GADE.
Niels W. Gade was born at Copenhagen, Oct. 22, 1817. His father was a musical-instrument maker and intrusted his early education to the Danish masters Wershall, Berggren, and Weyse. He made such good progress that he soon entered the royal orchestra of that city as a violinist and began to be known as a composer. His first important work, the overture “Nachklänge von Ossian,” obtained a prize from the Copenhagen Musical Union and also secured for him the favor of the King, who provided him with the means for making a foreign journey. Prior to starting he sent a copy of a symphony to Mendelssohn, which met with the latter’s enthusiastic approval. He arrived at Leipsic in 1843, and after producing his first symphony with success, travelled through Italy, returning to Leipsic in 1844, where during the winter of that year he conducted the Gewandhaus concerts in the place of Mendelssohn, who was absent in Berlin. In the season of 1845-46 he assisted Mendelssohn in the same concerts, and after the latter’s death became the principal director, a post which he held until 1848, when he returned to Copenhagen and took a position as organist, and also conducted the concerts of the Musical Union. In 1861 he was appointed Hofcapellmeister, and was honored with the title of Professor of Music. Since that time he has devoted himself to composition, and has produced many excellent works, especially for festivals in England and elsewhere. Among them are the cantatas “Comala,” “Spring Fantasie,” “The Erl King’s Daughter,” “The Holy Night,” “Spring’s Message,” “The Crusaders,” and “Zion;” the overtures “In the Highlands,” “Hamlet,” and “Michael Angelo;” seven symphonies, and a large number of songs and piano pieces, as well as chamber-music compositions.
Comala.
“Comala,” one of the earliest of Gade’s larger vocal works, was first produced at Leipsic in March, 1843. Its subject is taken from Ossian, and relates the tragedy of “Comala,” daughter of Sarno, King of Innistore, who had conceived a violent passion for Fingal, King of Morven. Her love is returned by the warrior, and disguised as a youth the princess follows him on his expedition against Caracul, King of Lochlin. On the day of the battle Fingal places her on a height, near the shore of the Carun, whence she can overlook the fight, and promises her if victorious that he will return at evening. Comala, though filled with strange forebodings, hopefully waits her royal lover’s coming. As the tedious hours pass on a fearful storm arises, and amid the howling of the blast the spirits of the fathers sweep by her on their way to the battlefield to conduct to their home the souls of the fallen,—the same majestic idea which Wagner uses with such consummate power in his weird ride of the Valkyries. Comala imagines that the battle has been lost, and overcome with grief falls to the ground and dies. The victorious Fingal returns as evening approaches, accompanied by the songs of his triumphant warriors, only to hear the tidings of Comala’s death from her weeping maidens. Sorrowing he orders the bards to chant her praises, and joining with her attendants to waft her departing soul “to the fathers’ dwelling” with farewell hymns.
The cantata is almost equally divided between male and female choruses, and these are the charm of the work. Many of the songs of Comala and her maids are in graceful ballad form, fresh in their melody, and marked by that peculiar refinement which characterizes all of Gade’s music. The parting duet between Fingal and Comala is very beautiful, but the principal interest centres in the choruses. Those of the bards and warriors are very stately in their style and abound in dramatic power, particularly the one accompanying the triumphal return of Fingal. The chorus of spirits is very impressive, and in some passages almost supernatural. The female choruses, on the other hand, are graceful, tender, and pathetic; the final full chorus, in which the bards and maidens commend the soul of Comala to “the fathers’ dwelling,” has rarely been surpassed in beauty or pathos. The music of the cantata is in keeping with the stately grandeur and richly-hued tones of the Ossianic poem. The poetry and music of the North are happily wedded.
Spring Fantasie.
Though the “Spring Fantasie” is in undoubted cantata form, Gade designates it as a “Concertstück;” that is, a musical composition in which the instrumental parts are essential to its complete unity. Its origin is unquestionably to be found in the idea of Beethoven’s “Choral Fantasie,” which was subsequently developed in the choral symphony on a still larger and grander scale. The instrumental elements of the “Spring Fantasie” are unquestionably the most prominent. They do not play the subordinate part of accompaniment, but really enunciate the ideas of the poem, which are still further illustrated by the voices, acting as the interpreters of the meaning of the instrumentation.
The “Fantasie” was written in 1850, its subject being a poem by Edmund Lobedanz, which of itself might appropriately be called a fantasy. The work consists of four movements, for four solo voices, orchestra, and piano-forte. The prominence which Gade has given to the instrumental parts is shown by his characterizing the movements,—I. Allegro moderato e sostenuto; II. Allegro molto e con fuoco; III. Allegro vivace. The poem in the original is one of more than ordinary excellence. The translation in most common use is one made by Mrs. Vander Weyde for a performance of the work in London in 1878 at the Royal Normal College and Academy of Music for the Blind, under the direction of Herr von Bülow.
The first movement is in the nature of an invocation to spring, in which the longing for May and its flowers is very tenderly expressed. The second movement depicts with great vigor the return of the wintry storms, the raging of the torrents, the gradual rolling away of the clouds, the approach of more genial breezes, and the rising of the star, typifying “the joy of a fair maiden’s love.” The closing movement is full of rejoicing that the spring has come. Voices and instruments share alike in the jubilation:—
“For the spring-time has come, the May is here,
On hill and in vale all is full of delight.
How sweet is the spring-time, how lovely and bright,—
Its kingdom is over us all.”
The Erl King’s Daughter.
