses and is an ode to the power of music.
Act I The wedding feast of the singer-musician Orpheus and Eurydice in the valley. Nymphs and shepherds dance and nymphs sing hymns to Hymenaeus, the god of marriage, to bring peace and happiness to the bride and groom. This is pastoral music.
Act II The celebration continues until a messenger informs Orpheus that Eurydice has died of a snakebite. After expressing his grief and disbelief ("You are dead, my life, and I am breathing?"), Orfeo declares his intention to descend to the underworld and persuade its ruler to allow Euridice to return to life. Otherwise, he says, "I will remain with you in the company of death. He leaves, and the chorus resumes its lament.
[Nymphs Listening To The Songs of Orpheus, by Charles François Jalabert.]
Act III Accompanied by Speranza (Hope), Orpheus reaches the underworld, where he is stopped by the border guard, the ferryman Charon. Orpheus begs Charon to let him enter the world of the dead, but Charon continues to refuse. However, when Orfeo picks up his lyre and plays, Charon is lulled to sleep. Seizing his chance, Orfeo steals the ferryman's boat and crosses the river into the underworld, while a chorus of spirits reflects that nature cannot defend itself against man: "He has tamed the sea with fragile wood and scorned the fury of the winds."
Act IV In the underworld, Proserpina, Queen of Hades, deeply moved by Orfeo's singing, asks King Pluto, her husband, to release Euridice. However, Pluto makes it a condition that Orpheus must not look back on his way out, or he will lose her forever: A single glance will condemn him to eternal loss. Orfeo enters, leading Euridice, singing confidently that he will rest on his wife's white bosom that day. But then a note of doubt creeps in: "Who will assure me that she will follow?" Finally, Orfeo looks around and immediately the image of Euridice begins to fade. She sings in despair: "Wilt thou lose me through too much love?" and disappears. Orfeo tries to follow her, but is pulled away by an invisible force. The chorus of spirits sings that Orfeo, having conquered Hades, has in turn been conquered by his passions.
Act V Back in the fields of Thrace, Orfeo has a long soliloquy in which he laments his loss, praises Euridice's beauty, and resolves that his heart will never again be pierced by Cupid's arrow (in the earlier version, this renunciation of women is the reason why the Bacchantes, wild, drunken women, decide to kill him). However, Apollo intervenes and takes Orpheus among the immortals. From heaven, he can see his beloved forever. A chorus of shepherds concludes that "he who sows in suffering will reap the fruit of every grace" before the opera ends.
Orfeo is an astonishing achievement for an art form still in its infancy!
Listen: Les Arts Florissants / Paul Agnew on France Musique. For this performance, Paul Agnew wanted to focus on the text and the music, and chose a particularly sober set. Alongside Agnew: Cyril Auvity as Orpheus, and a host of singers, many of them graduates of the Jardin des Voix (Les Arts Florissants' own academy) - not to mention the costume design by Alain Blanchot.
As official court composer of the Sun King, Louis XIV, Lully can be a bit pompous and fawning, lacking the sprightliness of Rameau, but a contemporary performance which treats certain old-fashioned elements with the necessary irony, and at the same time emphasizes the tragic moments, can still bring the lyrical heart of these ancient operas to vibrant life.
Rarely has a composer so dominated a cultural environment as Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632-87) dominated the French court. Through his friendship with the king, he managed to achieve almost complete control of the musical life of Paris and Versailles. In 1673 he also became the director of the royal
opera, which performed in the Palais-Royal. Between 1673 and 1687, he
produced a new opera almost yearly and fiercely protected his monopoly
over that new genre. He was immensely talented and wrote sprightly and energetic dance music which exerted a strong influence on European orchestral music. Much of his more serious music, including his operas, possessed a powerful stateliness. The elaborate, often fantastical plots of his operas (usually taken from Greek myths or Renaissance epics of chivalry) were combined with the examination of moral issues in such a way as to pay flattering tribute to the sagacity of the king for whom they were written.
[Armida Discovers the Sleeping Rinaldo by Nicolas Poussin (1629). Cupid restrains her from stabbing her enemy.]
Armide (1686) is a late work which stands as Lully's masterpiece. The libretto by Quinault, is based on a popular story from Jerusalem Delivered, the great chivalric poem by Torquato Tasso (1581), a largely mythified version of the First Crusade in which Christian knights, led by Godfrey of Bouillon, battle Muslims in order to take Jerusalem - subject matter which had a topical resonance to readers of the period when the Ottoman Empire was advancing through Eastern Europe. Sections from the story were used in works in other media all over Europe, especially in the period before the French Revolution and the Romantic movement, which provided alternative stories combining love, violence, and an exotic setting. One of the most characteristic literary devices in Tasso's poem is the emotional conundrum endured by characters torn between their heart and their duty; the depiction of love at odds with martial valor or honor is a central source of lyrical passion in the poem.
But back to Armide. The opera proper starts after a prologue in which Wisdom and Glory express their rivalry: in wartime Glory is supreme, but in peacetime (like now, under the Sun King) Wisdom rules. The female protagonist Armide (Armida) is a sorceress from Damascus (modeled amongst others on Circe in Homer) obsessed by the formidable Christian knight Renaud (Rinaldo), who seems resistant to her charms. Her uncle, Hidraoth, King of Damascus, begs that she turn from war to love, but she swears that she will only marry the conqueror of Renaud. In nearby countryside, Renaud is enchanted by demons sent by Armide and he sings about the beauty of his surroundings. She intends to kill him (and almost does so when she finds him sleeping) but she falls in love with him instead and takes
him away to a magical island where he becomes infatuated with her and
forgets the crusade. Recognizing that Renaud's love for her is reliant upon magic, and therefore not true love, Armide summons Hatred to help expunge her love, but then relents.
Two Christian knights and close companions of Renaud are sent to find their colleague. They are armed with magic weapons which enable them to resist spirits sent to seduce them. In Armide's enchanted palace Renaud and Armide sing of their love. Then the two knights arrive to find them in each other's arms, but with magical means they release him from her charms. Armide fruitlessly implores Renaud to stay with her - but he leaves to return to his duty and the war... The heartbroken Armide rages with mounting desperation before summoning demons who destroy her palace.
