How Music Developed A Critical and Explanatory Account of the Growth of Modern Music — Key Ideas to Explore
Edition facts
The catalog record for How Music Developed A Critical and Explanatory Account of the Growth of Modern Music — Key Ideas to Explore provides practical reading context through 82,316 words, 5 hr 58 min estimated reading time, and 11 detected text sections.
The text analysis averages about 18.1 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.
Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “Music -- History and criticism,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.
Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.
How this score is calculated
- Description quality20 pts
- Title & short description10 pts
- Source metadata20 pts
- Text length15 pts
- Chapters / structure15 pts
- EPUB file integrity20 pts
Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.
Read the Text
ruses, duets, and trios. There are no solo arias. The aria form had not yet been developed. Here is part of a duet from Monteverde's "Orfeo."
[Music: Monteverde's "Orfeo".]
APOLLO AND ORPHEUS ASCEND TO HEAVEN, SINGING:-- Duet:
Saliam Saliam Can-tan - - - - - d'al cie - - - - lo - - - Saliam - - - - Can-tan - - - - - d'al cie lo
Dove ha vir-tu ve-ra-ce De-gno pre-mio di se Dove ha vir-tu ve-ra-ce De-gno pre-mio di se
di-let to e pa-ce - - - - - - - -
Dove ha vir-tu ve-ra-ce De-gno pre-mio di se Dove ha vir-tu ve-ra-ce De-gno pre-mio di se
di-let - to - e pa-ce. di-let - to - e pa-ce.
The opera ends with a dance. In his "Tancredi e Clorinda," an intermezzo produced in Venice in 1624, Monteverde introduced special instrumental effects which were to become of so great importance in opera. These effects I have already described in Chapter XI, and it is necessary to add here only the statement that they were used, not simply as descriptive of action, but also to aid in conveying to the minds of the auditors the impetuosity and passion of the combatants in the remarkable scene of the fight. It gives one something of a shock to find Monteverde indicating the galloping of horses and the fierceness of their riders, rudely indeed, but with the same musical methods as Wagner employed, with their modern development, in his "Ride of the Valkyrs." Monteverde was, indeed, the Wagner of his time. He broke so completely away from old conventions that Artusi, a writer of Bologna, accused him of having lost sight of the true office of music, "to please the ear."
One of the remarkable things (remarkable at that time) done by Monteverde was to introduce the chord of the dominant seventh unprepared. I shall not undertake to explain the nature of this novelty in harmony, lest I merely confuse the lay reader, but shall ask him to content himself with the statement that such an introduction produced one of those sharp dissonances so common in the music of to-day, and used to express passion. Monteverde began to use these dissonances in his madrigals, of which the Fifth Book, published in 1599, aroused Artusi's ire. But the tremendous effect of the dissonant progressions in "Arianna" quite demolished all the arguments of the opponents of the novelty. Their employment was one of the practices which led directly away from the tonality of the old ecclesiastical scales and toward the modern major and minor keys. Dr. Parry's comments on the work of Monteverde are so pertinent and so lucid that I cannot do better than to quote a part of them:--
"The methods of choral art did not provide for dramatic force or the utterance of passionate feeling; and under such circumstances it was natural that Monteverde should misapply [in his madrigals] his special gifts, which were all in the direction of dramatic expression. The new departure, when it came, was his opportunity. He was not ostensibly a sharer in the first steps of the movement; but directly he joined it he entirely eclipsed all other composers in the field, and in a few years gave it quite a new complexion. For whereas the first composers had not laid any great stress on expression, Monteverde's instinct and aim were chiefly in that direction; and he often sought to emphasize his situations at all costs. His harmonic progressions are for the most part as incoherent as those of his predecessors, and, as might be expected with his peculiar aptitudes, he did very little for design. But he clearly had a very considerable sense of stage effect, and realized that mere monotonous recitative was not the final solution nor even the nucleus of dramatic music. It is true he introduces a great quantity of recitative, but he varies it with instrumental interludes which now and then have some real point and relevancy about them; and with passages of solo music which have definite figure and expression, and with choruses which are more skilfully contrived, and to a certain degree more effective, than those of his predecessors. By this means he broke up the homogeneous texture of the scenes into passages of well-defined diversity, and interested his auditors with contrast, variety, and conspicuously characteristic passages, which heighten the impression of the situation as all stage music should."
