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diff --git a/65865-0.txt b/65865-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..80047cc --- /dev/null +++ b/65865-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16226 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Art of Music, Volume Two (of 14), Edited +by Daniel Gegory Mason, Edward B. Hill, Leland Hall, and César Saerchinger + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most +other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of +the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at +www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + + + + +Title: The Art of Music, Volume Two (of 14) + Book II: Classicism and Romanticism + + +Editor: Daniel Gegory Mason, Edward B. Hill, Leland Hall, and César +Saerchinger + +Release Date: July 18, 2021 [eBook #65865] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ART OF MUSIC, VOLUME TWO (OF +14)*** + + +E-text prepared by Andrés V. Galia and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made +available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org). Jude Eylander +provided the music transcriptions. + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations as well + as music recordings. + See 65865-h.htm or 65865-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/65865/65865-h/65865-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/65865/65865-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive. See + https://archive.org/details/artofmusiccompre02maso + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_). + + A caret character is used to denote superscription. + Characters enclosed by curly brackets following a caret + are superscripted, _i.e._ written immediately above + the level of the previous character (example: 36^{th}). + + The musical files for the musical examples discussed in + the book have been provided by Jude Eylander. Those + examples can be heard only in the HTML version of the + book. + + + + + + The Art of Music + + A Comprehensive Library of Information + for Music Lovers and Musicians + + Editor-in-Chief + + DANIEL GREGORY MASON + Columbia University + + Associate Editors + + EDWARD B. HILL LELAND HALL + Harvard University Past Professor, Univ. of Wisconsin + + + Managing Editor + + CÉSAR SAERCHINGER + Modern Music Society of New York + + In Fourteen Volumes + Profusely Illustrated + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC + + + [Illustration] + + + [Illustration: Beethoven] + _After the painting by Karl Stieler + (Original owned by H. Hinrichsen, Leipzig)_ + + + + + THE ART OF MUSIC: VOLUME TWO + + A Narrative History of Music + + Department Editors: + + LELAND HALL + AND + CÉSAR SAERCHINGER + + Introduction by + LELAND HALL + Past Professor of Musical History, University of Wisconsin + + BOOK II + CLASSICISM AND ROMANTICISM + + [Illustration] + + NEW YORK + THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC + 1915 + + + Copyright, 1915, by + THE NATIONAL SOCIETY OF MUSIC, Inc. + (All Rights Reserved) + + + A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC + + + + + INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME II + + +In the first volume of THE ART OF MUSIC the history of the art has +been carried in as straight a line as possible down to the death of +Bach and Handel. These two great composers, while they still serve as +the foundation of much present-day music, nevertheless stand as the +culmination of an epoch in the development and style of music which +is distinctly of the past. Many of the greatest of their conceptions +are expressed in a language, so to speak, which rings old-fashioned in +our ears. Something has been lost of their art. In the second volume, +on the other hand, we have to do with the growth of what we may call +our own musical language, with the language of Beethoven, Schubert, +Schumann, Wagner and Brahms, men with whose ideals and with whose modes +of expression we are still closely in touch. In closing the first +volume the reader bids farewell to the time of music when polyphony +still was supreme. In opening this he greets the era of melody and +harmony, of the singing allegro, the scherzo, the rondo, of the +romantic song, of salon music, of national opera and national life in +music. + +We have now to do with the symphony and the sonata, which even to the +uninitiated spell music, no longer with the toccata and the fugue, +words of more or less hostile alarm to those who dread attention. We +shall deal with forms based upon melody, shall trace their growth from +their seeds in Italy, the land of melody, through the works of Haydn, +Mozart, and Beethoven. We shall watch the perfecting of the orchestra, +its enrichment in sonority and in color. We shall see the Lied spring +from the forehead of Schubert. We shall mark the development of the +pianoforte and the growth of a noble literature of pianoforte music, +rivalling that of the orchestra in proportion and in meaning. A new +opera will come into being, discarding old traditions, alien myths, +allying itself to the life of the peoples of Europe. + +Lastly we shall note the touch of two great forces upon music, two +forces mysteriously intertwined, the French Revolution and the Romantic +Movement. Music will break from the control of rich nobles and make +itself dear to the hearts of the common people who inherit the earth. +It will learn to speak of intimate mysteries and intensely personal +emotion. Composers will rebel from dependence upon a patronizing class +and seek judgment and reward from a free public. In short, music +will be no longer only the handmaiden of the church, or the servant +of a socially exalted class, but the voice of the great human race, +expressing its passions, its emotions, its common sadness and joy, its +everyday dreams and even its realities. + +The history of any art in such a stage of reformation is necessarily +complicated, and the history of music is in no way exceptional. A +thousand new influences shaped it, hundreds of composers and of +virtuosi came for a while to the front. Political, social and even +economical and commercial conditions bore directly upon it. To ravel +from this tangle one or two threads upon which to weave a consecutive +narration has been the object of the editors. Minuteness of detail +would have thwarted the purpose of this as of the first volume, even +if space could have been allowed for it. The book has, therefore, +been limited to an exposition only of general movements, and to +only general descriptions of the works of the greatest composers who +contributed to them. Many lesser composers, famous in their day, have +not been mentioned, because their work has had no real historical +significance. They will, if at all vital, receive treatment in the +later volumes. + +On the other hand, the reader is cautioned against too easy acceptance +of generalities which have long usurped a sway over the public, such +as the statement that Emanuel Bach was the inventor of the sonata +form, or that Haydn was the creator of the symphony and of the string +quartet. Such forms are evolved, or built up step by step, not created. +The foundations of them lie far back in the history of the art. In the +present volume the attention of the reader will be especially called to +the work of the Italian Pergolesi, and the Bohemian Johann Stamitz, in +preparing these forms for Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven. + +Just as, in order to bring into relief the main lines of development, +many men and many details have been omitted, so, in order to bring +the volume to well-rounded close, the works of many men which +chronologically should find their place herein have been consigned +arbitrarily to a third volume. Yet such treatment is perhaps not so +arbitrary as will at first appear. Wagner, Brahms, and César Franck +are the three greatest of the later romantic composers. They developed +relatively independently of each other, and represent the culmination +of three distinct phases of the romantic movement in music. Their +separate influences made themselves felt at once even upon composers +scarcely younger than they. Men so influenced belong properly among +their followers, no matter what their ages. Inasmuch as the vast +majority of modern music is most evidently founded upon some one of +these three men, most conspicuously and almost inevitably upon Wagner, +contemporaries who so founded their work will be treated among the +modern composers, as those men who lead the way over from the three +great geniuses of a past generation to the distinctly new art of +the present day. Notable among these are men like Max Bruch, Anton +Bruckner, Hugo Wolf, Gustav Mahler, and Camille Saint-Saëns. Some +of these men, by the close connection of their art to that of past +generations, might perhaps more properly be treated in this volume, but +the confusion of so many minor strands would obscure the trend of the +narrative. Moreover, exigencies of space have enforced certain limits +upon the editors. Thus, also, the national developments, the founding +of distinctly national schools of composition in Scandinavia, Russia, +Bohemia and elsewhere, directly influenced by the romantic movement in +Germany, have had to find a place in Volume III. + +It is perhaps in order to forestall any criticism that may be made in +the score of what will seem to some serious omissions. Composers of +individual merit, though their music is of light calibre, are perhaps +entitled to recognition no less than their confrères in more ambitious +fields. We refer to such delightful writers of comic opera as Johann +Strauss, Millöcker, Suppé, etc., and the admirable English school of +musical comedy headed by Sir Arthur Sullivan. Without denying the +intrinsic value of their work, it must be admitted that they have +contributed nothing essentially new or fundamental to the development +of the art and are therefore of slight historical significance. The +latter school will, however, find proper mention in connection with the +more recent English composers to whom it has served as a foundation if +not a model. More adequate treatment will be accorded to their works in +the volumes on opera, etc. + +In closing, a word should be said concerning the contributors to +the Narrative History. There is ample precedent for the method +here employed of assigning different periods to writers especially +familiar with them. Such collaboration has obvious advantages, for the +study of musical history has become an exceedingly diverse one and +by specialization only can its various phases be thoroughly grasped. +Any slight difference in point of view or in style will be more than +offset by the careful and appreciative treatment accorded to each +period or composer by writers whose sympathies have led them to a +careful and adequate presentation, in clear perspective, of the merits +of a given style of composition. The editors have endeavored as far +as possible to avail themselves of the able researches recently made +in Italy, Germany, France, etc., and they extend their acknowledgment +to such authors of valuable special studies as Johannes Wolf, Hermann +Kretschmar, Emil Vogel, Romain Rolland, Julien Tiersot, etc., and +especially to the scholarly summary of Dr. Hugo Riemann, of Leipzig. A +more extensive list of these works will be found in the Bibliographical +Appendix to Volume III. + + LELAND HALL + + + CONTENTS OF VOLUME TWO + PAGE +INTRODUCTION BY LELAND HALL iii + + PART I. THE CLASSIC IDEAL + + CHAPTER + + I. THE REGENERATION OF THE OPERA 1 + + The eighteenth century and operatic convention--Porpora + and Hasse--Pergolesi and the _opera buffa_--_Jommelli_, + Piccini, Cimarosa, etc.--Gluck’s early life; the Metastasio + period--The comic opera in France; Gluck’s reform; + _Orfeo_ and _Alceste_--The Paris period; Gluck and Piccini; + the Iphigénies; Gluck’s mission--Gluck’s influence; the + _opéra comique_; Cherubini. + + II. THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE CLASSIC PERIOD 45 + + Classicism and the classic period--Political and literary + forces--The conflict of styles; the sonata form--The Berlin + school; the sons of Bach--The Mannheim reform: the + genesis of the symphony--Followers of the Mannheim + school; rise of the string quartet; Vienna and Salzburg + as musical centres. + + III. THE VIENNESE CLASSICS: HAYDN AND MOZART 75 + + Social aspects of the classic period; Vienna, its court + and its people--Joseph Haydn--Haydn’s work; the symphony; + the string quartet--Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart--Mozart’s + style; Haydn and Mozart; the perfection of orchestral + style--Mozart and the opera; the Requiem; the + mission of Haydn and Mozart. + + IV. LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN 128 + + Form and formalism--Beethoven’s life--His relations with his + family, teachers, friends and other contemporaries--His + character--The man and the artist--Determining + factors in his development--The three periods in his + work and their characteristics--His place in the history of + music. + + V. OPERATIC DEVELOPMENT IN ITALY AND FRANCE 177 + + Italian opera at the advent of Rossini--Rossini and the + Italian operatic renaissance--_Guillaume Tell_--Donizetti + and Bellini--Spontini and the historical opera--Meyerbeer’s + life and works--His influence and followers--Development of + _opéra comique_; Boieldieu, Auber, Hérold, Adam. + + + PART II. THE ROMANTIC IDEAL + + VI. THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT: ITS CHARACTERISTICS AND ITS GROWTH 213 + + Modern music and modern history; characteristics of the + music of the romantic period--Schubert and the German + romantic movement in literature--Weber and the German + reawakening--The Paris of 1830: French Romanticism--Franz + Liszt--Hector Berlioz--Chopin; Mendelssohn--Leipzig + and Robert Schumann--Romanticism and classicism. + + VII. SONG LITERATURE OF THE ROMANTIC PERIOD 269 + + Lyric poetry and song--The song before Schubert--Franz + Schubert; Carl Löwe--Robert Schumann; Robert + Franz; Mendelssohn and Chopin; Franz Liszt as song writer. + + VIII. PIANOFORTE AND CHAMBER MUSIC OF THE ROMANTIC PERIOD 293 + + Development of the modern pianoforte--The pioneers: + Schubert and Weber--Schumann and Mendelssohn--Chopin + and others--Franz Liszt, virtuoso and poet--Chamber + music of the romantic period; Ludwig Spohr and others. + + IX. ORCHESTRAL LITERATURE AND ORCHESTRAL DEVELOPMENT 334 + + The perfection of instruments; emotionalism of the romantic + period; enlargement of orchestral resources--The + symphony in the romantic period; Schubert, Mendelssohn, + Schumann; Spohr and Raff--The concert overture--The rise + of program music; the symphonic _leit-motif_; Berlioz’s + _Fantastique_; other Berlioz symphonies; Liszt’s dramatic + symphonies--Symphonic poem; _Tasso_; Liszt’s other symphonic + poems--The legitimacy of program music. + + X. ROMANTIC OPERA AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF CHORAL SONG 372 + + The rise of German opera; Weber and the romantic opera; + Weber’s followers--Berlioz as opera composer--The _drame + lyrique_ from Gounod to Bizet--_Opéra comique_ in the + romantic period; the _opéra bouffe_--Choral and sacred music + of the romantic period. + + + PART III. THE ERA OF WAGNER + + XI. WAGNER AND WAGNERISM 401 + + Periods of operatic reform; Wagner’s early life and + works--Paris: _Rienzi_, “The Flying Dutchman”--Dresden: + _Tannhäuser_ and _Lohengrin_; Wagner and Liszt; the + revolution of 1848--_Tristan_ and _Meistersinger_--Bayreuth; + “The Nibelungen Ring”--_Parsifal_--Wagner’s musico-dramatic + reforms; his harmonic revolution; the _leit-motif_ + system--The Wagnerian influence. + + XII. NEO-ROMANTICISM: JOHANNES BRAHMS AND CÉSAR FRANCK 443 + + The antecedents of Brahms--The life and personality of + Brahms--The idiosyncrasies of his music in rhythm, melody, + and harmony as expressions of his character--His works for + pianoforte, for voice, and for orchestra; the historical + position of Brahms--Franck’s place in the romantic + movement--His life, personality, and the characteristics of + his style; his works as the expression of religious + mysticism. + + XIII. VERDI AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES 477 + + Verdi’s mission in Italian opera--His early life and + education--His first operas and their political + significance--His second period: the maturing of his + style--Crowning achievements of his third period--Verdi’s + contemporaries. + + + A NARRATIVE HISTORY OF MUSIC + + + + + CHAPTER I + THE REGENERATION OF THE OPERA + + The eighteenth century and operatic convention--Porpora and + Hasse--Pergolesi and the _opera buffa_--Jommelli, Piccini, Cimarosa, + etc.--Gluck’s early life; the Metastasio period--The comic opera in + France; Gluck’s reform; _Orfeo_ and _Alceste_--The Paris period; + Gluck and Piccini; the Iphigénies; Gluck’s mission--Gluck’s + influence; Salieri and Sarti; the development of _opéra comique_; + Cherubini. + +While the deep, quiet stream of Bach’s genius flowed under the bridges +all but unnoticed, the marts and highways of Europe were a babel of +operatic intrigue and artistic shams. Handel in England was running +the course of his triumphal career, which luckily forced him into the +tracks of a new art-form; on the continent meantime Italian opera +reached at once its most brilliant and most absurd epoch under the +leadership of Hasse and Porpora; even Rameau, the founder of modern +harmonic science, did not altogether keep aloof from its influence, +while perpetuating the traditions of Lully in Paris. Vocal virtuosi +continued to set the musical fashions of the age, the artificial +soprano was still a force to which composers had to submit; indeed, +artificiality was the keynote of the century. + +The society of the eighteenth century was primarily concerned with the +pursuit of sensuous enjoyment. In Italy especially ‘the cosmic forces +existed but in order to serve the endless divertissement of superficial +and brainless beings, in whose eyes the sun’s only mission was to +illumine picturesque cavalcades and water-parties, as that of the moon +was to touch with trembling ray the amorous forest glades.’ Monnier’s +vivid pen-picture of eighteenth century Venetian society applies, with +allowance made for change of scene and local color, to all the greater +Italian cities. ‘What equivocal figures! What dubious pasts! Law (of +Mississippi bubble fame) lives by gambling, as does the Chevalier +Desjardins, his brother in the Bastille, his wife in a lodging-house; +the Count de Bonneval, turbaned, sitting on a rug with legs crossed, +worships Allah, carries on far-reaching intrigues and is poisoned by +the Turks; Lord Baltimore, travelling with his physician and a seraglio +of eight women, with a pair of negro guards; Ange Goudar, a wit, a +cheat at cards, a police spy and perjurer, rascally, bold, and ugly; +and his wife Sarah, once a servant in a London tavern, marvellously +beautiful, who receives the courtly world at her palace in Pausilippo +near Naples, and subjugates it with her charm; disguised maidens, false +princes, fugitive financiers, literary blacklegs, Greeks, chevaliers of +all industries, wearers of every order, splenetic _grands seigneurs_, +and the kings of Voltaire’s _Candide_. Of such is the Italian society +of the eighteenth century composed. + +Music in this artificial atmosphere could only flatter the sense of +hearing without appealing to the intelligence, excite the nerves and +occasionally give a keener point to voluptuousness, by dwelling on a +note of elegant sorrow or discreet religiousness. The very church, +according to Dittersdorf, had become a musical boudoir, the convent a +conservatory. As for the opera, it could not be anything but a lounge +for the idle public. The Neapolitan school, which reigned supreme in +Europe, provided just the sort of amusement demanded by that public. It +produced scores of composers who were hailed as _maestri_ to-day and +forgotten to-morrow. Hundreds of operas appeared, but few ever reached +publication; their nature was as ephemeral as the public’s taste was +fickle, and a success meant no more to a composer than new commissions +to turn out operas for city after city, to supply the insatiate thirst +for novelty. The manner in which these commissions were carried out +is indicative of the result. Composers were usually given a libretto +not of their choosing; the recitatives, which constituted the dramatic +groundwork, were turned out first and distributed among the singers. +The writing of the arias was left to the last so that the singers’ +collaboration or advice could be secured, for upon their rendition +the success of the whole opera depended; they were, indeed, _written +for_ the singers--the particular singers of the first performance--and +in such a manner that their voices might show to the best advantage. +As Leopold Mozart wrote in one of his letters, they made ‘the coat +to fit the wearer.’ The form which these operas took was an absolute +stereotype; a series of more or less disconnected recitatives and +arias, usually of the _da capo_ form, strung together by the merest +thread of a plot. It was a concert in costume rather than the drama in +music which was the original conception of opera in the minds of its +inventors. + +Pietro Metastasio, the most prolific of librettists, was eminently +the purveyor of texts for these operas, just as Rinuccini, the +idealist, had furnished the poetic basis for their nobler forerunners. +Metastasio’s inspiration flowed freely, both in lyrical and emotional +veins, but ‘the brilliancy of his florid rhetoric stifled the cry +of the heart.’ His plots were overloaded with the vapid intrigues +that pleased the taste of his contemporaries, with quasi-pathetic +characters, with passionate climaxes and explosions. His popularity +was immense. He could count as many as forty editions of his own works +and among his collaborators were practically all the great composers, +from Handel to Gluck and Cimarosa. As personifying the elements which +sum up the opera during this its most irrational period we may take +two figures of extraordinary eminence--Niccola Porpora and Johann Adolf +Hasse. + + + I + +Niccola Porpora (1686-1766), while prominent in his own day as +composer, conductor, and teacher (among his pupils was Joseph +Haydn), is known to history chiefly by his achievements as a singing +master--perhaps the greatest that ever lived. The art of _bel canto_, +that exaltation of the human voice for its own sake, which in him +reached its highest point, was doubtless the greatest enemy to artistic +sincerity and dramatic truth, the greatest deterrent to operatic +progress in the eighteenth century. Though possessed of ideals of +intrinsic beauty--sensuousness of tone, dynamic power, brilliance, and +precision like that of an instrument--this art would to-day arouse +only wonder, not admiration. Porpora understood the human voice in all +its peculiarities; he could produce, by sheer training, singers who, +like Farinelli, Senesino, and Caffarelli, were the wonder of the age. +By what methods his results were reached we have no means of knowing, +for his secret was never committed to writing, but his method was most +likely empirical, as distinguished from the scientific, or anatomical, +methods of to-day. It was told that he kept Caffarelli for five or six +years to one page of exercises, and then sent him into the world as the +greatest singer of Europe--a story which, though doubtless exaggerated, +indicates the purely technical nature of his work. + +Porpora wrote his own _vocalizzi_, and, though he composed in every +form, all of his works appear to us more or less like _solfeggi_. His +cantatas for solo voice and harpsichord show him at his best, as a +master of the florid Italian vocal style, with consummate appreciation +of the possibilities of the vocal apparatus. His operas, of which +he wrote no less than fifty-three, are for the most part tedious, +conventional, and overloaded with ornament, in every way characteristic +of the age; the same is true in some measure of his oratorios, numerous +church compositions, and chamber works, all of which show him to be +hardly more than a thoroughly learned and accomplished technician. + +But Porpora’s fame attracted many talented pupils, including the +brilliant young German, Hasse (1699-1783), mentioned above, who, +however, quickly forsook him in favor of Alessandro Scarlatti, a slight +which Porpora never forgave and which served as motive for a lifelong +rivalry between the two men. Hasse, originally trained in the tradition +of the Hamburg opera and its Brunswick offshoot (where he was engaged +as tenor and where he made his debut with his only German opera, +‘Antiochus’), quickly succumbed to the powerful Italian influence. +The Italians took kindly to him, and, after his debut in Naples with +‘Tigrane’ (1773), surnamed him _il caro sassone_. His marriage with +the celebrated Faustina Bordoni linked him still closer to the history +of Italian opera; for in the course of his long life, which extends +into the careers of Haydn and Mozart, he wrote no less than seventy +operas, many of them to texts by the famed Metastasio, and most of +them vehicles for the marvellous gifts of his wife. While she aroused +the enthusiasm of audiences throughout Europe, he enjoyed the highest +popularity of any operatic composer through half a century. Together +they made the opera at Dresden (whither Hasse was called in 1731 as +royal kapellmeister) the most brilliant in Germany--one that even +Bach, as we have seen, was occasionally beguiled into visiting. Once +Hasse was persuaded to enter into competition with Handel in London +(1733), the operatic capital of Europe, where Faustina, seven years +before, had vanquished her great rival Cuzzoni and provided the chief +operatic diversion of the Handel régime to the tune of £2,000 a year! +Only the death of August the Strong in 1763 ended the Hasses’ reign in +Dresden, where during the bombardment of 1760 Hasse’s library and most +of the manuscripts of his works were destroyed by fire. What remains +of them reveals a rare talent and a consummate musicianship which, +had it not been employed so completely in satisfying the prevailing +taste and propitiating absurd conventions, might still appeal with the +vitality of its harmonic texture and the beauty of its melodic line. +Much of the polyphonic skill and the spontaneous charm of a Handel is +evident in these works, but they lack the breadth, the grandeur and +the seriousness that distinguish the work of his greater compatriot. +Over-abundance of success militates against self-criticism, which is +the essential quality of genius, and Hasse’s success was not, like +Handel’s, dimmed by the changing taste of a surfeited public. Hasse’s +operas signalize at once the high water mark of brilliant achievement +in an art form now obsolete and the ultimate degree of its fatuousness. + +Hasse and Porpora, then, were the leaders of those who remained +true to the stereotyped form of opera, the singers’ opera, whose +very nature precluded progress. They and a host of minor men, like +Francesco Feo, Leonardo Vinci, Pasquale Cafaro, were enrolled in a +party which resisted all ideas of reform; and their natural allies in +upholding absurd conventions were the singers, that all-powerful race +of virtuosi, the impresarios, and all the great tribe of adherents who +derived a lucrative income from the system. Against these formidable +forces the under-current of reform--both musical and dramatic--felt +from the beginning of the century, could make little head. The protests +of men like Benedetto Marcello, whose satire _Il teatro alla moda_ +appeared in 1722, were voices crying in the wilderness. Yet reform +was inevitable, a movement no less momentous than when the Florentine +reform of 1600 was under way--the great process of crystallization and +refinement which was to usher in that most glorious era of musical +creation known as the classic period. Like the earlier reform, it +signified a reaction against technique, against soulless display of +virtuosity, a tendency toward simplicity, subjectivity, directness of +expression--a return to nature. + +Though much of the pioneer work was done by composers of instrumental +music whose discussion must be deferred to the next chapter, the +movement had its most spectacular manifestations in connection with +opera, and in that aspect is summed up in the work of Gluck, the +outstanding personality in the second half of the eighteenth century. +In the domain of absolute music it saw its beginnings in the more or +less spontaneous efforts of instrumentalists like Fasch, Foerster, +Benda, and Johann Stamitz. First among those whose initiative was felt +in _both_ directions we must name Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, the +young Neapolitan who, born in 1710, had his brilliant artistic career +cut short at the premature age of twenty-six. + + + II + +Pergolesi was the pupil of Greco, Durante, and Feo at the +_Conservatorio dei Poveri_ at Naples, where a biblical drama and +two operas from his pen were performed in 1731 without arousing any +particular attention. But a solemn mass which he was commissioned to +write by the city of Naples in praise of its patron saint, and which +was performed upon the occasion of an earthquake, brought him sudden +fame. The commission probably came to him through the good offices of +Prince Stegliano, to whom he dedicated his famous trio sonatas. These +sonatas, later published in London, brought an innovation which had no +little influence upon contemporary composers; namely, the so-called +_cantabile_ (or singing) _allegro_ as the first movement. Riemann, who +has edited two of them,[1] calls attention to the richly developed +sonata form of the first movement of the G major trio especially, of +which the works of Fasch, Stamitz, and Gluck are clearly reminiscent. +‘The altogether charming, radiant melodies of Pergolesi are linked with +such conspicuous, forcible logic in the development of the song-like +theme, always in the upper voice, that we are not surprised by the +attention which the movement aroused. We are here evidently face to +face with the beginning of a totally different manner of treatment in +instrumental melodies, which I would like to call a transplantation of +the aria style to the instrumental field.’[2] We shall have occasion to +refer to this germination of a new style later on. At present we must +consider another of Pergolesi’s important services to art--the creation +of the _opera buffa_.[3] + + +We have had occasion to observe in another chapter the success of +the ‘Beggar’s Opera’ in England in 1723, which hastened the failure +of the London Academy under Handel’s management. Vulgar as it was, +this novelty embodied the same tendency toward simplicity which was +the essential element of the impending reform; it was near to the +people’s heart and there found a quick response. This ballad-opera, +as it was called, was followed by many imitations, notably Coffey’s +‘The Devil to Pay, or The Wives Metamorphosed’ (1733), which, later +produced in Germany, was adapted by Standfuss (1752) and Johann Adam +Hiller (1765) and thus became the point of departure for the German +singspiel. This in turn reacted against the popularity of Italian opera +in Germany. The movement had its Italian parallel in the fashion for +the so-called _intermezzi_ which composers of the Neapolitan school +began very early in the century to interpolate between the acts of +their operas, as, in an earlier period, they had been interpolated +between the acts of the classic tragedies (_cf._ Vol. I, p. 326 ff). +Unlike these earlier spectacular diversions, the later _intermezzi_ +were comic pieces that developed a continuous plot independent of +that of the opera itself--an anomalous mixture of tragedy and comedy +which must have appeared ludicrous at times even to eighteenth century +audiences. These artistic trifles were, however, not unlikely, in their +simple and unconventional spontaneity, to have an interest surpassing +that of the opera proper. Such was the case with _La serva padrona_, +which Pergolesi produced between the acts of his opera _Il pigionier_ +(1733). This graceful little piece made so immediate an appeal that it +completely overshadowed the serious work to which it was attached, and, +indeed, all the other dramatic works of its composer, whose fame to-day +rests chiefly upon it and the immortal _Stabat mater_, which was his +last work. + +_La serva padrona_ is one of the very few operatic works of the century +that are alive to-day. An examination of its contents quickly reveals +the reason, for its pages breathe a charm, a vivacity, a humor which we +need not hesitate to call Mozartian. Indeed, it leaves little doubt in +our minds that Mozart, born twenty-three years later, must have been +acquainted with the work of its composer. At any rate he, no less than +Guglielmi, Piccini, Paesiello, and Cimarosa, the chief representatives +of the _opera buffa_, are indebted to him for the form, since, as +the first _intermezzo_ opera capable of standing by itself (it was +afterward so produced in Paris), it must be regarded as the first real +_opera buffa_. + +Most of the later Neapolitans, in fact, essayed both the serious +and comic forms, not unmindful of the popular success which the +latter achieved. It became, in time, a dangerous competitor to the +conventionalized _opera seria_, as the ballad-opera and the singspiel +did in England and Germany, and the _opéra bouffon_ was to become +in France. Its advantage lay in its freedom from the traditional +operatic limitations (_cf._ Vol. I, page 428). It might contain an +indiscriminate mixture of arias, recitatives, and ensembles; its +_dramatis personæ_ were a flexible quantity. Moreover, it disposed +of the male soprano, favoring the lower voices, especially basses, +which had been altogether excluded from the earlier operas. Hence it +brought about a material change in conditions with which composers had +thus far been unable to cope. In it the stereotyped _da capo_ aria +yielded its place to more flexible forms; one of its first exponents, +Nicolo Logroscino,[4] introduced the animated ensemble finale with +many movements, which was further developed by his successors. These +wholesome influences were soon felt in the serious opera as well: it +adopted especially the finale and the more varied ensembles of the +_opera buffa_, though lacking the spicy parodistical element and the +variegated voices of its rival. Thus, in the works of Pergolesi’s +successors, especially Jommelli and Piccini, we see foreshadowed the +epoch-making reform of Gluck. + +There is nothing to show, however, that Pergolesi himself was conscious +of being a reformer. His personal character, irresponsible, brilliant +rather than introspective, would argue against that. We must think of +him as a true genius gifted by the grace of heaven, romantic, wayward, +and insufficiently balanced to economize his vital forces toward a +ripened age of artistic activity. He nevertheless produced a number of +other operas, mostly serious, masses, and miscellaneous ecclesiastical +and chamber works. His death was due to consumption. So much legend +surrounds his brief career that it has been made the subject of two +operas, by Paolo Serrão and by Monteviti. + + C.S. + + + III + +About the close of Pergolesi’s career two men made their debuts whose +lives were as nearly coeval as those of Bach and Handel and who, though +of unequal merit, if measured by the standards of posterity, were both +important factors in the reform movement which we are describing. These +men were Jommelli and Gluck, both born in 1714, the year which also +gave to the world Emanuel Bach, the talented son of the great Johann +Sebastian. + +Nicola Jommelli was born at Aversa (near Naples). At first a pupil of +Durante, he received his chief training under Feo and Leo. His first +opera, _L’Errore amoroso_, was brought out under an assumed name at +Naples when the composer was but twenty-three, and so successfully +that he had no hesitation in producing his _Odoardo_ under his own +name the following year. Other operas by him were heard in Rome, in +Bologna (where he studied counterpoint with Padre Martini); in Venice, +where the success of his _Merope_ secured him the post of director of +the _Conservatorio degli incurabili_; and in Rome, whither he had gone +in 1749 as substitute _maestro di capella_ of St. Peter’s. In Vienna, +which he visited for the first time in 1748, _Didone_, one of his +finest operas, was produced. In 1753 Jommelli became kapellmeister +at Ludwigslust, the wonderful rococo palace of Karl Eugen, duke of +Württemberg, near Stuttgart. Like Augustus the Strong of Saxony, the +elector of Bavaria, the margrave of Bayreuth, the prince-bishop of +Cologne, this pleasure-loving ruler of a German principality had known +how to _s’enversailler_--to adopt the luxuries and refinements of the +court of Versailles, then the European model for royal and princely +extravagance. His palace and gardens were magnificent and his opera +house was of such colossal dimensions that whole regiments of cavalry +could cross the stage. He needed a celebrated master for his chapel and +his opera; his choice fell upon Jommelli, who spent fifteen prosperous +years in his employ, receiving a salary of ‘6,100 gulden per annum, ten +buckets of honorary wine, wood for firing and forage for two horses.’ + +At Stuttgart Jommelli was strongly influenced by the work of the German +musicians; increased harmonic profundity and improved orchestral +technique were the most palpable results. He came to have a better +appreciation of the orchestra than any of his countrymen; at times +he even made successful attempts at ‘tone painting.’ His orchestral +‘crescendo,’ with which he made considerable furore, was a trick +borrowed from the celebrated Mannheim school. It is interesting to +note that the school of stylistic reformers which had its centre at +Mannheim, not far from Stuttgart, was then in its heyday; two years +before Jommelli’s arrival in Stuttgart the famous Opus 1 of Johann +Stamitz--the sonatas (or rather symphonies) in which the Figured Bass +appears for the first time as an integral obbligato part--was first +heard in Paris. The so-called _Simphonies d’Allemagne_ henceforth +appeared in great number; they were published mostly in batches, often +in regular monthly or weekly sequence as ‘periodical overtures,’ and +so spread the gospel of German classicism all over Europe. How far +Jommelli was influenced by all this it would be difficult to determine, +but we know that when in 1769 he returned to Naples his new manner +found no favor with his countrymen, who considered his music too +heavy. The young Mozart in 1770 wrote from there: ‘The opera here is +by Jommelli. It is beautiful, but the style is too elevated as well +as too antique for the theatre.’ It is well to remark here how much +Jommelli’s music in its best moments resembles Mozart’s. He, no less +than Pergolesi, must be credited with the merit of having influenced +that master in many essentials. + +Jommelli allowed none but his own operas to be performed at Stuttgart. +The productions were on a scale, however, that raised the envy of +Paris. No less a genius than Noverre, the reformer of the French +ballet, was Jommelli’s collaborator in these magnificent productions; +and Jommelli also yielded to French influences in the matter of +the chorus. He handled Metastasio’s texts with an eye to their +psychological moments, and infused into his scores much of dramatic +truth. In breaking up the monotonous sequence of solos, characteristic +of the fashionable Neapolitan opera, he actually anticipated Gluck. All +in all, Jommelli’s work was so unusually strong and intensive that we +wonder why he fell short of accomplishing the reform that was imminent. +‘Noverre and Jommelli in Stuttgart might have done it,’ says Oscar Bie, +in his whimsical study of the opera, ‘but for the fact that Stuttgart +was a hell of frivolity and levity, a luxurious mart for the purchase +and sale of men.’ + +Jommelli’s last Stuttgart opera was _Fetonte_.[5] When he returned +to Italy in 1769 he found the public mad with enthusiasm over a new +_opera buffa_ entitled _Cecchina, ossia la buona figliuola_. In Rome it +was played in all the theatres, from the largest opera house down to +the marionette shows patronized by the poor. Fashions were all _alla +Cecchina_; houses, shops, and wines were named after it, and a host +of catch-words and phrases from its text ran from lip to lip. ‘It is +probably the work of some boy,’ said the veteran composer, but after he +had heard it--‘Hear the opinion of Jommelli--this is an inventor!’ + +The boy inventor of _Cecchina_ was Nicola Piccini, another Neapolitan, +born in 1728, pupil of Leo and Durante, who was destined to become the +most famous Italian composer of his day, though his works have not +survived to our time. His debut had been made in 1754 with _Le donne +dispettose_, followed by a number of other settings of Metastasio +texts. We are told that he found difficulty in getting hearings at +first, because the comic operas of Logroscino monopolized the stage. +Already, then, composers were forced into the _opera buffa_ with its +greater vitality and variety. Piccini’s contribution to its development +was the extension of the duet to greater dramatic purpose, and also of +the concerted finale first introduced by Logroscino. We shall meet him +again, as the adversary of Gluck. Of hardly less importance than he +were Tommaso Traetto (1727-1779), ‘the most tragic of the Italians,’ +who surpassed his contemporaries and followers in truth and force of +expression, and in harmonic strength; Pietro Guglielmi (1727-1804), who +with his 115 operas gained the applause of all Italy, of Dresden, of +Brunswick, and London; Antonio Sacchini (1734-1786), who, besides grace +of melody, attained at times an almost classic solidity; and Giovanni +Paesiello (1741-1816), whose decided talent for _opera buffa_ made him +the successful rival of Piccini and Cimarosa. + +Paesiello, with Domenico Cimarosa (1749-1801), was the leading +representative of the _buffa_ till the advent of Mozart. As Hadow +suggests, he might have achieved real greatness had he been less +constantly successful. ‘His life was one triumphal procession from +Naples to St. Petersburg, from St. Petersburg to Vienna, from Vienna +to Paris.’ Ferdinand of Sicily, Empress Catharine of Russia, Joseph +II of Austria, and even Napoleon were successively his patrons; and +his productiveness was such that he never had time, even had he had +inclination, to criticise his own works. Of his ninety-four operas +only one, ‘The Barber of Seville,’ is of historic interest, for its +popularity was such that, until Rossini, no composer dared to treat +the same theme. Cimarosa deserves perhaps more extended notice than +many others on account of his _Matrimonio segreto_, written in Russia, +which won unprecedented success there and in Italy. It is practically +the only one of all the works of composers just mentioned that has not +fallen a victim to time. Its music is simple and tuneful, fresh and +full of good humor. + +The eighteenth century public based its judgments solely on mere +externals--a pleasing tune, a brilliant singer, a sumptuous +_mise-en-scène_ caught its favor, the merest accident or circumstance +might kill or make an opera. To-day a composer is carried off in +triumph, to be hissed soon after by the same public. Rivalry among +composers is the order of the day. Sacchini, Piccini, Paesiello, +Cimarosa, are successively favorites of Italian audiences; in London +Christian Bach and Sacchini divide the public as Handel and Bononcini +did before them; in Vienna Paesiello and Cimarosa are applauded with +the same acclaim as Gluck; in St. Petersburg Galuppi,[6] Traetta, +Paesiello, and Cimarosa follow each other in the service of the +sovereign (Catharine II), who could not differentiate any tunes but the +howls of her nine dogs; in Paris, at last, the leading figures become +the storm centre of political agitations. All these composers’ names +are glibly pronounced by the busy tongues of a brilliant but shallow +society. Favorite arias, like Galuppi’s _Se per me_, Sacchini’s _Se +cerca, se dice_, Piccini’s _Se il ciel_, are compared after the manner +of race entries. Florimo, the historian of the Naples opera, dismissed +the matter with a few words: ‘Piccini is original and prolific; +Sacchini gay and light, Paesiello new and lithe, Cafaro learned +in harmony, Galuppi experienced in stagecraft, Gluck a _filosofia +economica_.’ They all have their merits--but, after all, the difference +is a matter of detail, a fit subject for the gossip of an opera box. +Even Gluck is but one of them, if his Italian operas are at all +different the difference has escaped his critics. + +But all of these composers, as well as some of their predecessors, +worked consciously or unconsciously in a regeneration that was slowly +but surely going forward. The working out of solo and ensemble forms +into definite patterns; the development of the recitative from +mere heightened declamation to a free arioso, fully accompanied, +and to the _accompagnato_ not followed by an aria at all; the +introduction of concertising instruments which promptly developed +into independent inner voices and broadened the orchestral polyphony, +the dynamic contrasts--at first abrupt, then gradual--which Jommelli +took over from the orchestral technique of Mannheim; the ingenious +construction of ensembles and the development of the finale into a +_pezzo concertanto_--all these tended toward higher organization, +individual and specialized development, though purely musical at +first and strictly removed from the influence of other arts. The +dramatic elements, the plastic and phantastic, which, subordinated at +first, found their expression in ‘laments’ and in _simile_ arias (in +which a mood was compared to a phenomena of nature), then in _ombra_ +scenes, where spirits were invoked, and in similar exalted situations, +gradually became more and more prominent, foreshadowing the time when +the portrayal of human passions was to become once more the chief +purpose of opera. + + + IV + +The last and decisive step in the revolution was the coming of Gluck. +‘It seems as if a century had worked to the limit of its strength to +produce the flower of Gluck--the great man is always the composite +genius of all the confluent temporal streams.’[7] Yet he himself was +one of these composite forces from which the artistic purpose of his +life was evolved. The Gluck of the first five decades, the Gluck of +Italian opera, of what we may call the Metastasio period, was simply +one of the many Italians unconsciously working toward that end. His +work through two-thirds of his life had no more significance than that +of a Leo, a Vinci, or a Jommelli. Fate willed, however, that Gluck +should be impressed more strongly by the growing public dissatisfaction +with senseless Italian opera, and incidentally should be brought into +close contact with varied influences tending to the broadening of his +ideas. Cosmopolite that he was, he gathered the essence of European +musical culture from its four corners. Born in Germany, he was early +exposed to the influence of solid musicianship; trained in Italy he +gained, like Handel, its sensuous melody; in England he heard the +works of Handel and received in the shape of artistic failure that +chastisement which opened his mind to radical change of method. In +France, soon after, he was impressed with the plastic dramatic element +of the monumental Lully-Rameau opera. Back in Vienna, he produced +_opéra comique_ and held converse with lettered enthusiasts. Calzabigi, +like Rinuccini in 1600, brought literary ideas of reform. Metastasio +was relegated--yet not at once, for Gluck was careful, diplomatic. +He fed his reform to the public in single doses--diluted for greater +security, interspersed with Italian operas of the old school as sops to +the hostile singers, jealous of their power. Only thus can we explain +his relapses into the current type. He knew his public must first be +educated. He felt the authority of a teacher and he resorted to the +didactic methods of Florence--of his colleagues of 1600, whom Calzabigi +knew and copied. Prefaces explaining the author’s purpose once more +became the order of the day; finally the reformer was conscious of +being a reformer, of his true life mission. Except for what human +interest there is in his early life we may therefore pass rapidly over +the period preceding 1762, the momentous year of _Orfeo ed Euridice_. + +Born July 2, 1714, at Weidenwang, in the upper Palatinate, Christoph +Willibald Gluck’s early years were passed in the forests of Bavaria +and Bohemia. His father, Alexander Gluck, had been a game-keeper, +who, having established himself in Bohemia in 1717, had successively +entered the employ of various territorial magnates--Count Kaunitz in +Neuschloss, Count Kinsky in Kamnitz, Prince Lobkowitz in Eisenberg, +and, finally, the grand-duchess of Tuscany in Reichstadt. His intention +toward his son had been at first to make of him a game-keeper, and it +is recorded that young Christoph was put through a course of Spartan +discipline with that end in view, during which he was obliged to +accompany his father barefooted through the forest in the severest +winter weather. + +[Illustration: Birthplace of Gluck at Weidenwang (Central Franconia)] + +From the age of twelve to eighteen, however, he attended the Jesuit +school at Kommotau in the neighborhood of the Lobkowitz estate and +there, besides receiving a good general education, he learned to sing +and play the violin and the 'cello, as well as the clavichord and +organ. In 1732 he went to Prague and studied under Czernohorsky.[8] +Here he was soon able to earn a modest living--a welcome circumstance, +for there were six younger children at home, for whom his father +provided with difficulty. In Prague he gave lessons in singing and on +the 'cello; he played and sang in various churches; and on holidays +made the rounds of the neighboring country as a fiddler, receiving his +payment in kind, for the good villagers, it is said, often rewarded +him with fresh eggs. Through the introductions of his patron, Prince +Lobkowitz, it was not long before he obtained access to the homes of +the music-loving Bohemian nobility, and when he went to Vienna in 1736 +he was hospitably received in his protector’s palace. Prince Lobkowitz +also made it possible for him to begin the study of composition. In +Vienna he chanced to meet the Italian Prince Melzi, who was so pleased +with his singing and playing that he made him his chamber musician and +took him with him to Milan. Here, during four years, from 1737 to 1741, +Gluck studied the theory of music under the celebrated contrapuntist +Giovanni Battista Sammartini, and definitely decided upon musical +composition as a career. + +His studies completed, he made his debut as a creative artist at +the age of twenty-seven, with the opera _Artaserse_ (Milan, 1741), +set to a libretto of Metastasio. It was the first of thirty Italian +operas, composition of which extended over a period of twenty years, +and which are now totally forgotten. The success of _Artaserse_ was +instantaneous. We need not explain the reasons for this success, nor +the circumstances that, together with its fellows, from _Demofoonte_ to +_La finta schiava_, it has fallen into oblivion. + +His Italian successes procured for him, however, an invitation in 1745 +to visit London and compose for the Haymarket. Thither he went, and +produced a new opera, _La caduta de’ giganti_, which, though it earned +the high praise of Burney, was coldly received by the public. A revised +version of an earlier opera, _Artamene_, was somewhat more successful, +but _Piramo e Tisbe_, a _pasticcio_ (a kind of dramatic potpourri +or medley, often made up of selections from a number of operas), +fell flat. ‘Gluck knows no more counterpoint than my cook,’ Handel +is reported to have said--but then, Handel’s cook was an excellent +bassist and sang in many of the composer’s own operas. Counterpoint, +it is true, was not Gluck’s forte, and the lack of depth of harmonic +expression which characterized his early work was no doubt due to the +want of contrapuntal knowledge. Handel quite naturally received Gluck +with a somewhat negligent kindness. Gluck, on the other hand, always +preserved the greatest admiration for him--we are told that he hung the +master’s picture over his bed. Not only the acquaintance of Handel, +whose influence is clearly felt in his later works, but the musical +atmosphere of the English capital must have been of benefit to him. + +Perhaps the most valuable lesson of his life was the London failure +of _Piramo e Tisbe_. He was astonished that this _pasticcio_, which +presented a number of the most popular airs of his operas, was so +unappreciated. After thinking it over he may well have concluded +that all music properly deserving of the name should be the fitting +expression of a situation; this vital quality lacking, in spite of +melodic splendor and harmonic richness and originality, what remained +would be no more than a meaningless arrangement of sounds, which +might tickle the ear pleasantly, but would have no emotional power. A +short trip to Paris afforded him an opportunity of becoming acquainted +with the classic traditions of the French opera as developed by Lully +and Rameau. Lully, it will be remembered, more nearly maintained the +ideals of the early Florentines than their own immediate successors. +In his operas the orchestra assumed a considerable importance, the +overture took a stately though conventional aspect. The chorus and the +ballet furnished a plastic background to the drama and, indeed, had +become integral features. Rameau had added harmonic depth and variety +and given a new charm to the graceful dance melodies. Gluck must have +absorbed some or all of this; yet, for fifteen years following his +visit to London, he continued to compose in the stereotyped form of +the Italian opera. He did not, it is true, return to Italy, but he +joined a travelling Italian opera company conducted by Pietro Mingotti, +as musical director and composer. One of his contributions to its +répertoire was _Le nozze d’Ercole e d’Ebe_, which was performed in +the gardens of the Castle of Pillnitz (near Dresden) to celebrate the +marriage of the Saxon princess and the Elector of Bavaria in June, +1747. How blunted Gluck’s artistic sense must have been toward the +incongruities of Italian opera is shown by the fact that the part of +Hercules in this work was written for a soprano and sung by a woman. In +others the rôles of Agamemnon the ‘king of men,’ of demigods and heroes +were trilled by artificial sopranos. + +After sundry wanderings Gluck established himself in Vienna, where in +1748 his _Semiramide reconosciuta_ had been performed to celebrate the +birthday of the Empress Maria Theresa. It was an _opera seria_ of the +usual type and, though terribly confused, it revealed at times the +power and sweep characteristic of Handel. + +In Vienna Gluck fell in love with Marianna Pergin, the daughter of a +wealthy merchant whose father would not consent to the marriage. The +story that his sweetheart had vowed to be true to him and that he +wandered to Italy disguised as a Capucin to save expenses in order +to produce his _Telemacco_ for the Argentina Theatre in Rome has no +foundation. But at any rate the couple were finally married in 1750, +after the death of the relentless father. This signalized the close of +Gluck’s nomadic existence. With his permanent residence in Vienna began +a new epoch in his life. Vienna was at that time a literary, musical, +and social centre of importance, a home of all the arts. The reigning +family of Hapsburg was an uncommonly musical one; the empress, her +father, her husband (Francis of Lorraine), and her daughters were all +music lovers. Maria Theresa herself sang in the operatic performances +at her private theatre. Joseph II played the 'cello in its orchestra. +The court chapel had its band, the cathedral its choir and four +organists. In the Hofburg and at the rustic palace of Schönbrunn music +was a favorite diversion of the court, cultivated alike by the Austrian +and the Hungarian nobility. The royal opera houses at Launburg and +Schönbrunn placed in their service a long series of the famous opera +composers. + +_Semiramide_ had recommended its composer to the favor of Maria +Theresa, his star was in the ascendant. In September, 1754, his comic +opera _Le Chinese_, with its tragic-comic ballet, _L’Orfano della +China_, performed at the countryseat of the Duke of Saxe-Hildburghausen +in the presence of the emperor and court, gave such pleasure that +its author was definitely attached to the court opera at a salary of +two thousand ducats a year. His wealthy marriage and his increasing +reputation, instead of tempting him to indulge in luxurious ease, +spurred him to increased exertions. He added to the sum total +of his knowledge by studies of every kind--literary, poetic, and +linguistic--and his home became a meeting place for the _beaux esprits_ +of art and science. He wrote several more operas to librettos by +Metastasio, witnessed the triumph of two of them in Rome, after which +he was able to return to Vienna, a _cavaliere dello sperone d’oro_ +(knight of the golden spur), this distinction having been conferred +upon him by the Pope. Henceforth he called himself _Chevalier_ or +_Ritter_ (not _von_) Gluck. + + + V + +For the sake of continuity we are obliged at this point to resume +the thread of our remarks concerning the _opera buffa_ of Pergolesi. +In 1752, about the time of Gluck’s official engagement at the Vienna +opera, an Italian troupe of ‘buffonists’ introduced in Paris _La +serva padrona_ and _Il maestro in musica_ (Pergolesi’s only other +comic opera). Their success was sensational, and, having come at a +psychological moment, far-reaching in results, for it gave the impulse +to a new school, popular to this day--that of the French _opéra +comique_, at first called _opera bouffon_. + +The latter part of the eighteenth century had witnessed the birth of +a new intellectual ideal in France, essentially different from those +associated with the preceding movements of the Renaissance and the +Reformation. Neither antiquity nor the Bible were in future to be the +court of last instance, but judgment and decision over all things +was referred to the individual. This theory, and others laid down by +the encyclopedists--the philosophers of the time--reacted equally on +all the arts. New theories concerning music were advanced by laymen. +Batteaux had already insisted that poetry, music, and the dance were, +by very nature, intended to unite; Diderot and Rousseau conceived +the idea of the unified work of art. Jean Jaques Rousseau,[9] the +intellectual dictator, who laid a rather exaggerated claim to musical +knowledge, and the famous satirist, Baron Melchior Grimm, now began a +literary tirade against the old musical tragedy of France, which, like +the Italian opera, had become paralyzed into mere formulas. Rousseau, +who had shortly before written a comic opera, _Le devin du village_ +(The Village Seer), in French, now denounced the French language, with +delightful inconsistency, as unfit to sing; Grimm in his pamphlet, _Le +petit prophète de Boehmisch-Broda_, threatened the French people with +dire consequences if they did not abandon French opera for Italian +_opera buffa_.[10] This precipitated the widespread controversy +between Buffonists and anti-Buffonists, known as the _Guerre des +bouffons_, which, in this age of pamphleteers, of theorists, and +revolutionary agitators, soon assumed political significance. The +conservatives hastened to uphold Rameau and the cause of native art; +the revolutionists rallied to the support of the Italians. Marmontel, +Favart, and others set themselves to write after the Italian model, +‘Duni brought from Parma his _Ninette à la cour_ and followed it in +1757 with _Le peintre amoureux_; _Monsigny_[11] left his bureau and +Philidor[12] his chess table to follow the footsteps of Pergolesi; +lastly came Grétry from Rome and killed the old French operatic style +with _Le Tableau parlant_ and _Zémire et Azor_!’ The result was the +production of a veritable flood of pleasing, delightful operettas +dealing with petty love intrigues, mostly of pastoral character, in +place of the stale, mythological subjects common to French and Italian +opera alike. The new school quickly strengthened its hand and improved +its output. Its permanent value lay, of course, in the infusion of new +vitality into operatic composition in general, a rejuvenation of the +poetic as well as musical technique, the unlocking of a whole treasure +of subjects hitherto unused. + +Gluck at Vienna, already acquainted with French opera, was quick to +see the value of this new _genre_, and he produced, in alternation +with his Italian operas, a number of these works, partly with +interpolations of his own, partly rewritten by him in their entirety. +Among the latter class must be named _La fausse esclave_ (1758); +_L’île de Merlin_ (1758); _L’arbre enchantée_ (1759); _L’ivrogne +corrigé_ (1760); _Le cadi dupé_ (1761); and _La recontre imprévue_ +(1764). As Riemann suggests, it is not accidental that Gluck’s idea to +reform the conventionalized opera dates from this period of intensive +occupation with the French _opéra bouffon_. There is no question that +the simpler, more natural art, and the genuineness and sincerity of the +comic opera were largely instrumental in the fruition of his theories. +His only extended effort during the period from 1756 to 1762 was a +pantomimic ballet, _Don Giovanni_, but the melodramas and symphonies +(or overtures) written for the private entertainment of the imperial +family, as well as seven trio sonatas, varied in expression and at +times quite modern in spirit, also date from this time. It is well to +remember also that this was a period of great activity in instrumental +composition; that the Mannheim school of symphonists was just then at +the height of its accomplishment. + +Gluck’s first reform opera, _Orfeo ed Euridice_, appeared in 1762. +The young Italian poet and dramatist, Raniero da Calzabigi, supplied +the text. Calzabigi, though at first a follower of Metastasio, had +conceived a violent dislike for that librettist and his work. A +hot-headed theorist, he undoubtedly influenced Gluck in the adoption +of a new style, perhaps even gave the actual initiative to the change. +The idea was not sudden. We have already pointed out how the later +Neapolitans had contributed elements of reform and had paved the way +in many particulars. They had not, however, like Gluck, attacked the +root of the evil--the text. Metastasio’s texts were made to suit only +the old manner; Calzabigi’s were designed to a different purpose: the +unified, consistent expression of a definite dramatic scheme. In the +prefaces which accompanied their next two essays in the new style, +_Alceste_ and _Paride_, Gluck reverted to almost the very wording of +Peri and Caccini, but nevertheless no reaction to the representative +style of 1600 was intended. Though he spoke of ‘forgetting his +musicianship,’ he did not deny himself all sensuous melodic flow in +favor of a _parlando_ recitative. Too much water had flowed under the +bridges since 1600 for that. Scarlatti and his school had not wrought +wholly in vain. But the coloratura outrage, the concert-opera, saw the +beginning of its end. The _da capo_ aria was discarded altogether, the +chorus was reintroduced, and the subordination of music to dramatic +expression became the predominating principle. Artificial sopranos +and autocratic _prime donne_ could find no chance to rule in such a +scheme; their doom was certain and it was near. In the war that ensued, +which meant their eventual extinction, Gluck found a powerful ally in +the person of the emperor, Francis I. + +In that sovereign’s presence _Orfeo_ was first given at the +_Hofburgtheater_ in Vienna. Its mythological subject--the same that +Ariosti treated in his _favolo_ of 1574, that Peri made the theme of +his epoch-making drama of 1600, that Monteverdi chose for his Mantuan +debut in 1607--was surely as appropriate for this new reformer’s first +experiment as it was suited to the classic simplicity and grandeur of +his music. The opera was studied with the greatest care, Gluck himself +directing all the rehearsals, and the participating artists forgot +that they were virtuosi in order better to grasp the spirit of the +work. It was mounted with all the skill that the stagecraft of the +day afforded. Although it did not entirely break with tradition and +was not altogether free of the empty formulas from which the composer +tried to escape, it was too new to conquer the sympathies of the +Viennese public at once. Indeed, the innovations were radical enough to +cause trepidations in Gluck’s own mind. His strong feelings that the +novelty of _Orfeo_ might prevent its success induced him to secure the +neutrality of Metastasio before its first performance, and his promise +not to take sides against it openly. + +Gluck’s music is as fresh to-day as when it was written. Its beauty +and truth seemed far too serious to many of his contemporaries. People +at first said that it was tiresome; and Burney declared that ‘the +subordination of music to poetry is a principle that holds good only +for the countries whose singers are bad.’ But after five performances +the triumph of _Orfeo_ was assured and its fame spread even to Italy. +Rousseau said of it: ‘I know of nothing so perfect in all that +regards what is called fitness, as the ensemble in the Elysian fields. +Everywhere the enjoyment of pure and calm happiness is evident, but +so equable is its character that there is nothing either in the +songs or in the dance airs that in the slightest degree exceeds its +just measure.’ The first two acts of _Orfeo_ are profoundly human, +with their dual picture of tender sorrow and eternal joy. The grief +of the poet and the lamentations of his shepherd companions, rising +in mournful choral strains, insistent in their reiteration of the +motive indicative of their sorrow, are as effective in their way as +the musical language of Wagner, even though they lack the force of +modern harmony and orchestral sonority. The principle is fundamentally +the same. Nor is Gluck’s music entirely devoid of the dramatic force +which has come to music with the growth of the modern orchestra. Much +of the delineation of mood and emotion is left to the instruments. +Later, in the preface to _Alceste_, Gluck declared that the overture +should be in accord with the contents of the opera and should serve as +a preparation for it--a simple, natural maxim to which composers had +been almost wholly blind up to that time. In Gluck’s overtures we see, +in fact, no Italian, but a German, influence. They partake strongly of +the nature of the first movements of the Mannheim symphonies, showing a +contrasting second theme and are clearly divided into three parts, like +the sonata form. Thus the new instrumental style was early introduced +into the opera through Gluck’s initiation, and thence was to be +transferred to the overtures of Mozart, Sacchini, Cherubini, and others. + +In 1764 _Orfeo_ was given in Frankfort-on-the-Main for the coronation +of the Archduke Joseph as Roman king. The imperial family seems to +have been sympathetically appreciative of Gluck’s efforts with the +new style; but nevertheless his next work, _Telemacco_, produced at +the Burgtheater in January, 1765, though considered the best of his +Italian operas, was a peculiar mixture of the stereotype and the new, +as if for a time he lacked confidence. Quite different was the case +of _Alceste_ (Hofburgtheater, Dec. 16, 1767). In this, his second +classic music drama, the composer carried out the reforms begun in +_Orfeo_ more boldly and more consistently. Calzabigi again wrote the +text. The music was neither so full of color nor so poetic as that +of its predecessor, yet was more sustained and equal in beauty. The +orchestration is somewhat fuller; the recitatives have gained in +expressiveness; there are effects of great dramatic intensity, and +arias of severe grandeur. Berlioz called _Alceste’s_ aria ‘Ye gods +of endless night’ the perfect manifestation of Gluck’s genius. Like +_Orfeo_, _Alceste_ was admirably performed, and again opinions differed +greatly regarding it. Sonnenfels[13] wrote after the performance: ‘I +find myself in wonderland. A serious opera without _castrati_, music +without _solfeggios_, or, I might rather say, without gurgling; an +Italian poem without pathos or banality. With this threefold work of +wonder the stage near the Hofburg has been reopened.’ On the other +hand, there were heard in the parterre such comments as ‘It is meant +to call forth tears--I may shed a few--of _ennui_’; ‘Nine days without +a performance, and then a requiem mass’; or ‘A splendid two gulden’s +worth of entertainment--a fool who dies for her husband.’ This last is +quite in keeping with the sentiment of the eighteenth century in regard +to conjugal affection. It took a long while for the public to accustom +itself to the austerity and tragic grandeur of this ‘tragedy set to +music,’ as its author called it. Yet _Alceste_ in its dual form (for +the French edition represents a complete reworking of its original) is +Gluck’s masterpiece, and it still remains one of the greatest classical +operas. + +Three years after _Alceste_ came _Paride ed Elena_ (Nov. 30, 1770), a +‘drama for music.’ In the preface of the work, dedicated to the duke +of Braganza, Gluck again emphasized his beliefs. Among other things he +wrote: ‘The more we seek to attain truth and perfection the greater the +need of positiveness and accuracy. The lines that distinguish the work +of Raphael from that of the average painter are hardly noticeable, yet +any change of an outline, though it may not destroy resemblance in a +caricature, completely deforms a beautiful female head. Only a slight +alteration in the mode of expression is needed to turn my aria _Che +faro senza Euridice_ into a dance for marionettes.’ _Paride ed Elena_, +constructed on the principles of _Orfeo_ and _Alceste_, is the least +important of Gluck’s operas and the least known. The libretto lacks +action, but the score is interesting because of its lyric and romantic +character. Much of its style seems to anticipate the new influences +which Mozart afterward brought to German music. It also offers the +first instance of what might be called local color in its contrasting +choruses of Greeks and Asiatics. + +It is interesting to note that at the time of composing the lyrical +‘Alceste’ Gluck was also preparing for French opera with vocal +romances, _Lieder_. His collection of songs set to Klopstock’s odes +was written in 1770. They have not much artistic value, but they are +among the earliest examples of the _Lied_ as Mozart and Beethoven later +conceived it, a simple song melody whose mission is frankly limited +to a faithful emphasis of a lyrical mood. Conceived in the spirit of +Rousseau, they are spontaneous and make an unaffected appeal to the +ear. The style is nearer that of French _opéra comique_, at which Gluck +had already tried his hand, thus obtaining an exact knowledge of the +spirit of the French language and of its lyrical resources. + + + VI + +The wish of Gluck’s heart was to carry to completion the reforms he +had initiated, but Germany had practically declared against them. +His musical and literary adversaries at the Viennese court, Hasse +and Metastasio, had formed a strong opposition. Baron Grimm spoke of +Gluck’s reforms as the work of a barbarian. Agricola, Kirnberger, and +Forkel were opposed to them. In Prussia, Frederick the Great had a few +arias from _Alceste_ and _Orfeo_ sung in concert, and decided that the +composer ‘had no song and understood nothing of the grand opera style,’ +an opinion which, of course, prevented the performance of his operas in +Berlin. In view of all this it is not surprising that he should turn to +what was then the centre of intellectual life, that he should seize the +opportunity to secure recognition for his art in the great home of the +drama--in Paris. + +Let us recall for a moment Gluck’s connection with the French _opéra +bouffon_. Favart had complimented him, in a letter to the Vienna opera +director Durazzo, for the excellence of his French ‘déclamation.’ +Evidently Gluck and his friend Le Blanc du Roullet, attaché of the +French embassy, had kept track of the _Guerre des bouffons_, and +had taken advantage of the psychology of the moment, for Rameau had +died in 1764 and the consequent weakening of the National party had +resulted in the victory of the Buffonists. Du Roullet suggested to +Gluck and Calzabigi that they collaborate upon a French subject for +an opera, and chose Racine’s _Iphigénie_. The opera was completed and +the text translated by du Roullet, who now wrote a very diplomatic +letter to the authorities of the Académie royale (the Paris opera). +It recounted how the Chevalier Gluck, celebrated throughout Europe, +admired the French style of composition, preferred it, indeed, to the +Italian; how he regarded the French language as eminently suited to +musical treatment, and that he had just finished a new work in French +on a tragedy of the immortal Racine, which exhausted all the powers +of art, simple, natural song, enchanting melody, recitative equal to +the French, dance pieces of the most alluring freshness. Here was +everything to delight a Frenchman’s heart; besides, his opera had been +a great financial success in Bologna, and so valiant a defender of the +French tongue should be given an opportunity in its own home. + +The academy saw a new hope in this. It considered the letter in +official session, and cautiously asked to see an act of _Iphigénie_. +After examination of it Gluck was promised an engagement if he would +agree to write six operas like it. This condition, almost impossible of +acceptance for a man of Gluck’s age, was finally removed through the +intercession of Marie Antoinette, now dauphiness of France, Gluck’s +erstwhile pupil in Vienna. + +Gluck was invited to come to Paris as the guest of the Académie +and direct the staging of _Iphigénie_. He arrived there with his +wife and niece[14] in the summer of 1773. Lodged in the citadel of +the anti-Buffonists, he incurred in advance the opposition of the +Italian party, but, diplomat that he was, he at once set about to +propitiate the enemy. Rousseau, the intellectual potentate of France, +was eventually won over; but, despite the fact that Gluck’s music +was essentially human and should have fulfilled the demands of the +‘encyclopedists,’ such men as Marmontel, La Harpe, and d’Alambert +were arrayed against him, together with the entire Italian party and +many of the followers of the old French school, who refused to accept +him as the successor of Lully and Rameau. Mme. du Barry was one of +these. Marie Antoinette, on the other hand, constituted herself Gluck’s +protector. It was the _Guerre des bouffons_ at its climax. + +The _première_ of _Iphigénie en Aulide_ (April, 1774) was awaited with +the greatest impatience. Gluck had spared no pains in the preparation. +He drilled the singers, spoiled by public favor, with the greatest +vigor, and ruthlessly combatted their caprices. The obstacles were +many: Legras was ill; Larivée, the Agamemnon, did not understand his +part; Sophie Arnold, known as the greatest singing actress of her day, +sang out of tune; Vestris, the greatest dancer of his time--he was +called the ‘God of the Dance’--was not satisfied with his part in the +ballet of the opera. ‘Then dance in heaven, if you’re the god of the +dance,’ cried Gluck, ‘but not in my opera!’ And when the terpsichorean +divinity insisted on concluding _Iphigénie_ with a _chaconne_, he +scornfully asked: ‘Did the Greeks dance _chaconnes_?’ Gluck threatened +more than once to withdraw his opera, yielding only to the persuasions +of the dauphiness. + +The second performance of the opera determined its triumph, a triumph +which in a manner made Paris the centre of music in Europe.[15] +Marie Antoinette even wrote to her sister Marie Christine to express +her pleasure. Gluck received an honorarium of 20,000 francs and was +promised a life pension. Less severe and solemn than _Alceste_, +_Iphigénie en Aulide_ and _Iphigénie en Tauride_ (written ten years +later to a libretto by Guillard and not heard until May 18, 1779) were +the favorites of town and court up to the very end of the _ancien +régime_. Not only are both more appealing and less sombre, but they are +also more delicate in form, more simple in sentiment, and more intimate +than _Alceste_. + +Gluck’s fame was now universal. Voltaire, the oracle of France, had +pronounced in his favor. The nobility sought his society, the courtiers +waited on him. Even princes hastened, when he laid down his bâton, to +hand him the peruke and surcoat cast aside while conducting. A strong +well-built man, bullet-headed, with a red, pockmarked face and small +gray, but brilliant, eyes; richly and fashionably dressed; independent +in his manner; jealous of his liberty; opinionated, yet witty and +amiable, this revolutionary à la Rousseau, this ‘plebeian genius’ +completely conquered all affections of Parisian society. He was at home +everywhere; every salon lionized him, he was a familiar figure at the +_levers_ of Marie Antoinette. + +In August, 1774, a French version of _Orfeo_, extensively revised, was +heard and acclaimed. This confirmed the victory--the anti-Gluckists +were vanquished for the time. But a permanent connection with the +Paris opera did not at once result for Gluck, and the next year +he returned to Vienna, taking with him two old opera texts by +Quinault--Lully’s librettist--_Roland_ and _Armide_, which the +_Académie_ had commissioned him to set. He set to music only the +latter of the two poems, for, when he learned that Piccini likewise +had been asked to set the _Roland_, and had been invited to Paris by +Marie Antoinette, he destroyed his sketches. An older light operetta, +_Cythère assiegée_, which he recast and foolishly dispatched to Paris, +thoroughly displeased the Parisians. The opposition was quick to seize +its advantage. It looked about for a leader and found him in Piccini, +now at the head of the great Neapolitan school. He was induced to come +to Paris by tempting promises, but was so ill-served by circumstances +that, in spite of the manœuvres and the intrigues of his partisans, his +_Roland_ was not given until 1778. + +On April 23, 1776, Gluck directed the first performance of his new +French version of _Alceste_. It was hissed. In despair Gluck rushed +from the opera house and exclaimed to Rousseau: ‘_Alceste_ has +fallen!’ ‘Yes,’ was the answer, ‘but it has fallen from the skies!’ +In 1777 came _Armide_. In this opera Gluck thought he had written +sensuous music.[16] It no longer makes this impression--the passion +of ‘Tristan,’ the oriental voluptuousness of the _Scheherazade_ of +Rimsky-Korsakov, and the eroticism of modern dramatic scores have +somewhat cooled the warmth of the love music of _Armide_. On the other +hand, the passion of hatred is delineated in this opera powerfully +and vigorously enough for modern appreciation. _Armide_ is beautiful +throughout by reason of its sincerity. + +Piccini’s _Roland_ followed _Alceste_ in a few months, January, 1778. +It was a success, but only a temporary one. After twelve well-attended +performances it ceased to draw. Nevertheless it fanned the flame of +controversy. The fight of Gluckists and Piccinnists, in continuation of +the _Guerre des bouffons_, of which the principals, by the way, were +quite innocent, was at its height. Men addressed each other with the +challenge ‘Êtes-vous Gluckiste ou Piccinniste?’ Piccini was placed at +the head of an Italian troupe which was engaged to give performances on +alternate nights at the _Académie_. The two ‘parties’ were now on equal +footing. Finally it occurred to the director to have the two rivals +treat the same subject and he selected Racine’s _Iphigénie en Tauride_. +Piccini was handicapped from the start. His text was bad, neither +his talent nor his experience was so suited to the task as Gluck’s. +The latter’s version was ready in May, 1779, and was a brilliant +success. According to the _Mercure de France_ no opera had ever made +so strong and so universal an impression upon the public. ‘Pure +musical beauty as sweet as that of _Orfeo_, tragic intensity deeper +than that of _Alceste_, a firm touch, an undaunted courage, a new +subtlety of psychological insight, all combine to form a masterpiece +such as throughout its entire history the operatic stage has never +known.’ Piccini, who meantime had produced his _Atys_, brought out his +_Iphigénie_ in January, 1781. Despite many excellences it was bound to +be anti-climax to Gluck’s. Needless to say it admits of no comparison. + +Too great stress has often been laid on the quarrels of the ‘Gluckists’ +and ‘Piccinnists,’ which, it is true, went to absurd lengths. As +is usually the case with partisanship in art, the chief characters +themselves were not personal enemies. The Italian sympathizers merely +took up the cry which the Buffonists had formerly raised against the +opera of Rameau. According to them Gluck’s music was made up of too +much noise and not enough song. ‘But the Buffonist agitation had been +justified by results; it had produced the _opéra comique_, which +had assimilated what it could use of the Italian _opera buffa_.’ +Not so this new controversy. Hence, despite a few days of glory for +Piccini, his party was not able to reawaken in France a taste for the +superficial charm of Italian music. ‘The crowd is for Gluck,’ sighed La +Harpe. And when, after the glorious success of _Iphigénie en Tauride_, +Piccini’s _Didon_ was given in 1783, it owed the favor with which it +was received largely to the fact that in style and expression it +followed Gluck’s model. + +In 1780, six months after the _Iphigénie_ première, Gluck retired +to Vienna to end his days in dignified and wealthy leisure. He had +accomplished his task, fulfilled the wish of his heart. In his +comfortable retreat he learned of the failure of Piccini’s _Iphigénie +en Tauride_, while his own was given for the 151st time on April 2, +1782! He also enjoyed the satisfaction of knowing that _Les Danaïdes_, +the opera written by his disciple and pupil, Antonio Salieri, justified +the truth of his theories by its success on the Paris stage in 1784. +It was this pupil, who, consulting Gluck on the question of whether +to write the rôle of Christ in the tenor in his cantata ‘The Last +Judgment,’ received the answer, half in jest, half in earnest, ‘I’ll +be able before long to let you know from the beyond how the Saviour +speaks.’ A few days after, on Nov. 15, 1787, the master breathed his +last, having suffered an apoplectic stroke. + +The inscription on his tomb, ‘Here rests a righteous German man, an +ardent Christian, a faithful husband, Christoph Ritter Gluck, the great +master of the sublime art of tone’ emphasizes the strongly moral side +of his character. For all his shrewdness and solicitude for his own +material welfare, his music is ample proof of his nobility of soul; its +loftiness, purity, unaffected simplicity reflect the virtues for which +men are universally respected. + +In its essence Gluck’s music may be considered the expression of +the classic ideal, the ‘naturalism’ and ‘new humanism’ of Rousseau, +which idealized the old Greek world and aimed to inculcate the Greek +spirit; courage and keenness in quest of truth and devotion to the +beautiful. The leading characteristics of his style have been aptly +defined as the ‘realistic notation of the pathetic accent and passing +movement, and the subordination of the purely musical element to +dramatic expression.’ ‘I shall try,’ he wrote in the preface to +_Alceste_, ‘to reduce music to its own function, that of seconding +poetry by intensifying the expression of sentiments and the interest of +situations without interrupting the action by needless ornament. I have +accordingly taken great care not to interrupt the singer in the heat of +the dialogue and make him wait for a tedious _ritornel_, nor do I allow +him to stop on a sonorous vowel, in the middle of a phrase, in order +to show the agility of a beautiful voice in a long cadenza. I also +believed it my duty to try to secure, to the best of my power, a fine +simplicity; therefore I have avoided a display of difficulties which +destroy clarity. I have never laid stress on aught that was new, where +it was not conditioned in a natural manner by situation and expression; +and there is no rule which I have not been willing to sacrifice with +good grace for the sake of the effect. These are my principles.’ The +inscription, _Il préféra les Muses aux Sirènes_ (He chose the Muses +rather than the Sirens), beneath an old French copper-plate of Gluck, +dating from 1781, sounds the keynote of his artistic character. A +prophet of the true and beautiful in music, he disdained to listen for +long to the tempting voices which counselled him to prefer the easy +rewards of popular success to the struggles and uncertainties involved +in the pursuit of a high ideal. And, when the hour came, he was ready +to reject the appeal of external charm and mere virtuosity and to lead +dramatic musical art back to its natural sources. + + + VII + +Gluck’s immediate influence was not nearly as widespread as his reforms +were momentous. It is true that his music, reverting to simpler +structures and depending on subtler interpretation for its effects +put an end to the absolute rule of _prime uomini_ and _prime donne_, +but, while some of its elements found their way into the work of his +more conventional contemporaries, his example seems not to have been +wholly followed by any of them. His dramatic teachings, too, while +they could not fail to be absorbed by the composers, were not adopted +without reserve by any one except his immediate pupil Salieri, who +promptly reverted to the Italian style after his first successes. Gluck +was not a true propagandist and never gathered about him disciples +who would spread his teachings--in short he did not found a ‘school.’ +Even in France, where his principles had the weight of official +sanction, apostasy was rife, and Rossini and Meyerbeer were probably +more appreciated than their more austere predecessor. His influence +was far-reaching rather than immediate. It remained for Wagner to take +up the thread of reasoning where Gluck left off and with multiplied +resources, musically and mechanically, with the way prepared by +literary forces, and himself equipped with rare controversial powers, +demonstrate the truths which his predecessor could only assert. + +Antonio Salieri (1750-1825) with _Les Danaïdes_, in 1781, achieved +a notable success in frank imitation of Gluck’s manner; indeed, the +work, originally intrusted to Gluck by the Académie de Musique, was, +with doubtful strategy, brought out as that master’s work, and in +consequence brought Salieri fame and fortune. Other facts in Salieri’s +life seem to bear out similar imperfections of character. He was, +however, a musician of high artistic principles. When in 1787 _Tarare_ +was produced in Paris it met with an overwhelming success, but +Salieri nevertheless withdrew it after a time and partially rewrote +it for its Vienna production, under the title of _Axur, Rè d’Ormus_. +‘There have been many instances in which an artist has been taught by +failure that second thoughts are best; there are not many in which +he has learned the lesson from popular approbation.’[17] Salieri’s +career is synchronous with Mozart’s, whom he outlived, and against +whom he intrigued in ungenerous manner at the Viennese court, where +he became kapellmeister in 1788. He profited by his rival’s example, +moreover, but his music ‘falls between the methods of his two great +contemporaries, it is less dramatic than Gluck’s and it has less +melodic genuineness than Mozart’s.’ + +Prominent among those who adhered to Italian operatic tradition +was Giuseppe Sarti (1729-1802), ‘a composer of real invention, and +a brilliant and audacious master of the orchestra.’ We have W. H. +Hadow’s authority for the assertion that he first used devices which +are usually credited to Berlioz and Wagner, such as the use of muted +trumpets and clarinets and certain experiments in the combination of +instrumental colors. Sarti achieved truly international renown; from +1755 to 1775 he was at the court of Copenhagen, where he produced +twenty Italian operas, and four Danish singspiele; next he was director +of the girls’ conservatory in Venice and till 1784 musical director of +Milan cathedral,[18] and from 1784 till 1787 he served Catherine II of +Russia as court conductor. His famous opera, _Armida e Rinaldo_, he +produced while in this post (1785), as well as a number of other works. +In 1793 he founded a ‘musical academy’ which was the forerunner of the +great St. Petersburg conservatory, and he was its director till 1801. +His introduction of the ‘St. Petersburg pitch’ (436 vibrations for A) +is but one detail of his many-sided influence. + +Not the least point of Sarti’s historical importance is the fact that +he was the teacher of Cherubini. Luigi Cherubini occupies a peculiar +position in the history of music. Born in Florence in 1760 and +confining his activities to Italy for the first twenty-eight years +of his career, he later extended his influence into Germany (where +Beethoven became an enthusiastic admirer) and to Paris, where he +became a most important factor of musical life, especially in that +most peculiarly French development--the _opéra comique_. His operatic +method represents a compromise between those of his teacher, Sarti, and +of Gluck, who thus indirectly exerts his influence upon comic opera. +Successful as his many Italian operas--produced prior to 1786--were, +they hardly deserve notice here. His Paris activities, synchronous with +those of Méhul, are so closely bound up with the history of _opéra +comique_ that we may well consider them in that connection. + +The _opéra comique_, the singspiel of France, was comic opera with +spoken dialogue. Its earlier exponents, Monsigny, Philidor, and Gossec, +were in various ways influenced by Gluck in their work. Grétry,[19] +whose _Le tableau parlant_, _Les deux avares_, and _L’Amant jaloux_ are +‘models of lightness and brilliancy,’ like Gluck ‘speaks the language +of the heart’ in his masterpieces, _Zémire et Azor_ and _Richard Cœur +de Lion_, and excels in delineation of character and the expression +of typically French sentiment. Grétry’s appearance marked an epoch in +the history of _opéra comique_. His _Mémoires_ expose a dramatic creed +closely related to that of Gluck, but going beyond that master in its +advocacy of declamation in the place of song. + +Gossec, also important as symphonist and composer of serious operas +(_Philemon et Baucis_, etc.), entered the comic opera field in 1761, +the year in which the Opéra Comique, known as the Salle Favart, was +opened, though his real success did not come till 1766, with _Les +Pêcheurs_. Carried away by revolutionary fervor, he took up the +composition of patriotic hymns, became officially connected with +the worship of Reason, and eventually left the comic opera field to +Cherubini and Méhul. Both arrived in Paris in 1778, which marks the +second period of _opéra comique_. + +The peaceful artistic rivalry and development of this period stand in +peculiar contrast to the great political holocaust which coincides +with it--the French Revolution. That upheaval was accompanied by an +almost frantic search for pleasure on the part of the public, and +an astounding increase in the number of theatres (seventeen were +opened in 1791, the year of Louis XVI’s flight, and eighteen more +up to 1800). Cherubini’s wife herself relates how the theatres were +crowded at night after the guillotine had done its bloody work by day. +Music flourished as never before and especially French music, for the +storm of patriotism which swept the country made for the patronage of +things French. In the very year of Robespierre’s execution (1794) the +_Conservatoire de Musique_ was projected, an institution which has ever +since remained the bulwark of French musical culture.[20] + +In 1789 a certain Léonard, _friseur_ to Marie Antoinette, was given +leave to collect a company for the performance of Italian opera, +and opened his theatre in a hall of the Tuileries palace with his +countryman Cherubini as his musical director. The fall of the Bastille +in 1794 drove them from the royal residence to a mere booth in the +Foire St. Germain, where in 1792 they created the famous Théâtre +Feydeau, and delighted Revolutionary audiences with Cherubini versions +of Cimarosa and Paesiello operas. Here, too, _Lodoïska_, one of +Cherubini’s most brilliant works, was enthusiastically applauded. +Meantime Étienne Méhul (b. Givet, Ardennes, 1763; d. Paris, 1817), +the modest, retiring artist, who had been patiently awaiting the +recognition of the _Académie_ (his _Alonzo et Cora_ was not produced +till 1791) had become the hero of the older enterprise at the Salle +Favart,[21] and there produced his _Euphrosine et Corradin_ in 1790, +followed by a series of works of which the last, _Le jeune Henri_ +(1797), was hissed off the stage because, in the fifth year of the +revolution, it introduced a king as character--the once adored Henry +IV! This was followed by a more successful series, ‘whose musical force +and the enchanting melodies with which they are begemmed have kept them +alive.’ His more serious works, notably _Stratonice_, _Athol_, and +especially _Joseph_, a biblical opera, are highly esteemed. M. Tiersot +considers the last-named work superior to that by Handel of the same +name. Méhul was Gluck’s greatest disciple--he was directly encouraged +and aided by Gluck--and even surpassed his master in musical science. + +Cherubini’s _Médé_ and _Les deux journées_ were produced in 1797 and +1800, respectively. The latter ‘shows a conciseness of expression and +a warmth of feeling unusual to Cherubini,’ says Mr. Hadow; at any +rate it is better known to-day than any of the other works, and not +infrequently produced both in France and Germany. It is _opéra comique_ +only in form, for it mixes spoken dialogue with music--its plot is +serious. In this respect it furnishes a precedent for many other +so-called _opéras comiques_. Cherubini’s musical resources were almost +unlimited, wealth of ideas is even a fault with him, having the effect +of tiring the listener, but his overtures are truly classic, his +themes refined, and his orchestration faultless. In _Les deux journées_ +he abandoned the Italian traditions and confined himself practically +to ensembles and choruses. He must, whatever his intrinsic value, be +reckoned among the most important factors in the reformation of the +opera in the direction of music drama. + +Cherubini was not so fortunate as to win the favor of Napoleon, as +did his colleagues, Gossec and Grétry and Méhul, all of whom received +the cross of the Legion of Honor. He returned to Vienna in 1805 and +there produced _Faniska_, the last and greatest of his operas, but +his prospects were spoiled by the capture of Vienna and the entry +of Napoleon, his enemy, at the head of the French army. He returned +to France disappointed but still active, wrote church music, taught +composition at the conservatory and was its director from 1821 till +his death in 1842. The _opéra comique_ continued meantime under the +direction of Paesiello and from 1803 under Jean François Lesueur +(1760-1837) ‘the only other serious composer who deserves to be +mentioned by the side of Méhul and Cherubini.’ Lesueur’s innovating +ideas aroused much opposition, but he had a distinguished following. +Among his pupils was Hector Berlioz. + + F. H. M. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[1] Collegium musicum No. 29. + +[2] Riemann: Handbuch, II³, p. 121. + +[3] Usually Nicolo Logroscino is named as having gone before him, +but, as that composer is in evidence only from 1738 (two years after +Pergolesi’s death), the date of his birth usually accepted (1700) seems +doubtful (cf. Kretzschmar in _Peters-Jahrbuch_, 1908).--Riemann: _Ibid._ + +[4] Born in Naples, date unknown; died there in 1763. He was one of +the creators of _opera buffa_, his parodistic dialect pieces--_Il +governatore_, _Il vecchio marito_, _Tanto bene che male_, etc.--being +among its first examples. In 1747 he became professor of counterpoint +at the _Conservatorio dei figliuoli dispersi_ in Palermo. + +[5] After his return to Naples his three last works, _Armida_, +_Demofoonte_, and _Ifigenia in Tauride_, passed over the heads of an +unmindful public. The composer felt these disappointments keenly. +Impaired in health he retired to his native town of Aversa and died +there August 25, 1774. + +[6] Baldassare Galuppi, born on the island of Burano, near Venice, In +1706; died in Venice, 1785, was a pupil of Lotti. He ranks among the +most eminent composers of comic operas, producing no less than 112 +operas and 3 dramatic cantatas in every musical centre of Europe. He +also composed much church music and some notable piano sonatas. + +[7] Oskar Bie; _Die Oper_ (1914). + +[8] Bohuslav Czernohorsky (1684-1740) was a Franciscan monk, native +of Bohemia, but successively choirmaster in Padua and Assisi, where +Tartini was his pupil. He was highly esteemed as an ecclesiastical +composer. At the time when Gluck was his pupil he was director of the +music at St. Jacob’s, Prague. + +[9] Born 1712; died 1778. Though not a trained musician he evinced +a lively interest in the art from his youth. Besides his _Devin du +village_, which remained in the French operatic repertoire for sixty +years, he wrote a ballet opera, _Les Muses galantes_, and fragments of +an opera, _Daphnis et Chloé_. His lyrical scene, _Pygmalion_, set to +music first by Coignet, then by Asplmayr, was the point of departure of +the so-called ‘melodrama’ (spoken dialogue with musical accompaniment). +He also wrote a _Dictionnaire de musique_ (1767). + +[10] _Le petit prophète de Boehmisch-Broda_ has been identified by +historians with the founder of the Mannheim school, Johann Stamitz, +for the latter was born in Deutsch-Brod (Bohemia), and but two years +before had set Paris by the ears with his orchestral ‘sonatas.’ The +hero of the Grimm pamphlet is a poor musician, who by dream magic is +transferred from his bare attic chamber to the glittering hall of +the Paris opera. He turns away, aghast at the heartlessness of the +spectacle and music. + +[11] Pierre Alexandre Monsigny, born near St. Omer, 1729, died, Paris, +1817. _Les aveux indiscrets_ (1759); _Le cadi dupé_ (1760); _On ne +s’avise jamais de tout_ (1761); _Rose et Colas_ (1764), etc., are his +chief successes in opera comique. + +[12] François-André-Danican Philidor, born, Dreux, 1726; died, +London, 1795. Talented as a chess player he entered international +contests successfully, and wrote an analysis of the game. His love +for composition awoke suddenly and he made his comic-opera debut in +1759. His best works are: _Le maréchal férant_ (1761); _Tom Jones_ +(1765), which brought an innovation--the _a capelli_ vocal quartet; and +_Ernelinde, princesse de Norvège_ (1767), a grand opera. + +[13] Sonnenfels, a contemporary Viennese critic, was active in his +endeavors to uplift the German stage. (_Briefe über die Wienerische +Schaubühne_, Vienna, 1768.) + +[14] Gluck’s marriage was childless, but he had adopted a niece, +Marianne Gluck, who had a pretty voice and pursued her musical training +under his care. Both Gluck’s wife and niece usually accompanied him in +his travels. + +[15] After _Iphigénie en Aulide_ Paris became the international centre +of operatic composition. London was more in the nature of an exchange, +where it was possible for artists to win a good deal of money quickly +and easily; the glory of the great Italian stages dimmed more and more, +and Vienna, Dresden, Berlin, and Munich were only locally important. +Operatic control passed from the Italian to the French stage at the +same time German instrumental composition began its victories. + +[16] Gluck declared that the music of Armide was intended ‘to give +a voluptuous sensation,’ and La Harpe’s assertion that he had made +_Armide_ a sorceress rather than an enchantress, and that her part was +‘_une criallerie monotone et fatigante_,’ drew forth as bitter a reply +from the composer as Wagner ever wrote to his critics. + +[17] W. H. Hadow: Oxford History of Music, Vol. V. + +[18] During this period he produced his famous operas, _Le gelosie +vilane; Fernace_ (1776), _Achille in Sciro_ (1779), _Giulio Sabino_ +(1781). + +[19] André Erneste Modeste Grétry, born, Liège, 1742; died, near Paris, +1813. ‘His Influence on the _opéra comique_ was a lasting one; Isouard, +Boieldieu, Auber, Adam, were his heirs.’--Riemann. + +[20] The Paris _Conservatoire de Musique_, succeeding the Bourbon +_École de chant et de déclamation_ (1784) and the revolutionary +_Institut National de Musique_ (1793), was established 1795, with +Sarrette as director and with liberal government support. Cherubini +became its director in 1822, and its enormous influence on the general +trend of French art dates from his administration. + +[21] The two theatres, after about ten years’ rivalry, united as +the Opéra Comique which, under government subsidy, has continued to +flourish to this day. + + + + + CHAPTER II + THE FOUNDATIONS OF THE CLASSIC PERIOD + + Classicism and the classic period--Political and literary forces--The + conflict of styles; the sonata form--The Berlin school; the sons of + Bach--The Mannheim reform; the Genesis of the Symphony--Followers of + the Mannheim school; rise of the string quartet; Vienna and Salzburg + as musical centres. + + +It is impossible to assign the so-called Classic Movement to a definite +period; its roots strike deep and its limits are indefinite. It +gathered momentum while the ideas from which it revolted were in their +ascendency; its incipient stage was simultaneous with the reign of +Italian opera. To define the meaning of classicism is as difficult as +it is to fix the date of its beginning. By contrasting, as we usually +do, the style of that period with a later one, usually called the +Romantic, by comparing the ideal of classicism with the romantic ideal +of subjective expression, we get a negative rather than a positive +definition; for classicism is generally presumed to be formal, and +antagonistic to that free ideal--a supposition which is not altogether +exact, for it was just the reform of the classicists that opened +the way to the free expressiveness which is characteristic of the +‘Romantics.’ On the other hand, the classic ideal of just proportions, +of pure objective beauty, did find expression in the crystallized +forms, the clarified technique, and the flexible articulation that +superseded the unreasonably ornate, the polyphonically obscure, or the +superficial, trite monotony of a great part of pre-classic music. + + + I + +When Gluck’s _Alceste_ first appeared on the boards of the Imperial +Opera in 1768, Mozart, the twelve-year-old prodigy, was the pet of +Viennese salons; Haydn, with thirty symphonies to his credit, was +laying the musical foundations of a German Versailles at Esterhàz; +Emanuel Bach, practically at the end of his career, had just left +Frederick the Great to become Telemann’s successor at Hamburg; and +Stamitz, the great reformer of style and the real father of the modern +orchestra, was already in his grave. On the other hand, there were +still living men like Hasse and Porpora, whose recollection reached +back to the very beginnings of the century. These men belonged to +an earlier age, and so did in a sense all the men discussed in the +last chapter, with a few obvious exceptions. But their influence +extended far into the period which we are about to discuss; their +careers are practically contemporaneous with the classic movement. The +beginnings of that movement, the first impulses of the essentially new +spirit we must seek in the work of men who were, like Pergolesi, the +contemporaries of Bach and Handel. + +To the reader of history perhaps the most significant outward sign of +the impending change is the shifting of musical supremacy away from +Italy, which had held unbroken sway since the days of Palestrina. We +have seen in the last chapter how with Gluck the operatic centre of +gravity was transferred from Naples to Paris. We shall now witness a +similar change in the realm of ‘absolute’ music--this time in favor +of Germany. The underlying causes of this change are fundamentally +the same as those which directed the course of literature and general +culture--namely the social and political upheaval that followed the +Reformation and ushered in a century of struggle and strife, that +kindled the Phœnix of a united and liberated nation, the Germany of +to-day. A glance at the political history of the preceding era will +help our comprehension of the period with which we have to deal. + +The peace of Westphalia (1648) had left the German Empire a +dismembered, powerless mass. No less than three hundred ‘independent’ +states, ruled over by petty tyrants--princes, dukes, margraves, +bishops--each of whom had the right to coin money, raise armies and +contract alliances, made up a nation defenseless against foes, weakened +by internal and military oppression, steeped in abject misery and +moral depravity. For over a hundred years it remained an ‘abortion,’ +an ‘irregular body like unto a monster,’ as Puffendorf characterized +it. Despite its pretensions it was, as Voltaire said, ‘neither +holy, nor Roman, nor an empire.’ Flood after flood of pillaging +soldiery had passed across its fertile acres, spreading ruin and +dejection; the ravages of Louis XIV, the invasion of Kara Mustapha, +the Spanish, the Swedish, the Polish wars, left the people victims +of the selfish ambitions of brutish monarchs, men whose example set +a premium upon crime. These noble robbers had made of the map of +Europe a crazy-quilt, the only sizable patches of which represented +France, Austria, and Russia. Italy, like Germany, was divided, but +with this difference--its several portions were actually ruled by the +‘powers’--Austria had Tuscany and Milan, Spain ruled Naples and Sicily, +while France owned Sardinia and Savoy. Its superior culture, having +thus the benefit of a benevolent paternalism, penetrated to the very +hearts of the conquerors, to Vienna, Madrid, and Paris, and spread a +thin but glittering coat all over Europe. Germany, on the other hand, +was, under the sham of independence, so constantly threatened with +annihilation, so impoverished through strife, that the very idea of +culture suggested a foreign thing, an exotic within the reach only +of the mighty. Friedrich von Logau in the early seventeenth century +bewailed the influx of foreign fashions into Germany, while Moscherosch +denounced the despisers and traitors of his fatherland; and Lessing, +over a century later, was still attacking the predominance of French +taste in literature. We must not wonder at this almost total eclipse of +native culture. The fact that the racial genius could perpetuate its +germ, even across this chasm of desolation, is one of the astounding +evidences of its strength. + +That germ, to which we owe the preservation of German culture, that +thin current which ran all through the seventeenth and the early +eighteenth century, had two distinct manifestations: the religious +idealism of the north, and the optimistic rationalism of the south, +which found expression in the writings of Leibnitz. The first of these +movements produced in literature the religious lyrics of Protestant +hymn writers, in music the cantatas, passions, and oratorios of a Bach +and a Handel. Its ultimate expression was the _Messias_ of Klopstock, +which in a sense combined the two forms of art; for, as Dr. Kuno +Francke[22] says, it is an ‘oratorio’ rather than an epic. As for +Leibnitz, according to the same authority, ‘it is hard to overestimate +his services to modern culture. He stands midway between Luther and +Goethe.... In a time of national degradation and misery his philosophy +offered shelter to the higher thought and kept awake the hope of an +ultimate resurrection of the German people.’ The one event which +signalizes that resurrection more than any is the battle of Rossbach in +1757. This was the shot that reverberated through Europe and summoned +all eyes to witness a new spectacle, a prince who declared himself +the servant of his people. With Frederick the Great as their hero the +Germans of the North could rally to the hope of a fatherland; their +poets, tongue-tied for centuries, broke forth in new lyric bursts; the +vision of a united, triumphant Germany fired patriots, philosophers, +scientists and artists with enthusiasm for a new ideal. This +idealism--or sentimentality--stood in sharp contrast to the somewhat +cynical rationalism of Rousseau, Diderot, and d’Alembert, but it had an +even stronger influence on art. + +The immediate effect of this regeneration was an increased output of +literature and of music, a greater individuality, or assertiveness, +in the native styles, the perfection of its technique, and the +crystallization of its forms. In literature it bore its first fruits +in the works of Klopstock and Wieland. Already in 1748 Klopstock had +‘sounded that morning call of joyous idealism which was the dominant +note of the best in all modern German literature.’ This poet is an +important figure to us, for he is of all writers the most admired in +the period of musical history with which these chapters deal. His very +name brought tears to the eyes of Charlotte in Goethe’s _Werther_; +Leopold Mozart could go no further in his admiration of his son’s +genius than to compare him to Klopstock. Wieland, who lived less in +the realm of the spiritual but was fired with a greater enthusiasm +for humanity, was among the first to give expression to his hope of +a united Germany. He was personally acquainted with Mozart and early +appreciated his genius.[23] + +A transformation was thus wrought in the minds of the people of +northern Europe. Much as in the humanitarian revelation of the Italian +Renaissance, men became introspective, discovered in the recesses of +their souls a new sympathy; men’s hearts became more receptive than +they had ever been; and, as, after the strife of centuries, Europe +settled down to a placid period of reconstruction, all this found +manifold expression in people’s lives and in their art. + +The close of the Seven Years’ War in 1763 had brought an era of +comparative peace. Austria, though deprived of some territory, entered +upon a period of prosperity which augured well for the progress of art; +Prussia, on the other hand, proceeded upon a career of unprecedented +expansion under the enlightened leadership of the great Frederick. The +Viennese court, which had patronized music for generations, now became +what Burney called it, ‘the musical capital of Europe,’ while Berlin +and Potsdam constituted a new centre for the cultivation of the art. +Frederick, the friend of Voltaire, though himself a lover of French +culture, and preferring the French language to his own, nevertheless +encouraged the advancement of things native. He insisted that his +subjects patronize home manufactures, affect native customs, and, +contrary to Joseph II in Vienna, he engaged German musicians for his +court in preference to Italians. The two courts may thus be conceived +as the strongholds of the two opposing styles, German and Italian, +which in fusing produced the new expressive style that is the most +characteristic element of classic music. + + + II + +To make clear this conflict of styles represented by the north and +the south, by Berlin and Vienna, respectively, we need only ask the +reader to recall what we have said about the music of Bach in Vol. +I and that of Pergolesi in the last chapter. In the one we saw the +culmination of polyphonic technique upon a modern harmonic basis, +a fusion of the old polyphonic and new monodic styles, enriched by +infinite harmonic variety, with a wealth of ingenious modulations and +chromatic alterations, and a depth of spirit analogous to the religious +idealism which we have cited as the dominant intellectual note of +post-Reformation Germany. In the other, the direct outcome of the +monodic idea, and therefore essentially melodic, we found a consummate +grace and lightness, but also a certain shallowness, a desire to +please, to tickle the ear rather than to stir the deeper emotions. +In the course of time this style came to be absolutely dominated by +harmony, through the peculiar agency of the Figured Bass. But instead +of an ever-shifting harmonic foundation, an iridescent variety of +color, we have here an essentially simple harmonic structure, largely +diatonic, and centring closely around the tonic and dominant as the +essential points of gravity, swinging the direction of its cadences +back and forth between the two, while employing every melodic device to +introduce all the variety possible within the limitations of so simple +a scheme. + +While, then, the style of Bach, and the North Germans, on the one +hand, had a predominant _unity of spirit_ it tended to _variety of +expression_; the style of the Italians, on the other hand, brought a +_variety of ideas_ with a comparative simplicity of scheme or _monotony +of expression_, which quickly crystallized into stereotyped forms. One +of these forms, founded upon the simple harmonic scheme of tonic and +dominant, developed, as we have seen, into the instrumental sonata, +a type of which the violin sonatas of Corelli and his successors, +Francesco Geminiani, Pietro Locatelli, and Giuseppe Tartini, and the +piano sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti are excellent examples. Many +Italians managed to endow such pieces with a breadth, a song-like +sweep of melody, to which their inimitable facility of vocal writing +led them quite naturally. Pergolesi especially, as we have said, +deserves special merit for the introduction of the so-called ‘singing +allegro’ in the first movements of his sonatas. Germans were quick +to follow these examples and their innate tendency to variety of +expression caused them to add another element--that of rhythmic +contrast.[24] Indeed, although the Italian style continued to hold sway +throughout Europe long after 1700, we find among its exponents an ever +greater number of Germans. Their proclivity for harmonic fullness, +pathos, and dignity was, moreover, reinforced by the influence of +French orchestral music of the style of Lully and his successors. It +was reserved for the Germans, also, to develop the sonata form as we +know it to-day, to build it up into that wonderful vehicle for free +fancy and for the philosophic development of musical ideas. + +Before introducing the reader to the men of this epoch, who +prepared the way for Haydn and Mozart, we are obliged, for a better +understanding of their work, to describe briefly the nature and +development of that form which serves, so to speak, as a background to +their activity. + +Certain successive epochs in the history of our art have been so +dominated by one or another type of music that they might as aptly +derive their names from the particular type in fashion as the early +Christian era did from plain-chant. Thus the sixteenth century might +well be called the age of the madrigal, the early seventeenth the +period of accompanied monody, and the late seventeenth the epoch of +the suite. As the vogue of any of these forms increases, a chain of +conventions and rules invariably grows up which tends first to fix +it, then to force it into stereotypes which become the instrument of +mediocre pedants. The very rules by which it grows to perfection become +the shackles which arrest its expansion. Thus it usually deteriorates +almost immediately after it has reached its highest elevation at the +hand of genius, unless it gives way to the broadening, liberalizing +assaults of iconoclasts, and only in the measure to which it is capable +of adapting itself to broader principles is further life vouchsafed to +it. It continues then to exist beyond the period which is, so to speak, +its own, in a sort of afterglow of glory, less brilliant but infinitely +richer in interest, color and all-pervading warmth. All the types +above mentioned, from the madrigal down, have continued to exist, in a +sense, to our time, and, though our age is obviously as antagonistic +to the spirit of the madrigal as it is to that of plain-chant, we +might cite modern part-songs partaking of the same spirit which have +a far stronger appeal. The modern symphonic suites of a Bizet or a +Rimsky-Korsakoff as compared to the orchestral suite of the eighteenth +century furnish perhaps the most striking case in point. + +The period which this and the following chapters attempt to describe is +dominated by the sonata form. Not a composer of instrumental music--and +it was essentially the age of instrumental music--but essayed that form +in various guises. Even the writers of opera did not fail to adopt +it in their instrumental sections, and even in their arias. But the +decades which are our immediate concern represent a formative stage, +because there is much variety, much uncertainty, both in nomenclature +and in the matter itself. Nomenclature is never highly specialized at +first. A name primarily denotes a variety of things which have perhaps +only slight marks of resemblance. Thus we have seen how _sonata_, +derived from the verb _suonare_, to sound, is at first a name for any +instrumental piece, in distinction to _cantata_, a vocal piece. The +_canzona da sonar_ (or _canzon sonata_) symbolized the application +of the vocal style to instruments, and the abbreviation ‘sonata’ was +for a time almost synonymous with _sinfonia_, as in the first solo +sonatas (for violin) of Bagio Marini about 1617. The sonata in its +modern sense is essentially a solo form; but, during a century or more +of its evolution, the most familiar guise under which it appeared was +the ‘trio-sonata.’ That, as we have seen, broadened out to symphonic +proportions (while adapting some of the features of the orchestral +suite) and the sonata became more specifically a solo piece, or, +better, a group of pieces, for the sonata of our day is a ‘cyclical’ +piece. But through all its outward manifestations, and irrespective of +them, it underwent a definite and continuous metamorphosis, by which it +assumed a more and more definite pattern, or patterns, which eventually +fused into one. + +The ‘cycle sonata’ undoubtedly had its root idea in the dance suite, +and for a long time that derivation was quite evident. The minuet, +obstinately holding its place in the scheme until Beethoven converted +it into the scherzo, was the last birthmark to disappear. The variety +of rhythm that the dance suite offers is also clearly preserved in +the principle of rhythmic contrasts _between the movements_. These +comprise usually a rapid opening movement embodying the essentials +of the ‘sonata form’; a contrasting slow movement, shorter and +in less conventional form--sometimes aria, sometimes ‘theme and +variations’--stands next; the finale, in the lighter Italian form, was +usually a quick dance movement or short, brilliant piece of slight +significance; in the German and more developed examples it was often +a rondo (one principal theme recurring at intervals throughout the +piece with fresh ‘episodical’ matter interspersed), and more and more +frequently it was cast in the first-movement form. Between the slow +movement and the finale is the place for the minuet (if the sonata is +in four movements). Haydn, though not the first so to use it, quickened +its tempo and enriched it in content. A second minuet (Menuetto II) +appears in the earlier symphonies of Haydn and Mozart, which by and +by is incorporated with the first as ‘trio’--the familiar alternate +section always followed by a repeat of the minuet itself. + +Of course, the distinguishing feature of the sonata over all other +forms is the peculiar pattern of at least _one_ of its movements--most +usually the first--the outcome of a long evolution, which, in its +finally settled form, with the later Mozart and with Beethoven, became +the most efficient, the most flexible, and the most convincing medium +for the elaboration of musical ideas. The ‘first-movement form,’ as it +has been called, appears in the eighteenth century in either of two +primary patterns: the _binary_ (consisting of two sections), and the +_ternary_ (consisting of three). The binary, gradually introduced by +the Italians, notably Pergolesi and Alberti, is simply a broadening +of the ‘song-form’ in two sections (each of which is repeated), +having one single theme or subject, presented in the following key +arrangement (‘A’ denoting the tonic or ‘home’ key and ‘B’ the dominant +or related key): |:A--B:| |:B--A:|. This, with broadened dimensions +and more definite thematic distinction, within each section gave way +to: |:A¹--B²:||:B¹--A²:| (¹ and ² representing first and second theme, +respectively). In this arrangement the second section simply reproduces +the thematic material of the first, but in the reverse order of keys +or tonality. It should be added that the ‘second theme’ was usually, +at this early stage of development, a mere suggestion, an embryo with +very slight individuality. The leading representatives of this type of +form as applied to the suite as well as the sonata were Pergolesi, +Domenico Alberti, Handel, J. S. Bach, J. F. Fasch, Domenico Scarlatti, +Locatelli, and Gluck, and most of the later Italians, who continued to +prefer this easily comprehended form, placing but simple problems of +musicianship before the composer. It was eminently suited to the easy +grace of polite music, of the ‘salon’ music of the eighteenth century. + +But in the works of German suite writers especially the restatement of +the first theme after the double bar displays almost from the beginning +a tendency toward variety, abridgment, expansion, and modulation of +harmony. Gradually this section assumed such a bewildering, fanciful +character, such a variety of modulations, that the subject in its +original form was forgotten by the hearer, and all recollection of the +original key had been obliterated from the mind. Composers then grasped +the device of restating the first theme in the original key after +this free development of it, and then restating the second theme as +before. Both the tonic and the dominant elements of the first section +(or exposition) are now seen to be repeated in the tonic key in the +restatement section (or recapitulation) and the form has assumed the +following shape: + + ||:A¹--B²:||:(A²) | Development or | A¹--B¹:| + ‘Working-out’ + +This is clearly a three-division form, and as such is closely allied +to the ballad form, or _ternary_ song-form, which is as old as the +binary. Already Johann Sebastian Bach in his Prelude in F minor, in +the second part of the ‘Well-tempered Clavichord,’ gives an example +of it, and in Emanuel Bach and his German contemporaries this type +becomes the standard. But it is curious to observe how strongly the +Italian influence worked upon composers of the time, for, whenever +the desire to please is evident in their work, we see them adopt the +simpler pattern, and even when the ternary form is used the so-called +‘working-out’ is little more than an aimless sequence of meaningless +passage work intended to dazzle by its brilliance and its grandiose +effects, with but little relation to the subject matter of the piece. +Even Mozart and Haydn veered back and forth between the two types until +they had arrived at a considerably advanced state of maturity. + +The second theme, as time went on, became more and more individualized +and, as it assumed more distinct rhythmic and melodic characteristics, +it lent itself more freely to logical development, like the principal +subjects, became in fact a real ‘subject’ on a par with the first. +With Stamitz and the Mannheim school, at last, we meet the idea of +_contrast between the two themes_, not only in key but in spirit, in +meaning. As with characters in a story, these differences can readily +be taken hold of and elaborated. The themes may be played off against +each other, they may be understood as masculine and feminine, as bold +and timid, or as light and tragic--the possibilities of the scheme are +unlimited, the complications under which an ingenious mind can conceive +it are infinite in their interest. Thus only, by means of _contrast_, +could states of mind be translated into musical language, thus only was +it possible to give voice to the deeper sentiments, the new feelings +that were tugging at the heart-strings of Europe. Only with this great +principle of emotional contrast did the art become receptive to the +stirrings of _Sturm und Drang_, of incipient Romanticism, thus only +could it give expression to the graceful melancholy of a Mozart, the +majestic ravings of a Beethoven. + + + III + +Having given an indication of the various stages through which the +sonata form passed, we may now speak of the men who developed it. We +are here, of course, concerned only with those who cultivated the +later and eventually universal German type. + +In the band of musicians gathered about the court of Frederick the +Great we find such pioneers as Joachim Quantz, the king’s instructor +on the flute;[25] Gottlieb Graun, whose significance as a composer of +symphonies, overtures, concertos, and sonatas is far greater than that +of his brother Karl Heinrich, the composer of _Der Tod Jesu_; and the +violinist Franz Benda, who was, however, surpassed in musicianship +by his brother Georg, _kapellmeister_ in Gotha. All of these and a +number of others constitute the so-called Berlin school, whose most +distinguished representative by far was Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, +the most eminent of Johann Sebastian’s sons. He has been called, not +without reason, the father of the piano sonata, for, although Kuhnau +preceded him in applying the form to the instrument, it is he who made +it popular, and who definitely fixed its pattern, determined the order +of its movements--Allegro; Andante or Adagio; Allegro or Presto--so +familiar to all music-lovers. + +Emanuel Bach was born in Weimar in 1714. He was sent to Frankfort +to study law, but instead established a chorus with himself as its +leader. In 1738 he went to Berlin, where, two years later, we see +him playing the accompaniments to ‘Old Fritz’s’ flute solos. The +royal amateur’s accomplishments were of doubtful merit, but Bach +stood the strain for twenty-seven years, at the end of which the king +abandoned the flute for the sword, and Bach abandoned the king to +finish his days in Hamburg as director of church music. But church +music was not his _métier_. His cantatas were ‘pot-boilers.’ Emanuel +was made of different stuff from his father. He fitted into his +time--a polished courtier, more witty than pious, more suave than +sincere, more brilliant than deep, but of solid musicianship none the +less--the technician _par excellence_, both as composer and executant, +a clean-cut formalist, a thorough harmonist ‘crammed full of racy +novelty,’ though not free from pedantry, and preferring always the +_galant_ style of the period. The ‘polite’ instrument, the harpsichord, +was essentially his. The ‘Essay on the True Manner of Playing the +Clavier,’ which he wrote in Berlin, is still of value to-day. His +technique was, no doubt, derived from that of his father, but he +introduced a still more advanced method of fingering. + +His great importance to history, however, lies in his instrumental +compositions, comprising no less than two hundred and ten solo +pieces--piano sonatas, rondos, concertos, trio-sonatas of the +conventional type (two violins and bass), six string quartets and the +symphonies printed in 1780. These works exercised a dual force. While +yielding to the taste of the time, they held the balance to the side +of greater harmonic richness and artistic propriety; on the other +hand, they played an important part in the further development of the +prevailing forms to a point where they could become ‘free enough and +practical enough to deal with the deep emotions.’ ‘As yet people looked +on the art as a refined sort of amusement. Not until Beethoven had +written his music did its possibilities as a vehicle for deep human +feeling and experience become evident.’[26] By following fashion Bach +became its leader, and so exercised a widespread influence over his +contemporaries and immediate followers. For a few years, says Mr. W. H. +Hadow, the fate of music depended upon Emanuel Bach; Mozart himself, +though directly influenced by him only in later life, called him ‘the +father of us all.’ + +Bach may hardly be said to have originated the modern ‘pianistic’ +style--the free, brilliant manner of writing particularly adapted +to the requirements of the instrument. Couperin and the astonishing +Domenico Scarlatti were before him. Naturally the instrument which he +used was not nearly so resonant or sonorous as the piano of our day; +an instrument the strings of which were plucked by quills attached +to the key lever, not hit by hammers as the strings of our piano, +was, of course, devoid of all sustaining power. This fact accounts +for the infinite number of ornaments, trills, mordents, grace notes, +bewildering in their variety, with which Bach’s sonatas are replete. +Despite the technical reason for their existence we cannot forego the +obvious analogy between them and the rococo style prevalent in the +architecture and decorations of the period. Emanuel Bach’s music was as +fashionable as that style, and his popularity outlasted it. Strange as +it may seem, ‘Bach,’ in the eighteenth century and beyond, always meant +‘Emanuel’! + +Quite a different sort of man was Emanuel’s elder brother, Wilhelm +Friedemann Bach, the favorite son of his father and thought to be +the most gifted, too. But the definition of genius as ‘an infinite +capacity for taking pains’ would not fit his gifts. Wilhelm preferred +a good time to concentrated labor, hence his name is not writ large in +history. Yet his work, mostly preserved only in manuscript--concertos, +suites, sonatas and fantasias--shows more real individuality, more +_Innigkeit_ and, at times, real passion than does his brother’s. And, +moreover, something that could never happen to his brother’s works +happened to one of his. It was ascribed to his father and was so +published in the Bach Society’s edition of Sebastian’s works. In the +examples of his work, resurrected by the indefatigable Dr. Riemann, +we are often surprised by harmonic vagaries and rhythmic ingenuities +that recall strongly the older Bach; the impassioned fancy of that +polyphonic giant finds often a faint echo in the rhapsodic wanderings +of his eldest son. + +Friedemann Bach’s life was, like his work, rambling, irregular. Born +in 1710, he was organist in Dresden from 1733 to 1747; then at Halle, +in the church that was Handel’s drilling ground under old Zachau. His +extravagances cost him this post and perhaps many another, for he roved +restlessly over Germany for the rest of his life until, a broken-down +genius of seventy-four, he ended his career in Berlin in 1784. + +In sharp contrast to the career of the oldest son of Bach stands that +of the youngest, Johann Christian (born 1734, in Leipzig), chiefly +renowned as an opera composer of the Italian school. He has been +called the ‘Milanese Bach,’ because from 1754 to 1762 he made that +Italian city his home and there wrote operas, and became a Catholic +to qualify as the organist of Milan Cathedral; and the ‘London Bach’ +because there he spent the remaining twenty years of his life, a most +useful and honorable career. His first London venture was in opera, +too, but his historic importance does not lie in that field. Symphonies +(including one for two orchestras), concertos for piano and various +other instruments, quintets, quartets, trios, sonatas for violin, and +numerous piano pieces which did much to popularize the new instrument, +are his real monuments. Trained at first by his brother Emanuel, he +was bound to follow the polite, elegant style of the period, and more +so perhaps because of his Italian experience. For that reason his +value has been greatly underestimated. But he is, nevertheless, an +important factor in the stylistic reform that prepared the way for the +great classics, and the upbuilding of German instrumental music. Of +his influence upon Mozart and Haydn we shall have more to say anon. +That influence was, of course, largely Italian, for Bach followed the +Italian pattern in his sonatas. It was he that passed on to Mozart the +_singing allegro_ which he had brought with him from Italy, and so he +may be considered in a measure the communicator of Pergolesi’s genius. + +As the centre of London musical life Christian Bach exercised a +tremendous influence in the formation of popular taste.[27] The +subscription concerts which he and another German, Carl Friedrich Abel +(1725-1787), instituted in 1764, were to London what the _Concerts +spirituels_ were to Paris. Not only symphonies, but cantatas and +chamber works of every description were here performed in the manner of +our public concerts of to-day, and the higher forms of music were thus +placed for the first time within the reach of a great number of people. +After 1775 these concerts took place in the famous Hanover Square Rooms +and were continued until 1782. In the following year another series, +known as the ‘Professional Concerts,’ was begun and since that time the +English capital has had an unbroken succession of symphonic concerts. + + + IV + +The writer of musical history is confronted at every point with the +problem of classification. The men whom we have discussed can, though +united by ties of nationality and even family, hardly be considered +as of one school. We have taken them as the representatives of the +North German musical art; yet, as we were obliged to state, Southern +influence affected nearly all of them. Similarly, we should find +in analyzing the music of the Viennese that a more or less rugged +Germanism had entered into it. J. J. Fux (1660-1741), the pioneer of +the ‘Viennese school’; Georg Reutter, father and son (1656-1738, and +1708-1772); F. L. Gassmann (1723-1774); Johann Georg Albrechtsberger +(1736-1809); Leopold Hoffman (1730-1772); Georg Christoph Wagenseil +(1715-1777); and Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf (1739-1799), who, with +others, are usually reckoned as of that school, are all examples of +this Germanism. Indeed, these men assume a historic importance only in +the degree to which they absorb the advancing reforms of their northern +_confrères_. All of them are indebted for what merit they possess to +the great school of stylistic reformers who, about the year 1750, +gathered in the beautiful Rhenish city of Mannheim, and whose leader, +Johann Stamitz, was, until recently, unknown to historians except as an +executive musician. His reappearance has cleared up many an unexplained +phenomenon, and for the first time has placed the entire question of +the origins of the Classic, or Viennese, style, the style of Haydn, +Mozart, and Beethoven, in its proper light. Much of the merit ascribed +to Emanuel Bach, for instance, in connection with the sonata, and to +Haydn in connection with the symphony belongs rightfully to Stamitz. We +may now safely consider the Viennese school, like that of Paris, as an +offshoot of the Mannheim school and shall, therefore, discuss both as +subsidiary to it. + +The Mannheim reform brought into instrumental music, as we have said, +one essentially new idea--the idea of contrast. Contrast is one of the +two fundamental principles of musical form; the other is reiteration. +Reiteration in its various forms--imitation, transposition, and +repetition--is a familiar element in every musical composition. The +‘germination’ of musical ideas, the logical development of such ideas, +or motives--into phrases, sentences, sections, and movements, is in +practice only a broadening of that principle. All the forms which we +have discussed--the aria, the canzona, the toccata, the fugue, and the +sonata--owe their being to various methods of applying it. Contrast, +the other leading element of form, may be applied technically in +several different ways, of which only two interest us here--contrast +of _key_ and dynamic contrast. Contrast of key is the chief requisite +in the most highly organized forms, such as the fugue and the sonata, +and as such had been consciously employed for practically two hundred +years. But dynamic contrast--the change from loud to soft, and _vice +versa_, especially gradual change, which, moreover, carries with it the +broader idea of varying expression, contrast of _mood_ and _spirit_, +never entered into instrumental music until the advent of Johann +Stamitz. It is this duality of expression that distinguishes the new +from the old; this is the outstanding feature of Classic music over all +that preceded it. + +Johann Stamitz was born in Deutsch-Brod, Bohemia, in 1717, and died at +Mannheim in 1757. In the course of his forty years he revolutionized +instrumental practice and laid the foundations of modern orchestral +technique, created a new style of composition, which enabled Mozart and +Beethoven to give adequate expression to their genius; and originated a +method of writing which resulted in the abolition of the Figured Bass. +When, in 1742, Charles VII had himself crowned emperor in Frankfort, +Stamitz first aroused the attention of the assembled nobility as a +violin virtuoso. The Prince Elector of the Palatinate, Karl Theodor, +at once engaged him as court musician. In 1745 he made him his concert +master and musical director. Within a year or two, Stamitz made the +court band into the best orchestra of Europe. Burney, Leopold Mozart, +and others who have left their judgment of it convince us that it was +as good as an orchestra could be with the limitations imposed by the +still imperfect intonation of certain instruments. It was, at any +rate, the first orchestra on a modern footing, whose members were +artists, bent upon artistic interpretation. It is curious to read +Leopold Mozart’s expression of surprise at finding them ‘honest, decent +people, not given to drink, gambling, and roistering,’ but such was the +reputation musicians as a class enjoyed in those days.[28] + +We may recall how Jommelli introduced the ‘orchestral crescendo’ in the +Strassburg opera. That he emulated the Mannheim orchestra rather than +set an example for it seems unquestionable; for Stamitz had already +been at his work ten years when Jommelli arrived. The gradual change +from _piano_ to _forte_, and the sudden change in either direction +to indicate a change of mood, not only within single movements, but +_within phrases and even themes_, was bound to lead to important +consequences. While fiercely opposed by the pedants among German +musicians, the practice found quick acceptance in the large centres +where Stamitz’s famous Opus 1 was performed. These Six Sonatas (or +Symphonies), ‘_ou à trois ou avec toutes (sic) l’orchestre_,’ were +brought out in 1751 at the _Concerts spirituels_ under Le Gros.[29] +Stamitz’s ‘Sonatas’ were performed with drums, trumpets, and horns. +Another symphony with horns and oboes, and another with horns and +clarinets (a rare novelty), were brought out in the winter of 1754-55, +with Stamitz himself as conductor. These ‘symphonies’ were, as a +matter of fact, trio-sonatas in the conventional form--two violins +and Figured Bass--such as had been produced in great number since +the time of Pergolesi. But there was a difference. The Figured Bass +was a fully participating third part, not depending upon the usual +harpsichord interpretation of the harmony. The compositions were, +in fact, true string trios. But they were written for (optional) +orchestral execution, and when so performed the added wind instruments +supplied the harmonic ‘filling.’ This means, then, the application of +the classic sonata form to orchestral music, and virtually the creation +of the symphony.[30] + +While not, by a long way, parallel with the symphonies of Haydn, +Mozart, and Beethoven, these works of Stamitz are, nevertheless, true +symphonies in a classic style, orchestral compositions in sonata form. +They have the essential first-movement construction, they are free from +the fugato style of the earlier orchestral pieces, and, instead of the +indefinite rambling of passage work, they present the clear thematic +phraseology, the germination of ideas, characteristic of the form. +Their sincere phraseology, says Riemann, ‘their boldness of conception, +and the masterly thematic development which became an example in the +period that followed ... give Stamitz’s works lasting value. Haydn and +Mozart rest absolutely upon his shoulders.’[31] + +Following Stamitz’s first efforts there appeared in print a veritable +flood of similar works, known in France as _Simphonies d’Allemagne_, +most of them by direct pupils of Stamitz, by F. X. Richter, his +associate in Mannheim, by Wagenseil, Toeschi, Holtzbauer, Filtz, and +Cannabich, his successor at the Mannheim _Pult_. Stamitz’s own work +comprises ten orchestral trios, fifty symphonies, violin concertos, +violin solo and violin-piano sonatas, a fair amount for so short a +career. That for a long time this highly interesting figure disappeared +from the annals of musical history is only less remarkable than the +eclipse of Bach’s fame for seventy-five years after his death, though +in Stamitz’s case it was hardly because of slow recognition, for +already Burney had characterized him as a great genius. Arteaga in 1785 +called him ‘the Rubens among composers’ and Gerbert (1792) said that +‘his divine talent placed him far above his contemporaries.’ + + + V + +From these contemporaries we shall select only a few as essential links +in the chain of development. Three men stand out as intermediaries +between Stamitz and the Haydn-Mozart epoch: Johann Schobert, chiefly +in the field of piano music; Luigi Boccherini, especially for stringed +chamber-music; and Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf, for the symphony. +These signalize the ‘cosmopolization’ of the new art; representing, as +it were, its French, Italian, and South German outposts. + +Schobert is especially important because of the influence which he and +his colleague Eckard exercised upon Mozart at a very early age.[32] +These two men were the two favorite pianists of Paris _salons_ about +the middle of the century. Chamber music with piano obbligato found +in Schobert one of its first exponents. A composer of agreeable +originality, solid in musicianship, and an unequivocal follower of the +Mannheim school, he must be reckoned as a valiant supporter of the +German sonata as opposed to its lighter Italian sister, though French +characteristics are not by any means lacking in his work. + +As one in whom these characteristics predominate we should mention +François Joseph Gossec, familiar to us as the writer of _opéras +comiques_, but also important as a composer of trio-sonatas (of the +usual kind), some for orchestral performance (like those of Stamitz, +_ad lib._), and several real symphonies, all of which are clearly +influenced in manner by Stamitz and the Mannheimers. Gossec was, in a +way, the centre of Paris musical life, for he conducted successively +the private concerts given under the patronage of La Pouplinière, +those of Prince Conti in Chantilly, the _Concert des amateurs_, which +he founded in 1770, and, eventually, the _Concerts spirituels_, +reorganized by him. The _Mercure de France_, in an article on Rameau’s +_Castor et Pollux_, calls Gossec France’s representative musician among +the pioneers of the new style. Contrasting his work with Rameau’s the +critic refers to the latter as being _d’une teneur_ (of one tenor), +while Gossec’s is full of _nuance_ and contrast. This slight digression +will dispose of the ‘Paris school’ for the present; we shall now +proceed to the chief _Italian_ representative of Mannheim principles. + +In placing Boccherini before Haydn in our account of the string quartet +we may lay ourselves open to criticism, for Haydn is universally +considered the originator of that form. But, as in almost every case, +the fixing of a new form cannot be ascribed to the efforts of a single +man. Although Haydn’s priority seems established, Boccherini may more +aptly be taken as the starting point, for, while Haydn represents a +more advanced state of development, Boccherini at the outset displays a +far more finished routine. + +In principle, the string quartet has existed since the sixteenth +century, when madrigals[33] and _frottole_ written in vocal polyphony +and for vocal execution were adapted to instruments. The greater part +of the polyphonic works of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries +was written in four parts, and so were the German _lieder_, French +_chansons_, and Italian _canzonette_, as well as the dance pieces +of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. In instrumental music +four-part writing has never been superseded, despite the quondam +preference for many voices, and the one hundred and fifty years’ reign +of Figured Bass. But a strictly four-part execution was adhered to +less and less, as orchestral scoring came more and more into vogue for +suite and sonata. Hence the string quartet, when it reappeared, was as +much of a novelty in its way as the accompanied solo song seemed to +be in 1600. _Quartetti_, _sonate a quattro_ and _sinfonie a quattro_ +are, indeed, common titles in the early seventeenth century, but their +character is distinctly different from our chamber music; they are +_orchestral_, depending on harmonic thickening and massed chordal +effects, while the peculiar charm of the string quartet depends on +purity and integrity of line in every part, and while, at the same +time, each part is at all times necessary to the harmonic texture. +Thus the string quartet represents a more perfect fusion of the +polyphonic and harmonic ideals than any other type. The exact point of +division between ‘orchestral’ and true quartets cannot, of course, be +determined, though the distinction becomes evident in works of Stamitz +and Gossec, when, in one opus, we find trios or quartets, some of which +are expressly determined for orchestral treatment while others are not. + +It is Stamitz’s reform again which ‘loosened the tongue of subjective +expression,’ and, by turning away from fugal treatment, prepared the +way for the true string quartet. Boccherini’s first quartets are +still in reality symphonies; and in Haydn’s early works, too, the +distinction between the two is not clear. Boccherini’s, however, are +so surprisingly full of new forms of figuration, so sophisticated in +dynamic nuances, and so strikingly modern in style that, without the +previous appearance of Stamitz, Boccherini would have to be considered +a true pioneer. + +Luigi Boccherini was born in 1743 in Lucca. After appearing in Paris +as ‘cellist he was made court virtuoso to Luiz, infanta of Spain, and +accordingly he settled in Madrid. Frederick William II of Prussia +acknowledged the dedication of a work by conferring the title of court +composer on Boccherini, who then continued to write much for the king +and was rewarded generously, like Haydn and Mozart after him. The +death of his royal patron in 1797 and the loss of his Spanish post +reduced the composer to poverty at an old age (he died 1805). He has +to his credit no less than 91 string quartets, 125 string quintets, 54 +string trios and a host of other works, including twenty symphonies, +also cantatas and oratorios. To-day he is neglected, perhaps unjustly, +but in this he shares the fate of all the musicians of his period +who abandoned themselves to the lighter, more elegant _genre_ of +composition. + +The relation of Carl Ditters von Dittersdorf to the Mannheim school +is, in the symphonic field, relatively the same as that of Schobert +in regard to the piano, and Boccherini in connection with the string +quartet. Again we must guard against the criticism of detracting +from the glory of Haydn. Both Haydn and Dittersdorf were pioneers in +developing the symphony according to the Mannheim principles, but, of +course, Haydn in his later works represents a more advanced stage, and +will, therefore, more properly receive full treatment in the next +chapter. Ditters probably composed his first orchestral works between +1761 and 1765, while kapellmeister to the bishop of Grosswardein in +Hungary, where he succeeded Michael Haydn (of whom presently). Though +Joseph Haydn’s first symphony (in D-major) had already appeared in +1759, it had as yet none of the ear-marks of the new style. + +Ditters was doubtless more broadly educated than most musicians of his +time,[34] and probably in touch with the latest developments, a fact +borne out by his works, which, however, show no material advance over +his models. + +These works include, notably, twelve orchestral symphonies on Ovid’s +_Metamorphoses_, besides about one hundred others and innumerable +pieces of chamber music, many of the lighter social _genre_, and +several oratorios, masses, and cantatas. His comic operas have a +special significance and will be mentioned in another connection. +Ditters was more fortunate in honors than material gain. Both the +order of the Golden Spur, which seems to have been a coveted badge of +greatness, and the patent of nobility came to him; but after the death +of his last patron, the prince bishop of Breslau, he was forced to +seek the shelter of a friendly roof, the country estate of Ignaz von +Stillfried in Bohemia, where he died in 1799. + +His Vienna colleague, Georg Christian Wagenseil,[35] we may dismiss +with a few words, for, though one of the most fashionable composers +of his time, his compositions have hardly any historic interest--they +lack real individuality. But he was in the line of development under +the Mannheim influence, and he did for the piano concerto what +Schobert did for the sonata--applied to it the newly crystallized +sonata form. His concertos were much in vogue; little Mozart had them +in his prodigy’s repertoire--and no doubt they left at least a trace of +their influence on his wonderfully absorbent mind. Wagenseil enjoyed a +favored existence at court as teacher of the Empress Maria Theresa and +the imperial princesses, with the rank of imperial court composer. The +Latin titles on his publications seem to reflect his somewhat pompous +personality. Pieces in various forms for keyboard predominate, but the +usual quota of string music, church music, and some symphonies are in +evidence. His sixteen operas are a mere trifle in comparison with the +productivity of the period. + + * * * * * + +Before closing our review of the minor men of the period which had its +climax in the practically simultaneous appearance of Haydn and Mozart, +we must take at least passing notice of two men, the brother of one +and the father of the other, who, by virtue of this close connection, +could not fail to exercise a very direct influence upon their greater +relatives. By a peculiar coincidence these two had one identical scene +of action--the archiepiscopal court of Salzburg, that Alpine fastness +hemmed in by the mountains of Tyrol, Styria, and Bohemia. Hither +Leopold Mozart had come from Augsburg, where he was born in 1719, to +study law at the university; but he soon entered the employ of the +Count of Thurn, canon of the cathedral, as secretary, and subsequently +that of the prince archbishop as court musician, and here he ended his +days at the same court but under another master of a far different +sort. Johann Michael Haydn became his confrère, or rather his superior, +in 1762, having secured the place of archiepiscopal _kapellmeister_, +left vacant by the death of the venerable Eberlin. Before this he had +held a similar but less important post at Grosswardein (Hungary) as +predecessor to Ditters, and, like his slightly older brother Joseph, +had begun his career as chorister in St. Stephen’s in Vienna. + +Salzburg had always been one of the foremost cities of Europe in its +patronage of musical art. Not only the reigning prelates, but people +of every station cultivated it. At this time it held many musicians +of talent; and its court concerts as well as the elaborate musical +services at the cathedral and the abbey of St. Peter’s, the oratorios +and the occasional performances under university auspices contributed +to the creation of a real musical atmosphere. The old Archbishop +Sigismund, whose death came only too soon, must, in spite of the elder +Mozart’s misgivings on the subject, have been a liberal, appreciative +patron, for the interminable leaves of absence, for artistic and +commercial purposes, required by both father and son were sufficient to +try the patience of anyone less understanding. Leopold’s chief merit +to the world was the education of his son, for the sake of which he +is said to have sacrificed all other opportunities as pedagogue. His +talents in that direction were considerable, as his pioneer ‘Violin +method’ (1756) attests. It experienced several editions, also in +translations, some even posthumous. His compositions, through the +agency of which his great son first received the influence of Mannheim, +were copious but of mediocre value. Nevertheless, their formal +correctness and sound musicianship were most salutary examples for the +emulation of young Wolfgang. Leopold had the good sense to abandon +composition as soon as he became aware of his son’s genius and to bend +every effort to its development. The elder Mozart received the title +of court composer and the post of _vice-kapellmeister_ under Michael +Haydn, when the latter came to Salzburg. + +Michael Haydn’s career in Salzburg was a most honorable one. It placed +him in a state of dignity which, though eminently gratifying, was +less calculated to rouse inspiration and ambition than the stormier +career of his greater brother. Notwithstanding this fact, he has left +something like twenty-eight masses, two requiems, 114 graduals, 66 +offertories, and much other miscellaneous church music; songs, choruses +(the earliest four-part _a capella_ songs for men’s voices); thirty +symphonies (not to be compared in value to his brother’s), and numerous +smaller instrumental pieces! But a peculiar form of modesty which made +him averse to seeing his works in print confined his influence largely +to local limits. It is a most fortunate fact that within these limits +it fell upon so fertile a ground. For young Mozart was most keen in his +observation of Haydn’s work, appreciated its value and received the +first of those valuable lessons that the greater Joseph taught him in +this roundabout fashion. + + C. S. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[22] History of German Literature (1907). + +[23] ‘The Emperor Joseph, who objected to Haydn’s “tricks and +nonsense,” requested Dittersdorf in 1786 to draw a parallel between +Haydn’s and Mozart’s chamber music. Dittersdorf answered by requesting +the Emperor in his turn to draw a parallel between Klopstock and +Gellert; whereupon Joseph replied that both were great poets, but that +Klopstock must be read repeatedly in order to understand his beauties, +whereas Gellert’s beauties lay plainly exposed to the first glance. +Dittersdorf’s analogy of Mozart with Klopstock, Haydn with Gellert (!), +was readily accepted by the Emperor.’ Cf. Otto Jahn: ‘Life of Mozart,’ +Vol. III. + +[24] Johann Friedrich Fasch (1688-1758) was, according to Riemann, the +first to introduce this contrast. He was one of the most interesting of +the minor composers of Bach’s time. Cf. Riemann’s _Collegium Musicum_, +No. 10. + +[25] His compositions were chiefly for that instrument, and he achieved +lasting merit with his _Anweisung die Flöte traversière zu spielen_ +(1752). He was born in 1697 and died in 1773. + +[26] Surette and Mason: ‘The Appreciation of Music.’ + +[27] He was music master to the queen and in a way entered upon the +heritage of Handel. + +[28] For further details concerning the Mannheim orchestra we refer the +reader to Vol. VIII, Chap. II. + +[29] The _Concerts spirituels_, founded in 1725 by Philidor, were so +called because they were held on church holidays, when theatres were +closed. Mouret, Thuret, Royer, Mendonville, d’Auvergne, Gaviniès, and +Le Gros succeeded Philidor in conducting them till the revolution +in 1791 brought them to an end. Another series of concerts, though +private, is important for us here, because of its early acceptance of +Mannheim principles. This was inaugurated by a wealthy land owner, La +Pouplinière, who had been an enthusiastic protector of Rameau. ‘It +was he,’ said Gossec, ‘who first introduced the use of horns at his +concerts, _following the counsel of the celebrated Johann Stamitz_.’ +This was about 1748, and in 1754 Stamitz himself visited the orchestra, +after which Gossec became its conductor and developed the new style. + +[30] Riemann cites Scheibe in the _Kritische Musikus_ to the effect +that symphonies with drums and trumpets (or horns) were already common +in 1754, but we may safely assume that they were not symphonies in +our sense--orchestral sonatas--for it must be recalled that the +word _Sinfonia_ was applied to pieces of various kinds, from a +note-against-note canzona (seventeenth century) to interludes in +operas, oratorios, etc., and more especially to the Italian operatic +overture as distinguished from the French. The German dance-suite, +too, from 1650 on, had a first movement called _Sinfonia_, which +was superseded by the overture (in the French style) soon after. In +the early eighteenth century the prevailing orchestral piece was an +_overture_, usually modelled after the Italian Sinfonia. Not this, +indeed, but the chamber-sonata was the real forerunner of the symphony, +as our text has just shown. + +[31] _Handbuch der Musikgeschichte_, II². We are indebted to Riemann +for this entire question of Stamitz, whose findings are the result of +very recent researches. + +[32] The first four piano concertos ascribed to Mozart in Koechel’s +catalogue have now been proved to be merely studies based on Schobert’s +sonatas. Cf. T. de Wyzewa et G. de St. Foix: _Un maître inconnu de +Mozart_. + +[33] The majority of madrigals were, however, written in five parts. + +[34] This education he owed to the magnanimity of Prince Joseph of +Hildburghausen, whom in his youth he attended as page. In 1761 the +prince secured him a place in the Vienna court orchestra which he held +till his engagement in Grosswardein. + +[35] Born, Vienna, 1715; died there 1777. + + + + + CHAPTER III + THE VIENNESE CLASSICS: HAYDN AND MOZART + + Social aspects of the classic period; Vienna, its court and its + people--Joseph Haydn--Haydn’s work; the symphony; the string + quartet--Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart--Mozart’s style; Haydn and Mozart; + the perfection of orchestral style--Mozart and the opera; the + Requiem; the mission of Haydn and Mozart. + + + I + +We have prefaced the last chapter with a review of the political and +literary forces leading up to the classic period. A brief survey +of social conditions may similarly aid the reader in supplying +a background to the important characters of this period and the +circumstances of their careers. First, we shall avail ourselves of +the picturesque account given by George Henry Lewes in his ‘Life +of Goethe.’ ‘Remember,’ he says, ‘that we are in the middle of the +eighteenth century. The French Revolution is as yet only gathering +its forces together; nearly twenty years must elapse before the storm +breaks. The chasm between that time and our own is vast and deep. Every +detail speaks of it. To begin with science--everywhere the torch of +civilization--it is enough to say that chemistry did not then exist. +Abundant materials, indeed, existed, but that which makes a science, +viz., the power of _prevision_ based on _quantitative_ knowledge, was +still absent; and alchemy maintained its place among the conflicting +hypotheses of the day.... This age, so incredulous in religion, was +credulous in science. In spite of all the labors of the encyclopedists, +in spite of all the philosophic and religious “enlightenment,” in +spite of Voltaire and La Mettrie, it was possible for Count St. Germain +and Cagliostro to delude thousands; and Casanova found a dupe in the +Marquise d’Urfé, who believed he could restore her youth and make +the moon impregnate her![36] It was in 1774 that Messmer astonished +Vienna with his marvels of mystic magnetism. The secret societies of +Freemasons and Illuminati, mystic in their ceremonies and chimerical +in their hopes--now in quest of the philosopher’s stone, now in quest +of the perfectibility of mankind--a mixture of religious, political, +and mystical reveries, flourished in all parts of Germany, and in all +circles. + +‘With science in so imperfect a condition we are sure to find a +corresponding poverty in material comfort and luxury. High-roads, for +example, were only found in certain parts of Germany; Prussia had no +_chaussée_ till 1787. Mile-stones were unknown, although finger-posts +existed. Instead of facilitating the transit of travellers, it was +thought good political economy to obstruct them, for the longer they +remained the more money they spent in the country. A century earlier +stage coaches were known in England; but in Germany public conveyances +were few and miserable; nothing but open carts with unstuffed seats. +Diligences on springs were unknown before 1800,’ ... and we have the +word of Burney and of Mozart that travel by post was nothing short of +torture![37] + +If we examine into the manners, customs, and tastes of the period +we are struck with many apparently absurd contradictions. Men whose +nature, bred in generations of fighting, was brutal in its very +essence outwardly affected a truly inordinate love of ceremony and +lavish splendor. The same dignitaries who discussed for hours the +fine distinctions of official precedence, or the question whether +princes of the church should sit in council on green seats or red, like +the secular potentates, would use language and display manners the +coarseness of which is no longer tolerated except in the lowest spheres +of society. While indulging in the grossest vulgarities and even vices, +and while committing the most wanton cruelties, this race of petty +tyrants expended thousands upon the glitter and tinsel with which they +thought to dazzle the eyes of their neighbors. While this is more true +of the seventeenth than of the eighteenth century, and while Europe was +undergoing momentous changes, conditions were after all not greatly +improved in the period of Haydn and Mozart. The graceful Italian +melody which reigned supreme at the Viennese court, or the glitter +of its rococo salons, found a striking note of contrast in the broad +dialect of Maria Theresa and the ‘boiled bacon and water’ of Emperor +Joseph’s diet. A stronger paradox than the brocade and ruffled lace of +a courtier’s dress and the coarse behavior of its wearer could hardly +be found. + +The great courts of Europe, Versailles, Vienna, etc., were imitated +at the lesser capitals in every detail, as far as the limits of the +princes’ purses permitted. As George Henry Lewes says of Weimar, ‘these +courts but little corresponded with those conceptions of grandeur, +magnificence, or historical or political importance with which the name +of court is usually associated. But, just as in gambling the feelings +are agitated less by the greatness of the stake than by the variations +of fortune, so, in social gambling of court intrigue, there is the +same ambition and agitation, whether the green cloth be an empire or +a duchy. Within its limits Saxe-Weimar, for instance, displayed all +that an imperial court displays in larger proportions. It had its +ministers, its chamberlains, pages, and sycophants. Court favor and +disgrace elevated and depressed as if they had been imperial smiles or +autocratic frowns. A standing army of six hundred men, with cavalry of +fifty hussars, had its war department, with war minister, secretary, +and clerk. Lest this appear too ridiculous,’ Lewes adds that ‘one of +the small German princes kept a corps of hussars, which consisted of a +colonel, six officers and two privates!’ Similarly every prince, great +or petty, gathered about him, for his greater glory, the disciples of +the graceful arts. Not a count, margrave, or bishop but had in his +retinue his court musicians, his organists, his court composer, his +band and choir, all of whom were attached to their master by ties of +virtually feudal servitude, whose social standing was usually on a +level with domestic servants and who were often but wretchedly paid. We +have had occasion to refer to a number of the more important centres, +such as Berlin, where Frederick the Great had Johann Quantz, Franz +Benda, and Emanuel Bach as musical mentors; Dresden, where Augustus +the Third had Hasse and Porpora;[38] Stuttgart, where Karl Eugen gave +Jommelli a free hand; Mannheim, where Karl Theodor gathered about him +that genial band of musical reformers with Stamitz at their head; and +Salzburg, where Archbishop Sigismund maintained Michael Haydn, Leopold +Mozart, and many another talented musician. + +As for the greater courts, they became the _nuclei_ for aggregations +of men of genius, to many of whom the world owes an everlasting +debt of gratitude, but who often received insufficient payment, +and who, in some cases, even suffered indignities at the hands of +their masters which are calculated to rouse the anger of an admiring +posterity. London and Paris were, of course, as they had been for +generations, the most brilliant centres--the most liberal and the +richest in opportunities for musicians of talent or enterprise. At +the period of which we speak the court of George II (and later George +III) harbored Johann Christian Bach, Carl Friedrich Abel, and Pietro +Domenico Paradies; at the court of Louis XVI and Marie Antoinette +Rameau was in his last years, while Gluck and Piccini were the objects +of violent controversy, while Philidor, Monsigny, and Grétry were +delighting audiences with _opéra comique_, and while a valiant number +of instrumentalists, like Gossec, Gaviniès, Schobert, and Eckhard, were +building up a French outpost of classicism. Capitals which had but +recently attained international significance, like Stockholm and St. +Petersburg, assiduously emulated the older ones; at the former, for +instance, Gustavus III patronized Naumann, and at the latter Catherine +II entertained successively Galuppi, Traetto, Paesiello, and Sarti. + +But Vienna was now the musical capital of Europe. It was the +concentrated scene of action where all the chief musical issues of the +day were fought out. There the Mannheim school had its continuation, +soon after its inception; there Haydn and Mozart found their greatest +inspiration--as Beethoven and Schubert did after them--it remained the +citadel of musical Germany, whose supremacy was now fairly established. +It is significant that Burney, in writing the results of his musical +investigations on the continent, devotes one volume each to Italy +and France but two to Germany, notwithstanding his strong Italian +sympathies. However, the reason for this is partly the fact that +Germany was to an Englishman still somewhat of a wilderness, and that +the writer felt it incumbent upon him to give some general details of +the condition of the country. We can do no better than quote some of +his observations upon Vienna in order to familiarize the reader with +the principal characters of the drama for which it was the stage.