[Rinaldo and Armida in her garden, by François Boucher]
This is a plot similar to Purcell's Dido and Aeneas: a noble warrior is unmanned by love until duty prevails and the joys of the flesh are abandoned. That Lully turns this into such a compelling drama is a tribute to his flexible vocal writing, which generates a powerful dramatic momentum. His recitatives are never far away from the rhythms of normal speech and even the more elaborate airs do not stop the action in the manner of an Italian operatic aria. Lully's music is known for its power, liveliness in its fast movements and its deep emotional character in its slower movements. The influence of Lully's music produced a radical revolution in the
style of the dances of the court itself. In the place of the slow and
stately movements which had prevailed until then, he introduced lively
ballets of rapid rhythm, often based on well-known dance types such as
gavottes, menuets, and sarabandes.
Lully is entitled to the credit of having invented the French Overture in the 1650s. Handel has acknowledged that he modeled his overtures from those of Lully, and Purcell derived many valuable hints from his works. Lully created French-style opera as a musical genre (tragédie lyrique). Concluding that Italian-style opera was inappropriate for the French language, he and his librettist, Philippe Quinault, a respected playwright, employed the same poetics that dramatists used for verse tragedies: the 12-syllable "alexandrine" and the 10-syllable "heroic" poetic lines of the spoken theater were used for the recitative of Lully's operas and were perceived by their contemporaries as creating a very "natural" effect. Airs, especially if they were based on dances, were by contrast set to lines of less than 8 syllables. Lully also forsook the Italian method of dividing musical numbers into separate recitatives and arias, choosing instead to combine and intermingle the two for dramatic effect. He and Quinault also opted for quicker story development, which was more to the taste of the French public. The intrigue of the plot always culminated in a vast tableau. Lully wrote 14 operas between 1673 and 1687.
I have seen the performance by Les Arts Florissants directed by William Christie on DVD. It is difficult to stage this cumbersome piece for a modern audience,
but William Christie surely has found a way to do that, by modernizing
and updating the story - a group of tourists visits the palace in
Versailles and then one of them has a dream in which he experiences the
whole opera. In Christie's version especially the protagonist Armide,
sung by a splendid Stéphanie d'Oustrac, is impressive and depicted with deep
psychological realism.
I was going to include Handel Messiah here, but decided against it - I have heard The Messiah countless times and wanted to listen to something new - and that became the Dettingen Te Deum. The Dettingen Te Deum is a brilliant example of how Handel could capture the tone for festive occasions as had never been done before (as in the Fireworks music). The exalted character of this official work is imparted through Handel’s use of timpani and trumpets. Gentler and more serious movements complement the work.
The Te Deum for the Victory at the Battle of Dettingen in D major is the fifth and last setting by George Frideric Handel of the 4th-century Ambrosian hymn. On 27 June 1743, the British army and its allies, under the command of King George II and Lord Stair, won a victory at the Battle of Dettingen over the French army, commanded by the Maréchal de Noailles and the Duc de Grammont. On the King's return a day of public thanksgiving was appointed, and Handel, at that time "Composer of the Musick to the Chapel Royal," was commissioned to write a Te Deum and an anthem ("The King Shall Rejoice") for the occasion. The work was composed between 17 and 29 July 1743 and was first performed on 27 November 1743 in the Chapel Royal of St James's Palace, London in the presence of George II.
The Dettingen Te Deum is not a Te Deum in the strict sense, but a grand martial panegyric. It contains eighteen short solos and choruses, mostly of a brilliant, martial character, the solos being divided between the alto, baritone, and bass. After a brief instrumental prelude, the work opens with the triumphant, jubilant chorus with trumpets and drums ("We praise Thee, O God"), containing also a short alto solo leading to a closing fugue.
The second number ("All the earth doth worship Thee") is also an alto solo with five-part chorus of the same general character. It is followed by a semi-chorus in three parts ("To Thee all Angels cry aloud"), plaintive in style, and leading to the full chorus ("To Thee, Cherubin and Seraphim"), which is majestic in its movement and rich in harmony. The fifth number is a quartet and chorus ("The glorious Company of the Apostles praise Thee"), dominated by the bass, with responses from the other parts, and is followed by a short, full chorus ("Thine honourable, true, and only Son"). The seventh number is a stirring bass solo with trumpets. A fanfare of trumpets introduces the next four numbers, all choruses. In this group the art of fugue and counterpoint is splendidly illustrated, but never to the sacrifice of brilliant effect, which is also heightened by the trumpets in the accompaniments. An impressive bass solo ("Vouchsafe, O Lord") intervenes, and then the trumpets sound the stately symphony to the final chorus ("O Lord, in Thee have I trusted"). It begins with a long alto solo with delicate oboe accompaniment that makes the effect very impressive when voices and instruments take up the phrase in a magnificent outburst of power and rich harmony, and carry it to the close.
Listen to: Händelfestspielorchester & Howard Arman. To mark the 250th anniversary of the death of George Frideric Handel, Howard Arman conducts a bombastic performance of the "Dettingen Te Deum" at the Marktkirche in Halle in the year 2009. Three choirs join forces accompanied by The English Concert and the Händelfestspielorchester – around 200 musicians perform in the chancel of this magnificent church.
[This text incorporates parts of the article Dettingen Te Deum in Wikipedia]
I am addicted to Vivaldi, so here is another of his bright and rhythmic choral works. Dixit Dominus is the Latin version of psalm 110: "The LORD says to my Lord: "Sit at my right hand until I make your enemies a footstool for your feet." The LORD will extend your mighty scepter from Zion; you will rule in the midst of your enemies." Although ‘my lord’, in the Christian interpretation becomes is a reference to the Messiah, so that the psalm can be understood as a celebration of the promised triumph of good over evil, the original meaning is of course what is literally stated. The Old Testament is full of wars and the god of Israel sometimes behaves like a war god, who helps topple the walls of yet another peaceful city. Happily, the text is sung in Latin, so it is easy to disregard it, and it is riveting music!
