"We will open our mouth in a parable;
We will utter dark sayings of old,
Which we have heard and known,
Which our fathers have told us;
We will not hide them from our children,
That the generation to come may know them,
Who shall declare them to their children.
This is a great mystery; but we speak concerning Christ and his Church."
The oratorio opens in the vineyard of Sulam as the Vine-dressers come forth to their labor. The orchestral part begins with the melody of the Vineyard Song ("We will take the Foxes"), and serves to introduce their chorus, a joyous pastoral ("Come, let us go forth into the Field"). As they disappear, the voice of the Beloved is heard singing a tender and passionate appeal beneath the Sulamite's lattice ("Rise up, rise up, my Love") as he urges her to join him, "For lo! the winter is past; the rain [202] is over and gone." Her reply follows from within her chamber, full of love and adoration, and closing with the Vineyard Song ("We will take the Foxes, the little Foxes that ravage the Vines"). She descends from her chamber and joins the Beloved, and their voices unite in a delightful duet ("Come, Beloved, into the Garden of Nuts"). Once more the chorus of the Vine-dressers is heard, and at its close, after an intermezzo descriptive of the joys of a spring morning, the scene changes to Lebanon. A short alto solo announces the coming of Solomon, and the pastoral music is followed by a brilliant and stately processional march, accompanied by chorus ("God save the King!"). Solomon beholds the Sulamite, and pours forth his admiration in a rapturous song ("Thou art lovely, O my Friend, as Thirza"). The Princes and Nobles also testify to their admiration of her beauty. A very dramatic scene ensues, in which the Beloved and the Sulamite seek to escape "out of the caves of the lion and from the haunt of the leopard." She is brought back by an elder, and again Solomon pleads his cause in a passionate declamation ("Unto my charger in Pharaoh's stud I would compare thee, O my friend"). She replies, "My Beloved is to me a nosegay of myrrh," and clings to her lover, who once more seeks to escape with her; whereupon she is seized and placed in one of the king's chariots, and the cavalcade moves off to the brilliant strains of the cortège music, accompanied by the chorus.
The second part, "Temptation," introduces us to Solomon's palace, where the Sulamite is alone, pining for her lover. The scene opens with the psalm, "The Lord is my Shepherd," set to a simple, charming melody, full of the spirit of devotion, but entirely disconnected with the general texture of the work. As the touching strain comes to an end, the Women of the court enter, insidiously plead the cause of Solomon, tempt her with his luxuries, and seek to shame her love for the Beloved. "Kings' daughters shall be among thine honorable women; thy clothing shall be of wrought gold; thou shalt be brought unto the king in raiment of needlework, with gladness and rejoicing shalt thou be brought and enter into the king's palace," sings one of the Women; but the Sulamite remains loyal, and only answers: "My Beloved pastures his flocks among the lilies. My Beloved is mine, and I am his." The temptation is interrupted by the procession of the ark passing in the street below to the glad acclaim of the people ("Make a joyful Noise unto the Lord, all ye Lands"), and a brilliant march. Successively the Maidens of Jerusalem with timbrels, the Elders, the Shepherds and Vine-dressers, the Soldiers, the Priests bearing the sacred vessels pass by, singing tributes of praise to the Lord; and as the Levites appear bearing the ark, and Solomon comes in sight with all his retinue, the entire chorus triumphantly repeat "God save the King!" The brilliant procession passes from view. The Women once more appeal to the Sulamite; but [204] she still loyally declares: "My Beloved pastures his flocks among the lilies; lo! Solomon in all his glory is not arrayed like one of these."
The third part, "Victory," opens with an orchestral prelude picturing the sleep of the Sulamite, with her women watching about her. The voice of the Beloved is heard without the chamber, "Open to me, my Sister, my Bride." It reaches her in a dream, and in fancy she replies to him, clothes herself, and searches for him in the streets; but when she accosts the watchmen, they are so rude that her fright awakes her. She is still a prisoner in the palace, and the Women about her announce the coming of Solomon. He pleads his cause in a passionate song ("Ere the Day cool and the Shadows flee away"); and she replies with another protestation of her constancy in the solo, "Lo! a Vineyard hath Solomon at Baal-hamon." The situation, which is very dramatic in its treatment, is heightened by a duet and by the mocking chorus of Women; but above them all still sings the brave Sulamite, "My Beloved is mine, and I am his."