Soon after the production of Monteverde's "Tancredi e Clorinda" the opera ceased to be a strictly aristocratic form of entertainment and became public and popular. In 1637 the Teatro San Cassiano was opened to the public as a regular opera house. Opera houses became numerous. Up to 1727 no less than fifteen operatic enterprises were started, and up to 1734 four hundred operas by forty composers had been produced. This, however, carries us far ahead of the period which we are now discussing. The statement is made merely to show that only those Italian composers can now be mentioned who made actual contributions to the development of the lyric drama.
The next who did so contribute after Monteverde was his pupil, Francesco Cavalli (1599-1676), a native of Crema, a town near Venice. He was at one time chapel master of St. Mark's. His first opera, "Le Nozze di Tito e di Peleo," was produced in Venice in 1639. Its recitatives are varied in style and it has instrumental interludes, notably one for hunting horns, of striking character. But it was in his "Giasone," produced in 1649, that Cavalli's most influential music appeared. He was opposed to the banishment of rhythmical music and song-forms from opera simply because the Greeks did not have them. Instrumental forms were beginning to show the influence of folk-music and the popularity of the early collections of dance tunes suggested to Cavalli the possible effectiveness of something similar in vocal style. In his "Giasone," therefore, he foreshadowed the _aria da capo_ (aria with a repeat at its close of the passage with which it began) by making a return to the first part. Cavalli's melodies show a strong movement toward clearness of rhythm and definiteness of shape, though the style continued to be tentative and uncertain. But it is easy to perceive that even in his day Italian opera had begun the movement toward elementary rhythms and harmonies and tunefulness for tune's sake, which were to be its special characteristics for more than two centuries. The improvements in the dramatic recitative and the choral part of oratorio made by Carissimi, Cesti, and Stradella (see Chap. XV.) also influenced composers of opera. The general tendency was in the direction of definitely shaped melodies as a substitute for the formless recitative of Peri and Monteverde. The recitative itself became more characteristic and was diversified with short arioso passages. Furthermore the accompaniment of the recitative was much improved. Peri and Caccini fashioned the slight chords of their accompaniments to recitative so that they might be played on one instrument, for they were jealous of the slightest instrumental interference with their newly invented _stilo parlante_. Monteverde improved the instrumental part of opera, as we have seen, and frequently accompanied his solo parts with small groups of instruments. Meanwhile Giovanni Gabrieli wrote his church music with orchestral accompaniment, and the opera composers began to see how grand dramatic effects might be produced by using similar means. The result is that in the latter half of the sixteenth century we find different kinds of recitative clearly defined and the _aria da capo_ thoroughly established. The composer who exhibited the most complete mastery of these forms, and who was so influential that he became the founder of the great Neapolitan school of opera writers, was Alessandro Scarlatti.
He was born at Trapani in Sicily in 1659. The record of his early life is lost, but his career as a famous composer seems to have been fairly begun when he produced his opera "Pompeo" at Naples in 1684. He wrote 115 operas, of which 41 are extant in score. They have all ceased to be performed, but their historical interest is great. Scarlatti died Oct. 24, 1725. It is hardly necessary for the purposes of this volume to specify in which operas the special features which he contributed to the development of the form are to be found. It will perhaps be more instructive to the reader to enumerate these features and explain them. Scarlatti made a systematic distinction of the characteristics of three kinds of vocal music in opera. Two of these were recitative, which had hitherto been treated in one way, the accompaniment being confined to a small group of instruments, or one instrument alone, playing chords. In one of Scarlatti's operas appeared recitative accompanied by the whole orchestra, and he made a clear distinction in the character and purpose of two kinds of recitative. The first of these was the _recitativo secco_, which means "dry recitative." This is the pure dialogue form of recitative, used to carry on the ordinary passing conversation of the scene. It was accompanied in the early works by the harpsichord generally, and it is the custom to this day in artistic opera houses to play the chords to the _recitativo secco_ in "Don Giovanni" on the piano. In England it became the custom to play these chords in broken form on the double bass and violoncello, but this custom has not prevailed elsewhere. _Recitativo secco_ is not used so much now as it was in the earlier days of opera, but short passages of it are found in many modern works, even those of Wagner, while in oratorio it is not at all infrequent. Here is an example of it from Mozart's "Don Giovanni":--
[Music: Mozart's "Don Giovanni".]