[Introduction to Vespers and beginning of the psalm "Dixit Dominus" in a Book of Hours]
Antonio Vivaldi composed in fact three settings of the Dixit Dominus including the present setting in ten movements (eight psalm verses and two movements for the doxology) for five soloists, double choir and orchestra, RV 594, in the bright key of D major to suit both the celebratory mood of the piece
and the prominence given to the trumpets. Its splendor is enhanced by
being set for a double choir. The first choir (Coro I) is accompanied by two oboes, two trumpets (with timpani), two violins, viola, organ and basso continuo, while the second choir (Coro II) is accompanied by strings, organ and continuo. In Vivaldi’s day Dixit Dominus was prescribed as the first of the psalms to be sung in the evening service known as ‘Vespers’, the most common service after the Mass. It is has been called one of his "most significant sacred works," on a par with the Gloria.
Listen to: Giulio Prandi - conductor
with the Ghislieri Choir & Consort Watch on Youtube.
Vivaldi is in the first place known as composer of concertos, but he left also an impressive catalogue of vocal music, among which about 50 religious works (and also 50 operas, of which the arias have been revived so beautifully by Cecilia Bartoli). For most of his life, Vivaldi worked in Venice at the Ospedale della Pietà, an orphanage for girls with a music school, as a priest, conductor, violinist and house composer.
Vivaldi set the Magnificat, Mary's hymn of praise from the Gospel of Luke, which is a regular part of Vespers services, to music several times. Vivaldi wrote the earliest version in G minor around 1715 for the Ospedale. In the 1720s he revised the work, among other things by rewriting the lower parts for male voices, and by using two oboes in addition to a string orchestra, which take on obbligato roles, especially in the penultimate movement. This version was given the number 610 in the RV catalogue. In it, Vivaldi did prescribe two choirs, sometimes singing separately, sometimes simultaneously, but always remaining in four-part harmony.
Vivaldi divided the Magnificat RV 610 into nine movements, eight for the text of the canticle (Luke 1:46-55) and the last movement for the doxology (Gloria Patri). The text is a hymn of praise which is sung by Mary after she learns that she will be the mother of Jesus. The work is in G minor and although it normally requires two soprano soloists, alto and tenor, in the below performance by Le Concert Spirituel the solo parts are performed by the chorus which only consists of women voices - as in Vivaldi's Ospedale.
Vivaldi interpreted the individual verses of the Canticle with varying musical material, but he kept the work concise and focused.
Listen to: Le Concert Spirituel o.l.v. Hervé Niquet (in this performance, the Magnificat is followed by Vivaldi's Lauda Jerusalem RV 609 and the Gloria per l’ospedale RV 589)
It is probably impossible to separate Wilde's Salome from the great opera Richard Strauss based on it. Isn't it better to enjoy the opera (as I did) and leave the play alone? On the other hand, in the opera the music is in the foreground and it is often impossible to understand the words - so I found it interesting to read the play as well - in its quieter atmosphere it brings its own rewards.
When Wilde began writing Salome in late 1891, he was well known as a writer and critic, but not yet established as a playwright. Lady Windermere's Fan had been completed but not staged, and his other West End successes, A Woman of No Importance, An Ideal Husband, and The Importance of Being Earnest, were yet to come. He had been considering the subject of Salome since his undergraduate days at Oxford, when Walter Pater introduced him to Flaubert's story Hérodias in 1877. Biographer Peter Raby notes that Wilde's interest was further stimulated by descriptions of Gustave Moreau's paintings of Salome in Joris-Karl Huysmans's À rebours and by Heinrich Heine's Atta Troll, Jules Laforgue's "Salomé" in Moralités Légendaires, and Stéphane Mallarmé's Hérodiade. (Salome was indeed a fin-de-siecle phenomenon!)
[Salome dancing before Herod, by Gustave Moreau]
In 1892, the already legendary French actress Sarah Bernhardt came to London, where she met Wilde and agreed to play the role. Wilde, who greatly admired the actress, accepted and rehearsals began. When the Lord Chamberlain, who was in charge of censorship, learned of this, he banned the production, citing an old law that biblical characters could not be portrayed on stage - and in Salome, John the Baptist (called Jokanaan) plays an important role. The ban on the play continued for a long time: the first production in England did not take place until October 5, 1931, at London's Savoy Theatre.
The English translation appeared in book form in 1894, with a cover design and ten illustrations by Aubrey Beardsley. The play was next successfully produced in France, where the world premiere took place in Paris in 1896, while Wilde was in prison. Germany and the United States soon followed.
[Salome with the head of Jokanaan, by Aubrey Beardsley]
The play went on to inspire several other artists. Most notably, Richard Strauss wrote the opera of the same name, using Wilde's text as the libretto in a translation by Hedwig Lachmann. The premiere took place in Dresden in 1905.
The legend of Salome comes from the Gospels of St. Matthew and St. Mark. Salome is the daughter of Herodias, who left her first husband and Salome's father to marry her husband's brother, Herod, King of Judea, because he was richer and more powerful. This marriage was considered illegal by contemporaries because Herodias' first husband was still alive; and because she had married her brother-in-law, it was also condemned as incestuous. One man who publicly criticized her was John the Baptist (Jokanaan), an ascetic and fierce moralist. He had been arrested and imprisoned by Herod, but the king was afraid to put him to death, as his wife Herodias demanded, because of John the Baptist's holiness and great popularity.
At Herod's birthday party, Salome is tempted to perform an erotic dance for her stepfather after being told that she can ask for anything she wants, even half of his kingdom. At her mother's instigation, she then demands the head of John the Baptist as her reward. A new element added by Wilde is that the sixteen-year-old Salome has a perverse attraction to John the Baptist. She shamelessly eroticizes the ascetic preacher's body and causes his execution when he spurns her affections. In the finale, Salome picks up John's severed head and kisses it, the height of decadence and necrophilia. Another new motif was that Wilde had Herod, already tired of Herodias, lust after Salome, his young stepdaughter and niece. When she dances naked for him, he is willing to give her anything she desires.