[39] + +After describing the approach to the city, which reminds him of Venice, +and his troubles at the customs, where his books were ‘even more +scrupulously read than at the inquisition of Bologna,’ he continues: +‘The streets are rendered doubly dark and dirty by their narrowness, +and by the extreme height of the houses; but, as these are chiefly +of white stone and in a uniform, elegant style of architecture, in +which the Italian taste prevails, _as well as in music_, there is +something grand and magnificent in their appearance which is very +striking; and even those houses which have shops on the ground floor +seem like palaces above. Indeed, the whole town and its suburbs appear +at the first glance to be composed of palaces rather than of common +habitations.’ + +Now for the life of the city. ‘The diversions of the common people +... are such as seem hardly fit for a civilized and polished nation +to allow. Particularly the combats, as they are called, or baiting +of wild beasts, in a manner much more savage and ferocious than our +bull-baiting, etc.’ The better class, of course, found its chief +amusement in the theatres, but the low level of much of this amusement +may be judged from the fact that rough horse-play was almost necessary +to the success of a piece. Shortly before Burney’s visit the customary +premiums for actors who would ‘voluntarily submit to be kicked and +cuffed’ were abolished, with the result that theatres went bankrupt +‘because of the insufferable dullness and inactivity of the actors.’ +By a mere chance Burney witnessed a performance of Lessing’s _Emilia +Galotti_, which as a play shocked his sensibilities, but he speaks in +admiring terms of the orchestra, which played ‘overtures and act-tunes’ +by Haydn, Hoffman, and Vanhall. At another theatre the pieces were so +full of invention that it seemed to be music of some other world. + +Musically, also, the mass at St. Stephen’s impressed him very much: +‘There were violins and violoncellos, though it was not a festival,’ +and boys whose voices ‘had been well cultivated.’ At night, in the +court of his inn, two poor scholars sang ‘in pleasing harmony,’ and +later ‘a band of these singers performed through the streets a kind of +glees in three and four parts.’ ‘Soldiers and common people,’ he says, +‘frequently sing in parts, too,’ and he is forced to the conclusion +that ‘this whole country is certainly very musical.’ + +Through diplomatic influence our traveller is introduced to the +Countess Thun (afterwards Mozart’s patron), ‘a most agreeable lady of +very high rank, who, among other talents, possesses as great skill +in music as any person of distinction I ever knew; she plays the +harpsichord with that grace, ease, and delicacy which nothing but +female fingers can arrive at.’ Forthwith he meets ‘the admirable poet +Metastasio, and the no less admirable musician Hasse,’ as well as his +wife, Faustina, both very aged; also ‘the chevalier Gluck, one of the +most extraordinary geniuses of this, or perhaps any, age or nation,’ +who plays him his _Iphigénie_, just completed, while his niece, Mlle. +Marianne Gluck, sang ‘in so exquisite a manner that I could not +conceive it possible for any vocal performance to be more perfect.’ +He hears music by ‘M. Hoffman, an excellent composer of instrumental +music’; by Vanhall, whom he meets and whose pieces ‘afforded me such +uncommon pleasure that I should not hesitate to rank them among the +most complete and perfect compositions for many instruments which the +art of music can boast(!)’; also some ‘exquisite quartets by Haydn, +executed in the utmost perfection’; and he attends a comic opera by +‘Signor Salieri, a scholar of M. Gassman,’ at which the imperial +family was present, his imperial majesty being extremely attentive +‘and applauding very much.’[40] ‘His imperial majesty’ was, of course, +Joseph II, who we know played the violoncello, and was, in Burney’s +words, ‘just musical enough for a sovereign prince.’ The entire +imperial family was musical, and the court took its tone from it. All +the great houses of the nobility--Lichtenstein, Lobkowitz, Auersperg, +Fürnberg, Morzin--maintained their private bands or chamber musicians. +Our amusing informant, in concluding his account of musical Vienna, +says: ‘Indeed, Vienna is so rich in composers and incloses within its +walls such a number of musicians of superior merit that it is but just +to allow it to be among German cities the imperial seat of music as +well as of power.’ + +It need hardly be repeated that Italian style was still preferred by +the society of the period, just as Italian manners and language were +affected by the nobility. Italian was actually the language of the +court, and how little German was respected is seen from the fact that +Metastasio, the man of culture _par excellence_, though living in +Vienna through the greater part of his life, spoke it ‘just enough to +keep himself alive.’ Haydn, like many others, Italianized his name to +‘Giuseppe’ and Mozart signed himself frequently Wolfgango Amadeo Mozart! + +This, then, is the city in which Haydn and Mozart were to meet for the +first time just one year after Burney’s account. Though the first was +the other’s senior by twenty-four years their great creative periods +are virtually simultaneous. They date, in fact, from this meeting, +which marks the beginning of their influence upon each other and their +mutual and constant admiration. Both already had brilliant careers +behind them as performers and composers, and it becomes our duty now to +give separate accounts of these careers. + + C. S. + + + II + JOSEPH HAYDN + +The boundaries of Hungary, the home of one of the most musical peoples +of the world, lies only about thirty miles from Vienna. Here, it is +said, in every two houses will be found three violins and a lute. Men +and women sing at their work; children are reared in poverty and song. +In such a community, in the village of Rohrau, near the border line +between Austria and Hungary, lived Matthias Haydn, wagoner and parish +sexton, with Elizabeth, his wife. They were simple peasant people, +probably partly Croatian in blood, with rather more intelligence than +their neighbors. After his work was done Matthias played the harp and +Elizabeth sang, gathering the children about her to share in the simple +recreation. Franz Joseph, the second of these children, born March 31, +1732, gave signs of special musical intelligence, marking the time and +following his mother in a sweet, childish voice at a very early age. +When he was six he was put in the care of a relative named Frankh, +living in Hainburg, for instruction in violin and harpsichord playing, +and in singing. Frankh seems to have been pretty rough with the +youngster, but his instruction must have been good as far as it went, +for two years later he was noticed by Reutter, chapel master at St. +Stephen’s Cathedral in Vienna, and allowed to enter the choir school. + +Reutter was considered a great musician in his day--he was ennobled in +1740--but he did not distinguish himself by kind treatment of little +Joseph, who was poorly clad, half starved, and indifferently taught. +The boy, however, seems, even at this early age, to have had a definite +idea of what he wanted, and doggedly pursued his own path. He got what +instruction he could from the masters of the school, purchased two +heavy and difficult works on thoroughbass and counterpoint, spent play +hours in practice on his clavier, and filled reams of paper with notes. +He afterwards said that he remembered having two lessons from von +Reutter in ten years. When he was seventeen years old his voice broke, +and, being of no further service to the chapel master, he was turned +out of the school on a trivial pretext. + +The period that followed was one that even the sweet-natured man must +sometimes have wished to forget. He was without money or friends--or at +least so he thought--and it is said he spent the night after leaving +school in wandering about the streets of the city. Unknown to himself, +however, the little singer at the cathedral had made friends, and with +one of the humbler of these he found a temporary home. Another good +Viennese lent him one hundred and fifty florins--a debt which Haydn not +only soon paid, but remembered for sixty years, as an item in his will +shows. He soon got a few pupils, played the violin at wedding festivals +and the like, and kept himself steadily at the study of composition. He +obtained the clavier sonatas of Emanuel Bach and mastered their style +so thoroughly that the composer afterward sent him word that he alone +had fully mastered his writings and learned to use them. + +At twenty Haydn wrote his first mass, and at about the same time +received a considerable sum for composing the music to a comic opera. +He exchanged his cold attic for a more comfortable loft which happened +to be in the same house in which the great Metastasio lived. The poet +was impressed by Haydn’s gifts and obtained for him the position of +music master in an important Spanish family, resident in Vienna. + +In this way, step by step, the fortunes of the young enthusiast +improved. He made acquaintances among musical folk, and occasionally +found himself in the company of men who had mounted much higher on +the professional ladder than himself. One of these was Porpora, +already successful and of international fame. Porpora was at that time +singing master in the household of Correr, the Venetian ambassador at +Vienna, and he proposed that Haydn should act as his accompanist and +incidentally profit by so close an acquaintance with his ‘method.’ +Thus Haydn was included in the ambassador’s suite when they went to +the baths of Mannersdorf, on the border of Hungary. At the soirées +and entertainments of the grandees at Mannersdorf Haydn met some of +the well-known musicians of the time--Bonno, Wagenseil, Gluck, and +Ditters--becoming warmly attached to the last-named. His progress in +learning Porpora’s method, however, was not so satisfactory. The mighty +man had no time for the obscure one; the difficulty was obvious. But +Haydn, as always, knew what he wanted and did not hesitate to make +himself useful to Porpora in order to get the instruction he needed. +He was young and had no false pride about being fag to a great man for +a purpose. His good-natured services won the master over; and so Haydn +was brought into direct connection with the great exponent of Italian +methods and ideas. + +In 1755 he wrote his first quartet, being encouraged by a wealthy +amateur, von Fürnberg, who, at his country home, had frequent +performances of chamber music. Haydn visited Fürnberg and became +so interested in the composition of chamber music that he produced +eighteen quartets during that and the following year. About this time +he became acquainted with the Count and Countess Thun, cultivated and +enthusiastic amateurs, whose names are remembered also in connection +with Mozart, Gluck, and Beethoven. Haydn instructed the Countess Thun +both in harpsichord playing and in singing, and was well paid for his +services. + +The same Fürnberg that drew the attention of Haydn to the composition +of string quartets also recommended him to his first patron, Count +Morzin, for the position of chapel master and composer at his private +estate in Bohemia, near Pilsen. It was there, in 1759, that Haydn wrote +his first symphony. He received a salary of about one hundred dollars a +year, with board and lodging. With this munificent income he decided to +marry, even though the rules of his patron permitted no married men in +his employ. + +Haydn’s choice had settled on the youngest daughter of a wig-maker of +Vienna named Keller; but the girl, for some unknown reason, decided to +take the veil. In his determination not to lose so promising a young +man, the wig-maker persuaded the lover to take the eldest daughter, +Maria Anna, instead of the lost one. The marriage was in every way +unfortunate. Maria Anna was a heartless scold, selfish and extravagant, +who, as her husband said, cared not a straw whether he was an artist +or a shoemaker. Haydn soon gave up all attempts to live with her, +though he supplied her with a competence. She lived for forty years +after their marriage, and shortly before she died wrote to Haydn, then +in London, for a considerable sum of money with which to buy a small +house, ‘as it was a very suitable place for a widow.’ For once Haydn +refused both the direct and the implied request, neither sending her +the money nor making her a widow. He outlived her, in fact, by nine +years, purchased the house himself after his last visit to London and +spent there the remainder of his life. + +To go back, however, to his professional career. Count Morzin was +unfortunately soon obliged to disband his players and the change that +consequently occurred was one of the important crises of Haydn’s life. +He was appointed second chapel master to Prince Anton Esterhàzy, a +Hungarian nobleman, whose seat was at Eisenstadt. Here Haydn was to +spend the next thirty years, here the friendships and pleasures of his +mature life were to lie, and here his genius was to ripen. + +The Esterhàzy band comprised sixteen members at the time of Haydn’s +arrival, all of them excellent performers. Their enthusiasm and support +did much to stimulate the new chapel master, even as his arrival +infused a new spirit into the concerts. The first chapel master, +Werner, a good contrapuntal scholar, took the privilege of age and +scoffed at Haydn’s new ideas, calling him a ‘mere fop.’ The fact that +they got on fairly well together is surely a tribute to Haydn’s good +nature and genuine humbleness of spirit. The old prince soon died, +being succeeded by his brother, Prince Nicolaus. When Werner died some +five years later Haydn became sole director. Prince Nicolaus increased +the orchestra and lent to Haydn all the support of a sympathetic lover +of music, as well as princely generosity. He prepared for himself a +magnificent residence, with parks, lakes, gardens, and hunting courses, +at Esterhàz, where royal entertainments were constantly in progress. +Daily concerts were given, besides operas and special performances for +all sorts of festivals. The seclusion of the country was occasionally +exchanged for brief visits to Vienna. In 1773 the Empress Maria +Theresa--she who, as Electoral Princess, had studied singing with +Porpora--was entertained at Esterhàz and heard the first performance +of the symphony which bears her name. In 1780 Haydn wrote, for the +opening of a new theatre at Esterhàz, an opera which was also performed +before royalty at Vienna. He composed the ‘Last Seven Words’ in 1785, +and in the same year Mozart dedicated to him six quartets in terms of +affectionate admiration. + +By the death of Prince Nicolaus, in 1790, Haydn lost not only a patron +but a friend whom he sincerely loved. His life at Esterhàz was, on +the other hand, full of work and conscientious activity in conducting +rehearsals, preparing for performances, and in writing new music. On +the other hand, it was curiously restricted in scope, isolated from +general society, and detached from all the artistic movements of +his period. His relations with the prince were genial and friendly, +apparently quite unruffled by discord. Esterhàzy, though very much the +grandee, was indulgent, and not only allowed his chapel master much +freedom in his art, but also recognized and respected his genius. The +system of patronage never produced a happier example of the advantages +and pleasures to be gained by both patron and follower; but, after +all, a comment of Mr. Hadow seems most pertinent to the situation: +‘It is worthy of remark that the greatest musician ever fostered by +a systematic patronage was the one over whose character patronage +exercised the least control.’ It is Haydn, of course, who is the +subject of this remark. + +There was, at that time, an enterprising violinist and concert +manager, Johann Peter Salomon, travelling on the continent in quest of +‘material’ for his next London season. As soon as news of the death +of Prince Nicolaus reached Salomon, he started for Vienna with the +determination to take Haydn back with him to London. Former proposals +for a season in London had always been ignored by Haydn, who considered +himself bound not to abandon his prince. Now that he was free, +Salomon’s persuasions were successful. Haydn, nearly sixty years of +age, undertook his first long journey, embarking on the ocean he had +never before seen, and going among a people whose language he did not +know. He was under contract to supply Salomon with six new symphonies. + +They reached London early in the year 1791, and Haydn took lodgings, +which seemed very costly to his thrifty mind, with Salomon at 18 +Great Pulteney street. The concerts took place from March till May, +Salomon leading the orchestra, which consisted of thirty-five or forty +performers, while Haydn conducted from the pianoforte. The enterprise +was an immediate success. Haydn’s symphonies happened to hit the +taste of the time, and his fame as composer was supplemented by great +personal popularity. People of the highest rank called upon him, poets +celebrated him in verse, and crowds flocked to the concerts. + +Heretofore Haydn’s audiences had usually consisted of a small number +of people whose musical tastes were well cultivated but often +conventional; now he was eagerly listened to by larger and more +heterogeneous crowds, whose enthusiasm reacted happily upon the +composer. He wrote not only the six symphonies for the subscription +concerts, but a number of other works--divertimenti for concerted +instruments, a nocturne, string quartets, a clavier trio, songs, and a +cantata--and was much in demand for other concerts. At the suggestion +of Dr. Burney, the University of Oxford conferred upon him the degree +of Doctor of Music. The prince of Wales invited him to visit at one +of the royal residences; his portrait was painted by famous artists; +everybody wished to do him honor. The directors of the professional +concerts tried to induce him to break his engagements with Salomon, +but, failing in this, they engaged a former pupil of Haydn’s, Ignaz +Pleyel from Strassburg, and the two musicians conducted rival +concerts. The rivalry, however, was wholly friendly, so far as Haydn +and his pupil were concerned. He visited Windsor and the races, and was +present at the Handel commemoration in Westminster Abbey, where he was +much impressed by a magnificent performance of ‘The Messiah.’ + +After a stay of a year and a half in London Haydn returned to Vienna, +travelling by way of Bonn, where he met Beethoven, who afterward came +to him for instruction. Arriving in Vienna in July, 1792, he met with +an enthusiastic reception. Early in 1794 Salomon induced him, under +a similar contract, to make another journey to London, and to supply +six new works for the subscription concerts. Again Haydn carried all +before him. The new symphonies gained immediate favor; the former set +was repeated, and many pieces of lesser importance were performed. The +famous virtuosi, Viotti and Dussek, took part in the benefits for Haydn +and Salomon. Haydn was again distinguished by the court, receiving +even an invitation to spend the summer at Windsor, which he declined. +In every respect the London visits were a brilliant success, securing +a competence for Haydn’s old age, additional fame, and a number of +warm personal friendships whose memory delighted him throughout the +remaining years of his life. + +On his return to Vienna fresh honors awaited the master, who was never +again to travel far from home. During his absence a monument and bust +of himself had been placed in a little park at Rohrau, his native +village. Upon being conducted to the place by his friends he was much +affected, and afterwards accompanied the party to the modest house in +which he was born, where, overcome with emotion, he knelt and kissed +the threshold. In Vienna concerts were arranged for the production of +the London symphonies, and many new works were planned. One of the +most interesting of these was the ‘National Hymn,’ composed in 1797, +to words written by the poet Hauschka. On the birthday of the Emperor +Franz II the air was sung simultaneously at the National Theatre in +Vienna and at all the principal theatres in the provinces. Haydn also +used the hymn as the basis of one of the movements in the Kaiser +Quartet, No. 77. + +The opportunity afforded Haydn in London of becoming more familiar with +the work of Handel had a striking effect upon his genius, turning it +toward the composition of oratorios. His reputation was high, but it +was destined to soar still higher. Through Salomon, Haydn had received +a modified version of Milton’s ‘Paradise Lost,’ compiled by Lidley. +This, translated into German by van Swieten, formed the libretto of +‘The Creation,’ composed by Haydn in a spirit of great humbleness +and piety. It was first performed in Vienna in 1798 and immediately +produced a strong impression, the audience, as well as the composer, +being deeply moved. Choral societies were established for the express +purpose of giving it, rival societies in London performed it during the +season of 1800, and it long enjoyed a popularity scarcely less than +that of ‘The Messiah.’ Even with this important work his energy was +not dulled. Within a short time after the completion of ‘The Creation’ +he composed another oratorio, ‘The Seasons,’ to words adapted from +Thomson’s poem. This also sprang into immediate favor, and at the time +of its production, at least, gained quite as much popularity as ‘The +Creation.’ + +But the master’s strength was failing. After ‘The Seasons’ he wrote but +little, chiefly vocal quartets and arrangements of Welsh and Scottish +airs. On his seventy-third birthday Mozart’s little son Wolfgang, aged +fourteen, composed a cantata in his honor and came to him for his +blessing. Many old friends sought out the aged man, now sick and often +melancholy, and paid him highest honors. His last public appearance +was in March, 1808, at a performance of ‘The Creation’ at the +university in Vienna, conducted by Salieri. Overcome with fatigue and +emotion Haydn was carried home after the performance of the first part, +receiving as he departed the respectful homage of many distinguished +people, among whom was Beethoven. From that time his strength waned, +and, on May 31, 1809, he breathed his last. He was buried in a +churchyard near his home; but, in 1820, at the command of Prince Anton +Esterhàzy, his body was removed to the parish church at Eisenstadt, +where so many years of his tranquil life had been spent. + +It is of no small value to consider Haydn the man, before even Haydn +the musician, for many of the qualities which made him so respected +and beloved as a man were the bedrock upon which his genius was built. +There was little of the obviously romantic in his life, nearly all of +which was spent within a radius of thirty miles; but it glows with +kindness, good temper, and sterling integrity. He was loyal to his +emperor and his church; thrifty, generous to less fortunate friends +and needy relatives, generous, also, with praise and appreciation. +Industrious and methodical in his habits, he yet loved a jest or a +harmless bit of fooling. He was droll and sunny tempered, modest in his +estimate of himself, but possessing at the same time a proper knowledge +of his powers. He was not beglamored by the favor of princes; and, +while steadfast in the pursuit of his mission, seemed, nevertheless, to +have been without ambition, in the usual sense, even as he was without +malice, avarice, or impatience. Good health and good humor were the +accompaniment of a gentle, healthy piety. These qualities caused him +to be beloved in his lifetime; and they rank him, as a man, forever +apart from the long list of geniuses whose lives have been torn asunder +by passions, by undue sensitiveness, by excesses, or overweening +ambition--all that is commonly understood by ‘temperament.’ The flame +of Haydn’s temperament burned clearly and steadily, even if less +intensely; and the record of his life causes a thrill of satisfaction +for his uniform and consistent rightness, his few mistakes. + +It remains now to consider the nature of the service rendered by this +remarkable man to his art, through the special types of composition +indissolubly connected with his name. These are the symphony and the +quartet. + + + III + +The early history of the development of the symphony is essentially +that of the development of the sonata, which we have described in +the last chapter. When Joseph Haydn actually came upon the scene +as composer, the term symphony, or ‘sinfonia,’ had been applied to +compositions for orchestra, though these pieces bore little resemblance +to modern productions. They were usually written in three movements, +two of them being rather quick and lively, with a slow one between, and +were scored for eight parts--four strings, two oboes or two flutes, and +two ‘cors de chasse,’ or horns. Often the flutes or oboes were used +simply to reinforce the strings, while the horns sustained the harmony. +The figured bass was still in use, often transferred, however, to the +viol di gamba, and the director used the harpsichord. The treatment +of the parts was still crude and stiff, showing little feeling for +the tone color of the instruments, balancing of parts, or variety of +treatment. + +The internal structure, also, was still very uncertain. The first +movement, now usually written in strict sonata form, did not then +uniformly contain the two contrasting themes, nor the codas and +episodes of the modern schools; and the working-out section and +recapitulation were seldom clearly defined. Even in the poorest +examples, however, the sonata scheme was generally vaguely present; +and in the best often definitely marked. We must not lose sight, +however, of the epoch-making work of Stamitz and his associates at +Mannheim, both in the fixing of symphonic form and the advancement of +instrumental technique. Stamitz’s Opus I appeared, it will be recalled, +in 1751; Dittersdorf’s emulation of the Mannheim symphonies began about +1761. The intervening decade was a period of experiment and constant +improvement. Haydn, though his first symphony, composed in 1759, showed +none of the new influence, must have been cognizant of the advance. + +Haydn’s first symphony, written when he was twenty-seven, is described +by Pohl as being a ‘small work in three movements, for two violins, +viola, bass, two hautboys, and two horns; cheerful and unpretending +in character.’ From this time on his experiments in the symphonic +form were continuous, and more than one hundred examples are credited +to him. He was so situated as to be able to test his work by actual +performance. To this fortunate circumstance may be attributed the fact +that he made great improvements in orchestration, and that he gained +steadily in clearness of outline, variety of treatment, and enlargement +of ideas. + +In five years Haydn composed thirty symphonies, besides many other +pieces. His reputation spread far beyond the bounds of Austria, and +the official gazette of Vienna called him ‘our national favorite.’ His +seclusion furthered his originality and versatility, and his history +seems a singularly marked example of growth from within, rather than +growth according to the currents of contemporary taste. By 1790 the +number of symphonies had reached one hundred and ten, and the steps +of his development can be clearly traced. There are traces of the +old traditions in the doubling of the parts, sometimes throughout an +entire movement; in the neglect of the wind instruments, sometimes for +the entire adagio; and in long solo passages for bassoon or flute. +Such peculiarities mark most of the symphonies up to 1790. Among these +crudities, however, are signs of a steady advance in other respects. In +the all-important first movement he more and more gave the second theme +its rights, felt for new ways of developing the themes themselves, +and elaborated the working-out section. The coda began to make its +appearance, and the figured bass was abandoned. He established the +practice of inserting the minuet between the slow movement and the +finale, thus setting the example for the usual modern practice. The +middle strings and wind instruments gradually grew more independent, +the musical ideas more cultivated and refined, his orchestration +clearer and more buoyant. His work is cheerful and gay, showing solid +workmanship, sometimes deep emotion, rarely poetry. Under his hands the +symphony, as an art form, gained stability, strength, and a technical +perfection which was to carry the deeper message of later years, and +the message of the great symphonic writers who followed him. + +During Haydn’s comparative solitude at Eisenstadt, however, a wonderful +youth had come into the European musical world, had absorbed with the +facility of genius everything that musical science had to offer, had +learned from Haydn what could be done with the symphony as he had +learned from Gluck what could be done with opera, and had outshone and +outdistanced every composer living at the time. What Haydn was able +to give to Mozart was rendered back to him with abundant interest. +Mozart made use of a richer and more flexible orchestration, achieved +greater beauty and poignancy of expression; and Haydn, while retaining +his individuality, still shows marked traces of this noble influence. +The early works of Haydn were far in advance of his time, and were +highly regarded; but they do not reveal the complete artist, and they +have been almost entirely superseded in public favor by the London +symphonies, composed after Mozart’s death. In these he reaches heights +he had never before attained, not only in the high degree of technical +skill, but in the flood of fresh and genial ideas, and in new, +impressive harmonic progressions. The method of orchestration is much +bolder and freer. The parts are rarely doubled, the bass and viola have +their individual work, the parts for the wind instruments are better +suited to their character, and greater attention is paid to musical +nuances. In these last works Haydn arrived at that ‘spiritualization of +music’ which makes the art a vehicle not only for intellectual ideas, +but for deep and earnest emotion. + +Parallel with the growth of the symphonic form and its variety of +treatment came also a real growth of the orchestra. The organization +of 1750, consisting of four strings and four wind instruments, had +become, in 1791, a group of thirty-five or forty pieces, consisting of, +besides the strings, two flutes, two oboes, two bassoons, two horns, +two trumpets and drums. To these were sometimes added clarinets, and +occasionally special instruments, such as the triangle or cymbals. +Thus, by the end of the century, the form of the symphony, according to +modern understanding, was practically established, and the orchestra +organized nearly according to its present state. Haydn represents the +last stage of the preparatory period, and he was, in a very genuine +and literal sense, the founder, and to some degree the creator, of the +modern symphony. + +The string quartet had its birth almost simultaneously with the +symphony, and is also the child of Haydn’s genius. Its ancestors are +considered by Jahn to be the divertimenti and cassations designed for +table music, serenades, and such entertainments, and written often +in four or five movements for four wind instruments, wind instruments +with strings, or even for clavier. This species of composition was +transferred, curiously enough, to two violins, viola and bass--the +latter being in time replaced by the 'cello. This combination of +instruments, so easily available for private use, appealed especially +to Haydn, and his later compositions for it are still recognized as +models. + +The quartet, like the symphony, is based on the sonata form, and +developed gradually, in a manner similar to the larger work. Haydn’s +first attempt in this species was made at the age of twenty-three, +and eighty-three quartets are numbered among his catalogued works. +The early ones are very like the work of Boccherini, and consist +of five short movements, with two minuets. As Haydn progressed his +tendency was to make the movements fewer and longer. After Quartet No. +44 the four-movement form is generally used, and his craftsmanship +grows more delicate. Gradually he filled the rather stiff and formal +outline with ideas that are graceful and charming, even though they +may sound somewhat elementary to modern ears. He recognized the fact +that in the quartet each individual part must not be treated as solo, +nor yet should the others be made to supply a mere accompaniment to +the remainder. Each must have its rôle, according to the capacity of +the instrument and the balance of parts. The best of Haydn’s quartets +exhibit not only a well-established form and a fine perception +of the relation of the instruments, but also the more spiritual +qualities--tenderness, playfulness, pathos. He is not often romantic, +neither is there any trace of far-fetched mannerisms or fads. He gave +the form a life and freshness which at once secured its popularity, +even though the more scientific musicians of his day were inclined to +regard it with suspicion, as a trifling innovation. Nevertheless, +it was the form which, together with the symphony, was to attest the +greatness of Mozart and Beethoven; and it was from Haydn that Mozart, +at least, learned its use. + +It is impossible to estimate rightly Haydn’s service to music +without taking into account one of his most striking and original +characteristics--his use of simple tunes and folk songs. Much light has +been thrown on this phase of his genius by the labors of a Croatian +scholar, F. X. Kuhac, and the results of his work have been given to +the English-speaking world by Mr. Hadow. As early as 1762, in his +D-major symphony, composed at Eisenstadt, Haydn began to use folk +songs as themes, and he continued to do so, in symphonies, quartets, +divertimenti, cantatas, and sacred music, to the very end of his +career. In this respect he was unique among composers of his day. No +other contemporaneous writer thought it fitting or beautiful to work +rustic tunes into the texture of his music. Mozart is witty with the +ease of a man of the world, quite different from the naïve drollery +of Haydn, whose humor, though perhaps a trifle light and shallow, is +always mobile, fresh, and gay. It is pointed out, moreover, by the +writers above mentioned that the shapes of Haydn’s melodic phrases +are not those of the German, but of the Croatian folk song, and that +the rhythms are correspondingly varied. Eisenstadt lies in the very +centre of a Croatian colony, and Rohrau, Haydn’s birthplace, has +also a Croatian name. Many of its inhabitants are Croatian, and a +name, strikingly similar to Haydn’s was of frequent occurrence in +that region. Add to this the fact that his music is saturated with +tunes which have all the characteristics, both rhythmic and melodic, +of the Croatian; that many tunes known to be of that origin are +actually employed by him, and the presumption in favor of his Croatian +inheritance is very strong. + +But Haydn’s speech, like that of every genius, was not only that of his +race, but of the world. He had the heart of a rustic poet unspoiled by +a decayed civilization. Like Wordsworth, he used the speech of a whole +nation, and lived to work out all that was in him. Although almost +entirely self-taught, he mastered every scientific principle of musical +composition known at his time. He was able to compose for the people +without pandering to what was vicious or ignorant in their taste. He +identified himself absolutely with secular music, and gave it a status +equal to the music of the church. He took the idea of the symphony and +quartet, while it was yet rather formless and chaotic, floating in the +musical consciousness of the period as salt floats in the ocean, drew +it from the surrounding medium, and crystallized it into an art form. + +Something has already been said concerning Haydn’s popularity in +England, and the genuine appreciation accorded him in that country. +Haydn himself remarked that he did not become famous in Germany +until he had gained a reputation elsewhere. Even in his old age he +remembered, rather pathetically, the animosity of certain of the Berlin +critics, who had used him very badly in early life, condemning his +compositions as ‘hasty, trivial, and extravagant.’ It is only another +proof that Beckmesser never dies. Haydn was his own best critic, though +a modest one, when he said, ‘Some of my children are well bred, some +ill bred, and, here and there, there is a changeling among them.... I +know that God has bestowed a talent upon me, and I thank Him for it. +I think I have done my duty, and been of use in my generation by my +works.’ He rises above all his contemporaries, except Mozart, as a +lighthouse rises above the waves of the sea. With Mozart and Beethoven +he formed the immortal trio whose individual work, each with its own +quality and its own weight, are the completion and the sum of the +first era of orchestral music. + + F. B. + + + IV + WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART + +Radically different from the career of Haydn is that of Mozart, which, +indeed, has no parallel in the annals of music or any other art. +It partakes so much of the marvellous as to defy and to upset all +our notions of the growth of creative genius. What Haydn learned by +years of endeavor and experience Mozart acquired as if by instinct. +The forms evolved by the previous generation, that new elegance of +melodic expression, the _finesse_ of articulation and the principles +of organic unity, all these were a heritage upon which he entered with +full cognizance of their meaning and value. It was as though he had +dreamed these things in a previous existence. They made up for him a +language which he used more easily than other children use their mother +tongue. It is a fact that he learned to read music earlier than words. +What common children express in infantile prattle, this marvel of a +boy expressed in musical sounds. At three he attempted to emulate his +sister at clavier playing and actually picked out series of pleasing +thirds; at four, he learned to play minuets which his father taught him +‘as in fun’ (a half-hour sufficed for one), and, at five, he composed +others like them himself. At six, these compositions merited writing +down, which his father did, and we have the dated notebook as evidence +of these first stirrings of genius. At the age of seven Mozart appeared +before the world as a composer. The two piano sonatas with violin +accompaniment which he dedicated to the Princess Victoire have all the +attributes of finished musical workmanship, and, even if his father +retouched and corrected these and other early works, the performance, +as that of a child, is none the less remarkable. + +The extraordinary training and the wise guidance of the father, a +highly educated musician, broad-minded and progressive, were the second +great advantage accruing to Mozart, whose genius was thus led from +the beginning into proper channels. Leopold Mozart, himself under the +influence of the Mannheim school, naturally imparted to his son all the +peculiarities of their style. Through him also the influence of Emanuel +Bach became an early source of inspiration. Pure, simple melody with +a natural obvious harmonic foundation was the musical ideal to which +Mozart aspired from the first. Nevertheless, the study of counterpoint +was never neglected in the training which his father gave him, though +it was not until later, under the instruction of Padre Martini, that he +came to appreciate its full significance and elevated beauty. + +With Mozart the musical supremacy of Germany, first asserted by the +instrumental composers of Mannheim and Berlin, is confirmed and +extended to the field of vocal music and the opera. Mozart could +accomplish this task only by virtue of his broad cosmopolitanism, +which, like that of Gluck, enabled him to gather up in his grasp the +achievements of the most diverse schools. To this cosmopolitanism he +was predisposed by the circumstances of his birth as well as of his +early life. The geographical position of Salzburg, where he was born in +1756, was, in a sense, a strategic one. Situated in the southernmost +part of Germany, it was exposed to the influence of Italian taste; +inhabited by a sturdy German peasantry and bourgeoisie, its sympathies +were on the side of German art, and the musicians at court were, at +the time of Mozart’s birth, almost without exception Germans. Yet the +echoes of the cultural life not only of Vienna, Munich, and Mannheim, +but of Milan, Naples, and Paris, reached the narrow confines of this +mountain fastness, this citadel of intolerant Catholicism. + +But Mozart’s cosmopolitanism was broader than this. He was but six +years of age, gifted with a marvellous power of absorption, and +impressionable to a degree, when his father began with him and +his eleven-year-old sister, also highly talented and already an +accomplished pianist, the three-years’ journey--or concert tour, as we +should say to-day--which took them to Munich, to Vienna, to Mannheim, +to Brussels, Paris, London, and The Hague. They played before the +sovereigns in all these capitals and were acclaimed prodigies such +as the world had never seen. How assiduously young Mozart emulated +the music of all the eminent composers he met is seen from the fact +that four concertos until recently supposed to have been original +compositions were simply rearrangements of sonatas by Schobert, +Honauer, and Eckhardt.