Part 11 (1/2)
Seems to Hamper Modern Composers.
The symphonic form, however, or, to be more exact, the sonata form, seems to hamper every modern composer when he writes for the pianoforte, and the fact that most of Beethoven's pianoforte music was written in this form appears to be the reason for his works somewhat falling into disuse. On the other hand, the form is undoubtedly holding out better in the orchestral version of the sonata, the symphony, because the tone color of orchestral instruments gives it greater variety. Tschaikowsky, Dvorak and Brahms have worked successfully, and the two former even brilliantly, in this form; and if Brahms in his symphonies appears too continent, too cla.s.sically reserved, it would seem to be not so much the form itself which is to blame, as his lack of skill in instrumentation.
My own personal preference is for the freer form developed by Liszt in the symphonic poem, in which a leading motive, or possibly several motives skillfully varied dominate the whole composition and give it esthetic and psychological unity; and for the still freer development of instrumental music in the tone poem of Richard Strauss. But neither the symphonic poems of Liszt nor the tone poems of Strauss are formless music. That should be well understood, although it should be borne in mind with equal distinctness that these manifestations of the genius of two great composers show a complete liberation from the shackles of the cla.s.sical symphony. In the end the test is found in the music itself. If the music of a symphonic poem which sets out to express a given t.i.tle or a given motto, if the music of a tone poem which starts out to interpret a programmatic story or device, is worthy to be ranked with the great productions of the art, it not only is profoundly interesting as music, but gains immensely in interest through its incidental secondary meaning. It is the old story of art for art's sake--art for the purpose of merely gratifying the eye or the ear--or art for the purpose of conveying something besides itself to the beholder or the listener; and it seems to me that, in the history of the art, art for art's sake has always been the more primitive expression and eventually has been obliged to give way.
The Naive Symphonists.
At the risk of repeating what already has been said of the sonata, the symphony may be described as a work in four movements--the first movement, usually an Allegro, sometimes with a slow introduction, but more frequently without one; a second movement, ordinarily called the slow movement, and usually in Adagio or Andante; a third movement, either minuet or scherzo; and a final movement in fast time and usually in rondo form. It was Haydn who pretty definitely established these divisions of the symphony. He composed in all one hundred and twenty-five symphonies, of which only a few appear on modern concert programs, and even these but occasionally. Their music is marked by a simplicity bordering on navete, and the orchestration is a string quartet with a mere filling out by other instruments. Mozart was of a deeper and more dramatic nature than Haydn, and the expression of his thought was more intense. In the same way, there is a greater warmth and color in his orchestration. Nevertheless, the three finest of his forty-nine symphonies, the E flat, G minor and Jupiter, composed in 1788, seem almost childlike in their artless grace and beauty to us moderns.
Beethoven's first two symphonies were written under the influence of Haydn and Mozart, but with the third he becomes distinctly epic in his musical utterance; and this symphony, both in regard to variety and depth of expression and skillful use of orchestral instruments, is as great an advance upon the work of his predecessors as, let us say, Tschaikowsky is upon Mendelssohn.
Beethoven to the Fore.
There are apparent in the sequences of Beethoven's symphonies certain climaxes and certain rests. Thus the Third is the climax of the first three. The Fourth is far less profound; the master relaxes. But the Fifth, with its compact, vigorous theme, which Beethoven himself is said to have described as Fate knocking at the door, and his skillful introduction of this theme in varied form in each of the movements, is by many regarded as his masterpiece--even greater than the Ninth. After this he seems to have relaxed again in the Sixth, Seventh and Eighth, in order to prepare himself for the climax of his career in his final symphonic work, the Ninth. In the slow movement of the Sixth (the ”Pastoral”), in which he imitates the call of birds, he gives the direction: ”_mehr Empfindung als Malerei_” (more feeling than painting), a direction which often is quoted by opponents of modern program music; notwithstanding the fact that Beethoven, in spite of his own qualifying words, straightway indulged in ”painting” of the most childish description. The Seventh Symphony is an extremely brilliant work and the Eighth an exceedingly joyous one, while with the Ninth, as though he himself felt that he was going beyond the limits of orchestral music, he introduced in the last movement solo singers and a chorus, but not with as much effect as the employment of this unusual scheme might lead one to antic.i.p.ate, because, unfortunately, his writing for voices is extremely awkward.
Schubert's Genius.