[Alice Guszalewicz as Salome in the Richard Strauss opera, c. 1910 (this photo has been misidentified as "Wilde in costume as Salome.")]
But in the end, when he sees her dancing with and even kissing the head of Jokanaan, Herod decides that Salome is monstrous and has her killed:
THE VOICE OF SALOMÉ
Ah! I have kissed thy mouth, Jokanaan, I have kissed thy mouth. There was a bitter taste on thy lips. Was it the taste of blood?... But perchance it is the taste of love.... They say that love hath a bitter taste.... But what of that? what of that? I have kissed thy mouth, Jokanaan.
[A moonbeam falls on Salomé covering her with light.]
HEROD
[Turning round and seeing Salomé.]
Kill that woman!
[The soldiers rush forward and crush beneath their shields Salomé, daughter of Herodias, Princess of Judæa.]
After Verdi, we stay in opera spheres. Puccini is the composer of popular operas, which are sometimes great, but also sometimes rather sentimental (for example "Che gelida manina" and the final scene from La Boheme). Despite that, I like his work much better than that of Verdi - it is more modern. To my surprise, he also wrote a traditional Mass in his younger years - and here we indeed already find the lyrical opera composer. Especially the Gloria is very positive and beautiful.
Giacomo Puccini's Messa or Messa a quattro voci (today more widely known under the apocryphal name of "Messa di Gloria") is a mass composed for orchestra and choir (SATB) with tenor and baritone soloists. Strictly speaking, the piece is a full Mass, not a true Messa di Gloria (which contains only the Kyrie and Gloria and omits the Credo, Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei).
Puccini was destined initially to be a composer of religious music as the scion of an ancient lineage of composing church musicians - but he became an opera composer. He wrote only one religious work, the Messa composed as a graduation project at the Istituto Musicale Pacini. The first performance took place in Lucca on July 12, 1880. The Credo had already been written and performed in 1878 and was originally intended by Puccini as an independent work. The complete manuscript of the Messa was never published by Puccini, and although the work was well received at its first performance, it was not performed again until 1952 (first in Chicago and then in Naples). He did, however, reuse material from it in other compositions. Music from the Agnus Dei was used in his opera Manon Lescaut and that from the Kyrie in Edgar.
If Puccini's contemporaries had any doubts that his musical future was to be in the theater, hearing his mass would surely have dispelled them. From the first notes, with the soaring, sweet, fugal elaborations of 'eleison' in the opening lines of the 'Kyrie', the chorus begins a dramatic celebration of the ritual accompanying the sacrament, which is sustained throughout its performance.
The 'Gloria' makes clear how the mass came to acquire its apocryphal title. A breathtaking tour de force of compelling excitement for choir, orchestra and audience, it takes up almost half the entire work - indeed, divided into nine separable parts, it constitutes almost a work in its own right for choir and tenor soloist.
Conceived initially as a self-contained work, the Credo has a similarly architectonic structure to the Gloria, though it is not quite as long. It opens with a forceful statement of 'Credo in unum Deo' which is linked to the following 'Patrem omnipotentem' and 'Qui propter' by a chromatic orchestral accompaniment in which woodwind play as important a part as did the brass in the Gloria. 'Et incarnatus' is scored operatically, in G major for tenor and chorus.
The Sanctus is somewhat perfunctory, no more than a simple liturgical statement. It moves to a smooth, confident baritone solo for the Benedictus before a final, choral hosanna. The closing Agnus Dei was used by Puccini in Manon Lescaut, where it is termed 'madrigale' and sung by a bored heroine as she performs her morning toilet. Its gentle pastoral character is sustained here by a lilting tenor solo. The final entry of the chorus comes with the triplets of the final plea of 'dona pacem', echoed by the orchestra in the closing bars of the work.
Until today, I had never heard of the English playwright Arthur Pinero (1855-1934), even though he wrote nearly 60 plays and was considered one of the foremost British playwrights, with his period of greatest fame falling in the 1890s and first decade of the 20th century.
Pinero's "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray" was the theatrical sensation of the London stage in 1893. It established Pinero as the leading English dramatist of serious social issues and made a star of the (then unknown) actress who played the title role. The play tells the story of the marriage of a "woman with a past" and how it fails because of the double standards of morality that Victorian society applied unequally and hypocritically to men and women.
[Arthur Wing Pinero]
The play opens with a late-night dinner between the respectable widower Mr. Tanqueray and some of his longtime professional friends. All are upper-class members of British society, and the friends are disturbed to learn of the impending second marriage of Aubrey Tanqueray (42) to Paula (27), a woman of "ill repute," or as the Victorians would put it, "a past. Modern readers must pause for a moment here, for it is easy to misunderstand. It doesn't mean that Paula is a reformed prostitute or anything like that, it just means that she had a few boyfriends and lived with one of them-something quite normal today. But the double standards of the 19th century wouldn't allow it. Paula also comes to visit later that evening, much to Tanqueray's surprise (for this also shows that she is a New Woman, as the term was used in the late 19th century), and she hands him a letter describing her past adventures. Tanqueray is a gentleman who wants a fresh start, so he throws the letter into the fire unread. But knowing how cruel society is, Tanqueray decides to move away from London to the countryside of Surrey, where he hopes to live a quiet life with his new wife.
Forget it. To begin with, rural society is even more hypocritical than the city, and disapproving neighbors ostracize the newlyweds. An even bigger problem is Aubrey's daughter Ellean, a priggish young woman who was raised in a convent after her mother's death and now comes to live with them. When the second act begins, a few months after the wedding, it is clear that the marriage has its problems. The Tanquerays are being shunned by their neighbors, and Ellean is distant from the second Mrs. Tanqueray, whom she doesn't accept as a new mother. All efforts to foster a bond between Ellean and Paula fail because Ellean remains cold. When the opportunity arises for Ellean to stay in Paris as the companion of an elderly neighborhood lady, Mrs. Cortelyon, Aubrey agrees in the hope that a temporary absence of Ellean will clear up the atmosphere. Of course, the opposite happens. Mrs. Cortelyon brings Ellean back earlier than expected, because while in Paris her companion fell in love with a young officer, Captain Hugh Ardale, and Ellean hopes that her father will allow her to become engaged to him. Unfortunately, stepmother and stepdaughter seem to have the same taste in men, for to her horror, Paula recognizes Hugh as a former lover with whom she once lived! Paula begs him to leave and confesses the truth to her husband. When Eilean learns why she can no longer marry Hugh, she denounces Paula.