The fourth part brings us back again to the vineyards of Sulam. It opens with a melancholy chorus of the Vine-dressers ("O Lord, be gracious unto us"), lamenting her absence. It is followed by a bass solo ("Thus saith the Lord") and a chorale in full broad harmony. At last the victorious Sulamite is seen coming up from the valley leaning on the arm of the Beloved. All join in a powerful and exultant chorus of gratitude and joy ("Sing, O [205] Heavens, and be joyful, O Earth"). A rapturous duet ensues between the Sulamite and the Beloved, and then all join in the spirited finale:--
"For the flame of Love is as fire,
Even the fire of God.
Many waters cannot quench it,
Neither can floods drown it.
Yea, Love is strong as death,
And unconquerable as the grave."
[206]
MENDELSSOHN.
Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy, the son of a Berlin banker, was born at Hamburg, Feb. 3, 1809, and, unlike almost all other composers, was reared in the lap of luxury. Every advantage which wealth could procure he enjoyed, with the result that he became highly educated in the other arts as well as in music. His teachers in music were Zelter and Ludwig Berger, and he made such progress that in his ninth year he appeared in public as a pianist in Berlin, and afterwards in Paris. The first of his compositions to attract general notice were the overture to Shakspeare's "Midsummer Night's Dream" and the little opera "The Marriage of Camacho," which were brought out in Berlin in 1827. After several concert tours, in which he met with great success, he resided for some time in Düsseldorf. In 1835 he went to Leipsic as director of the famous Gewandhaus concerts,--which are still given in that city. Two years later he married Cécile Jeanrenaud, the beautiful daughter of a minister of the Reformed Church in Frankfort, and [207] shortly afterwards went to Berlin as general director of church music. In 1843 he returned to his former post in Leipsic, and also took a position in the newly established Conservatory, where he spent the remainder of his days in company with his family, to whom he was closely attached. He has left a large and rich collection of musical works, which are favorites the world over. His three great oratorios are the "Hymn of Praise," catalogued as a symphony-cantata, "St. Paul," and "Elijah." The last is specially interesting, as it marked a new departure from the conventional forms of oratorio, and gave the widest scope to the dramatic elements,--to such a degree, in fact, that it might with propriety be styled a sacred opera. Besides these oratorios, his exquisite music to the "Midsummer Night's Dream," which is familiar the world over, and his stately dramatic music to "Antigone," he has left five symphonies, of which the "Scotch," the "Italian," and the "Reformation" are best known; four exquisite overtures, "Ruy Blas," "Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage," "Hebrides," and "Melusina;" the very dramatic cantata, "The Walpurgis Night;" a long list of beautiful songs for one or more voices; the incidental music to Racine's "Athalia;" a very large collection of sacred music, such as psalms, hymns, anthems, and cantatas; several beautiful trios and other specimens of chamber-music; and the lovely "Songs without Words," which are to be found upon almost every piano, the beauty and freshness of which time has not impaired. Mendelssohn [208] never wrote a grand opera, owing to his fastidiousness as to a libretto; though he finally obtained one from Geibel, on the subject of the "Loreley," which suited him. He had begun to write it, and had finished the finale to the first act, when death interrupted his work, Nov. 4, 1847. Mendelssohn was a man of remarkable beauty, and his character corresponded to his charm of person. He had a liberal education, was a man of broad culture, a clever artist, and a very skilful writer, as is shown by his volumes of letters from Italy and Switzerland. Possessed of these graces of mind and person, and having all the advantages that wealth could bestow, he lacked those incentives which in other composers have brought out the deepest, highest, and most majestic forms of musical expression. His music is a reflex of his life; grace, elegance, culture, and finish are its characteristics.