The second part (Scene IV.) opens in north Germany and discloses Faust alone in his chamber, as in Gounod’s opera; he sings a soliloquy, setting forth his discontent with worldly happiness, and is about to drown his sorrow with poison, when he is interrupted by the Easter Hymn (“Christ is risen from the Dead”), a stately and jubilant six-part chorus, in the close of which he joins. As it comes to an end he continues his song (“Heavenly Tones, why seek me in the Dust?”), but is again interrupted by the sudden apparition of Mephistopheles, who mockingly sings, “Oh, pious Frame of Mind,” and entraps him in the compact. They disappear, and we next find them in Auerbach’s cellar in Leipsic, where the carousing students are singing a rollicking drinking-song (“O what Delight when Storm is crashing”). The drunken Brander is called upon for a song, and responds with a characteristic one (“There was a Rat in the Cellar Nest”), to which the irreverent students improvise a fugue on the word “Amen,” using a motive of the song. Mephistopheles compliments them on the fugue, and being challenged to give them an air trolls out the lusty lied, “There was a King once reigning, who had a big black Flea,” in the accompaniment of which Berlioz makes some very realistic effects. Amid the bravas of the drunken students they disappear again, and are next found in the flowery meadows of the Elbe, where Mephistopheles sings a most enchanting melody (“In this fair Bower”). Faust is lulled to slumber, and in his vision hears the chorus of the gnomes and sylphs (“Sleep, happy Faust”), a number of extraordinary beauty and fascinating charm. Its effect is still further heightened by the sylphs’ ballet in waltz time. As they gradually disappear, Faust wakes and relates to Mephistopheles his vision of the “angel in human form.” The latter promises to conduct him to her chamber, and they join a party of soldiers and students who will pass “before thy beauty’s dwelling.” The finale of the scene is composed of a stirring soldiers’ chorus (“Stoutly-walled Cities we fain would win”) and a characteristic students’ song in Latin (“Jam nox stellata”), at first sung separately and then combined with great skill.
The third part begins with a brief instrumental prelude, in which the drums and trumpets sound the tattoo, introducing a scene in Marguerite’s chamber, where Faust sings a passionate love-song (“Thou sweet Twilight, be welcome”), corresponding with the well-known “Salve dimora” in Gounod’s garden scene. At its close Mephistopheles warns him of the approach of Marguerite and conceals him behind a curtain. She enters, and in brief recitative tells her dream, in which she has seen the image of Faust, and discloses her love for him. Then while disrobing she sings the ballad “There was a King in Thule.” As its pathetic strains come to a close, the music suddenly changes and Mephistopheles in a characteristic strain summons the will-o’-the-wisps to bewilder the maiden. It is followed by their lovely and graceful minuet, in which Berlioz again displays his wonderful command of orchestral realism. It is followed by Mephistopheles’ serenade (“Why dost thou wait at the Door of thy Lover?”), with a choral accompaniment by the will-o’-the-wisps, interspersed with demoniac laughter. The last number is a trio (“Angel adored”) for Marguerite, Faust, and Mephistopheles, wonderfully expressive in its utterances of passion, and closing with a chorus of mockery which indicates the coming tragedy.
The fourth part opens with a very touching romance (“My Heart with Grief is heavy”), the familiar “Meine Ruh’ ist hin” of Goethe, sung by Marguerite, and the scene closes with the songs of the soldiers and students heard in the distance. In the next scene Faust sings a sombre and powerful invocation to Nature (“O boundless Nature, Spirit sublime”). Mephistopheles is seen scaling the rocks and in agitated recitative tells his companion the story of Marguerite’s crime and imprisonment. He bids him sign a scroll which will save him from the consequences of the deed, and Faust thus delivers himself over to the Evil One. Then begins the wild “Ride to Hell,” past the peasants praying at the cross, who flee in terror as they behold the riders, followed by horrible beasts, monstrous birds, and grinning, dancing skeletons, until at last they disappear in an abyss and are greeted by the chorus of the spirits of hell in a tempest of sound, which is literally a musical pandemonium (“Has! Irimiru Karabras,” etc.) in its discordant vocal strains and in the mighty dissonances and supernatural effects in the accompaniment. A brief epilogue, “On Earth,” follows, in which Faust’s doom is told, succeeded by a correspondingly brief one, “In Heaven,” in which the seraphim plead for Marguerite. The legend closes with “Marguerite’s Glorification,” a jubilant double chorus announcing her pardon and acceptance among the blest.
[16] This march, though the best known of all Hungarian airs, is liable to be confounded with others bearing the same name. It forms one of the group of national patriotic melodies called into existence by the heroism of the Transylvanian prince Franz Rákótzy, who at the beginning of the last century fought with rare valor, though little success, against the dominating power of Austria. Who composed it remains as unknown as the authorship of its less familiar companions; but though the origin of the tune, like that of so many others which nations cherish, is veiled in mystery, the march has enjoyed an enviable prominence. It was proscribed by the Austrian Government in the bad days when Hungary was treated as a conquered appanage of the Hapsburgs; its performance was a criminal act, and the possession of printed or written copies, if suspected, brought down domiciliary visits from the police.—Albert Hall Programmes, 1874.
BRAHMS.
Johannes Brahms, one of the most eminent of living German composers, was born at Hamburg, May 7, 1833. His father was a double-bass player in the orchestra in that city, and devoted his son at a very early age to his own profession. His first piano teacher was Cossell; but to Edward Marxsen, the royal music director, he owes his real success as a composer. Brahms remained in Hamburg until 1853, when he went upon a concert-tour with Reményí, the eccentric and somewhat sensational Hungarian, who has been a familiar figure upon the American concert-stage. He remained with him however but a very short time, for in October of that year they parted company. Brahms had attracted the notice of Liszt and Joachim, and it may have been through their advice that the musical partnership was dissolved. In any event, soon after leaving Reményí he went to Düsseldorf and visited Schumann, who announced him to the musical world in a very enthusiastic manner. The next year (1854) appeared his first works,—three sonatas, a trio and scherzo for piano, and three books of songs. After a visit to Liszt at Weimar he settled down as chorus-conductor and music-teacher at the court of Lippe-Detmold, where he remained a few years. After leaving Detmold he successively resided in Hamburg, Zürich, and Baden-Baden, though most of his time has been spent in Vienna, where he has directed the Singakademie and the concerts of the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde. Among his most famous compositions are a funeral hymn for chorus and wind-band; the “German Requiem;” “Triumphlied,” for double chorus and orchestra; “Schicksalslied,” for chorus and orchestra; six symphonies; variations on a theme of Haydn, for orchestra; the “Tragic” and “Academic” overtures; besides several trios, quartets, quintets, sextets, concertos, and sonatas.
Triumphlied.
“Triumphlied” (“Song of Triumph”) was written by Brahms in commemoration of the victories of German arms and the re-establishment of the Empire, and is dedicated to “the German Emperor Wilhelm I.” It was first performed at the fifty-first festival of the Lower Rhine at Cologne in 1873. The text is a paraphrase of certain verses in the nineteenth chapter of Revelation, and reads as follows:—
“Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Honor and power and glory to God!