And then something happens that ruins the play: the miserable Paula offers to give Aubrey his freedom, goes to her room and commits suicide... At this point, Pinero loses it. Having convincingly demonstrated that male promiscuity is condoned and the female version isn't, Pinero shows Mrs. Tanqueray behaving with an irrationality that seems completely out of character. It's as if the playwright, having raised a serious issue, wanted to satisfy his audience's desire for moral retribution - after all, in 19th-century literature, "promiscuous" women always had to die (Anna Karenina, Emma Bovary, Effi Briest, etc., etc.). Nevertheless, when the play was to be produced, many leading actresses refused to play the "scandalous" role of Paula, and such a play could not have been staged in England, say, five years earlier.
[Punch
cartoon showing Pinero's relief as the second Mrs Tanqueray (Mrs
Patrick Campbell) successfully leaps over a hurdle marked "Convention",
followed by George Alexander as Tanqueray]
All the same, The Second Mrs. Tanqueray was a sensational hit
when it premiered in 1893, and its theme of the hypocritical standards
held against women continue to resonate today - there are unfortunately
still many cultures in the world where women are treated just as
severely (or even much more severely) and unjustly as in Victorian
England.
19th century opera is not for me. I don't like the dramatic effusions of Verdi, Wagner, Donizetti and others from that all-too romantic century. Give me any time 18th century opera (Mozart, Handel, the opera arias of Vivaldi), or 20th century opera: Richard Strauss, Alban Berg, Korngold, Zemlinsky, Stravinsky, Shostakovich and many others (see my articles about 20th c. opera). So Verdi' is not an important presence for me and I was going to skip his Requiem, also because it is another big one with stormy music, and I have already included Berlioz. But then, it is one of the most famous choral works from the canon, "showing Verdi's genius in concentrated form" as the verdict is... so after all, let's listen to it!
Verdi's Requiem is of course pure opera. Throughout the work, he uses powerful rhythms, high-flown melodies and dramatic contrasts - as he did in his operas - to express the powerful feelings aroused by the text. The eerie (and instantly recognizable) "Dies Irae" with which the traditional sequence of Latin death rites begins is repeated throughout the work to achieve unity, which allows Verdi to explore the feelings of loss and worry, as well as the human longing for forgiveness and mercy that appear in the intervening sections of the Requiem.
Trumpets surround the stage to produce an inescapable call to Judgment in the "Tuba mirum" (the combination of quadruple fortissimo markings for the brass and chorus lead to very loud passages), and the oppressive atmosphere of the "Rex tremendae" creates a sense of unworthiness for the King of Great Majesty. Nevertheless, the well-known tenor solo "Ingemisco" radiates hope for the sinner asking for the Lord's mercy. Verdi arranged the duet "Qui me rendra ce mort? Ô funèbres abîmes!" from the fourth act of Don Carlos into the wonderful "Lacrymosa," which ends this sequence.
The joyous "Sanctus" (a complicated eight-part fugue written for double chorus) begins with a brass fanfare to announce Him "coming in the name of the Lord" and leads to an angelic "Agnus Dei" sung by the female soloists with the chorus. Finally comes the "Libera me," Verdi's earliest music in the Requiem. Here the soprano cries out, pleading "Deliver me, Lord, from eternal death ... when Thou comest to judge the world with fire."
What caused Verdi to switch from opera to choral church music? When Gioachino Rossini died in 1868, Verdi suggested that a number of Italian composers collaborate on the composition of a Requiem in honor of Rossini, and he began by submitting a "Libera me." During the next year, a Messa per Rossini was composed by 13 composers (the only one now known is Verdi himself). The premiere was scheduled for Bologna on the first anniversary of Rossini's death in 1869, but the performance was canceled and the piece fell into oblivion. In the meantime, Verdi continued to play his "Libera me," frustrated that the joint memorial Mass for Rossini would not be performed during his lifetime.
In May 1873, the Italian writer and nationalist Alessandro Manzoni, whom Verdi had admired throughout his adult life and whom he had met in 1868, died. Manzoni's novel I promessi sposi ("The Betrothed") in particular made an indelible impression on him. Manzoni fell down the stairs at a church in 1873, at the age of 88, and died several months later from the effects. As Verdi explained, he was so inconsolable that he felt unable to attend Manzoni's funeral. Several weeks later, he visited the grave in Milan alone. He then informed the Milan city council that he wanted to compose a Requiem in memory of Manzoni.
At that time, Verdi was 60 years old and at the height of his powers. He had just completed his opera Aïda; Otello and Falstaff were still ahead of him. Expectations were immediately very high, and the Milan city council authorized the performance of the work on the condition that the premiere be held in Milan on the first anniversary of Manzoni's death.
The Requiem was first performed at St. Mark's Church in Milan, under Verdi's direction on May 22, 1874. The church could not seat all the interested people so many stayed outside. The Messa da Requièm gained great acclaim in Italy and Europe. In Italy, the work became so popular that it was also performed in various arrangements. Critics were generally very positive. But some dared to be somewhat critical and did call the Requiem "very operatic" because the wild and sometimes very passionate music was not in keeping with the text which is actually based on the Roman-Latin Mass for the Dead. Verdi was not a practicing Roman Catholic and in reality was more of an agnostic and perhaps even a complete non-believer. The conductor Hans von Bülow called the Requiem "an opera disguised as an ecclesiastical work" in which he helped thicken the allegations some more. Francis Toye, a Verdi biographer, expressed that '... the Requiem is really not an ecclesiastical work but an elaboration by a master dramatist using the words of the liturgy to channel the composer's emotions.'