Like Beethoven, Schubert wrote nine symphonies, but the ”Unfinished,”
which was his eighth, and the C major, his ninth, which was discovered by Schumann in the possession of Schubert's brother and sent to Mendelssohn for production at Leipzig, are the ones which seem destined to survive. They are among the most beautiful examples of orchestral music--the first movement of the ”Unfinished Symphony” full of dramatic moments as well as of exquisite melody, the slow movement a veritable rose of orchestration; while as regards the C major symphony, Schumann's reference to its ”heavenly length” sufficiently describes its inspiration.
Mendelssohn's Italian and Scotch symphonies are his best known orchestral works. They are clear and serene, and for any one who thinks a symphony is something very abstruse and wants to be gradually familiarized with its mysteries, they form an easily taken and innocuous dose--the symphony made palatable. Of Schumann's four symphonies, the one in E flat, the ”Rhenish,” supposed to represent a series of impressions of the Rhine country, the fourth movement especially, to represent the exaltation which possessed his soul during a religious ceremony in the cathedral at Cologne; and the D minor, which latter really is a fantasia, deserve to rank highest. In the D minor the movements follow each other without pause; there is a certain thematic relations.h.i.+p between the first and the last movements, and this connection gives the work a freer and more modern effect. But Schumann was either indifferent to, or ignorant of, the advance in orchestration which had taken place since Beethoven.
Practically the same thing applies to Brahms, who, however, deserves the credit for introducing into the symphony a new style of movement, the intermezzo, which takes the place of the scherzo or minuet.
Rubinstein deserves ”honorable mention”; but the most modern heroes of symphony are Dvorak, with his ”New World,” and Tschaikowsky, with his ”Pathetique.” Such works are life-preservers that may help keep a sinking art form afloat. But modern orchestral music is tending more and more toward the symphonic poem and the tone poem.
Liszt has written two symphonies: the ”Faust Symphony,” consisting of three movements, which represent the three princ.i.p.al characters of Goethe's drama, _Faust_, _Gretchen_, and _Mephistopheles_; and a symphony to Dante's ”Divina Commedia.” In both these symphonies a chorus is introduced. Of his symphonic poems, the best known are ”Les Preludes,” and ”Ta.s.so, Lamento e Trionfo.” In these symphonic poems Liszt has made use of the principle of the leitmotif in orchestral music. They are dramatic episodes for orchestra, superbly instrumentated, profoundly beautiful in thought and intention--great program music in fact, because conceived in accordance with the highest canons of the art, and infinitely more interesting than ”pure” music because they mean something. By some people Liszt is regarded as a mere charlatan, by others as a great composer. Not only was he a great composer, but one of the very greatest.
The Saint-Saens symphonic poems, ”Rouet d'Omphale,” ”Phaeton,” ”Danse Macabre,” should be mentioned as successful works of this cla.s.s, but considerably below Liszt's in genuine musical value. And then, there are the orchestral impressions of Charles Martin Loeffler, among which the symphonic poem, ”La Mort de Tintagiles,” is the most conspicuous.
A separate chapter is devoted to Richard Strauss.
Wagner is not supposed to have been a purely orchestral composer.
Theoretically, he wrote for the theatre, and his orchestra was (again theoretically) only part of a triple scheme of voice, action and instrumental accompaniment. But put the instrumental part of any of his great music-drama episodes on a concert program, and with the first wave of the conductor's baton and the first chord, you forget everything else that has gone before!
XII
RICHARD STRAUSS AND HIS MUSIC
Richard Strauss--a new name to conjure with in music! His banner is borne by a band of enthusiasts like those who, many years ago, carried the flag of Wagner to the front. ”Did not Wagner put a full stop after the word 'music'?” some will ask in surprise. ”Did he not strike the final note? Are the 'Ring,' 'Tristan' and 'Parsifal' not to be succeeded by an eternal pause? Is there something still to be achieved in music as in other arts and sciences?”
Something new certainly has been achieved by Richard Strauss. It forms neither a continuation of Wagner nor an opposition to Wagner. It has nothing to do with Wagner, beyond that Strauss appropriates whatever in the progression of art the latest master has a right to take from his predecessors. Strauss is, in fact, one of the most original and individual of composers.
He has been a student, not a copyist, of Wagner. Thus, where others who have sat at the feet of the Bayreuth master have written poor imitations of Wagner, and have therefore failed even to continue the school, giving only feeble echoes of its great master, Strauss has struck out for himself. With a mastery of every technical resource, acquired by deep and patient study, he has given wholly new value and importance to a form of art entirely different from the music-drama.
The music of the average modern Wagner disciple sounds not like Wagner, but like Wagner and water. Richard Strauss sounds like Richard Strauss.
One reason for this is that his art work, like Wagner's, has an independent intellectual reason for being. Let me not for one moment be understood as belittling Wagner, in order to magnify Strauss.