Another cause of changes being necessary in the vocal part of many of the older classic writers, particularly of oratorio, is the frequently faulty syllabic accentuation. I have already mentioned this defect in the chapter on [Accent]. Handel, for instance, although living nearly all his life in England, never became quite master of its language; hence the numerous cases of the misplacing of syllables in his oratorios. This defect is also noticeable, but not in the same degree, in his Italian operas. The books of Elijah and St. Paul (Mendelssohn), and The Creation (Haydn), were originally written in German, and therefore suffer somewhat in this respect when the translated English version is given. This fault is also noticeable in the English versions of Bach’s Passion (St. Matthew), and Mendelssohn’s Psalm CXIV. In the first quoted of these two works, in the response for Double Chorus to the question, “Whether of the twain will ye that I release unto you?” the accent falls on the first syllable “Ba-rab-bas”; in the second of the two works (114th Psalm), the accent is placed on the last syllable, thus: “Hal-le-lu-jah.” Neither of these accentuations is in accordance with English custom.
A singer, therefore, is perfectly justified in rearranging the syllables in order that, as far as possible, the musical and verbal accents shall coincide. But there are rigorists, unaware of the usages and conventions previously spoken of, who are very severe in their judgment when any deviation is made from the printed score with which they follow the performance of classic works. Such severity is unmerited, because unjust. Although such persons sometimes inveigh against any and every change from the strict letter of the printed music—ignorant of the possibility, that only in this way can its spirit be respected—the changes in a multitude of cases are essential because due (1) to reverential deciphering of an obsolete musical notation, (2) to improvements in musical instruments, or (3) to the sanction and authority of the composer himself.
Sometimes it is an orchestral conductor who reproaches the solo singers with their want of respect for the composer, because he hears at times interpolations or changes which find no place in his own score. The singers are accused of “altering the composer,” of “taking liberties with the text.” And yet these very changes may be traditionally correct; they may be in accordance with rules and conditions prevalent at the time the music was written, and employed on account of a desire to interpret the composer’s own intentions, and not from mere vanity or caprice.
Nor are these necessary changes and departures from the printed scores of the classics confined to the vocal parts of the music composed by the old masters. As a matter of fact, the deviations which, in performance, are sometimes made from the printed edition of a musical composition, arise from a variety of causes.
One of these is the discrepancy that exists between various editions of the same work; and sometimes the confusion is complicated by different versions having been prepared by the composer himself. This is notably the case with Gluck’s Orphée, first written to an Italian libretto by Calzabigi and produced at Vienna. When Marie Antoinette called her former Viennese singing-master, Gluck, to Paris, she gave him an opportunity of displaying his genius by facilitating the production of his Iphigénie en Aulide at the Opéra, in 1774. Its enthusiastic reception recalled to the composer the like success which had attended the production of his Orfeo at Vienna. He immediately set to work to revise it for the Paris Opéra, and fit it to a new French text, the latter supplied him by Moline.[2]
But the title-rôle in the original Italian version was written for, and sung by, Guadagni, an artificial contralto (contralto musico). In its newer French dress the part was transposed and rearranged for the tenor Legros; who, judging from the extreme altitude of the tessitura employed, must have possessed either a haute-contre, or a very high light-tenor voice, and who may have employed the falsetto. This high tessitura, combined with the fact that the pitch has risen considerably since it was composed, renders the French version impracticable for tenors of the present day. Here are the concluding bars of the famous air as written in the original Italian version, and the same phrase as altered by Gluck, when produced in Paris.
(As originally written by Gluck for the Italian version, Vienna.)
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