But the general opinion seems to be that Verdi's Requiem stands at the pinnacle of 19th c. church music, with amongst others, the Missa Solemnis by Beethoven. Am I convinced? Not so much... When it has to be a work with massive forces, and lots of drama, I much prefer the Requiem (and Te Deum) by Berlioz, who is a composer who really touches me with his beautiful French melodies, while Verdi leaves me unmoved...
There are Mahler-fans and Bruckner-fans. Both composers are in the first place known for their large symphonies, of which Mahler wrote 10 (11 with Das Lied von der Erde) and Bruckner including his unnumbered first trials also 11. I happen to belong to the first category of Mahler fans - I don't like Wagner and Bruckner smacks to much of Wagnerism; he is also squarely a 19th c. artist, while Mahler is more modern and is really a 20th century composer. Bruckner strikes me as somewhat provincial, while Mahler definitely is a sophisticated city dweller. But I also believe one should continue to broaden one's horizon and I therefore have included Bruckner's most famous choral work, the Mass in F minor, which became one of the most popular choral works of the romantic period.
Anton Bruckner was a devoutly religious man, and composed numerous sacred works, among these seven Masses and two requiems. The last mass he wrote, in F minor, is the most symphonic, with a large role for the orchestra, and seems more at home in the concert hall than a liturgical performance (it was refused by the Imperial Chapel for which it had originally been composed). It is monumental, life-affirming music, with a deeply ingrained religious mysticism. The Mass calls for soprano, contralto, tenor and bass soloists, mixed chorus, (optional) organ and a large orchestra.
The setting is divided into six movements.
1. "Kyrie eleison..." Moderato, common time, F minor
2. "Gloria in excelsis Deo..." Allegro, common time, C major "Qui tollis peccata mundi..." Andante, mehr Adagio (Sehr langsam), 3/4, D minor "Quoniam tu solus sanctus..." Tempo I, common time, C major "Amen, in gloria Dei patris..." Ziemlich langsam, cut time (alla breve)
3. "Credo in unum Deum..." Allegro, cut time, C major "Et incarnatus est..." Moderato misterioso, common time, E major "Crucifixus e tiam pro nobis..." Langsam, E-flat major - Largo "Et ressurrexit tertia die..." Allegro, common time, C major "Et in Spiritum sanctum..." Tempo I, cut time "Qui cum Patre et Filio..." Moderato, 3/4, G major "Et exspecto ressurrectionem..." Allegro, common time, C major "Et vitam venturi saeculi..." Etwas langsamer als anfangs (weil 4/4 Takt ist)
4. "Sanctus Dominus Deus Sabbaoth..." Moderato, common time, F major "Pleni sunt coeli et terra..." Allegro, 3/4
5. "Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini..." Allegro moderato, common time, A-flat major "Hosanna in excelsis..." Allegro, 3/4, F major
6. "Agnus Dei..." Andante, common time, F minor "Dona nobis pacem..." Moderato, F major
Right from the start of the “Kyrie”, we find grave beauty in the phrasing of
the descending four-note figure in fourths passed from the strings to
the choir to the bass and finally the soprano soloists. The setting is more symphonic than that of the Mass No. 1, with a larger contribution of the soloists. This is glorious, large-scale music.
The ‘Christe eleison’ which follows employs two main ideas: a falling
octave and a more lyrical phrase entrusted to the soprano soloist.
The opening lines of the “Gloria” and “Credo” are set to music sung by
the whole choir rather than being intoned in Gregorian mode by a
soloist, as in Bruckner's previous masses. The Gloria and Credo form the central core of the Mass. Both expansive movements are conceived in
the general terms of sonata form, with contrasting material, development
and reprise; and both finish with massive fugues - a classical feature. Both also encompass humanely reflective passages, notably the “Qui tollis” in the Gloria and the “Et incarnatus” in the Credo.
The shortest movement is the Sanctus, similar in mood to the ‘Christe
eleison’ of the Kyrie and making use of the falling octave. The “Benedictus” is among the most beautiful, romantic and indeed Mahlerian of Bruckner’s conceits.Its second melody, introduced by the bass soloist, is quoted in the Adagio of the Bruckner's second symphony and may well have influenced Mahler when he was working on his fourth.
The Agnus Dei draws freely on earlier material, recalling the main ideas in the Kyrie and the fugue subject from the Gloria which now carries the words ‘dona nobis pacem’. In the last two bars a single oboe, accompanied by pianissimo strings, plays a major-key version of the motif with which the whole work began.
As was his wont, after its first completion in 1868, Bruckner continued to polish the work - only the vocal parts were largely left as they were. It is often remarked that the Mass in F minor may have been influenced by Schubert's late Mass No. 5 in A flat major and Mass No. 6 in E flat major.
Listen to: Herbert Blomstedt, conductor; Angela Maria Blasi, soprano; Cornelia Kallisch, alto; Herbert Lippert, tenor; Franz-Josef Selig, bass; Dänischer Rundfunkchor; NDR Chor; NDR Elbphilharmonie Orchestra in a registration by the German TV.
The Schicksalslied (Song of fate) is a short powerful composition for chorus and orchestra written by Johannes Brahms between 1868 and 1871, based on Friedrich Hölderlin's poem "Hyperions Schicksalslied," originally part of the novel Hyperion.
Brahms discovered the text in a book owned by his friend Albert Dietrich. Although he immediately began sketches for the song, it then took him a long time to work out the structure of the piece. The poem has only three stanzas, the first two describing the bliss of the gods and the last one the suffering of mankind, "plunging blindly into the abyss." Brahms initially wanted to create a three-part work, with a reprise of the first stanza. However, he felt that in doing so he would go too much against Hölderlin's original, more tragic vision. The work does return to the music of the first strophe in the coda, but only instrumentally, without the text. The piece was premiered in Karlsruhe on October 18, 1871, conducted by Johannes Brahms himself.
