Part 17 (2/2)

It is true that there are occasional moments when sympathetic and even moving music occurs, but it cannot be said they contained anything of lasting worth.

The oratorios have long pa.s.sed into desuetude. Perhaps the best of them is ”The Last Judgment,” which contains certain numbers that are still sung, and which shew Spohr in his happiest vein.

”THE REDEMPTION” AND ”THE GOLDEN LEGEND.”

Again, many years were to pa.s.s before the advent of another oratorio destined to arouse more than temporary interest or achieve any lasting fame. Many sacred works of the greatest importance and significance were produced, it is true, from time to time, but, so far as the common people are concerned, without the least visible effect.

Perhaps the most splendid of them was Dvorak's ”Stabat Mater.”

This work aroused the enthusiasm of musician and critic alike. Intense in feeling, original in thought and worthy of the n.o.ble Latin hymn it illuminated, it created, among those who were in the happy position of being able to fathom its splendid depths, an impression that time cannot efface.

It is rarely given in England, for the public who will hasten to hear the ”Messiah” are not, as yet, sufficiently advanced in musical education to understand a work of such cultured severity, and on so high a plane of musical expression.

To the people, as a body, music must be written on lines more obvious, and although of late there is every sign that sacred music of a more complex character is becoming increasingly appreciated and understood, that time had not arrived when the ”Stabat Mater” was produced in 1884.

The oratorio which, subsequent to the ”Elijah,” was destined to appeal most strongly to the people and make the most lasting effect, was Gounod's ”Redemption.” It was first given at the Birmingham festival in 1882, and the impression it produced was unmistakable. It was quite original in style, being built on lines differing essentially from any of its predecessors. Its atmosphere of mysticism, its religious transport, and strongly suggestive of Latin Catholicism, ”The Redemption” seemed the last work to appeal to the English people. Yet, so eclectic are their tastes and broad-minded their sympathies, that, recognizing its deep sincerity and appreciating its many beautiful melodies, they accepted it heartily, and for many years it was one of the most frequently performed oratorios.

It must be admitted, however, that it was not received in the same spirit by many critics, for it aroused a great deal of controversy and even bitterness. While many were willing to do justice to the obvious sincerity underlying the whole score and recognize the sterling value of much of the music, others refused with angry insistence to admit any merit in it whatever, calling it tawdry, vapid and unworthy of serious consideration. Some went still farther, and said that its influence was distinctly baneful.

Well, when the high priests of a cult differ, who is to decide?

Human thought is not cast in one mould. Brahms, in his German ”Requiem,”

gave expression in the n.o.blest manner, to the feelings and aspirations of German Protestantism.

Gounod, on the other hand, although less fully equipped from the point of view of musical science, voiced to the best of his powers, the devout enthusiasm of Catholic Christianity.

So far as England is concerned, there is no doubt that, of the two works, ”The Redemption” was by far the more popular.

”The Golden Legend,” although not strictly speaking, an oratorio, is written on lines so similar that it can be considered here with perfect propriety. The subject is a religious one, and is treated in that spirit of reverence that is a distinguis.h.i.+ng feature of oratorio, and which differentiates it from every other cla.s.s of work.

It was produced at the Leeds Festival of 1886, and achieved an extraordinary success, the scenes which took place on the occasion being quite reminiscent of those at Birmingham forty years before, when the ”Elijah” was first given. The work shews the composer, Arthur Sullivan, at his best. The story enabled him to give play to his strong dramatic sympathies, and he availed himself of the opportunity with splendid results.

The opening scene is not only powerful but picturesque as well, while the scene in which Satan is represented ridiculing the sacred hymn of the monks is really masterly.

The work, however, is too well-known to call for any lengthened description. Suffice it to say that it is more consistent than the majority of his larger compositions can be said to be, since it keeps on a high level plane throughout. In this respect his earlier dramatic cantata, ”The Martyr of Antioch,” while possessing some splendid numbers--among the finest he ever wrote--is strangely lacking.

He wrote only two avowed oratorios, ”The Prodigal Son” and ”The Light of the World,” but it cannot be said that they had anything more than a temporary success, and they certainly cannot compare with either ”The Golden Legend” or ”The Martyr of Antioch” in originality or effect. They contain music, no doubt, that many would like to have composed, but they are altogether lacking in that power which compels, and which these works undeniably possess.

The production of ”The Golden Legend” not only enhanced Sullivan's already great prestige, but marked him, without question, as the foremost British composer of the day. For years its popularity seemed to be quite inexhaustible, and if to-day there are found British composers working on a higher plane, and this cannot be questioned, there is, equally, no doubt that it not only marked an important stage in his own career, but in the reputation of England as a musical nation.

As an instance of the interest it aroused in the country, it may be mentioned that Sir Charles Halle, at whose Manchester concerts the appearance of works by British composers was, to say the least, infrequent, found it necessary, in order to meet the demands of his subscribers, to issue an announcement of its early production. He, further, invited Sir Arthur Sullivan to conduct it, and so great was the demand for seats that a second performance was found necessary to meet the call.

For many years oratorio has been the favourite medium of expression by British composers. To George Frederick Handel we must look for the origin of this evident fact. From the time of William Boyce, his contemporary, through the line of Samuel Wesley, Dr. Crotch and other distinguished British musicians, down to the mid-nineteenth century, we trace the progress, and over it all, is the fatal influence of imitation. Indeed, this feature became an obsession over their minds, to such a degree, that until quite recent years, students were taught in all the English schools of music to regard the technique of composition rather as the end in view, than as the medium by which they could express any original thought that might be in them. It is certain that even thirty years ago this was a definite and soul-destroying fact. Such prizes as were at the disposition of the schools of music, were invariably awarded to the student who displayed the greatest facility in ill.u.s.trating the rules of the pundit, rather than to the one who evinced any trace of original thinking.

Such a system of training could have but one effect, that of stultifying the efforts of the best talent the country could produce. It was left to the man of genius, who, conscious of his power, could kick over the traces of convention, and lead his followers on a path that opened up an avenue of original achievement, to put an end to this evil once and for ever.

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