have almost always treated it in Real Fugue, of a peculiarly reverent character, not unlike that of the 'Kyrie,' but developed at greater length, with frequent repetitions of the text, and three distinct Subjects, adapted to the words, 'Sanctus,' 'Dominus Deus Sabaoth,' and 'Pleni sunt cœli et terra.' Sometimes—as in Palestrina's Masses, 'Veni, sponsa Christi,' and 'Dum complerentur'—the 'Pleni sunt cœli' forms a separate Movement, assigned to three or four Solo Voices; sometimes the nature of the Subject indicates an accelerated Tempo, without an actual solution of continuity, as in the same Composer's 'Æterna Christi munera.' The 'Osanna,' with which the whole concludes, is either treated as a supplementary Movement, quite distinct from the 'Sanctus' itself; or, less frequently, aids in the development of the Fugue, by the addition of a fourth Subject, without disturbing the homogeneity of the whole. In the former case, the same 'Osanna' usually serves both for the 'Sanctus' and the 'Benedictus,'[1] as in the 'Missa Papæ Marcelli,' and Vittoria's 'Simile est regnum cœlorum': in the latter, the treatment is usually of a very subdued character, as in Palestrina's 'Tu es Petrus,' 'Assumpta est Maria,' 'Sterna Christi munera,' and 'Missa brevis.' These instances are particularly fine ones; and, indeed, it may be doubted whether even Palestrina's genius ever rose to greater sublimity of conception than in this part of the 'Missa brevis,' which, when interpreted by a large body of Voices, singing in the most delicate attainable pianissimo, presents us with the highest ideal of the Song of the Heavenly Host that has yet been reached.
The treatment of the 'Sanctus,' by modern Composers, exhibits an infinite variety of styles; yet the Movement is, nearly always, the most solemn one in the Mass. In Bach's great work in B minor, an indescribably massive effect is produced by the passages of sustained Chords, beginning at the seventeenth and thirty-fifth Bars. Very different is the idea developed in the corresponding division of Beethoven's Mass in D. The awe-struck character of the opening 'Adagio. Mit Andacht,' however closely it may border upon the dramatic, can scarcely impress the hearer with any other feeling than that of the most profound reverence; while the 'Allegro pesante' of the 'Pleni sunt cœli' is conceived in strict accordance with the literal meaning of the words, though nothing could possibly be more unsuited to their position in the Service. This deplorable incongruity is, however, more or less observable in all Masses with Instrumental Accompaniment. The same objection may be urged with equal propriety, against the combined 'Sanctus' and 'Benedictus,' in Cherubini's Requiem in C minor; a comparatively unpretending Movement, the persistent fortissimo of which can scarcely fail to distract the mind far more seriously than even the sensuous beauty of a Movement like that in Rossini's 'Messe Solennelle.'[2]
To particularise the varied readings of the 'Sanctus,' to be found in the Masses of even the greatest Composers of modern times, would be impossible. The examples to which we have called attention will serve as types of many others; and will, moreover, be valuable, as illustrations of the one practical point of divergence which, more than any other, distinguishes the reading prevalent in the 16th century from that most common in the 19th—the devotional piano, from the pompous forte. So long as Drums and Trumpets are permitted to take part in the Accompaniments of the 'Sanctus,' so long will it fail to attain that æsthetic consistency which alone can ensure its ultimate perfection as a work of Art.
II. In Anglican 'Services,' the Sanctus is usually a very unpretending Movement, written, for the most part, in simple Harmony, without any attempt at Fugal treatment, or even Imitation; though, in the works of such Masters as Tallis, Byrd, Farrant, Gibbons, and their contemporaries, it is always noted for a quiet dignity well worthy of the solemnity of the text. In practice, it is too often removed from the place assigned to it in the Prayer-Book, and sung between the Litany and the Office for the Celebration of the Holy Communion—an abuse which has, of late years, excited much reprehension.
SANDERSON, James, born in 1769 at Workington, Durham, had from early childhood a passion for music, and, without the assistance of masters, so qualified himself that in 1783 he was engaged as violinist at the Sunderland Theatre. In 1784 he went to Shields as a teacher of the violin and pianoforte, and met with much success. In 1787 he was engaged as leader at the Newcastle-upon-Tyne Theatre, and in 1788 at Astley's Amphitheatre. In 1789 he made his first attempt at dramatic composition by writing instrumental interludes to illustrate the several parts of Collins's 'Ode on the Passions,' which the eminent tragedian, George Frederick Cooke, was to recite on his benefit night at Chester. His next work was 'Harlequin in Ireland' at Astley's in 1792. In 1793 he was engaged at the Royal Circus, afterwards the Surrey Theatre, as composer and music director, a post which he retained for many years. His principal productions during that period were 'Blackbeard,' 1798; 'Cora,' 1799; 'Sir Francis Drake,' 1800 (in which was the song, 'Bound 'prentice to a waterman,' which became so great a favourite with stage representatives of British sailors that it was constantly introduced into pieces in which a seaman formed one of the characters for fully half a century), and 'Hallowe'en.' His 'Angling Duet,' originally composed for 'The Magic Pipe,' a pantomime produced at the Adelphi, also enjoyed a long popularity. He composed many pieces for the violin. He died in or about 1841.
- ↑ In order to explain the intimate connection between these Movements, it is necessary to remind the reader that the first 'Osanna' is immediately followed by the Consecration of the Host, which takes place in silence. This completed, the 'Benedictus,' and second 'Osanna,' are sung, in continuation of the same train of ideas, and not with the intention of introducing a new subject of contemplation.
- ↑ We say nothing, here, of the strikingly beautiful Movements in Mendelssohn's 'Elijah,' and Spohr's 'Last Judgment,' because, notwithstanding their opening words, the term 'Sanctus' cannot be fairly applied to them, in its technical sense.