Here is the German text of the three stanzas:
Ihr wandelt droben im Licht Auf weichem Boden, selige Genien! Glänzende Götterlüfte Rühren euch leicht, Wie die Finger der Künstlerin Heilige Saiten.
Schicksallos, wie der schlafende Säugling, atmen die Himmlischen; Keusch bewahrt In bescheidener Knospe, Blühet ewig Ihnen der Geist, Und die seligen Augen Blicken in stiller Ewiger Klarheit.
Doch uns ist gegeben, Auf keiner Stätte zu ruhn, Es schwinden, es fallen Die leidenden Menschen Blindlings von einer Stunde zur andern, Wie Wasser von Klippe Zu Klippe geworfen, Jahr lang ins Ungewisse hinab.
In its dualistic structure, the poem separates the realm of divine ideality in the first two stanzas from the cruel reality of man in the final stanza. Already in the epics attributed to Homer - especially the Odyssey - the fundamental differences between the serene, carefree, and eternal life of the gods and the toilsome and limited existence of humans are repeatedly illuminated. The Odyssey depicts the sorrowful and perilous journey of Odysseus during his ten-year journey home to Ithaca. In the sixth canto of the translation by Johann Heinrich Voß, praised by Friedrich Schiller, the "high Olympos, the eternal abode of the gods" is mentioned. This sphere is "never shaken by hurricanes, never flooded by rain / Never besieged by snow, the cloudless brightness / reigns calmly around and covers it with shimmering splendor: / There rejoices eternally the host of the blessed gods."
Brahms drastically emphasizes the contrast between the two worlds through rhythmic and dynamic means, although he also lets his work end on a consoling note and thus seems to distance himself from the hopelessness of the last stanza.
Listen to: Radio Filharmonisch Orkest & Groot Omroepkoor conducted by Karina Canellakis.
When the play starts, the 16-year old Romeo is already suffering from an extreme bout of love sickness - but for one Rosaline, as he still has to meet his Juliet. Apparently, he is a serial and obsessive lover, a hot-headed teenager who would profit from frequent cold baths. Instead, he gatecrashes a party at the Capulets, a family with which his own house of Montague is locked in mortal enmity. There he falls head over heels in love with the 13-year old daughter of the family, Juliet. After the ball, in what is now famously known as the "balcony scene", Romeo sneaks into the Capulet orchard and overhears Juliet at her window vowing her love to him in spite of her family's hatred of the Montagues. The next afternoon they are already secretly married by Friar Laurence, who, hoping to end the feud between the Montagues and the Capulets, disregards their very young ages and lack of parental consent. Such a priest is not an asset for the Church. Of course, nothing good comes of this hasty union...
[Juliet, by John William Waterhouse (1898)]
I shouldn't be so cynical - Romeo and Juliet is the archetypal love story in the Western tradition and was, with Hamlet, Shakespeare's most popular play during his lifetime (and probably still is today). This type of tragic love story goes back to antiquity: in "Pyramus and Thisbe," from Ovid's Metamorphoses, the lovers' parents also despise each other, and Pyramus falsely believes his lover Thisbe is dead (eaten by a lion...) after which he kills himself with his sword. From there, a thick trail of bread crumbs leads via Dante, Da Porto and Bandello to Shakespeare.
The theme of fate looms large, but in this early Shakespeare play it is not set up according to the classical rules of drama: when skillfully used, tragedy must occur because of some character flaw, not a mere accident of fate, as here. Things start going wrong when Romeo refuses to fight a duel against Tybalt, Juliette's cousin, who has insulted him. His friend Mercutio then takes his place and is killed. Romeo then kills Tybalt to avenge Mercutio. As a result he is banished from Verona, under penalty of death.
Before leaving town, Romeo secretly spends the night in Juliet's chamber, where the teenagers consummate their marriage. But Juliet's father has decided that she must marry her long-time suitor Count Paris (he of course is ignorant of the fact of his daughter's secret marriage), and doesn't allow that already agreed-upon union to be delayed. Friar Laurence (who always makes things worse) offers Juliet a potion that will put her into a deathlike coma for 42 hours - this will help her escape from the marriage. On the night before the wedding to Paris, she takes the drug and, when discovered apparently dead, she is laid in the family crypt.
Romeo should have been notified about this trick, but the messenger misses him. Heartbroken when the news of Juliet's death reaches his ears, Romeo buys poison from an apothecary and goes to the Capulet crypt. He encounters Paris who has come to mourn Juliet privately, and in the ensuing fight, Romeo kills Paris. Still believing Juliet to be dead, he drinks the poison. Juliet then awakens and, discovering that Romeo is dead, stabs herself with his dagger and joins him in the underworld.
After this terrible ordeal, the families are finally reconciled and agree to end their violent feud. The play ends with the lines: "For never was a story of more woe / Than this of Juliet and her Romeo." But wasn't it just because of hastiness and bad advice? After all, I now for the first time realized that Romeo and Juliet were in fact still almost children... it is their extreme youth that gives gives the tragedy much of its force.
(Shakespeare himself married when he was 18, but such a young age was an exception. In some noble houses marriages were contracted at a young age, for reasons of property and family alliance (Juliet and Count Paris), but in fact the average age of marriage was quite old - for the Elizabethan and Jacobean eras it was 27. Young love in fact had to be kept in check as it could leave the lovers without subsistence or inheritance.)
[Balcony scene of Romeo and Juliet by Frank Dicksee (1884) - the lovers in this painting are much older than those in the play]
At least 24 operas were based on the play, and numerous symphonic works. The most interesting work is Roméo et Juliette,
a "symphonie dramatique" by Berlioz, a large-scale work for mixed voices, chorus, and orchestra, which premiered in 1839. Romeo
and Juliet is also one of Shakespeare's most-illustrated works. It is
possibly also the most-filmed play of all time - I like the adaptation
by Franco Zeffirelli (1968). Many other books, films and plays were
inspired by Shakespeare, such as West Side Story by Leonard Bernstein. The story of the star-crossed lovers gave rise to a whole industry.
