After the immortal nine of Beethoven, there is no Symphony more perfect in form than this, of charm more enduring, although we have the great one of the "heavenly length" in C by Schubert, and such noble ones by Schumann. But Mendelssohn has the advantage over Schumann in point of instrumentation and of general clearness (the importance of clearness was a mooted point between the two friends and mutual admirers).
Even more enjoyable in some respects is the "Italian" Symphony in A. It was written earlier than the so-called third, the "Scotch," and is commonly numbered the fourth. Both were well advanced before he left Rome. Its movements are finely contrasted. After the fresh, sunshiny, buoyant Allegro, calling up the blue, blue sky and boundless green of Italy,—brought out all the more vividly by the pensive Mendelssohnian subjectivity of the low-running staccato of the violins which sets in right after the announcement of the bright first theme,—how impressive is the sombre, solemn, antique-sounding, steady chant of reeds in the Andante, with the soft, warm gush of mingling flutes above! It is like passing from Italian noon-day into the rich gloom of some old church. The tranquil, blissful melody of the Minuet flows on in limpid, peaceful beauty; and the mellow horn Trio makes a delicious episode. In the Saltarello we feel the rush and whirl of Carnival, not without a dash of Mendelssohnian melancholy. The passage from that into the yet wilder Tarantella, with its whirling triplets, indicates the very abandon and delirium of excitement, whereas the former, by the hitch in the alternate triplet, denotes a dance in which the dancer still keeps some control upon himself.
MENDELSSOHN.
Painted by Th. Hildebrand. Engraved by E. Eichens.
This portrait was probably made in 1835, Mendelssohn being at that time in his twenty-sixth year.
The "Reformation Symphony" (No. 5) dates back almost to his juvenile period. It was written at the age of twenty-two. With the exception of one bright gem, the Scherzo, it seems to labor under the proverbial fatality of occasional works. As a Symphony it is exceptional in form, consisting really of only two parts, with a refreshing interlude between. The first part, in which the idea of the Old, the frowning Catholic faith, predominates, includes the Allegro with its short Andante prelude. The second part, the triumph of the New, with its curious variations on the Lutheran Choral, "Ein' feste Burg," has likewise its short Andante prelude, whose rather feeble prayer for peace it answers. Suppose a curtain dropped between the two parts, while for interlude and recreation we are vouchsafed that happy Scherzo.—But it is hardly fair to count this early effort into his symphonic period, any more than the Symphony "No. 1," in C minor, which bears date 1824.
From Symphony to Oratorio we have a noble bridge in the Symphony-Cantata "Lobgesang" or "Hymn of Praise." It is of later date, to be sure, than the oratorio St. Paul, and was composed to celebrate the invention of the art of printing, and to lend éclat to the inauguration of the statue of Guttenberg, at Leipsic, June 25, 1840. Many regard it as the most felicitous and most inspiring of his larger works, although prompted by an "occasion"! Praise and gratitude to God for LIGHT; the waiting and longing for it through the long darkness of the middle ages; then the break of day; the free career and joy of a redeemed humanity; and first and last and everywhere the Praise of God: such were the themes and promptings of Mendelssohn's heart and genius when he composed the Lobgesang. The three orchestral movements which prepare the chorus are essentially symphonic. From the first trombone proclamation of the pregnant choral motive, through the rapidly unfolding, fiery, complex Allegro; through the sweet, sad (almost over-sweet) tune (as of "the heart musing, while the fire burns," yet with a slight flutter) of the middle movement, Allegretto, and its alternations with the cheery, choral-like full chords of the wind; to the last deep-drawn sigh of the rich, soulful Adagio, it is pure symphony, all leading up to the superb outburst of the irrepressible chorus of Praise. Thenceforth we breathe the mountain air of oratorio. The work is too familiar to require description. Enough to note the innate strong dramatic tendency of Mendelssohn, as shown in the middle point and climax of the work, the thrilling scene beginning with the anxious Tenor recitative; "Watchman, will the night soon pass?" with fitful, wild accompaniment; the startling Soprano answer: "The night is departing," flooding all with instant light; and then the blazing outburst of full chorus, taking up the words in an exciting fugue.—It is surely an inspired, a master-work, both instrumentally and vocally.
Of his two great Oratorios proper,—the greatest certainly since Handel,—the one most esteemed among musicians is the earliest, St. Paul, produced in 1836. It shows the influence of Bach throughout, in the frequency of narrative recitative; in the use made of the Lutheran Choral; in the introduction of turbulent Jewish people's choruses (turbae); and in a generally dramatic conception and shaping of the whole. It stands between a Bach Passion, and the more epical Handel Oratorio. Depth of religious feeling and great dignity of style pervade the entire composition. The music is contrapuntal, never dry and pedantic. The overture is of quite a different character from his concert overtures; it is a solemn, contrapuntal, sacred prelude, with the old-school profundity, yet genial and interesting enough to serve as a good concert piece by itself. The orchestral resources throughout are carefully husbanded, after the way of Mendelssohn, to the great gain of true and clear effect, affording room for great variety of coloring. He relies on the intrinsic strength of his ideas, rather than on a noisy over-fulness of instrumentation.
The choruses range from grand, uplifting ones to others very lovely and tender; others mob-like and vindictive, like "Stone him to death"; again others of a vivid local coloring, like those in which the Gentile crowd worship Paul and Barnabas, "O be gracious, ye Immortals," etc., full of light-hearted, sensuous Greek adoration, of "oxen and garlands" and ear-tickling flutes. The arias are characteristic, heartfelt, deeply pious melodies. St. Paul is the oratorio which is most sure to gain, at every hearing, on a serious and truly music-loving listener.