Alcestis, Volume 1

Couverture
Smith, Elder & Company, 1873
 

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Page vii - Die wie ein Meteor verschwindet? Zeig mir die Frucht, die fault, eh man sie bricht, Und Baume, die sich taglich neu begriinen!
Page 278 - ... are by us ? and those of Scarlatti and the Padre Martini, from whom such gems of melody have come down to us ? Precious pedants, flesh and blood will not stand you ! Gluck's secret was to be natural It was many years later, in Paris, that the antagonism between the Piccinists and Gluckists was carried on; but in 1762, in Vienna, when Orfeo ed Eurydice was given for the first time, the enthusiasm of all Germany drowned the voices of the Italian masters and singers, who exclaimed against the barbarism...
Page 294 - They take their harps from the willows, and cry like the ancients, "our soul is escaped, as a bird from the snare of the fowler; the snare is broken, and we are escaped.
Page 277 - ... raised him above his conventional contemporaries. Perhaps Gluck had not more genius than the other composers of operas of his time, but why has he survived them ? Why does he still delight us, when even the giant Handel has ceased to live in his operas? Where are Hasse's astounding forty-and-nine, said to have been loved as our Rossini's are by us ? and those of Scarlatti and the Padre Martini, from whom such gems of melody have come down to us ? Precious pedants, flesh and blood will not stand...
Page 251 - His cousin had been greatly excited beforehand, for the tiny virtuoso had had a success at Court ; but Josquin had not shared his expectation. But as the child played some compositions of his own, he was reminded of his own childhood of promise in Paris, and found himself listening with filling eyes. The little player, he felt prophetically assured, had a great future before him, and he longed to embrace him, and rejoiced to think that he, too, had known as a child something of that intuition which...
Page 279 - Gluck's face, but the overture began ; he settled himself to listen with an effort — but iu another minute Josquin was absorbed ... .he was drinking in great music with all his might. . . . To our musician the fresh rush of instruments in the majestic allegro was a spell to break him away from himself, and the strong fresh overture prepared the hearers for the sublime story of the old Greek. " The curtain rose ; there was the tomb of Eurydice, dead, spite of her husband's mighty power ; shepherds...
Page 188 - ... I have already quoted, and in which, by-the-way, the author's opinion coincides with my own on the generally detrimental effect on the composition of great music of a life so full of minor obligations and distractions as was Haydn's. But here is its pleasanter side most agreeably described : — " In the beautiful September mornings, when the sunlight fell into the great music-hall on dancing marbles, wondrous landscapes from Holland, precious stuffs and flashing majolica wares, where the windows...
Page 278 - ... favourite with the Court, so that the theatre was filling with a gay crowd as our friends take their seats, and Josquin's eyes were roaming among the fashionable boxes to see the arrival of the Lichtenbergs, when a slight applause filled the house, greeting the arrival of the composer, who took his post at the harpsichord. He had missed seeing the great Gluck's face, but the overture began ; he settled himself to listen with an effort — but in another minute Josquin was absorbed . . . .he was...
Page 278 - ... was given for the first time, the enthusiasm of all Germany drowned the voices of the Italian masters and singers, who exclaimed against the barbarism of the new writing for the voice. Already Gluck was a favourite with the Court, so that the theatre was filling with a gay crowd as our friends take their seats, and Josquin's eyes were roaming among the fashionable boxes to see the arrival of the Lichtenbergs, when a slight applause filled the house, greeting the arrival of the composer, who took...
Page 280 - ... hearers for the sublime story of the old Greek. " The curtain rose ; there was the tomb of Eurydice, dead, spite of her husband's mighty power ; shepherds strewed with leaves and flowers, and Orpheus himself was stretched in despair over the funeral stone, his great lyre fallen from his hands ; how loud swelled the dirge of the shepherds' chorus, and now, through it came piercing the cry of anguish from his lips, ' Eurydice ! ' There he remained alone ; and entranced Josquin heard the tender...

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