Text of the play at Project Gutenberg. I have read Romeo and Juliet in the edition of The Arden Shakespeare.
A requiem is commonly understood to be the liturgy of the requiem mass of the Catholic Church for the commemoration of the dead. Brahms, who grew up in the Lutheran city of Hamburg, did not base his selection of texts on the traditional canon of the requiem as a mass for the dead, but rather chose from texts of the Old and New Testaments in the Luther version of the Bible primarily those that focus on the consolation of the bereaved. Brahms did not conceive of his German Requiem as funeral music, but rather as music for "those who mourn," i.e., as music for the living, carried by seriousness, dignity, and confidence. For this reason, the structure of the work - especially the instrumentation - can be described as an oratorio, even if the dramatic component is missing.
Ein Deutsches Requiem is not mournful music. The central idea of the work is not the eternal repose of the deceased, but above all the consolation of those who bear the suffering. Thus, Brahms' Requiem begins with the text "Blessed are they who mourn, for they shall be comforted" (Matthew 5:4), while the traditional Latin Requiem Mass begins with "Requiem eternam dona eis, Domine" ("Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord").
Brahms deliberately omitted Christian dogma. When someone expressed concern about this, Brahms refused to add any text that would refer to "the Lord's redemptive death.
There is some speculation about the motivation for this work, but it seems unnecessary to me. The finished work was dedicated to Robert Schumann, Brahms' mother, and "all of humanity. Brahms had a deep and close relationship with Clara and Robert Schumann, and it was a shock to Brahms when Robert Schumann attempted suicide by jumping into the icy Rhine River in the winter of 1854. Brahms was devastated by the illness and death of his friend and mentor. The death of Brahms' mother in 1865 was another significant event.
Ein Deutsches Requiem was composed between 1865 and 1868. In its final version, it consists of seven movements. The inclusion of Movement V creates a symmetrical structure around Movement IV, which describes the "beautiful dwellings of the Lord." Movements I and VII begin with "Blessed are...", movement I being taken from the Beatitudes of the Sermon on the Mount and movement VII from the Book of Revelation. Musically, too, these two - mostly restrained - movements are related. Movements II and VI are dramatically conceived, movement II emphasizing transience ("For all flesh is as grass"), movement VI the resurrection ("Behold, I tell you a mystery"). Movements III and V begin with a solo voice. In movement III, the baritone pleads ("Lord, teach me"), and the chorus repeats the text several times in a generalized manner. In movement V, however, the soprano and chorus sing different texts, "You have sadness" versus "I will comfort you." Throughout the work, unlike in baroque oratorios, the soloists do not sing arias, but are part of the overall architecture. Nearly all of the movements, with the exception of IV and VII, are based on a sequence of several biblical words, each of which leads meaningfully from sorrow and mourning to consolation. The last word, like the first, is "blessed."
Brahms composed the libretto himself. The "German" in the title refers primarily to the language rather than the intended audience. Brahms told Carl Martin Reinthaler, director of music at the Bremen Cathedral, that he would have liked to call the work "Ein menschliches Requiem" (A Human Requiem).
In this work, Brahms changed the purpose of the requiem. Instead of a mass for the dead, he shows the way for humanity. Instead of fearing sin, God's wrath, and the Last Judgment, he conveys the message of love and immortality. Thus his work begins and ends with words of consolation.
Listen to: The Norwegian Soloists' Choir (Det Norske Solistkor), Ensemble Allegria, The Norwegian Wind Ensemble (Det Norske Blåseensemble), Markus Eiche (baryton), Camilla Tilling (soprano) and conductor Grete Pedersen.
Rossini's Petite Messe Solenelle, is neither "petite" at more than 80 minutes, not very "solenelle," for this is after all Rossini - his mass setting sometimes sounds a bit like opera buffa. But at age 72 Rossini was entire sincere - this is a heartfelt religious work. When he finished the score, Rossini wrote: ‘Dear Lord, here it is finished, this poor little mass. Have I just
written sacred music, or rather, sacrilegious music? I was born for
opera buffa, as you well know. Not much technique, a little bit of
heart, that’s all. Blessings to you and grant me Paradise.’
Rossini spent the past years of his life in Paris, partly a flat in the rue de la Chaussée-d'Antin, a smart central area, and partly in a neo-classical villa built for him in Passy, a commune now absorbed into the city, but then semi-rural. He and his wife established a salon that became internationally famous. The first of their Saturday evening gatherings – the samedi soirs – was held in December 1858, and the last, two months before he died in 1868. These musical salons were regularly attended by musicians and the artistic and
fashionable circles of Paris, for which Rossini wrote the entertaining pieces
Péchés de vieillesse. But these pieces were not generally intended for public performance, and he did not usually put dates of composition on the manuscripts. His last work, and in fact one of his major works, was the surprising Petite Messe Solenelle.
This is music full of drama, pathos, color and intensity. Rossini’s Petite Messe was written not for a church, but for private performance to a select audience assembled in the lavishly furnished salon of his Paris residence. That is why Rossini wrote it for a small chamber chorus and soloists accompanied by two pianos and, of all things, a harmonium. Later, Rossini also made an orchestral version, but it is really most effective in its original chamber setting.
The sheer variety of movements is extraordinary, ranging from a desolate
‘Crucifixus’, ecstatic solos, sublime duets and dramatic trios, a
hair-raising ‘Et resurrexit’, as powerful an ‘Agnus Dei’ as any of the
era, to two examples of the form of which Rossini was the
undisputed master, the fugue.
Like everything Rossini wrote the Petite Messe is bursting with attractive melodies, operatic flourishes, and deep feeling. It is an addictive pleasure.
The below performance restores this remarkable ‘old master’ to its original state, stripping the Petite Messe back to its original scoring. Instead of the inflated forces to which this work has often been treated in the past, it returns it to performance with the twelve voices for which Rossini scored it in 1864, together with an accompaniment of two pianos and a harmonium.
Listen to: Groot Omroepkoor conducted by Leonardo Garcia Alarcón, in a registration by the Dutch television.
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