DON GIOVANNI. Leporello, where are you? LEPORELLO. I'm here, to my misfortune, and you, Sir? DON GIOVANNI. I'm here. LEPORELLO. Who's dead, th'old man, or you Sir?
Alessandro Scarlatti was the first to make systematic use of that richer form of recitation known as _recitativo stromentato_. Indeed, some historians declare, and with fairly good ground, that he invented this species. _Recitativo stromentato_ is recitative with an especially designed orchestral accompaniment instead of the simple chords of the _secco_ style. Usually the most significant orchestral passages are placed in the pauses between the phrases uttered by the voice. The whole recitative thus becomes more passionate, more varied, and more filled with meaning. The extreme development of _recitativo stromentato_ is to be found in Wagner's later dramas, in which entire scenes are made of it. Excellent examples of it in its customary modern form, however, are to be found in his earlier works. Here is one from the first act of "Lohengrin":--
[Music: Wagner's "Lohengrin".]
German: So fra-ge ich wei-ter ist die kla-ge dir be-kannt English: Then fur-ther I ask thee if the charge to thee is known | STRINGS
die schwer hier wi-der dich er-ho-ben? that dark-ly is al-leged a-gainst thee? | STRINGS | WOODWINDS
Was ent-geg-nest du der kla-ge? Canst thou meet the ac-cu-sa-tion? | STRINGS | WOODWINDS
So be-kennst du dei-ne Schuld? Then thy guilt dost thou con-fess? | STRINGS | STRINGS & WOODWINDS
It will readily be perceived that these improvements in diversification of the recitative gave the Italian opera a livelier musical character, and made it appeal more directly to the popular taste. But significant as Scarlatti's labor in this department was, its influence did not equal that of his development of the _aria da capo_. We have already seen that Cavalli made a step in the direction of this form by repeating the first part of a tune to make its close. It was Alessandro Scarlatti, however, who completely established the position of the aria in opera and defined its form. He himself was a noted singer and a teacher of singing, and he saw in the aria abundant opportunity for the display of pure vocal ability. His success in making music that enabled singers to reveal the beauties of their voices decided the direction in which Italian opera was to move until almost the present day, and led to the birth of a numerous body of composers upon whom I am fond of placing the title "Neapolitan school." The theory of the _aria da capo_ is a purely musical one, and its inventors did not perceive that it was distinctly opposed to dramatic fidelity. The conception of a melody in three sections, of which the first and third are the same and the middle one strongly contrasting, belongs to the realm of absolute music. When the composer asks a soprano to be mildly pathetic in the beginning of an air, work herself into a passion in the middle, and suddenly become mildly pathetic again at the close, simply in order that she may repeat the opening measures, he violates emotional truthfulness and is guilty of false art. The Italian opera writers seem to have arrived at a realization of this fact very soon, and finding that their symmetrical tunes pleased the public, they threw overboard all pretence of dramatic sincerity and wrote the tunes for their own sake, no matter whether they fitted the spirit of the text or not. Francesco Rossi, Antonio Caldara, Antonio Lotti, and Giovanni Maria Buononcini were among Alessandro Scarlatti's immediate successors, and all of them devoted themselves to producing operas which consisted of strings of arias, duets, etc., united by brief passages of recitative.
One important result of this practice was that the voices and abilities of the principal singers had to be considered in order that the arias might be effective. The singers were thus enabled to make such great personal impressions upon the public that they soon became the reigning power in opera, and actually made laws for the composers. This was the period of the famous male soprano singers Farinelli, Cafarelli, Senesino, Gizziello, and others, whose marvellous singing was due to long processes of training, and who were the adored and inexorable monarchs of the musical world. The state of Italian opera in the time of Handel (1685-1759) is more easily described than imagined. I have already told how the famous composer of "The Messiah" began his career as an opera composer. He wrote some forty operas, all of which have now only an historical interest. Arias and duets from them are frequently heard in concert, and are excellent examples of the manner in which composers treated text in those days. To two lines of text one frequently finds half a dozen pages of music, the words apparently being employed simply to give the singer syllables to pronounce. It must be said for Handel that he was too great a composer to turn out mere rubbish. While he displayed remarkable dexterity in writing passages of pure vocal exhibition work for the singers, he contrived to put a considerable quantity of very good music into his operas. Nevertheless he was under the control of the singer and the formulæ of the time.