“The Erl King’s Daughter” was written in 1852. Its story differs from that told in Goethe’s famous poem, and set to music equally famous by Schubert in his familiar song. In Goethe’s poem the father rides through the night clasping his boy and followed by the Erl King and his daughters, who entice the child unseen by the parent. In vain he assures him that the Erl King’s voice is but the “sad wind sighing through the withered leaves,” that his train is but the mist, and that his daughters are the aged gray willows deceiving his sight. The boy at first is charmed with the apparition, but cries in mortal terror as the Erl King seizes him, while the father gallops at last into the courtyard, only to find his child dead in his arms.
In the poem used by Gade it is the Erl King’s daughter who tempts a knight to his death. The prologue relates that Sir Oluf at eve stayed his steed and rested beneath the alders by the brook, where he was visited by two of the daughters, one of whom caressed him while the other invited him to join their revels. At sound of the cock-crow, however, they disappeared. It was the eve of Sir Oluf’s wedding day. He arrives home in a distraught condition, and in spite of his mother’s appeals decides to return to the alder grove in quest of the beauties who had bewitched him. He finds the alder-maids dancing in the moonlight, singing and beckoning him to join them. One of the fairest tempts him with a silken gown for the bride and silver armor for himself. When he refuses to dance with her, she seizes him by the arm and predicts his death on the morrow morning. “Ride home to your bride in robe of red,” she cries as he hastens away. In the morning the mother anxiously waits his coming, and at last beholds him riding desperately through “the waving corn.” He has lost his shield and helmet, and blood drips from his stirrups. As he draws rein at the door of the castle he drops dead from his saddle. A brief epilogue points the moral of the story in quaint fashion. It is to the effect that knights who will on horseback ride should not like Oluf stay in elfin groves with elfin maidens till morning. It is unnecessary to specify the numbers in detail; as with the exception of the melodramatic finale, where the music becomes quite vigorous, it is all of the same graceful, flowing, melodic character, and needs no key to explain it to the hearer.
The Crusaders.
“The Crusaders” is one of the most powerful as well as beautiful of modern cantatas. It was written for performance in Copenhagen in 1866, and ten years later was produced at the Birmingham Festival, under the composer’s direction. It is divided into three parts, and its story may be told in a word. Its theme is the same as that which Wagner has treated in “Lohengrin” and in “Tännhauser,”—the conflict of the human soul with the powers of darkness, sensual beauty and sorcery, and its final triumph. It is the story of the temptation of Rinaldo d’Este, the bravest of the Crusaders, by Armida and her sirens, who at last calls upon the Queen of Spirits to aid them in their hopeless task, the thwarting of the powers of evil, and the final triumph before Jerusalem.
The first part opens with a chorus of pilgrims and women in the band of the Crusaders, expressive of the weariness and sufferings they have endured in their long wanderings, the end of which still appears so far away. As the beautiful music dies away, the inspiring summons of Peter the Hermit is heard, leading up to the Crusaders’ song,—a vigorous, war-like melody, full of manly hope and religious fervor. An evening prayer of pious longing and exalted devotion closes this part.
The second part is entitled “Armida,” and introduces the evil genius of the scene. A strange, mysterious orchestral prelude indicates the baneful magic of the sorcerer’s wiles. In a remarkably expressive aria, Armida deplores her weakness in trying to overcome the power of the cross. As she sees Rinaldo, who has left his tent to wander for a time in the night air, she calls to the spirits to obey her incantation:—
“Cause a palace grand to rise,
Let a sea before it glimmer.
In the walls of richest gold
Let the purest diamonds shimmer;
Round the fountains’ pearly rim,
Where bright the sunbeams are glancing,
Plashing low and murmuring sweet,
Set the merry wavelets dancing.
In yon hedge of roses where fairies rock in softest dreaming,
Fays and elfins bid appear, and sirens float in waters dreaming.
All around let music ring,
Fill the air with sweetest singing;
Lure them on with magic power,
To our midst all captive bringing.
Sing remembrance from their hearts,
Till they bow, my will fulfilling;
Make them every thought forego,
Every wish, save mine own, stilling.”
After another invocation of the spirits, the sirens appear, singing a sensuous melody (“I dip my white Breast in the soft-flowing Tide”). Then begins the temptation of the wandering Knight. He starts in surprise as he hears the voices rising from the waves, and again they chant their alluring song. They are followed by Armida, who appeals to him in a seductive strain (“O Rinaldo, come to never-ending Bliss”). The Knight joins with her in a duet of melodious beauty. He is about to yield to the temptation, when he hears in the distance the tones of the Crusaders’ song. He wavers in his resolution, Armida and the sirens appeal to him again, and again he turns as if he would follow them. The Crusaders’ song grows louder, and rouses the Knight from the spell which has been cast about him, and the scene closes with a beautifully concerted number, in which Rinaldo, Armida, the chorus of Crusaders and of sirens contend for the mastery. The fascination of the Crusaders’ song is the strongest. The cross triumphs over the sorceress, and in despair she sings,—
“Sink, scenes illusive, deep in dark abyss of doom!
The light of day is turned to blackest night of gloom.”
The third part, entitled “Jerusalem,” is religious in character, and mostly choral. In rapid succession follow the morning hymn with beautiful horn accompaniment, the march of the Pilgrims full of the highest exaltation, the hermit’s revelation of the Holy City to them, their joyous greeting to it, Rinaldo’s resolution to expiate his offence by his valor, the hermit’s last call to strife, their jubilant reply, and the final victory:—
“As our God wills it. Up, arouse thee!
Up! yon flag with hope endows thee.
Jerusalem! the goal is there.
We cry aloud, ‘Hosanna!’”