The laws of Italian opera in that day prescribed six persons--three men and three women--as the proper number of singers. The men were always sopranos or tenors. The use of the baritone voice was quite unknown; sometimes a bass part was written for one of the men, but as there are only a few fine bass parts in any of the old operas, and no records of the fame of any great basses except Boschi, we must conclude that only the male soprano and tenor had any wide vogue. In Handel's "Teseo" there was neither bass nor tenor; all the parts were sopranos and contraltos. Of course there were male characters, so it is easy to conceive how far away from anything like dramatic truth the whole thing must have been. The common use of the baritone voice, the voice of the average man, did not begin till the latter part of the last century. The French composers, who, as we shall see, clung more faithfully to dramatic fidelity than the Italians, were the first to use it extensively. Gluck made frequent use of it, but it remained for Mozart to discover the full scope of its usefulness.
The rules made by the singers and in force in Handel's time did not stop at the distribution of the voices. They prescribed also the kinds and number of arias, duets, etc. There were five kinds of aria: _aria cantabile_, _aria di portamento_, _aria di mezzo carattere_, _aria parlante_, _and aria di bravura_. _Aria cantabile_ was slow and flowing and usually pathetic in style. _Aria di portamento_ was also slow, but with stronger rhythm and wider intervals. _Aria parlante_ was declamatory. _Aria di mezzo carattere_ was an air of medium character, containing a fusion of styles. _Aria di bravura_ was one in which every possible opportunity was given the singer for a display of agility in the way of runs, trills, jumps, _et cætera_. The rules also commanded that every scene in an opera should end with an aria, and that in each act every principal singer should have one aria. No singer could have two arias in succession, nor in any circumstances might two arias of the same kind stand together. The hero and heroine had each to have one _aria di bravura_ and one duet. The opera ended with a dance and chorus. At one time no trios, quartets, or concerted pieces were allowed.
A natural result of such rules was that opera librettos were very poor stuff generally, and had little dramatic sense or force. Composers often took a lot of good airs and duets from operas which had failed, and strung them together with new text to make a new opera. It was an experiment of this kind which led Gluck, as we shall see, to doubt the possibility of producing anything artistic according to the extant methods of Italian opera. As Gluck's movement of reform was undertaken in Paris, and as his works lie rather in the line of development of French opera than of Italian, I shall recount the story of his battle in the narrative of the growth of the French school. It is sufficient for the present to say that his labors had no very serious influence on Italian composers. They continued to write tune for tune's sake, and their modifications in style and form would have come about without the intervention of Gluck.
Immediately after Handel the Neapolitan school of composers was conspicuous through its development of opera buffa, comic grand opera. The principal writers were Logroscino, Leo, Hasse, and Pergolesi. The last was popular both as a serious and a comic writer somewhat later than 1770. Later still came forward Sacchini, Galuppi, Paisiello and Piccini. The last named, a contemporary of Gluck and Mozart, and Gluck's opponent in Paris, was a most melodious writer. He deserves special mention for his development of the operatic finale. His finales were long concerted pieces in which the various voices were united in rich harmonies so as to produce a strong effect.
Italian Opera to Verdi
Cimarosa, Rossini, Donizetti, and Bellini--The last writers of the Neapolitan school--Tune for tune's sake--Rossini's improvements in methods of opera writing--Verdi and his three styles--"Aïda," and "Otello," "Falstaff," and the new school of Italian opera.
Domenico Cimarosa (Naples, Dec. 17, 1749--Venice, Jan. 11, 1801) wrote seventy-six operas, none of which are heard to-day outside of Italy, where recently there has been a movement to revive some of the operas of the end of the last century. Cimarosa's masterpiece is "Il Matrimonia Segreto," a genuinely fine work in the department of Italian opera buffa. The music is distinguished for its flow of genuine and spirited humor and its constant melody. The ensembles are excellently made and have served as models to later masters.
The most celebrated, original, and influential of Italian masters of the present century before Verdi was Gioachino Antonio Rossini, born at Pesaro, Feb. 29, 1792. His principal works are: "Tancred" (1813), "Otello" (1816), "Il Barbiere di Siviglia" (1816), "Semiramide" (1823), and "Gillaume Tell" (1829). The last named opera was written for Paris and it was not warmly received. Rossini appears to have taken its failure greatly to heart, and finding himself independent he wrote no more for the stage. He died in Paris, Nov. 13, 1868. "William Tell" is usually classed by historians among French operas, because it was written for the French stage and was a deliberate attempt to follow the French style. But it was its pure Italianism that prevented it from winning immediate success in Paris. Nevertheless it is Rossini's masterpiece.
Henderson opens his survey by insisting that the history of music as an art must be kept separate from the history of music as popular expression. This distinction, drawn in the first chapter, governs the entire narrative: the medieval church cultivated a liturgical art while popular songs developed independently, and only later did the two streams converge. The book accordingly traces a series of structural oppositions—sacred versus secular, polyphonic versus monophonic, Italian versus German—that shaped the evolution of modern music from Gregorian chant to the music dramas of Wagner.
Church Counterpoint and the Secular Current
The early chapters emphasize that for centuries the only artistic music was ecclesiastical. Henderson describes the Ambrosian and Gregorian chants as unsystematic collections derived from local sources, and credits Nokter Balbulus with introducing sequences. The birth of counterpoint in the church is presented as a purely liturgical development, yet the author repeatedly notes that popular music continued alongside it, eventually forcing changes. The tension between the two is a recurring pattern: the church’s polyphonic style reached its golden age, but the simplification of music—a move toward clearer, more singable lines—came partly from secular influences. Henderson’s account of the piano’s evolution similarly contrasts the polyphonic style of earlier keyboard music with the monophonic style that enabled the sonata.
Mendelssohn and the Oratorio’s Divided Heritage
In the chapter on oratorio, Henderson uses Mendelssohn as a case study in stylistic negotiation. He notes that Mendelssohn rejected both Handel’s Italian manner and Bach’s austere polyphony, seeking instead a graceful, fluent melody suited to Protestant sentiment. The analysis is precise: Henderson points out that Bach’s recitatives, though dramatically direct, were weakened by the evangelist’s narration and by their overly detailed musical character. Mendelssohn’s solution—the chorale as an embodiment of Protestant faith—is presented as a synthesis, but Henderson also criticizes St. Paul for being episodic and lacking dramatic continuity. The discussion is grounded in specific compositional choices, not general praise.
Opera’s National Styles and Reform Impulses
Henderson devotes several chapters to opera, tracing Italian, French, and German traditions from the birth of the form through Gluck, Meyerbeer, and Wagner. The pattern of tension reappears: Italian opera emphasized melody and vocal display, while French opera incorporated spectacle and dance, and German opera sought dramatic unity. Gluck’s reforms are positioned as a reaction against excess, and Wagner’s music drama as the culmination of a long struggle between musical and dramatic priorities. Henderson’s treatment is critical rather than celebratory; he notes, for instance, that Meyerbeer’s influence was significant but does not inflate his reputation. The closing chapter, “The Lessons of Musical History,” explicitly draws these contrasts together, urging readers to see development as a series of choices between competing aesthetic forces.
Readers will benefit from attending to Henderson’s persistent framing of musical history as a set of oppositions—sacred versus secular, polyphonic versus homophonic, national versus universal. The book is less a chronicle of masterpieces than an argument about how stylistic tensions drive change. Because the excerpts are incomplete, the full arc of Henderson’s argument cannot be verified, but the pattern is consistent enough to guide a critical reading: watch for the moments when two traditions collide and a new form emerges.
I keep thinking about Henderson’s quiet tracing of how church song and street song borrowed from each other, and it reminded me of a gentler companion volume sitting beside it, like old sheet music found in a drawer. The art of music. Vol. 01 (of 14) — Reading Notes lingers the same way—less argument, more margin notes from someone who loved the listening itself. It stayed with me softly.
Sofia Wilson
1 month agoHow will you remember this book?
Save your reaction, strongest insight, and memorable passage.
Scarlett Thompson
1 week ago