[41] Similarly, in London he carefully copied out +a symphony by C. F. Abel, until recently reckoned among his own works; +and a copy of a symphony by Michael Haydn, his father’s colleague in +Salzburg, has also been found among his manuscripts. But the most +powerful influence to which he submitted in London was that of Johann +Christian Bach, who determined his predilection for Italian vocal style +and Italian opera. + +Already, in 1770, when he and his father were upon their second +artistic journey, he tried his hand both at Italian and German opera, +with _La finta semplice_ and _Bastien und Bastienne_, and it is +significant that during their production he was already exposed to the +theories of Gluck, who brought out his _Alceste_ in that year. But it +must be said that neither of the two youthful works shows any traits of +these theories. The first of them failed of performance in Vienna and +was not produced until later at Salzburg; the other was presented under +private auspices at the estate of the famous Dr. Messmer of ‘magnetic’ +fame. But in the same year Mozart, then fourteen years of age, made his +debut in Italian _opera seria_ with _Mitradite_ at Milan. This was the +climax of a triumphal tour through Italy, in the course of which he was +made a member of the Philharmonic academies of Verona and Bologna, was +given the Order of the Golden Spur by the Pope, and earned the popular +title of _Il cavaliere filarmonico_. + +Upon his return to Salzburg young Mozart became concert master at +the archiepiscopal court, and partly under pressure of demands for +occasional music, partly spurred on by a most extraordinary creative +impulse, he turned out works of every description--ecclesiastical and +secular; symphonies, sonatas, quartets, concertos, serenades, etc., +etc. He had written no less than 288 compositions, according to the +latest enumeration,[42] when, at the age of twenty-one, he was driven +by the insufferable conditions of his servitude to take his departure +from home and seek his fortune in the world. This event marked the +period of his artistic adolescence. Accompanied by his mother he went +over much of the ground covered during his journey as a prodigy, but +where before there was universal acclaim he now met utter indifference, +professional opposition and intrigue, and general lack of appreciation. +However futile in a material sense, this broadening of his artistic +horizon was of inestimable value to the ripening genius. + +While equally sensitive to impressions as before, he no longer +merely imitated, but caught the essence of what he heard and welded +it by the power of his own genius into a new and infinitely superior +musical idiom. Now for the first time he rises to the heights, to the +exalted beauty of expression which has given his works their lasting +value. Already in the fullness of his technical power, equipped with +a musicianship which enabled him to turn to account every hint, every +suggestion, this virtuoso in creation no less than execution fairly +drank in the gospel of classicism. Mannheim became a new world to him, +but in his very exploration of it he left the indelible footprints of +his own inspiration. + +If he met the Mannheim musicians on an equal footing it followed +that he could approach those of Paris with a certain satirical +condescension. But, if his genius _was_ recognized, professional +intrigue prevented his drawing any profit from it--he was reduced +to teaching and catering to patronage in the most absurd ways, from +writing a concerto for harp and flute (both of which he detested) to +providing ballets for Noverre, the all-powerful dancer of the Paris +opera. His adaptability to circumstances was extraordinary. But all +to no avail; the total result of his endeavors was the commission to +write a symphony for the _Concerts spirituels_ then conducted by Le +Gros. Nowhere else has he shown his power of adaptability in the same +measure as in this so-called ‘Paris Symphony.’ It is, as Mr. Hadow +says, perhaps the only piece of ‘occasional’ music that is truly +classic. The circumstances of its creation appear to us ridiculous +but are indicative of the musical intelligence of Paris at this time. +The _premier coup d’archet_, the first attack, was a point of pride +with the Paris orchestra, hence the piece had to begin with all the +instruments at once, which feat, as soon as accomplished, promptly +elicited loud applause. ‘What a fuss they make about that,’ wrote +Mozart. ‘In the devil’s name, I see no difference. They just begin +all together as they do elsewhere. It is quite ludicrous.’ For the +same reason the last movement of the Paris Symphony begins with a +unison passage, _piano_, which was greeted with a hush. ‘But directly +the _forte_ began they took to clapping.’ Referring to the passage +in the first _Allegro_, the composer says, ‘I knew it would make an +effect, so I brought it in again at the end, _da capo_.’ And, despite +those prosaic calculations, the symphony ‘has not an unworthy bar +in it,’ and it was one of the most successful works played at these +famous concerts. Yet Paris held out no permanent hope to Mozart and he +was forced to return to service in Salzburg, under slightly improved +circumstances.[43] + +It is nothing short of tragic to see how the young artist vainly +resisted this dreaded renewal of tyranny, and finally yielded, out of +love for his father. His liberation came with the order to write a +new opera, _Idomeneo_, for Munich in 1781. This work constitutes the +transition from adolescence to maturity. It is the last of his operas +to follow absolutely the precedents of the Italian _opera seria_, and +its success definitely determined the course of his artistic career. In +the same year he severed his connection with the Salzburg court (but +not until driven to desperation and humiliated beyond words), settled +in Vienna, and secured in a measure the protection of the emperor. But +for his livelihood he had for a long time to depend upon concerts, +until a propitious circumstance opened a new avenue for the exercise of +his talents. Meantime he had experienced a new revelation. His genius +had been brought into contact with that of Joseph Haydn, whom he +met personally at the imperial palace in 1781 during the festivities +occasioned by the visit of Grand Duke Paul of Prussia.[44] This +master’s works now became the subject of his profound study, which bore +almost immediate results in his instrumental works. + +The propitious circumstance alluded to above lay in another direction. +Joseph II had made himself the protector of the German drama in Vienna +and had given the theatre a national significance. His patriotic +convictions induced him to adopt a similar course with the opera, +though his own personal tastes lay clearly in the direction of Italy. +At any rate, he abolished the costly spectacular ballet and Italian +opera and instituted in their stead a ‘national vaudeville,’ as the +German opera was called. The theatre was opened in February, 1778, with +a little operetta, _Die Bergknappen_, by Umlauf, and this was followed +by a number of operas partly translated from the Italian or French, +including _Röschen und Colas_ by Monsigny, _Lucile_, _Silvain_, and +_Der Hausfreund_ by Grétry; and _Anton und Antonette_ by Gossec. In +1781 the emperor commissioned Mozart to contribute to the repertoire +a _singspiel_, and a suitable libretto was found in _Die Enführung +aus dem Serail_. It had an extraordinary success. In the flush of his +triumph Mozart married Constanze Weber, sister of the singer Aloysia +Weber, the erstwhile sweetheart of Mannheim. This again complicated his +financial circumstances; for his wife, loyal as she was, knew nothing +of household economy. Not until 1787 did Mozart secure a permanent +situation at the imperial court, and then with a salary of only eight +hundred florins (four hundred dollars), ‘too much for what I do, too +little for what I could do,’ as he wrote across his first receipt. His +duties consisted in providing dance music for the court! Gluck died in +the year of Mozart’s appointment, but his position with two thousand +florins was not offered to Mozart. To the end of his days he had to +endure pecuniary difficulties and even misery. + +Intrigue of Italian colleagues, with Salieri, Gluck’s pupil, at their +head, moreover placed constant difficulties in Mozart’s way, and when, +in 1785, his ‘Marriage of Figaro’ was brought out in Vienna it came +near being a total failure because of the purposely bad work of the +Italian singers. But at Prague, shortly after, the opera aroused the +greatest enthusiasm, and out of gratitude Mozart wrote his next opera, +_Don Giovanni_, for that city (1787). In Vienna again it met with no +success. In this same wonderful year he completed, within the course of +six weeks, the three last and greatest of his symphonies. + +In a large measure the composer’s own character--his simple, childlike +and loyal nature--stood in the way of his material success. When, in +1789, he undertook a journey to Berlin with Prince Lichnowsky Frederick +William II offered him the place of royal _kapellmeister_ with a salary +of three thousand thalers. But his patriotism would not allow him to +accept it in spite of his straitened circumstances; and when, after +his return, he was induced to submit his resignation to the emperor, +so that, like Haydn, he might seek his fortune abroad, he allowed his +sentiment to get the better of him at the mere suggestion of imperial +regret. The only reward for his loyalty was an order for another opera. +This was _Così fan tutte_, performed in 1790. + +During his Berlin journey Mozart had visited Leipzig and played upon +the organ of St. Thomas’ Church. His masterly performance there so +astonished the organist, Doles, that, as he said, he thought the spirit +of his predecessor, Johann Sebastian Bach, had been reincarnated. It +is significant how thus late in life Bach’s influence opened new +vistas to Mozart--for he had probably known so far only the Leipzig +master’s clavier compositions. It is related how, after a performance +of a cantata in his honor, he was profoundly moved and, spreading +the parts out on the organ bench, became immersed in deep study. The +result is evident in his compositions of the last two years. During +the last, 1791, he wrote _La clemenza di Tito_, another _opera seria_, +for Prague, and his last and greatest German opera, _Die Zauberflöte_, +for Vienna. The _Requiem_, by some considered the crowning work of his +genius, was his last effort; he did not live to finish it. He died +on December 5th, 1791, in abject misery, while the ‘Magic Flute’ was +being played to crowded houses night after night on the outskirts of +Vienna. The profits from the work meantime accrued to the benefit of +the manager, Schikaneder, the ‘friend’ whom Mozart had helped out of +difficulties by writing it. Mozart was buried in a common grave and the +spot has remained unknown to this day. + + * * * * * + +Thus, briefly, ran the life course of one of the greatest and, without +question, the most gifted of musicians the world has seen. Within +the short space of thirty-six years he was able to produce an almost +countless series of works, the best of which still beguile us after a +century and a half into unqualified admiration. They have lost none of +their freshness and vitality, and it is even safe to say that they are +better appreciated now than in Mozart’s own day. The tender fragrant +loveliness of his melodies, the caressing grace of his cadences will +always remain irresistible; in sheer beauty, in pure musical essence, +we shall not go beyond them. Much might be said of the eternal +influence of Mozart on the latter-day disciples--we need only call to +mind Weber, Brahms, Tschaikowsky, and Richard Strauss, whose own work +is a frank and worthy tribute to his memory. + +It has been said that Mozart’s is the only music sufficient unto +itself, requiring no elucidation, no ‘program’ whatever. Hence its +appeal is the most immediate as well as the most general. It has +that impersonal charm which contrives to ingratiate itself with +personalities ever so remote, and to accommodate itself to every +mood. Yet a profoundly human character lies at the bottom of it all. +Mozart the simple, childlike, ingenuous, and generous; or Mozart the +witty, full of abandon, of frank drollery and good humor. With what +fortitude he bore poignant grief and incessant disappointment, how he +submitted to indignities for the sake of others, is well known. But +every attack upon his artistic integrity he met with stern reproof, +and through trial and misery he held steadfast to his ideal as an +artist. To Hoffmeister, the publisher, demanding more ‘salable’ music, +he writes that he prefers to starve; Schikaneder, successful in making +the master’s talent subserve his own ends, gets no concession to the +low taste of his motley audience. Inspired with the divinity of his +mission, he subordinates his own welfare to that one end, and he +breathes his last in the feverish labor over his final great task, the +_Requiem_, ‘his own requiem,’ as he predicted. + + + V + +We have endeavored to point out in our brief sketch of Mozart’s life +the chief influences to which he was exposed. The extent to which he +assimilated and developed the various elements thus absorbed must +determine his place in musical history. ‘The history of every art,’ +says Mr. W. H. Hadow, ‘shows a continuous interaction between form and +content. The artist finds himself confronted with a double problem: +what is the fittest to say, and what is the fittest manner of saying +it.... As a rule, one generation is mainly occupied with questions of +design, another takes up the scheme and brings new emotional force to +bear upon it, and thus the old outlines stretch and waver, the old +rules become inadequate, and the form itself, grown more flexible +through a fuller vitality, once more asserts its claim and attains +a fuller organization.’ The generation preceding Mozart and Haydn +had settled for the time being the question of form. Haydn said, as +it were, the last word in determining the design, applying it in +the most diverse ways and pointing the road to further development. +Mozart found it ‘sufficient to his needs and set himself to fill it +with a most varied content of melodic invention.’ The analogy drawn +by Mr. Hadow between the Greek drama and the classic forms of music +is particularly apt: in both the ‘plot’ is constructed in advance and +remains ever the same; the artist is left free to apply his genius to +the poetic interpretation of situations, the delineation of character, +the beauty of rhythm and verse. It was in these things that Mozart +excelled. He brought nothing essentially new, but, by virtue of his +consummate genius, he endowed the symphonic forms as he found them with +a hitherto unequalled depth and force of expression, an individuality +so indefinable that we can describe it only as ‘Mozartian.’ In no sense +was Mozart a reformer. In opera, unlike Gluck, he did not find his +limitations irksome, but knew how to achieve within these limitations +an ideal of dramatic truth without detracting from the quality of his +musical essence. His style is as independent of psychology as it is +of formal interpretation, it is ‘sufficient unto itself,’ ineffable +in its beauty, irresistible in its charm. This utter independence and +self-sufficiency of style enabled him to use with equal success the +vocal and instrumental idioms. And in his work we actually see an +assimilation of the two styles and an interchange of their individual +elements. + +Mozart’s inspiration was primarily a melodic one and for that reason +we see him purposely subordinating the harmonic substructure and often +reducing it to its simplest terms. If he employs at times figures of +accompaniment which are obvious and even trite, it is done with an +evident purpose to throw into relief the individuality of his melodies, +those rich broideries and graceful arabesques which Mozart knew how to +weave about a simple ‘tonic and dominant.’ No composer ever achieved +such variety within so limited a harmonic range. On the other hand, +it has been truthfully said that Mozart was the greatest polyphonist +between Bach and Brahms. He was able to make the most learned use of +contrapuntal devices when occasion demanded, but never in the use +of these devices did he descend to dry formalism. His _incidental_ +use of counterpoint often produces the most telling effects; the +accentuation of a motive by imitation, a caressing counter-melody to +add poignancy to an expressive phrase, the reciprocal germination of +musical ideas, all these he applies with consummate science and without +ever sacrificing ingenuous spontaneity. Again in his harmonic texture +there are moments of daring which perplexed his contemporaries and even +to-day are open to dispute. The sudden injection of a dissonant note +into an apparently tranquil harmonic relation, such as in the famous +C-major Quartet, which aroused such violent discussion when first +heard, or in the first Allegro theme of the _Don Giovanni_ overture, is +his particularly favorite way of introducing ‘color.’ + +This chromaticism of Mozart’s is one of the striking differences +between his music and Haydn’s. ‘Haydn makes his richest point of color +by sheer abrupt modulation; Mozart by iridescent chromatic motion +within the limits of a clearly defined harmonic sequence.’[45] In +drawing a further comparison between the two Viennese masters we find +in Haydn a greater simplicity and directness of expression, a more +unadorned, unhesitating utterance, as against Mozart, to whom perfectly +chiselled phrases, a polished, graceful manner of speech are second +nature, whether his mood is gay or sad, his emotions careless or deep. +The distinction is aptly illustrated by the juxtaposition of the +following two themes quoted in Vol. IV of the ‘Oxford History of Music.’ + + [Illustration: Haydn: Finale of Quartet in G (Op. 33, N.º 5)] + + [Illustration: Mozart: Finale of Quartet in D-minor (K. 421)] + +But the difference is not so much in phraseology as in the broader +aspects of invention and method. The fundamental division lies, of +course, in the character of the two men. Haydn, the simple, ingenuous +peasant, whose moods range from sturdy humor to solid dignity; Mozart, +the keen, vivacious, witty cosmopolitan, whose humor always tends to +satire, but whose exalted moments are moments of soulful, subjective +contemplation. His music is accordingly more epigrammatic, on the one +hand, and of a deeper, rounder sonority, on the other. Mozart and +Haydn first became acquainted with each other in 1780, when both had +behind them long careers full of creative activity. It is significant, +however, that practically all the works which to-day constitute our +knowledge of them were created after this meeting, and neither their +music nor the fact of their admiration for each other leaves any doubt +as to the power and depth of their mutual influence. Mozart profited +probably more in matters of technique and structure; Haydn in matters +of refinement and delicacy. + +The complete list of Mozart’s works includes no less than twenty-one +piano sonatas and fantasias (besides a number for four hands); +forty-two violin sonatas; twenty-six string quartets; seven string +quintets, several string duos and trios; forty-one symphonies; +twenty-eight divertimenti, etc., for orchestra; twenty-five piano +concertos; six violin concertos; and eighteen operas and other +dramatic works, besides single movements for diverse instruments, +chamber music for wind and for strings and wind, songs, arias, and +ecclesiastical compositions of every form, including fifteen masses. +But only a portion of these is of consequence to the music lover of our +day; the portion which constitutes virtually the last decade of his +activity. The rest, though full of grace and charm, has only historical +significance. + +His piano sonatas, we have seen, followed the model of Schobert and, in +some measure, of Emanuel Bach, but the style of these works, available +to the amateur and valuable as study material, is more individual +than that of either of the earlier masters and their musical worth +is far superior. The first of them were written about 1774 for Count +von Dürnitz, of Munich, and represent his contribution to the light, +elegant style of the period. In some later ones he strikes a more +serious note; dashing or majestic allegros alternate with caressing +cantabiles, graceful andantes or adagios of delicious beauty and +romantic expressiveness. The violin sonatas, though supposed to +have been written chiefly for the diversion of his lady pupils (the +instrument was still considered most suitable for feminine amusement), +are full of beauty, strength, and dramatic expression. + +The string quartets, the first of which he wrote during his Italian +journey of 1770, are in his early period slight and unpretentious but +lucid and delicate compositions, in which we may trace influences of +Sammartini and Boccherini. From 1773 on, however, the influence of +Haydn’s genius is apparent. By 1781, when Mozart took up his residence +in Vienna, quartet-playing had become one of the favorite pastimes of +musical amateurs. Haydn was the acknowledged leader in this popular +field and ‘whoever ventured on the same field was obliged to serve +under his banner.’ During the period of 1782 to 1785 Mozart wrote a +series of six quartets, which he dedicated to that master ‘as the fruit +of long and painful study inspired by his example.’ After playing them +over at Mozart’s house (on such occasions Haydn took the first violin +part, Dittersdorf the second, Mozart the viola, and Vanhall the 'cello) +Haydn turned to Leopold Mozart and said: ‘I assure you solemnly and as +an honest man that I consider your son to be the greatest composer +of whom I have ever heard.’ Like Haydn and Boccherini, Mozart was +commissioned to write some quartets for the king of Prussia (William +II), and, since his royal patron himself played the 'cello, he +cleverly emphasized that instrument without, however, depriving the +other instruments of their independent power of expression. Mozart’s +partiality for quartet writing is evident from the many sketches in +that form which have been preserved. They are among the masterpieces +of chamber music, as are also his string duos, trios, and, especially, +his four great string quintets. The celebrated one in G minor is, +as Jahn says, a veritable ‘psychological revelation.’ Few pieces in +instrumental music express a mood of passionate excitement with such +energy.’ + +Mozart’s concertos for the piano and also those for the violin +were written primarily for his own use. The best of them date from +the period preceding his Paris journey, when he expected to make +practical use of them, for he was a virtuoso of no mean powers on both +instruments. There are six concertos for either instrument, every +one full of pure beauty and a model of form. In them he substituted +the classic sonata form for the variable pattern used in the earlier +concertos, and hence he may be considered the creator of the classic +concerto, his only definite contribution to the history of form. They +are not merely brilliant pieces for technical display, but symphonic, +both in proportion and import. In them are found some of the finest +moments of his inspiration. ‘It is the Mozart of the early concerti to +whom we owe the imperishable matter of the Viennese period,’ says Mr. +Hadow, ‘and the influences which helped to mold successively the style +of Haydn, Beethoven, and Schubert.’ + +Of Mozart’s symphonies and serenades, terms which in some cases are +practically synonymous, there are about eleven that are of lasting +value and at least three that are imperishable. With the exception of +the Paris symphony, ‘a brilliant and charming _pièce d’occasion_,’ +which was referred to above, all of them were written during the Vienna +period, and the three great ones flowed from the composer’s pen within +the brief space of six weeks in 1787, the year of _Don Giovanni_. In +the matter of form again Mozart followed in the tracks of the Mannheim +school. The usual three movements remain, but, like Haydn, he usually +adds the minuet after the slow movement. The ‘developed ternary form’ +is applied in the first and more and more frequently also in other +movements, especially the last, where it takes the place of the lighter +rondo. But the musical material is richer and its handling far more +ingenious than that of his predecessors, just as the spiritual import +is much deeper. The movements are more closely knit, they have a unity +of emotion which clearly points in the direction of Beethoven’s later +works. There is, if not an _idée fixe_, at any rate a _sentiment fixe_. +It is manifested in a multiplicity of ways: more consistent use of the +principal thematic material in the ‘working-out,’ reassertion of themes +after the ‘transition’ (the section leading from the exposition to the +development), introductions which are, as it were, improvisations on +the mood of the piece, and codas ‘summing up’ the subjective matter. +This same unity exists between the different movements; a note of grief +or passion sounded in the first movement is either reiterated in the +last or else we feel that the composer has emerged from the struggle in +triumph or noble joy. Only the minuet, an almost constant quantity with +Mozart, brings a momentary relief or abandon to a lighter vein, if it +is not itself, as in the G minor symphony, nobly dignified and touched +with sadness. + +In the use of orchestral instruments, too, Mozart emulated the +practice of the Mannheim composers. Their works were usually scored +for eight parts, that is, two oboes _or_ flutes and two horns, besides +the usual string body. Clarinets were still rare at that time, and +parts provided for them were for that reason arranged for optional +use, being interchangeable with the oboe parts. Mozart, although he +had heard them as early as 1778 at Mannheim, used them only in his +later works,[46] and even then did not often employ that part of +their range which reaches below the oboe’s compass (still thinking of +them as alternates for that instrument). But in the manner of writing +for instruments Mozart’s works show a real novelty. In the Mannheim +symphonies the wood wind instruments usually doubled the string parts, +but occasionally they were given long, sustained notes and the brass +even went beyond mere ‘accent notes’ (_di rinforza_) to the extent +of an occasional sustained note or any individual motive. Haydn and +Mozart at first confirmed this practice, but in their later works they +introduced a wholly new method, which Dr. Riemann calls ‘filigree +work’ and which formed the basis of Beethoven’s orchestral style. ‘The +idea to conceive the orchestra as a multiplicity of units, each of +which may, upon proper occasion, interpose an essential word, without, +however, protruding itself in the manner of a solo and thus disturbing +in any way the true character of the symphonic ensemble, was foreign +to the older orchestral music.’[47] A mere dialogue between individual +instruments or bodies of instruments was, of course, nothing new, +but the cutting up of a single melodic thread and having different +instruments take it up alternately, as Haydn did, was an innovation, +and immediately led to another step, viz., the interweaving of +individual melodic sections, dove-tail fashion, thus: + + [Illustration: Haydn: Finale, 36^{th} Symphony] + +and this in turn brought, with Mozart, the coöperation of _groups of +instruments_ in such dove-tail formations, and led finally to the more +sophisticated disposition of instrumental color, as in the second theme +of the great G minor symphony: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +This sort of figure has nothing in common with the old polyphony, +in which there is always one predominating theme, shifting from one +voice to another. The equal and independent participation of several +differently colored voices in the polyphonic web is the characteristic +feature of modern orchestral polyphony, the style of Beethoven and his +successors down to Strauss. + +To Mozart Dr. Riemann gives the credit for the first impulses to this +free disposition of orchestral parts. It is evident, however, only in +his last works, and notably the three great symphonies--the mighty +‘Jupiter’ (in C) with the great double fugue in the last movement, +the radiantly cheerful E-flat, and the more deeply shaded, romantic +G-minor, ‘the greatest orchestral composition of the eighteenth +century,’ works which alone would have assured their creator’s +immortality. It would be futile to attempt a description of these +monumental creations, but we cannot forego a few general remarks about +them. They preach the gospel of classicism in its highest perfection. +Beauty of design was never more potent in art. It is Praxitelean +purity of form warmed with delicate yet rich color. The expositions +are as perfect in form as they are rich in content; the developments a +world of iridescent color, of playful suggestions and sweet reminders. +The clean-cut individuality of his themes, as eloquent as Wagner’s +leit-motifs, so lend themselves to transmutation that a single motive +of three notes, revealed in a thousand new aspects, suffices as +thematic material for an entire development section. We refer to the +opening theme of the G minor: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +A fascinating character displayed in every conceivable circumstance +and situation would be the literary equivalent of this. But often the +characters are two or three, and sometimes strange faces appear and +complicate the story. + +Mozart is the master of subtle variants, of unexpected yet not +unnatural turns in melody. His recapitulations therefore are rarely +literal. The essence remains the same, but it is deliciously +intensified by almost imperceptible means. Compare the second theme +of the last movement of the G minor in its original form with its +metamorphosis: + + [Illustration: Music score] + + [Illustration: Music score] + +What infinite variety there is within the limits of these three +symphonies! The allegros, now majestic, noble; now rhythmically alert, +scintillant, joyous; now full of suggestions of destiny; the andantes +sometimes grave or sad, sometimes a caressing supplication followed by +radiant bliss; the finales triumphant or careless, a furious presto or +a mighty fugue--it is a riot of beauty and a maze of delicate dreams. +But nowhere is Mozart more himself than in his minuets. The minuet was +his cradle song. The first one he wrote--at four--would have set the +feet of gay salons to dancing, but later they took real meaning, became +alive with more than rhythm. Whether they go carelessly romping through +flowery fields, full of the effervescence of youth, as in the Jupiter +symphony, whether they sway languidly in sensuous rhythms or race +ahead in fretful flight, with themes flitting in and out in breathless +pursuit, they are always irresistible. And what balmy consolation, what +sweet reassurance there lies in his ‘trios.’ Haydn gave life to the +minuet; Mozart gave it beauty. + +The outstanding feature, however, not only of Mozart’s symphonies, +but of all his instrumental music, is its peculiarly melodic quality, +the constant sensuous grace of melody regardless of rhythm or speed. +Other composers had achieved a cantabile quality in slow movements, but +rarely in the allegros and prestos. Pergolesi, perhaps, came nearest to +Mozart in this respect and there is no doubt that that side of Mozart’s +inspiration was rooted in the vocal style of the Italians. Here, then, +is the point of contact between symphony and opera. Mozart is the +‘conclusion, the final result of the strong influence which operatic +song had exerted upon instrumental music since the beginning of the +eighteenth century.’[48] On the other hand, Mozart brought symphonic +elements into the opera, in which, so far, it had been lacking; and +it is safe to say that only an ‘instrumental’ composer could have +accomplished what Mozart accomplished in dramatic music. + + [Illustration: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart] + _After an unfinished portrait by Josef Lange_ + + + VI + +Great as were Mozart’s achievements in the field of symphonic music, +his services to opera were at least as important. Recent critics, +such as Kretzschmar,[49] are wont to exalt the dramatic side of his +genius above any other. It is certain, at any rate, that his strongest +predilection lay in that direction. Already, in 1764, his father writes +from London how the eight-year-old composer ‘has his head filled’ +with an idea to write a little opera for the young people of Salzburg +to perform. After the return home his dramatic imagination makes +him personify the parts of his counterpoint exercises as _Il signor +d’alto_, _Il marchese tenore_, _Il duco basso_, etc. Time and again he +utters ‘his dearest wish’ to write an opera. Once it is ‘rather French +than German, and rather Italian than French’; another time ‘not a +_buffa_ but a _seria_.’ Curious enough, neither in _seria_ nor in the +purely Italian style did he attain his highest level. + +But his suggestions, and much of his inspiration, came from Italy. +In serious opera, Hasse, Jommelli, Paesillo, Majo, Traetto, and even +minor men served him for models, and, of course, his friend Christian +Bach; and Mozart never rose above their level. Lacking the qualities +of a reformer he followed the models as closely as he did in other +fields, but here was a form that was not adequate to his genius--too +worn out and lifeless. Gluck might have helped him, but he came too +late. And so it happened that _Mitridate_ (1770), _Ascanio in Albo_ (a +‘serenata,’ 1771), _Il sogno di Scipione_ and _Lucio Silla_ (1772), +_Il rè pastore_ (dramatic cantata, 1775), _Idomeneo_ (1781), and even +_La Clemenza di Tito_, written in his very last year, are as dead +to-day as the worst of their contemporaries. But with _opera buffa_ +it was otherwise. Various influences came into play here: Piccini’s +_La buona figluola_ and (though we have no record of Mozart’s hearing +it) its glorious ancestor, Pergolesi’s _Serva padrona_; the successes +of the _opéra comique_, Duni, Monsigny, Grétry, even Rousseau--all +these reëchoed in his imagination. And then the flexibility of the +form--the thing was unlimited, capable of infinite expansion. What if +it had become trite and silly--a Mozart could turn dross to gold, he +could deepen a puddle into a well! This was his great achievement; what +Gluck did for the _opera seria_ he did for the _buffa_. He took it +into realms beyond the ken of man, where its absurdities became golden +dreams, its figures flesh and blood, its buffoonery divine abandon. The +serious side of the story, too, became less and less parody and more +and more reality, till in _Don Giovanni_ we do not know where the point +of gravity lies. He calls it a _dramma giocosa_, but the joke is all +too real. Death, even of a profligate, has its sting. + +But what a music, what a halo of sound Mozart has cast about it all. +What are words of the text, after all, especially when we do not +understand them? These melodies carry their own message, they _cannot_ +be sung without expression, they are expression themselves. Is there +in all music a more soul-stirring beauty than that of _Deh vieni non +tardar_ (Figaro, Act II), or _In diesen teuren Hallen_ (Magic Flute, +Act II)? Or more delicious tenderness than Cherubino’s _Non so più_ and +_Voi che sapete_, or Don Giovanni’s serenade _Deh vieni alla fenestra_; +or more dashing gallantry than _Fin ch’an dal vino_? Were duets +ever written with half the grace of _La ci darem la mano_, in _Don +Giovanni_, or the letter scene in _Figaro_? They are jewels that will +continue to glow when opera itself is reduced to cinders. + +The purely musical elements of opera are Mozart’s chief concern. If +he gives himself wholly to that without detriment to the drama, it is +only by virtue of his own extraordinary power. Mozart could not, like +Gluck, make himself ‘forget that he was a musician,’ and would not if +he could; yet his scenes _live_, his characters are more real than +Gluck’s; all this despite ‘set arias,’ despite coloratura, despite +everything that Gluck abolished. But in musical details he followed +him; in the portrayal of mood, in painting backgrounds, and in the +handling of the chorus. Gluck painted landscape, but Mozart drew +portraits. In musical characterization his mastery is undisputed. +Again we have no use for words; the musical accents, the contour of +the phrase and its rhythm delineate the man more precisely than a +sketcher’s pencil. Here once more beauty is the first law, it sheds its +evening glow over all. No mere frivolity here, no dissolute roisterers, +no faithless wives--Don Giovanni, the gay cavalier, becomes a ‘demon of +divine daring,’ the urchin Cherubino is made the incarnation of Youth, +Spring, and Love; the Countess personifies the ideal of pure womanhood; +Beaumarchais, in short, becomes Mozart. + +_La finta semplice_ (1768), _La finta giardiniera_ (1775), and some +fragmentary works are, like Mozart’s _serious_ operas, now forgotten, +but _Così fan tutte_ (1790), _Le nozze di Figaro_ (1786), and _Don +Giovanni_ (1787) continue with unimpaired vitality as part of every +respectable operatic repertoire. The same is true of his greatest +German opera, _Die Zauberflöte_, and in a measure of _Die Entführung +aus dem Serail_. Germany owes a debt of undying gratitude to the +composer of these, for they accomplished the long-fought-for victory +over the Italians. Hiller and his singspiel colleagues had tried it +and failed; and so had Dittersdorf, the mediocre Schweitzer (allied +to Wieland the poet), and numerous others. Now for the first time +tables were turned and Italy submitted to the influence of Germany. +Mozart had beaten them on their own ground and had the audacity to +appropriate the spoil for his own country. Without Mozart we could have +no _Meistersinger_, cries Kretzschmar, which means no _Freischütz_, no +_Oberon_, and no _Rosenkavalier_! But only we of to-day can know these +things. Joseph II, who had ‘ordered’ the _Entführung_ and whose express +command was necessary to bring it upon the boards, opined on the night +of the première that it was ‘too beautiful for our ears, and a powerful +lot of notes, my dear Mozart.’ ‘Exactly as many as are necessary, your +majesty,’ retorted the composer. It was an evening of triumph, but a +triumph soon forgotten; for, after a few more attempts, the lights went +down on German opera--the ‘national vaudeville’--and Salieri and his +crew returned with all the wailing heroines, the strutting heroes, the +gruesome ghosts, and all the paraphernalia of ‘serious opera!’ + +However, the people, the ‘common people,’ liked Punch and Judy better, +or, at least, its equivalent. ‘Magic’ opera was the vogue, the absurder +the better; and Schikaneder was their man. Some eighteenth century +‘Chantecler’ had left a surplus of bird feathers on his hands--and +these suggested Papageno, the ‘hero’ of another ‘magic’ opera--‘The +Magic Flute.’ The foolishness of its plot is unbelievable, but Mozart +was won over. _Magic_ opera! Why--any opera would do. Now we know how +he loved it! And now he used his _own_ magic, his wonderful strains, +and lo, nonsense became logic, the ‘silly mixture of fairy romance and +free-masonic mysticism’ was buried under a flood of sound; Schikaneder +is forgotten and Mozart stands forth in all the radiance of his glory. +Let the unscrupulous manager make his fortune and catch the people’s +plaudits--but think of the unspeakable joy of Mozart on his deathbed +as every night he follows the performances in his imagination, act by +act, piece by piece, hearing with a finer sense than human ear and +dreaming of generations to come that will call him master! + +The _Requiem_, which Mozart composed for the most part while +_Zauberflöte_ was ‘running,’ is the only ecclesiastical work which +does not follow in the rut of his contemporaries. All his masses, +offertories, oratorios, etc., are ‘unscrupulous adaptations of the +operatic style to church music.’ The _Requiem_, completed by his pupil, +Süssmayr, according to the master’s direction, shows all the attributes +of his genius--‘deeply felt melody, masterful development, and a +breadth of conception which betrays the influence of Handel.’ ‘But,’ +concludes Riemann, ‘a soft, radiant glow spreading over it all reminds +us of Pergolesi.’ Yes, and that influence is felt in many a measure of +this work--we should be tempted to use a trite metaphor if Pergolesi’s +mantle were adequate for the stature of a Mozart. As perhaps the finest +example, in smaller form, of his church music we may refer the reader +to the celebrated _Ave verum_, composed in 1791, which is reprinted in +our musical supplement. + + * * * * * + +Through Haydn and Mozart orchestral music emerged strong and well +defined from a long period of dim growth. Their symphonies are, so to +speak, the point of confluence of many streams of musical development, +most of which, it may be remarked, had their source in Italy. The +cultivation of solo melody, the development of harmony, largely by +practice with the figured bass, until it became part of the structure +of music, the perfection of the string instruments of the viol type +and of the technique in playing and writing for them, the attempts +to vivify operatic music by the use of various _timbres_, all these +contributed to the establishment of orchestral music as an independent +branch of the art. The question of form had been first solved in music +for keyboard instruments or for small groups of instruments and was +merely adapted to the orchestra. These lines of development we have +traced in previous chapters. The building up of the frame, so to speak, +of orchestral music was synthetical. It had to await the perfection of +the various materials which were combined to make it. This was, as we +have said, a long, slow process. The symphony was evolved, not created. +So, in this respect, neither Haydn nor Mozart are creators. + +But once the various constituents had fallen into place, the perfected +combination made clear, new and peculiar possibilities, to the +cultivation of which Haydn and Mozart contributed enormously. These +peculiar possibilities were in the direction of sonority and tone +color. In search of these Haydn and Mozart originated the _orchestral_ +style and pointed the way for all subsequent composers. In the Haydn +symphonies orchestral music first rang even and clear; in those of +Mozart it was first tinged with tone colors, so exquisite, indeed, that +to-day, beside the brilliant works of Wagner and Strauss, the colors +still glow unfaded. + +If Haydn and Mozart did not create the symphony, the excellence of +their music standardized it. The blemish of conventionality and +empty formalism cannot touch the excellence of their best work. Such +excellence would have no power to move us were it only skill. There +is genuine emotional inspiration in most of the Salomon symphonies +and in the three great symphonies of Mozart. In Haydn’s music it +is the simple emotion of folk songs; in Mozart’s it is more veiled +and mysterious, subtle and elusive. In neither is it stormy and +assertive, as in Beethoven, but it is none the less clearly felt. That +is why their works endure. That is the personal touch, the special +gift of each to the art. Attempts to exalt Beethoven’s greatness by +contrasting his music with theirs are, in the main, unjust and lead to +false conclusions. Their clarity and graceful tenderness are not less +intrinsically beautiful because Beethoven had the power of the storm. +Moreover, the honest critic must admit that the first two symphonies +of Beethoven fall short of the artistic beauty and the real greatness +of the Mozart G minor or C major. Indeed, it is to be doubted if any +orchestral music can be more beautiful than Mozart’s little symphony in +G minor, for that is perfect. + +We find in them the fresh-morning Spring of symphonic music, when the +sun is bright, the air still cool and clear, the sparkling dew still +on the grass. After them a freshness has gone out of music, never to +return. Never again shall we hear the husbandman whistle across the +fields, nor the song of the happy youth of dreams stealing barefoot +across the dewy grass. + + C. S. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[36] Superstition was still so widespread that Paganini was actually +forced to produce evidence that he did not derive his ‘magic’ from the +evil one. + +[37] Burney in describing his travels says: ‘So violent are the jolts, +and so hard are the seats, of German post wagons, that a man is rather +kicked than carried from one place to another.’ Mozart in a letter +recounting to his father his trip from Salzburg to Munich avows that he +was compelled to raise himself up by his arms and so remain suspended +for a good part of the way! + +[38] After Augustus’ death, in 1763, musical life at this court +deteriorated, though Naumann was retained as kapellmeister by Charles, +Augustus’s son. + +[39] _Cf._ Charles Burney: ‘The Present State of Music in Germany,’ +London, 1773. + +[40] Among other musicians he met is old Wagenseil, who was confined +to his couch, but had the harpsichord wheeled to him and ‘played me +several _capriccios_ and pieces of his own composition in a very +spirited and masterly manner.’ Merely mentioned are Ditters, Huber, +Mancini, the great lutenist Kohaut, the violinist La Motte, and the +oboist Venturini. + +[41] Johann Schobert especially caught the boy’s fancy, though both +his father and Baron Grimm, their most influential friend in Paris, +depreciated his merits and tried to picture him as a small, jealous +person. T. de Wyzewa and G. de St. Foix, in their study _Un maître +inconnu de Mozart_ (_Zeitschrift Int. Musik-Ges._, Nov., 1908), and in +their partially completed biography of Mozart, have clearly shown the +powerful influence of the Paris master on the youthful composer. + +[42] T. de Wyzewa and G. de St. Foix in their scholarly work ‘W.-A. +Mozart’ have catalogued and fixed the relative positions of all the +Mozart compositions. This in a sense supersedes the famous catalogue +made by Ludwig von Koechel (1862, Supplement 1864). + +[43] Mozart’s mother, ill during the greater part of the Paris sojourn, +died about the time of the symphony première. Grief-stricken as he +was, he wrote his father all the details of the performance and merely +warned him that his mother was dangerously ill. At the same time he +advised a close Salzburg friend of the event and begged him to acquaint +his father with it as carefully as possible. + +[44] Another incident of this veritable carnival of music was the +famous pianoforte competition between Mozart and Clementi. + +[45] W. H. Hadow, in ‘The Oxford History of Music.’ + +[46] It is a well-known fact that the moment of his first acquaintance +with the instrument Mozart became enamored of its tone. No ear ever was +more alive to the purely sensuous qualities of tone color. + +[47] Riemann: _Handbuch der Musikgeschichte_, II. + +[48] Riemann: _Op. cit._ + +[49] Hermann Kretzschmar: _Mozart in der Geschichte der Oper_ +(_Jahrbuch der Musikbibliothek Peters_, 1905). + + + + + CHAPTER IV + LUDWIG VAN BEETHOVEN + + Form and formalism--Beethoven’s life--His relations with his family, + teachers, friends, and other contemporaries--His character--The man + and the artist--Determining factors in his development--The three + periods in his work and their characteristics--His place in the + history of music. + + +The most important contributions of the eighteenth century to the +history of music--the establishment of harmony and the new tonalities, +the technical growth of the various forms, especially of the sonata and +the development of opera--have been treated in preceding chapters; and +we now only glance at them momentarily in order to point out that they +typify and illustrate two of the predominating forces of the century, +the desire for form and the reaction against mere formality. The first +is well illustrated in the history of the sonata, which, at the middle +of the century, was comparatively unimportant as a form of composition +and often without special significance in its musical ideas. By +1796 Mozart had lived and died, and the symphonic work of Haydn was +done; with the result that the principles of design, so strongly +characteristic of eighteenth century art, were in full operation in +the realm of music; the sonata form, as illustrated in the quartet and +symphony, was lifted to noble position among the types of pure music; +and the orchestra was vastly improved. + +The second of these forces, the reaction against formality and +conservatism, is connected with one of the most interesting phases +of the history of art. For a large part of the century France held a +dominating place in drama, literature, and the opera. The art of the +theatre and of letters had become merely a suave obedience to rule, +and even the genius of a Voltaire, with his dramatic instinct and +boldness, could not lift it entirely out of the frigid zone in which +it had become fixed. Germany and England, however, were preparing to +overthrow the traditions of French classicism. Popular interest in +legends, folk-lore, and ballads revived. ‘Ossian’ (published 1760-63) +and Percy’s ‘Reliques’ (1765) aroused great enthusiasm both in England +and on the continent. Before the end of the century Lessing, Goethe, +and Schiller had placed new landmarks in the progress of literature in +Germany; and in England, by 1810, much of Wordsworth’s best poetry had +been written. The study of early national history and an appreciation +of Nature took the place of logic and the cold niceties of wit and +epigram. The comfortable acquiescence in the existing state of things, +the objectiveness, the decorous veiling of personal and subjective +elements, which characterize so many eighteenth century writers, +gave place to a passionate, lyrical outburst of rapture over nature, +expression of personal desire, melancholy visions, or romantic love. +In politics and social life there was a strong revival of republican +ideas, a loosening of many of the more orthodox tenets of religion, and +again a strong note of individualism. + +That this counter-current against conventionality and mere formalism +should find expression in music was but natural. The new development, +however, in so far as pure instrumental music is concerned, was a +change, not in form, but in content and style, an increase in richness +and depth, which took place within the boundaries already laid out by +earlier masters, especially Haydn and Mozart. The musician in whom we +are to trace these developments is, of course, Ludwig van Beethoven, +who stands, like a colossus, bridging the gulf between eighteenth +century classicism and nineteenth century romanticism. He was in a +profound sense the child of his age and nation. He summed up the wisdom +of the older contrapuntists, as well as that of Mozart and Haydn; and +he also gave the impulse to what is most modern in musical achievement. + +‘The most powerful currents in nineteenth century music (the +romanticism of Liszt, Berlioz; the Wagnerian music drama) to a large +extent take their point of departure from Beethoven,’ writes Dickinson; +and the same author goes on to say: ‘No one disputes his preëminence +as sonata and symphony writer. In these two departments he completes +the movements of the eighteenth century in the development of the +cyclical homophonic form, and is the first and greatest exponent of +that principle of individualism which has given the later instrumental +music its special character. He must always be studied in the light of +this double significance.’[50] + + + I + +Although born in Germany and of German parents, Beethoven belonged +partly to that nation whose work forms so large a chapter in the +history of music, the Netherlanders. His paternal grandfather, Louis +van Beethoven, early in the century emigrated from Antwerp to Bonn, +taking a position first as bass singer then as chapel master in the +court band of the Elector of Cologne. He was an unusually capable man, +highly esteemed as a musician, and, although he died when Ludwig was +but three years of age, left an indelible impression on his character. +The father, Johann or Jean, also a singer in the court chapel, was +lacking in the excellent qualities of the elder Beethoven. The mother +was of humble family, a woman with soft manners and frail health, +who bore her many sorrows with quiet stoicism. Ludwig, the composer, +christened in the Roman Catholic Church in Bonn, December 17, 1770, was +the second of a family of seven, only three of whom lived to maturity. +The house of his birth is in the Bonngasse, now marked with a memorial +tablet. + +At a very early age the father put little Ludwig at his music, and, +upon perceiving his ability, kept him practising in spite of tears. +Violin and piano were studied at home, while the rudiments of education +were followed in a public school until the lad was about thirteen. +As early as the age of nine, however, he had learned all his father +could teach him and was turned over, first to a tenor singer named +Pfeiffer and later to the court organist, van den Eeden, a friend +of the grandfather. In 1781 Christian Gottlieb Neefe (1748-1798) +succeeded van den Eeden and took Beethoven as his pupil. It is said +that during an absence he left his scholar, who had now reached the +age of eleven and a half years, to take his place at the organ, and +that a few months later this same pupil was playing the larger part +of Bach’s _Wohltemperiertes Klavier_. There seems to be abundant +evidence, indeed, that not only Neefe but others were convinced of the +boy’s genius and disposed to assist him. At the age of fifteen he was +studying the violin with Franz Ries, the father of Ferdinand, and at +seventeen he made his first journey to Vienna, where he had the famous +interview with Mozart. His return to Bonn was hastened by the illness +of his mother, who died shortly after. + +Domestic affairs with the Beethovens went from bad to worse, what +with poverty, the loss of the mother, and the irregular habits of the +father. At nineteen Ludwig was virtually in the position of head of the +family, earning money, dictating the expenditures, and looking after +the education of the younger brothers. At this time he was assistant +court organist and viola player, both in the opera and chapel, and +associated with such men as Ries, the two Rombergs, Simrock, and +Stumpff. In July, 1792, when Haydn passed through Bonn on his return +from the first London visit, Beethoven showed him a composition and +was warmly praised; and, in the course of this very year, the Elector +arranged for him to go again to Vienna, this time for a longer stay and +for the purpose of further study. + +His life thenceforth was in Vienna, varied only by visits to nearby +villages or country places. His first public appearance in Vienna +as pianist was in 1795, and from that time on his life was one of +successful musical activity. As improviser at the pianoforte he was +especially gifted, even at a time when there were marvellous feats +in extempore playing. By the year 1798 there appeared symptoms of +deafness, which gradually increased in spite of the efforts of +physicians to arrest or cure it, and finally forced him to give up +his playing. His last appearance in public as actual participant in +concerted work took place in 1814, when he played his trio in B flat, +though he conducted the orchestra until 1822. At last this activity was +also denied him; and when the Choral Symphony was first performed, in +1824, he was totally unaware of the applause of the audience until he +turned and saw it. + +During these years, however, Beethoven had established himself in favor +with the musical public with an independence such as no musician up +to that time ever achieved. From 1800 on he was in receipt of a small +annuity from Prince Lichnowsky, which was increased by the sale of many +compositions. In 1809 Jerome Bonaparte, king of Westphalia, appears to +have offered him the post of master of the chapel at Cassel, with a +salary of $1,500 a year and very easy duties. The prospect of losing +Beethoven, however, aroused the lovers of music in Vienna to such an +extent that three of the nobility--Princes Kinsky and Lobkowitz and +Archduke Rudolph, brother of the emperor--guaranteed him a regular +stipend in order to insure his continued residence among them. This +maintenance, moreover, was given absolutely free from conditions +of any sort. In 1815 his brother Caspar Carl died, charging the +composer with the care of his son Carl, then a lad about nine years +of age. The responsibility was assumed by Beethoven with fervor and +enthusiasm, though the boy, as it proved, was far from being worthy of +the affectionate care of his distinguished uncle. Moreover, Beethoven +was now constantly in ill health, and often in trouble over lodgings, +servants, and the like. + +In spite of these preoccupations the composition of masterpieces went +on, though undoubtedly with difficulty and pain, since their author +was robbed of that peace of mind so necessary to health and great +achievements. The nephew kept his hold on his uncle’s affection to the +end, was made heir to his property, and at the last commended to the +care of Beethoven’s old advocate, Dr. Bach. In November, 1826, the +master, while making a journey from his brother’s house at Gneixendorf, +took cold and arrived at his home in Vienna, the Swarzspanierhaus, +mortally ill with inflammation of the stomach and dropsy. The disease +abated for a time and Beethoven, though still confined to his bed, +was again eager for work. In March of the following year, however, +he grew steadily worse, received the sacraments of the Roman Church +on the twenty-fourth, and two days later, at evening during a +tremendous thunder storm, he breathed his last. Stephan von Breuning +and Anton Schindler, who had attended him, had gone to the cemetery +to choose a burial place, and only Anselm Hüttenbrenner, the friend +of both Schubert and Beethoven, was by his side. His funeral, March +twenty-ninth, was attended by an immense concourse of people, +including all the musicians and many of the nobility of Vienna. In the +procession to the church the coffin was borne by eight distinguished +members of the opera; thirty-two musicians carried torches, and at the +gate of the cemetery there was an address from the pen of the most +distinguished Austrian writer of the time, Grillparzer, recited by the +actor Anschütz. The grave was on the south side of the cemetery near +the spot where, a little more than a year later, Schubert was buried. +In 1863 the bodies of both Schubert and Beethoven were exhumed and +reburied after the tombs were put in repair, the work being carried out +by _Die Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde_ of Vienna. + +Such is the bare outline of a life filled with passionate earnestness +and continuous striving after unattainable ideals of happiness. +Beethoven’s character was a strange combination of forces, and is not +to be gauged by the measuring rod of the average man. Some writers +have made too much of the accidents of his disposition, such as his +violent temper and rough manners; and others have apparently been +most concerned with his affairs of the heart. What really matters in +connection with any biography has been noted by the great countryman +and contemporary of Beethoven, Goethe: ‘To present the man in relation +to his times, and to show how far as a whole they are opposed to him, +in how far they are favorable to him, and how, if he be an artist, +poet, or writer, he reflects them outwardly.’[51] + +It is the purpose of this chapter to present a few of the more +salient qualities of this great man, as they have appeared to those +contemporaneous and later writers best fitted to understand him; and +to indicate the path by which he was led to his achievements in music. +More than this is impossible within the limitations of the present +volume, but it is the writer’s hope that this chapter may serve +at least as an introduction to one or more of the excellent longer +works--biographies, volumes of criticism, editions of letters--which +set forth more in detail the character of the man and artist. + + + II + +In relation to the members of his family it cannot be said that +Beethoven’s life was happy or even comfortable. Two amiable and gentle +figures emerge from the domestic group, the fine old grandfather, +Louis, and the mother. For these Beethoven cherished till his death +a tender and reverent memory. In the autumn of 1787 he writes to the +Councillor, Dr. von Schaden, at Augsburg, with whom he had become +acquainted on his return journey from Vienna: ‘I found my mother still +alive, but in the worst possible state; she was dying of consumption, +and the end came about seven weeks ago, after she had endured much +pain and suffering. She was to me such a good, lovable mother, my best +friend. Oh! who was happier than I when I could still utter the sweet +name of mother, and heed was paid to it.’ The gentle soul suffered +much, not only in her last illness, but throughout her married life, +for her husband, the tenor singer, was a drunkard and worse than a +nonentity in the family life. He died soon after the composer’s removal +to Vienna. The two brothers contributed little to his happiness or +welfare. Johann was selfish and narrow-minded, penurious and mean, +with a dash of egotistic arrogance which had nothing in common with the +fierce pride of the older brother, Ludwig. Acquiring some property and +living on it, Johann was capable of leaving at his brother’s house his +card inscribed _Johann van Beethoven, Gutsbesitzer_ (land proprietor). +This was promptly returned by the composer who had endorsed it with +the counter inscription, _L. van Beethoven, Hirnbesitzer_ (brain +proprietor). The brother Caspar Carl was a less positive character, and +seems to have shown some loyalty and affection for Ludwig at certain +periods of his life, sometimes acting virtually as his secretary and +business manager. But, though he was more tolerable to Ludwig than the +_Gutsbesitzer_, his character was anything but admirable. Both brothers +borrowed freely of the composer when he was affluent and neglected him +when he most needed attention. ‘Heaven keep me from having to receive +favors from my brothers!’ he writes. And in the ‘Heiligenstadt Will,’ +written in 1802, before his fame as a composer was firmly established, +his bitterness against them overflows. ‘O ye men who regard or +declare me to be malignant, stubborn, or cynical, how unjust are ye +towards me.... What you have done against me has, as you know, long +been forgiven. And you, brother Carl, I especially thank you for the +attachment you have shown toward me of late ... I should much like one +of you to keep as an heirloom the instruments given to me by Prince L., +but let no strife arise between you concerning them; if money should +be of more service to you, just sell them.’ This passage throws light +on the characters of the brothers, as well as on Beethoven himself. +It was at the house of the brother Johann, where the composer and his +nephew Carl were visiting in 1826, near the end of his life, that he +received such scant courtesy in respect to fires, attendance and the +like (being also asked to pay board) that he was forced to return to +his home in Vienna. The use of the family carriage was denied him and +he was therefore compelled to ride in an open carriage to the nearest +post station--an exposure which resulted in his fatal illness. + +Young Carl, who became the precious charge of the composer upon +Caspar’s death, was intolerable. Beethoven sought, with an almost +desperate courage, to bring the boy into paths of manhood and virtue, +making plans for his schooling, for his proper acquaintance, and for +his advancement. Carl was deaf, apparently, to all accents of affection +and devotion, as well as to the occasional outbursts of fury from +his uncle. He perpetually harassed him by his looseness, frivolity, +continual demands for money, and lack of sensibility; and finally he +attempted to take his own life. This last stroke was almost too much +for the uncle, who gave way to his grief. Beethoven was, doubtless, but +poorly adapted to the task of schoolmaster or disciplinarian; but he +was generous, forgiving to a fault, and devoted to the ideal of duty +which he conceived to be his. But the charge was from the beginning a +constant source of anxiety and sorrow, altering his nature, causing +trouble with his friends, and embittering his existence by constant +disappointments and contentions. + +Some uncertainties exist concerning Beethoven’s relations with his +teachers. The court organist, van den Eeden, was an old man, and could +scarcely have taught the boy more than a year before he was handed over +to Neefe, who was a good musician, a composer, and a writer on musical +matters. He undoubtedly gave his pupil a thoroughly honest grounding +in essentials, and, what was of even greater importance, he showed a +confidence in the boy’s powers that must have left a strong impression +upon his sensitive nature. ‘This young genius,’ he writes, when +Beethoven was about twelve years old, ‘deserves some assistance that +he may travel. If he goes on as he has begun, he will certainly become +a second Mozart.’ During Neefe’s tutelage Beethoven was appointed +accompanist to the opera band--an office which involved a good deal +of responsibility and no pay--and later assistant court organist. His +compositions, however, even up to the time of his departure for Vienna, +do not at all compare, either in number or significance, with those +belonging to the first twenty-two years of Mozart’s life. This fact, +however, did not dampen the confidence of the teacher, who seems to +have exerted the strongest influence of an academic nature which ever +came into the composer’s life. Upon leaving Bonn, Beethoven expresses +his obligation. ‘Thank you,’ he says, ‘for the counsel you have so +often given me in my progress in my divine art. Should I ever become a +great man, you will certainly have assisted in it.’[52] + +His relations with Haydn have been a fruitful source of discussion +and explanation. On his second arrival in Vienna, 1792, Beethoven +became Haydn’s pupil. Feeling, however, that his progress was slow, +and finding that errors in counterpoint had been overlooked in +his exercises, he quietly placed himself under the instruction of +Schenck, a composer well known in Beethoven’s day. There was at the +time no rupture with Haydn, and he did not actually withdraw from his +tutorship until the older master’s second visit to London, in 1794. +Beethoven then took up work with Albrechtsberger, but the relationship +was mutually unsatisfactory. The pupil felt a lack of sympathy and +Albrechtsberger expressed himself in regard to Beethoven with something +like contempt. ‘Have nothing to do with him,’ he advises another pupil. +‘He has learned nothing and will never do anything in decent style.’ +Although in later years Beethoven would not call himself a pupil of +Haydn, yet there were many occasions when he showed a genuine and +cordial appreciation for the chapel master of Esterhàzy. The natures of +the two men, however, were fundamentally different, and could scarcely +fail to be antagonistic. Haydn was by nature and court discipline +schooled to habits of good temper and self-control; he was pious, +submissive to the control of church and state, kindly and cheerful in +disposition. Beethoven, on the contrary, was individualistic to the +core, rough often to the point of rudeness in manner, deeply affected +by the revolutionary spirit of the times, scornful of ritual and +priest, melancholy and passionate in temperament. Is it strange that +two such diverse natures found no common ground of meeting? + +Beethoven, however, aside from his formal instruction, found +nourishment for his genius, as all great men do, in the work of the +masters of his own and other arts. He probably learned more from an +independent study of Haydn’s works than from all the stated lessons; +for his early compositions begin precisely where those of Haydn and +Mozart leave off. They show, also, that he knew the worth of the +earlier masters. Concerning Emanuel Bach he writes: ‘Of his pianoforte +works I have only a few things, yet a few by that true artist serve +not only for high enjoyment but also for study.’ In 1803 he writes +to his publishers, Breitkopf and Härtel: ‘I thank you heartily for +the beautiful things of Sebastian Bach. I will keep and study them.’ +Elsewhere he calls Sebastian Bach ‘the forefather of harmony,’ and +in his characteristic vein said that his name should be Meer (Sea), +instead of Bach (Brook). According to Wagner, this great master was +Beethoven’s guide in his artistic self-development. + +The only other art with which he had any acquaintance was poetry, and +for this he shows a lifelong and steadily growing appreciation. In +the home circle of his early friends, the Breunings, he first learned +something of German and English literature. Shakespeare was familiar to +him, and he had a great admiration for Ossian, just then very popular +in Germany. Homer and Plutarch he knew, though only in translation. In +1809 we find him ordering complete sets of Goethe and Schiller, and in +a letter to Bettina Brentano he says: ‘When you write to Goethe about +me, select all words which will express to him my inmost reverence and +admiration.’ At the time of his interest in his physician’s daughter, +Therese Malfatti, he sends her as a gift Goethe’s _Wilhelm Meister_ and +Schlegel’s translation of Shakespeare, and speaks to her of reading +Tacitus. Elsewhere he writes: ‘I have always tried from childhood +onward to grasp the meaning of the better and the wise of every age. It +is a disgrace for any artist who does not think it his duty at least to +do that much.’ These instances of deliberate selection show the strong +tendency of his mind toward the powerful, epic, and ‘grand’ style of +literature, and an almost complete indifference toward the light and +ephemeral. His own language, as shown in the letters, show many minor +inaccuracies, but is, nevertheless, strongly characteristic, forceful, +and natural, and often trenchant or sardonic. + +In his relation to his friends, happily his life shows many richer and +more grateful experiences than with his own immediate family. Besides +the Breunings, his first and perhaps most important friend was Count +Waldstein, who recognized his genius and was undoubtedly of service to +him in Bonn as well as in Vienna. In the album in which his friends +inscribed their farewells upon his departure from Bonn Waldstein’s +entry is this: ‘Dear Beethoven, you are travelling to Vienna in +fulfillment of your long cherished wish. The genius of Mozart is still +weeping and bewailing the death of her favorite. With the inexhaustible +Haydn she found a refuge, but no occupation, and is now waiting to +leave him and join herself to someone else. Labor assiduously and +receive Mozart’s spirit from the hands of Haydn. Your true friend, +Waldstein. Bonn, October 29, 1792.’[53] + +From the time of his arrival in Vienna, his biography is one long story +of his connection with this or that group of charming and fashionable +people. Vienna was then in a very special sense the musical centre of +Europe. There Mozart had just ended his marvellous career, and there +was the home of Haydn, the most distinguished living musician. Many +worthy representatives of the art of music--Salieri, Gyrowetz, Eybler, +Weigl, Hummel, Woelfl, Steibelt, Ries--as well as a host of fashionable +and titled people who possessed knowledge and a sincere love of music, +called Vienna their home. Many people of rank and fashion were pleased +to count themselves among Beethoven’s friends. ‘My art wins for me +friends and esteem,’ he writes, and from these friends he received +hospitality, money, and countless favors. To them, in return, he +dedicated one after another of his noble works. To Count Waldstein +was inscribed the pianoforte sonata in C, opus 53; to Baron von +Zmeskall the quartet in F minor, opus 95; to Countess Giulia Guicciardi +the _Sonata quasi una fantasia_ in C sharp minor (often called the +Moonlight Sonata); the second symphony to Prince Carl Lobkowitz, and so +on through the long, illustrious tale. He enjoyed the society of the +polite world. ‘It is good,’ he says, ‘to be with the aristocracy, but +one must be able to impress them.’ + +The old order of princely patronage, however, under which nearly all +musicians lived up to the close of the eighteenth century, had no +part nor lot in Beethoven’s career. Haydn, living until 1809, spent +nearly all his life as a paid employee in the service of the prince +of Esterhàzy, and even his London symphonies and the famous Austrian +Hymn were composed ‘to order.’ Mozart, whose career began later and +ended earlier than Haydn’s, had the hardihood to throw off his yoke of +servitude to the archbishop of Salzburg; but Beethoven was never under +such a yoke. He accepted no conditions as to the time or character of +his compositions; and, although he received a maintenance from some of +his princely friends, he was never on the footing of a paid servant. On +the contrary, he mingled with nobility on a basis of perfect equality +and shows no trace of humiliation or submission. He was furiously +proud, and would accept nothing save on his own terms. Nine years +before his death he welcomed joyfully a commission from the London +Philharmonic Society to visit England and bring with him a symphony +(it would have been the Ninth). Upon receiving an intimation, however, +that the Philharmonic would be pleased to have something written in his +earlier style, he indignantly rejected the whole proposition. For him +there was no turning back and his art was too sacred to be subject to +the lighter preferences of a chance patron. Though the plan to go to +England was again raised shortly before his last illness (this time by +the composer himself) it never came to a realization. + +A special place among his friends should be given to a few whose +appreciation of the master was singularly disinterested and deep. +First among these were the von Breunings, who encouraged his genius, +bore with the peculiar awkwardness and uncouthness of his youth, and +managed, for the most part, to escape his suspicion and anger. It was +in their house at the age of sixteen or seventeen that he literally +first discovered what personal friendship meant; and it was Stephen von +Breuning and his son Gerhart who, with Schindler, waited on him during +his final illness. No others are to be compared with the Breunings; but +more than one showed a capacity for genuine and unselfish devotion. +Nanette Streicher, the daughter of the piano manufacturer, Stein, was +among these. Often in his letters Beethoven declares that he does +not wish to trouble anyone; and yet he complains to this amiable and +capable woman about servants, dusters, spoons, scissors, neckties, +stays, and blames the Austrian government, both for his bad servants +and smoking chimneys. It is evident that she repeatedly helped him +over his difficulties, as did also Baron von Zmeskall, court secretary +and distinguished violoncellist, to whom he applied numberless times +for such things as quills, a looking glass, and the exchanging of a +torn hat, and whom he sent about like an errand boy. Schuppanzigh, the +celebrated violinist and founder of the Rasoumowsky quartet, which +produced for the first time many of the Beethoven compositions, was +a trustworthy and valuable friend. Princes Lichnowsky and Lobkowitz, +Count von Brunswick, the Archbishop Rudolph, Countesses Ertmann, +Erdödy, Therese von Brunswick, and Bettina Brentano (afterward von +Arnim)--the list of titled and fashionable friends is long and all +of them seem to have borne with patience his eccentricities and +delinquencies in a genuine appreciation of his fine character and +genius. Among the few friends who proved faithful to the last, however, +was a young musician, Anton Schindler, who for a time was Beethoven’s +housemate and devoted slave, and became his literary executor and +biographer. Schindler has been the object of much detraction and +censure, but both Grove and Thayer regard him as trustworthy, in +character as well as in intelligence. He had much to bear from his +adored master, who tired of him, treated him with violence and +injustice, and finally banished him from his house. But when Beethoven +returned to Vienna from the ill-fated visit to Johann in 1826, sick +unto death, Schindler resumed his old position as house companion. +Both Schindler and Baron von Zmeskall collected notes, memoranda, and +letters which have been of great service to later biographers of the +composer. + +Beethoven’s friendships were often marked by periods of storm, and many +who were once proud to be in his favored circle afterward became weary +of his eccentricities, or were led away to newer interests. It was +hard for him to understand some of the most obvious rules of social +conduct, and impossible for him to control his tongue or temper. Close +and well-tried friends, falling under his suspicion or arousing his +anger, were in the morning forbidden his house, roundly denounced, and +treated almost like felons; in the afternoon, with a return of calmness +and reason, he would write to them remorseful letters, beg their +forgiveness, and plead for a continuance of their affection. Often +the remorse was out of all proportion to his crime. After a quarrel +with Stephan von Breuning he sends his portrait with the following +message: ‘My dear, good Stephan--Let what for a time passed between us +lie forever hidden behind this picture. I know it, I have broken _your +heart_. The emotion which you must certainly have noticed in me was +sufficient punishment for it. It was not a feeling of _malice_ against +you; no, for then I should be no longer worthy of your friendship. +It was passion on your part and on mine--but mistrust of you arose +in me. Men came between us who are not worthy either of you or of me +... faithful, good, and noble Stephan. Forgive me if I did hurt your +feelings; I was not less a sufferer myself through not having you near +me during such a long period; then only did I really feel how dear to +my heart you are and ever will be.’ Too apologetic and remorseful, +maybe; but still breathing a kind of stubborn pride under its genuine +and sincere affection. + +Although Goethe and Beethoven met at least once, they did not become +friends. The poet was twenty-one years the elder, and was too much the +gentleman of the world to like outward roughness and uncouth manners in +his associates. He had, moreover, no sympathy with Beethoven’s rather +republican opinions. On the other hand, Beethoven had something of the +peasant’s intolerance for the courtier and fine gentleman. ‘Court air,’ +he writes in 1812, ‘suits Goethe more than becomes a poet. One cannot +laugh much at the ridiculous things that virtuosi do, when poets, who +ought to be looked upon as the principal teachers of the nation, forget +everything else amidst this glitter.’ + +In spite of his deafness, rudeness, and eccentricity Beethoven +seems to have had no small degree of fascination for women. He was +continually in love, writing sincere and charming letters to his +‘immortal Beloved,’ and planning more than once, with almost pathetic +tenderness, for marriage and a home. There is a genuine infatuation, +an ardent young-lover-like exultation in courtship that lifts him +for a time even out of his art and leaves him wholly a man--a man, +however, whose passion was always stayed and ennobled by spiritual +bonds. License and immorality had no attraction for him, even when +all his hopes of marriage were frustrated. Talented and lovely women +accepted his admiration--Magdelena Willman, the singer, Countess Giulia +Guicciardi, Therese Malfatti, Countess von Brunswick, Bettina Brentano, +the ‘Sybil of romantic literature’--one after another received his +addresses, possibly returned in a measure his love, and, presently, +married someone else. Beethoven was undoubtedly deeply moved at these +successive disappointments. ‘Oh, God!’ he writes, ‘let me at last find +her who is destined to be mine, and who shall strengthen me in virtue.’ +But, though he was destined never to be happy in this way, his thwarted +love wrecked neither his art nor his happiness. He writes to Ries +in 1812, in a tone almost of contentment and resignation: ‘All kind +messages to your wife, unfortunately I have none. I found one who will +probably never be mine, nevertheless, I am not on that account a woman +hater.’ The truth is, music was in reality his only mistress, and his +plans for a more practical domesticity were like clouds temporarily +illumined by the sun of his own imagination, and predestined to be as +fleeting. + +As has been noted, toward the end of his life most of the intimacies +and associations with the fashionable circles of Vienna gradually +ceased. During the early part of his last illness the brother Johann, +a few musicians and an occasional stranger were among his visitors, +and until December of the year 1826 the nephew made his home with +Beethoven. But Johann returned to his property, Carl rejoined his +regiment, much to the added comfort of the sick man, and the visits +from outsiders grew fewer in number. The friends of earlier days--those +whom he had honored by his dedications or who had profited by the +production of his works, as well as those who had suffered from his +violence and abuse--nearly all were either dead or unable to attend +him in his failing strength. Only the Breunings and Schindler remained +actively faithful till the last. + +With his publishers his relations were, on the whole, of a calmer and +more stable nature than with his princely friends. It must be noted +that Beethoven is the first composer whose works were placed before +the public in the manner which has now become universal. Although +music printing had been practised since the sixteenth century, the +publisher in the modern sense did not arrive until about Beethoven’s +time. The works of the eighteenth century composers were often +produced from manuscript and kept in that state in the libraries of +private houses, and whatever copies were made were generally at the +express order of some musical patron. Neither Mozart nor Haydn had a +‘publisher’ in the modern sense--a man who purchases the author’s work +outright or on royalties, taking his own risk in printing and selling +it. The greater part of Beethoven’s compositions were sold outright +to the distinguished house of Breitkopf and Härtel, and, all things +considered, he was well paid. In those days it took a week for a letter +to travel from Vienna to Leipzig, and Beethoven’s patience was often +sorely tried by delays not due to tardiness of post. The correspondence +is not lacking in those frantic calls for proof, questions about dates +of publication, alarms over errors, and other matters so familiar to +every composer and author. In earlier days, Simrock of Bonn undertook +the publication of some of the master’s work, but did not come up to +his ideas in respect to time. The following letter, concerning the +Sonata in A, opus 47, shows that even the impatient Beethoven could +bear good-naturedly with a certain amount of irritating trouble: + +‘Dear, best Herr Simrock: I have been all the time waiting anxiously +for my sonata which I gave you--but in vain. Do please write and tell +me the reason of the delay--whether you have taken it from me merely +to give it as food to the moths or do you wish to claim it by special +imperial privilege? Well, I thought that might have happened long ago. +This slow devil who was to beat out this sonata, where is he hiding? +As a rule you are a quick devil, it is known that, like Faust, you are +in league with the black one, and on that very account _so beloved_ by +your comrades.’ + +It is said that Nägeli of Zürich on receiving for publication the +Sonata in G (opus 31, No. 1), undertook to improve a passage which he +considered too abrupt or heterodox, and added four measures of his own. +The liberty was discovered in proof, and the publication immediately +transferred to Simrock, who produced a correct version. Nägeli, +however, still retained and adhered to his own version, copies of which +are still occasionally met with. + +More than once Beethoven shows himself to be reasonable and even +patient with troublesome conditions. In regard to some corrections in +the C minor symphony he writes to Breitkopf and Härtel: ‘One must not +pretend to be so divine as not to make improvements here and there +in one’s creations’--and surely the following is a mild protest, +considering the cause: ‘How in heaven’s name did my Fantasia with +orchestra come to be dedicated to the King of Bavaria?’ This was no +slip of memory on Beethoven’s part, for he was very particular about +dedications. Again he writes to his publishers, after citing a list +of errors: ‘Make as many faults as you like, leave out as much as you +like--you are still highly esteemed by me; that is the way with men, +they are esteemed because they have not made still greater faults.’ +His letters reveal the fact, not that he was disorderly and careless, +but that, on the contrary, when he had time to give attention, he +could manage his business affairs very sensibly indeed. Usually he +is exact in stating his terms and conditions for any given piece of +work; but occasionally he was also somewhat free in promising the +same composition to more than one publisher, and in setting off one +bid against another in order to get his price. But it is impossible +to see, even in such acts, any very deep-seated selfish or mercenary +quality. Full of ideas, pushed from within as well as from without, +he knew himself capable of replacing one composition with another of +even richer value. He was always in need of money, not because he +lived luxuriously, but because of the many demands made upon him from +his family and by reason of the fact that absorption in composition, +frequent illness, and deafness rendered him incapable of ordering his +affairs with any degree of economy. Whenever it was possible he gave +his services generously for needy causes, such as a benefit for sick +soldiers, or for the indigent daughter of Bach. Writing to Dr. Wegeler, +the husband of Eleanore von Breuning, he says: ‘If in our native land +there are any signs of returning prosperity, I will only use my art for +the benefit of the poor.’ + +In respect to other musicians Beethoven was in a state of more or less +open warfare. Bitterly resentful of any slight, it was not easy for +him to forgive even an innocent or kindly criticism, much less the +open sneers that invariably attend the progress of a new and somewhat +heretical genius. If, however, he considered other musicians worthy, he +was glad of their recognition. Although he did not care for the subject +of _Don Giovanni_, he writes that Mozart’s success gave him as much +pleasure as if it were his own work. To his publishers he addresses +these wise words concerning young musicians: ‘Advise your critics +to exercise more care and good sense with regard to the productions +of young authors, for many a one may become thereby dispirited, who +otherwise might have risen to higher things.’ + + + III + +Perhaps the most obvious element of his character was his essential +innocence and simplicity, with all the curious secondary traits that +accompany a nature fundamentally incapable of becoming sophisticated. +Love of nature was one part of it. To an exceptional degree he loved +to walk in the woods and to make long sojourns in the country. Lying +on his back in the fields, staring into the sky, he forgot himself +and his anxieties in a kind of ecstatic delight. Klober, the painter, +writes: ‘He would stand still, as if listening, with a piece of paper +in his hand, look up and down, and then write something.’ Not always +was he quiet, but often strode impatiently along, humming, singing, +or roaring, with an occasional pause for the purpose of making notes. +In this manner dozens of sketch books were filled with ideas which +enable the student to trace, step by step, the evolution of his +themes. An Englishman who lived in intimate friendship with him for +some months asserts that he never ‘met anyone who so delighted in +nature, or so thoroughly enjoyed flowers, clouds, or other natural +subjects. Nature was almost meat and drink to him; he seems positively +to exist upon it.’ This quality is emphasized by Beethoven’s letter +to Therese Malfatti, in which he says: ‘No man on earth can love the +country as I do. It is trees, woods, and rocks that return to us the +echo of our own thought.’ Like the Greeks, he could turn the dancing +of the Satyrs into an acceptable offering on the altar of art. Of this +part of his nature, the Sixth (Pastoral) Symphony is the monument. +It is as if he took special occasion, once for all, to let speak the +immediate voice of Pan within him. It is full of the sights and sounds +of nature, not, however, as Beethoven himself says, a painting, but an +expression of feeling. In an analysis of the _allegro_, referring to +the constant repetition of short phrases, Grove says: ‘I believe that +the delicious, natural, May-day, out-of-doors feeling of this movement +arises in a great measure from this kind of repetition. It causes a +monotony--which, however, is never monotonous--and which, though no +_imitation_, is akin to the constant sounds of nature--the monotony +of rustling leaves and swaying trees, and running brooks and blowing +wind, the call of birds and the hum of insects.’ And he adds, as a +summing up of its beauty: ‘However abstruse or characteristic the mood +of Beethoven, the expression of his mind is never dry or repulsive. To +hear one of his great compositions is like contemplating, not a work of +art or man’s device, but a mountain, a forest, or other immense product +of nature--at once so complex and so simple; the whole so great and +overpowering; the parts so minute, so lovely, and so consistent; and +the effect so inspiring, so beneficial, and so elevating.’ + +Another phase of this deep, unworldly innocence was the very exhibition +of temper that so often brought him into trouble. Sophistication and +conformity remove these violences from men’s conduct, and rightly +so; often with them is also removed much of the earnestness, the +spontaneous tenderness, and the trustfulness of innocence. What but a +deeply innocent, unsophisticated mind could have dictated words like +these, which were written to Dr. Wegeler, after a misunderstanding: ‘My +only consolation is that you knew me almost from my childhood, and--oh, +let me say it myself--I was really always of good disposition, and in +my dealings always strove to be upright and honest; how, otherwise, +could you have loved me.’ Together with this yearning for understanding +from his friends was a consciousness also of genius, which was humble, +the very opposite of vanity and self-conceit: ‘You will only see me +again when I am truly great; not only greater as an artist, but as a +man you shall find me better, more perfect’; and again, ‘I am convinced +good fortune will not fail me; with whom need I be afraid of measuring +my strength?’ This is the language of self-confidence, and also of a +nature thoroughly innocent and simple. + +Still another, and perhaps the most remarkable, phase of his character +was a certain boisterous love of fun and high spirits, which betrayed +itself on the most unexpected occasions, often in puns, jests, +practical jokes, and satiric comment. He was, in fact, an invincible +humorist, ready, in season or out of season, with or without decorum, +to expend his jocose or facetious pleasantry upon friend or enemy. +If he could deliver a home thrust, it was often accompanied with a +roar of laughter, and his sense of a joke often overthrew every other +consideration. Throwing books, plates, eggs, at the servants, pouring a +dish of stew over the head of the waiter who had served him improperly; +sending the wisp of goat’s hair to the lady who had asked him for a +lock of his own--these were his sardonically jesting retorts to what +he considered to be clumsiness or sentimentality. The estimable +Schuppanzigh, who in later life grew very fat, was the subject of many +a joke. ‘My lord Falstaff’ was one of his nicknames, and a piece of +musical drollery exists, scrawled by Beethoven on a blank page of the +end of his sonata, opus 28, entitled _Lob an den Dicken_ (Praise to the +fat one), which consists of a sort of canon to the words, _Schuppanzigh +ist ein Lump, Lump, Lump_, and so on. Beethoven writes to Count von +Brunswick: ‘Schuppanzigh is married--they say his wife is as fat as +himself--what a family!’ Nicknames are invented for friend and foe: +Johann, the _Gutsbesitzer_, is the ‘Brain-eater’ or ‘Pseudo-brother’; +his brother’s widow is ‘Queen of the Night,’ and a canon written to +Count Moritz Lichnowsky is set to the words, _Bester Herr Graf, du +bist ein Schaf!_ Often his humor is in bad taste and frequently out +of season, but it is always on call, a boisterous, biting, shrewd +eighteenth century gift for ridicule and jest. + +It must be admitted, however, that he was usually blind to the jest +when it was turned on himself. There is an anecdote to the effect that +in Berlin in 1796 he interrupted Himmel, the pianist, in the midst of +an improvisation, asking him when he was intending to begin in earnest. +When, however, months afterward, Himmel attempted to even up the joke +by writing to Beethoven about the invention of a lantern for the blind, +the composer not only did not see the point but was enraged when it +was pointed out to him. Often, however, the humorous turn which he was +enabled to give must have assisted in averting difficult situations, +and not always was his jesting so heavy handed. He speaks of sending +a song to the Princess Kinsky, ‘one of the stoutest, prettiest ladies +in Vienna,’ and the following note shows his keen understanding of the +peculiarities of popular favorites. Anna Milder, a celebrated German +singer, was needed for rehearsal. ‘Manage the affair cleverly with +Milder,’ he writes; ‘only tell her that you really come in my name, +and in advance beg her not to sing anywhere else. But to-morrow I will +come myself in order to kiss the hem of her garment.’ + +Another phase of the essential simplicity, as well as greatness, of +his mind is in his direct grasp of the central thought of any work. +He overlooked incidental elements, in order to get at the fundamental +idea. This quality, as well as his own innate tendency toward the +heroic and grand, led him to such writers as Homer, Plutarch, and +Shakespeare, and made it impossible for him to find any interest +in trivial or frivolous themes. He was always looking for suitable +subjects for opera, but could never bring himself to regard seriously +such a subject as Figaro or Don Giovanni. The less noble impulses +were not, for him, worthy themes for art. ‘He refused with horror,’ +Wagner notes, ‘to write music to ballet, shows, fireworks, sensual love +intrigues, or an opera text of a frivolous tendency.’ + +‘Mozart, with his divine nonchalance, snatched at any earthly +happiness, any gaiety of the flesh or spirit, and changed it instantly +into the immortal substance of his music. But Beethoven, with his +peasant seriousness, could not jest with virtue or the rhythmical +order of the world. His art was his religion and must be served +with a devotion in which there was none of the easy pleasantness of +the world.’[54] This same ability of grasping the fundamental idea, +however, led him also sometimes to set an undue valuation upon an +inferior poet, such as Klopstock, whom it is said he read habitually +for years. Something in the nobility and grandeur of the ideas at the +bottom of this poet’s work caused Beethoven to overlook its pompousness +and chaotic quality. The words meant less for him than the emotion and +conception which prompted them. Beethoven himself, however, says that +Goethe spoiled Klopstock for him, but it was only, fortunately, to +provide him with something better. His taste for whatever was noble +and grand in art never left him; and, so far as he was able, he lived +up to the idea that it was the artist’s duty to be acquainted with the +ancient and modern poets, not only so as to choose the best poetry for +his own work, but also to afford food for his inspiration. + +Beethoven from the first faced the world with a defiant spirit and a +sort of wild independence. His sordid childhood nourished in him a +rugged habit of self-dependence, and the knowledge of his own powers +was like a steady beacon holding him unfalteringly to a consciousness +of his high destiny. He _believed_, with all the innocence of a great +mind, that gifts of genius were more than sufficient to raise their +possessor to a level with the highest nobility; and, with such a +belief, he could not pretend to a humility he was far from feeling +in the companionship of social superiors. This feeling was perfectly +compatible with the genuine modesty and clearness of judgment in regard +to his own work. ‘Do not snatch the laurel wreaths from Handel, Haydn, +and Mozart,’ he writes; ‘they are entitled to them; as yet I am not.’ +But his modesty in things artistic was born, after all, of a sense +of his own kinship with the greatest of the masters of art. He could +face a comparison with them, knowing full well he belonged to their +court; but to courts of a more temporal nature he did not and could +not belong, however often he chanced to come under a princely roof. +The light ease of manner, the assured courtesies, the happy audacities +of speech and conduct which are native to the life of the salon and +court were foreign to his nature. The suffrage of the fashionable world +of Vienna he won by reason of qualities which were alien to them, but +yet touched their sympathies, satisfied their genuine love of music, +and pricked their sensibilities as with a goad. His is perhaps the +first historic instance of ‘artistic temperament’ dominating and +imposing itself upon society. Byron to a certain extent defied social +customs and allowed himself liberties which he expected to be excused +on account of his genius and popularity; but he was fundamentally +much more closely allied to the world of fashion than Beethoven, who +was a law unto himself and in sympathy with society only so far as it +understood and applauded his actions. + +Theoretically, at least, he was an ardent revolutionist. During the +last decades of the eighteenth century the revolution in France had +dwarfed all other political events in Europe, and republicanism was in +the air. Two years after Beethoven left Bonn the Electorate of Cologne +was abolished, and during the succeeding period many other small +principalities were swallowed up by the larger kingdoms. The old order +was changed and almost all Europe was involved in warfare. In 1799 +the allied European states began to make headway against the invading +French armies, and, as a consequence, the Directory fell into disfavor +in France. Confusion and disorder prevailed, the Royalists recovering +somewhat of their former power, and the Jacobins threatening another +Reign of Terror. In this desperate state of affairs Napoleon was looked +to as the liberator of his country. How he returned in all haste from +his victorious campaign in Egypt, was hailed with wild enthusiasm, +joined forces with some of the Directors, drove the Council of Five +Hundred from the Chamber of Deputies (1799) and became First Consul--in +fact, master of France--need hardly be recounted here. + +Beethoven regarded Napoleon as the embodiment of the new hopes for +the freedom of mankind which had been fostered by the Revolution. +That he had also been affected by the martial spirit of the times +is revealed in the first and second symphonies. It was the third, +however, which was to prove the true monument to republicanism. The +story is one of the familiar tales of musical history. Still full of +confidence and faith in the Corsican hero, Beethoven composed his great +‘Eroica’ symphony (1804) and inscribed it with the name ‘Buonaparte.’ +A fair copy had already been sent to an envoy who should present it to +Napoleon, and another finished copy was lying on the composer’s work +table when Beethoven’s friend Ries brought the news that Napoleon had +assumed the title of emperor. Forthwith the admiration of Beethoven +turned to hatred. ‘After all, then,’ he cried, ‘he is nothing but an +ordinary mortal! He will trample all the rights of man underfoot, to +indulge his ambition, and become a greater tyrant than anyone!’ The +title page was seized, torn in half and thrown on the floor; and the +symphony was rededicated to the memory of _un grand’ uomo_. It is said +that Beethoven was never heard to refer to the matter again until the +death of Napoleon in 1821, when he remarked, in allusion to the Funeral +March of his second movement, ‘I have already foreseen and provided for +that catastrophe.’ Probably nothing, however, beyond the title page +was altered. ‘It is still a portrait--and we may believe a favorable +portrait--of Napoleon, and should be listened to in that sense. Not as +a conqueror--that would not attract Beethoven’s admiration--but for +the general grandeur and loftiness of his course and of his public +character. How far the portraiture extends, whether to the first +movement only or through the entire work, there will probably be always +a difference of opinion. The first movement is certain. The March is +certain also, as is shown by Beethoven’s own remark--and the writer +believes, after the best consideration he can give to the subject, that +the other movements are also included in the picture, and that the +_poco andante_ at the end represents the apotheosis of the hero.’[55] + + + IV + +It is in vain, however, that one looks for a parallel between the life +and the work of the master. In everyday matters he was impatient, +abrupt and often careless; while in his art his patience was such as +to become even a slow brooding, an infinite care. His life was often +distracted and melancholy; his music is never distracted or melancholy, +except in so far as great art can be melancholy with a nobly tragic, +universal depth of sadness. In political matters a revolutionist and +in social life a rebel, in his art he accepted forms as he found +them, expanding them, indeed, but not discarding them. Audacious and +impassioned not only in private conduct but in his extempore playing, +in his writing he was cautious and selective beyond all belief. The +sketch books are a curious and interesting witness to the slow and +tentative processes of his mind. More than fifty of these--books of +coarse music paper of two hundred or more pages, sixteen staves to the +page--were found among his effects after death and sold. One of these +books was constantly with him, on his walks, by his bedside, or when +travelling, and in them he wrote down his musical ideas as they came, +rewrote and elaborated them until they reached the form he desired. +They are, as Grove points out, perhaps the most remarkable relic that +any artist or literary man has left behind him. In them can be traced +the germs of his themes from crude or often trivial beginning, growing +under his hand spontaneously, as it seemed, into the distinguished and +artistic designs of his completed work. A dozen or a score attempts at +the same theme can often be found, and ‘the more they are elaborated, +the more spontaneous they become.’ In these books it can also be seen +how he often worked upon four or five different compositions at the +same time; how he sometimes kept in mind a theme or an idea for years +before finally using it, and how extraordinary was the fertility of his +genius. Nottebohm, the author of ‘Beethoveniana,’ says: ‘Had he carried +out all the symphonies which are begun in these books, we should have +at least fifty.’ Thus we see his method of work, and the stages through +which his compositions passed. ‘He took a story out of his own life, +the life of a friend, a play of Goethe or Shakespeare--and he labored, +eternally altering and improving, until at last every phrase expressed +just the emotions he himself felt. The exhibition of his themes, as +expressed in the sketch books, show how passionately and patiently he +worked.’ + +Although he certainly sometimes allowed his music to be affected +by outside events, as has been traced, for example, in the Eroica +Symphony, yet in most instances his work seems to be independent of the +outward experiences of his life. One of the most striking examples of +the detachment of his artistic from his everyday life is in connection +with the Second Symphony, written in 1802, the year in which he wrote, +also, the celebrated ‘Heiligenstadt Will.’ This document was prompted +by his despair over his bad health, frequent unhappiness on account of +his brothers, and his deafness, which was now pronounced incurable. In +it he says: + +‘During the last six years I have been in a wretched condition--I am +compelled to live as an exile. If I approach near to people, a feeling +of hot anxiety comes over me lest my condition should be noticed. +At times I was on the point of putting an end to my life--art alone +restrained my hand. Oh, it seemed as if I could not quit this earth +until I had produced all I felt within me, and so I continued this +wretched life--wretched, indeed, with so sensitive a body that a +somewhat sudden change can throw me from the best into the worst state. +Lasting, I hope, will be my resolution to bear up until it pleases +the inexorable Parcæ to break the thread. My prayer is that your life +may be better, less troubled by cares, than mine. Recommend to your +children _virtue_; it alone can bring happiness, not money. So let it +be. I joyfully hasten to meet death. O Providence, let me have just one +pure day of _joy_; so long is it since true joy filled my heart. Oh, +when, Divine Being, shall I be able once again to feel it in the temple +of Nature and of men.’ + +Such was his expression of grief at the time when the nature of his +malady became known to him; and who can doubt its depth and sincerity? +In it the man speaks from the heart; but in the same year also the +Second Symphony was written, and in this the artist speaks. What +a wonderful difference! ‘The _scherzo_ is as proudly gay in its +capricious fantasy as the _andante_ is completely happy and tranquil; +for everything is smiling in this symphony, the warlike spirit of the +_allegro_ is entirely free from violence; one can only find there +the grateful fervor of a noble heart in which are still preserved +unblemished the loveliest illusions of life.’[56] + +There seem to be two periods--one from 1808 to 1811, during his love +affair with Therese Malfatti, and again after his brother’s death +in 1815--when outward circumstances prevailed against the artist +and rendered him comparatively silent. Unable to loosen the grip of +personal emotion, during these periods he wrote little of importance. +‘During all the rest of his agitated and tormented life nothing, +neither the constant series of passionate and brief loves, nor +constant bodily sickness, trouble about money, trouble about friends, +relations, and the unspeakable nephew, meant anything vital to his +deeper self. The nephew helped to kill him, but could not color a +note of his music.’[57] If, as in the case of the ‘Eroica,’ music was +sometimes the reflection of present emotion, it was still oftener, as +in the case just cited, his magic against it, his shelter from grief, +the rock-wall with which he shut out the woes of life. + + + V + +In the development of his artistic career three circumstances may +be counted as strongly determining factors: his early experience in +the theatre at Bonn, his skill on the pianoforte, and his lifelong +preference for the sonata form. + +In regard to the first, it is clearly evident that, although Beethoven +was moved least of all by operatic works, yet his constant familiarity +with the orchestra during the formative years of his life must have +left a strong impression. From 1788 to 1792 at the National Theatre +in Bonn he was playing in such works as _Die Entführung_, _Don +Giovanni_, and _Figaro_ by Mozart, _Die Pilgrime von Mekka_ by Gluck, +and productions by Salieri, Benda, Dittersdorf, and Paesiello. That +in after life he wrote but one opera was probably due to a number +of causes, one of which was his difficulty in finding a libretto to +his liking. His diary and letters show that he was frequently in +correspondence with various poets concerning a libretto, and that the +purpose of further operatic work was never dismissed from his mind. +But he always conceived his melodies and musical ideas instrumentally +rather than vocally, and never was able or willing to modify them to +suit the compass of the average voice. One consequence of this was that +he had endless trouble and difficulty in the production of his opera, +_Fidelio_, which was withdrawn after the first three performances. Upon +its revival it was played to larger and more appreciative audiences, +but was again suddenly and finally withdrawn by the composer after a +quarrel with Baron von Braun, the intendant of the theatre. + +It was but natural that such difficulties and vexations should turn +the attention of the composer away from operatic production, but +he undoubtedly hoped that better fortune would sometime attend his +endeavors. In one respect, at least, he reaped encouragement from +the experience with _Fidelio_, for it helped him to overcome his +sensitiveness in regard to his deafness. On the margin of his sketch +book in 1805 he writes: ‘Struggling as you are in the vortex of +society, it is yet possible, notwithstanding all social hindrances, to +write operas. Let your deafness be no longer a secret, even in your +art.’ Great as _Fidelio_ is, it does not possess the vocal excellences +even of the commonplace Italian or French opera of its day. Its merit +lies in the greater nobility of conception, the freedom and boldness of +its orchestral score, and in its passionate emotional depth. The result +of Beethoven’s early practice with the theatre, undoubtedly, was of far +deeper significance in relation to his symphonies than to his operatic +work. + +During the early days in Vienna his reputation rested almost entirely +upon his wonderful skill as player upon the pianoforte, or, more +especially, as improviser. It was a period of great feats in extempore +playing, and some of the greatest masters of the time--Himmel, Woelfl, +Lipawsky, Gelinek, Steibelt--lived in Vienna. They were at first +inclined to make sport of the newcomer, who bore himself awkwardly, +spoke in dialect, and took unheard-of liberties in his playing; but +they were presently forced to recognize the master hand. Steibelt +challenged him at the piano and was thoroughly beaten, while Gelinek +paid him the compliment of listening to his playing so carefully as to +be able to reproduce many of his harmonies and melodies and pass them +off as his own. Technically, only Himmel and Woelfl could seriously +compare with Beethoven, the first being distinguished by clearness and +elegance, and the second by the possession of unusually large hands, +which gave him a remarkable command of the keyboard. They, as well as +Beethoven, could perform wonders in transposition, reading at sight, +and memorizing, just as Mozart had done. But Beethoven’s reputation +as the ‘giant among players’ rested upon other qualities--the fire of +his imagination, nobility of style, and great range of expression. +Understanding as he did the capabilities of the pianoforte, he endowed +his compositions for this instrument with a wealth of detail and depth +of expression such as had hitherto not been achieved. Czerny, himself +an excellent pianist, thus describes his playing: ‘His improvisation +was most brilliant and striking; in whatever company he might chance +to be he knew how to produce such an effect upon every hearer that +frequently not an eye remained dry, while many would break out in loud +sobs; for there was something wonderful in his expression, in addition +to the beauty and originality of his ideas, and his spirited style of +rendering them.’[58] Ries and other artists have also borne testimony +to his skill, wealth of imagery and inexhaustible fertility of ideas. +Grove says: ‘He extemporized in regular form; and his variations, when +he treated a theme in that way, were not mere alterations of figure, +but real developments and elaborations of the subject.’ + +In close connection with his work as pianist, and exercising a +powerful influence not only upon Beethoven but also upon all later +composers, was the mechanical development of the pianoforte. The +clavichord and clavicembalo, which had occupied a modest place during +the eighteenth century merely as accompanying instruments to string +or wind music, were now gradually replaced by the _Hammer-clavier_, +as it was called, which, by the middle of the century, began to be +considered seriously as a solo instrument of remarkable powers. +Important piano manufacturers, such as Silbermann in Strassburg, Späth +in Regensburg, Stein in Augsburg, Broadwood in London, and Érard in +Paris, did much to bring about the perfection of the instrument and +so indirectly assisted in the development of pianoforte music. In +1747 Sebastian Bach had played a Silbermann piano before Frederick +the Great in Potsdam, but the important development came after the +middle of the century. In London, in 1768, Johann Christian Bach used +the pianoforte for the first time in a public concert, and we know +that Mozart possessed instruments both from Späth and Stein, and that +in 1779 some of his work was published ‘for Clavier or Pianoforte.’ +An immediate consequence of this sudden rise of the pianoforte into +popularity was, of course, the appearance of a new musical literature +adapted to the peculiarities of the instrument. Among the first of the +technical students of the pianoforte was Muzio Clementi,[59] whose +_Gradus ad Parnassum_, or hundred exercises ‘upon the art of playing +the pianoforte in a severe and elegant style’ made a deep impression +upon the rising generation of musicians and are still considered of +the highest educational value. Some of these exercises were published +as early as 1784, though the collection was not made until 1817. +An extract from the writing of one of Clementi’s best pupils throws +some light upon the standard of taste in regard to pianoforte playing +which prevailed in Beethoven’s early days. He says: ‘I asked Clementi +whether, in 1781, he had begun to treat the instrument in his present +(1806) style. He answered _no_, and added that in those early days +he had cultivated a more brilliant execution, especially in double +stops, hardly known then, and in extemporized cadenzas, and that he had +subsequently achieved a more melodic and noble style of performance +after listening attentively to famous singers, and also by means of +the perfected mechanism of English pianos, the construction of which +formerly stood in the way of a cantabile and legato style of playing.’ +It is evident that Beethoven came upon the scene as pianoforte player +not only when the improved instrument was almost in the first flush of +its popularity, but also when virtuosity and the ability to astonish +by difficult technical feats were sometimes mistaken for true artistic +achievement. + +By the time Beethoven’s career as a composer began the sonata had +already been developed, as we have seen, especially by Haydn and +Mozart, into a model form whose validity was established for all time. +Technically, it was a compromise between the German effort toward a +logical and coherent harmonic expression, as represented by Emanuel +Bach and others, and the Italian tendency toward melodic beauty and +grace. The first thirty-one published instrumental compositions of +Beethoven, as well as the great majority of all his works, are in +this form, which seemed, indeed, to be the ‘veil-like tissue through +which he gazed into the realm of tones.’[60] With Haydn this form +had reached a plane where structural lucidity was almost the first +consideration. ‘Musicians had arrived at that artificial state of mind +which deliberately chose to be conscious of formal elements,’ says +Parry, ‘and it was only by breathing a new and mightier spirit into the +framework that the structure would escape becoming merely a collection +of lifeless bones.’ It was this spirit which Beethoven brought not only +to the pianoforte sonata, but also to the symphony and quartet. His +spirit, as we have seen, both in daily intercourse and in art, was of +the sort to scoff at needless restrictions and defy conventionality. +While, however, his rebellion against conventionality of conduct and +artificiality in society was often somewhat excessive and superfluous, +in his art it led him unerringly, not toward iconoclasm or even +disregard of form, but toward the realities of human feeling. + + + VI + +Beethoven’s works extend to every field of composition. They include +five concertos for piano and orchestra, one concerto for violin and +orchestra, sixteen quartets for strings, ten sonatas for piano and +violin, thirty-eight sonatas for piano, one opera, two masses, nine +overtures and nine symphonies--about forty vocal and less than two +hundred instrumental compositions in all. The division of the work into +three periods, made by von Lenz in 1852 is, on the whole, a useful +and just classification, when due allowance is made for the periods +overlapping and merging into each other according to the different +species of composition. The ideas of his mature life expressed +themselves earlier in the sonatas than in the symphonies; therefore the +first period, so far as the sonatas are concerned, ends with opus 22 +(1801), while it includes the Second Symphony, composed, as has been +noted, in 1802. Individual exceptions to the classification also occur, +as, for example, the Quartet in F minor, which, though composed during +the first period, shows strongly many of the characteristics of the +second. In general, however, the early works may be said to spring from +the pattern set by Haydn and Mozart. In regard to this Grove says: ‘He +began, as it was natural and inevitable he should, with, the best style +of his day--the style of Mozart and Haydn, with melodies and passages +that might be almost mistaken for theirs, with compositions apparently +molded in intention on them. And yet even during this Mozartian epoch +we meet with works or single movements which are not Mozart, which +Mozart perhaps could not have written, and which very fully reveal the +future Beethoven.’ + +In spite of being fully conscious of himself and knowing the power +that was in him, Beethoven never was an iconoclast or radical. He was +rather a builder whose architectural traditions came from ancient, +well-accredited sources, in kinship probably somewhat closer to Haydn +than to Mozart, though traces of Mozart are clearly evident. ‘The +topics are different, the eloquence is more vivid, more nervous, more +full-blooded--there is far greater use of rhythmic gesture, a far +more intimate and telling appeal to emotion, but in point of actual +phraseology there is little that could not have been written by an +unusually adult, virile, and self-willed follower of the accepted +school. It is eighteenth century music raised to a higher power.’[61] + +The promise of a change in style, evident in the Kreutzer Sonata +(1803) and in the pianoforte concerto in C minor, is practically +completed in the Eroica Symphony (1804)--a change of which Beethoven +was fully conscious and which he described in a letter as ‘something +new.’ It began the second period, lasting until 1814, to which belongs +a striking and remarkable group of works. In the long list are six +symphonies, the third to the eighth inclusive, the opera _Fidelio_ +with its four overtures, the Coriolan overture, the Egmont music, +the pianoforte concertos in G and E flat, the violin concerto, the +Rasoumowsky quartets, and a dozen sonatas for the piano, among which +are the D minor and the Appassionata. It was a period characterized +by maturity, wealth of imagination, humor, power, and individuality +to a marvellous degree. If Beethoven had done nothing after 1814, he +would still be one of the very greatest composers in the field of +pure instrumental music. His ideas increase in breadth and variety, +the designs grow to magnificent proportions, the work becomes more +harmonious and significant, touching many sides of thought and emotion. + +In this period he broke through many of the conventions of composition, +as, for example, the idea that certain musical forms required certain +kinds of treatment. The rondo and scherzo, formerly always of a certain +stated character, were made by him to express what he wished, according +to his conception of the requirements of the piece. Likewise the number +of his movements was determined by the character and content of the +work, and the conventional repetition of themes was made a matter of +choice. Moreover, the usual method of key succession was used only if +agreeable to his idea of fitness. In the great majority of sonatas by +Haydn and Mozart, if the first theme be given out in a major key, the +second is placed in the dominant; or, if the first is in minor, the +second would be in the relative major. Beethoven makes the transition +to the dominant only three times out of eighty-one examples, using +instead the subdominant, the third above, or the third below. He +changes also from tonic major to tonic minor, and _vice versa_. With +him the stereotyped restriction as to key succession was no longer +valid when it conflicted with the necessity for greater freedom. + +Again, Beethoven ignored the well-established convention of separating +different sections from one another by well-defined breaks. It was +the custom with earlier masters to stop at the end of a passage, +‘to present arms, as it were,’ with a series of chords or other +conventional stop; with Beethoven this gives place to a method of +subtly connecting, instead of separating, the different sections, for +which he used parts of the main theme or phrases akin to it, thus +making the connecting link an inherent part of the piece. He also +makes use of episodes in the working-out section, introduces even +new themes, and expands both the coda and the introduction. These +modifications are of the nature of enlargements or developments of a +plan already accepted, and seem, as Grove points out, ‘to have sprung +from the fact of his regarding his music less as a piece of technical +performance than his predecessors had perhaps done, and more as the +expression of the ideas with which his mind was charged.’ These ideas +were too wide and too various to be contained within the usual limits, +and, therefore, the limits had to be enlarged. The thing of first +importance to him was the idea, to be expressed exactly as he wished, +without regard to theoretical formulæ, which too often had become dry +and meaningless. Therefore he allows himself liberties--such as the +use of consecutive fifths--if they convey the exact impression he +wishes to convey. Other musicians had also allowed themselves such +liberties, but not with the same high-handed individualistic confidence +that Beethoven betrays. ‘In Beethoven the fact was connected with the +peculiar position he had taken in society, and with the new ideas which +the general movement of freedom at the end of the eighteenth century, +and the French Revolution in particular, had forced even into such +strongholds as the Austrian courts.... What he felt he said, both in +society and in his music.... The great difference is that, whereas +in his ordinary intercourse he was extremely abrupt and careless +of effect, in his music he was exactly the reverse--painstaking, +laborious, and never satisfied till he had conveyed his ideas in +unmistakable language.’[62] + +In other words, conventional rules and regulations of composition which +had formerly been the dominating factor were made subservient to what +he considered the essentials--consistency of mood and the development +of the poetic idea. He becomes the tone poet whose versatility and +beauty of expression increase with the increasing power of his thought. +Technical accessories of art were elevated to their highest importance, +not for the sake of mere ornamentation, but because they were of use in +enlarging and developing the idea. + +During these years of rich achievement the staunch qualities of his +genius, his delicacy and accuracy of sensation, his sound common sense +and wisdom, his breadth of imagination, joy, humor, sanity, and moral +earnestness--these qualities radiate from his work as if it were +illuminated by an inward phosphorescent glow. He creates or translates +for the listener a whole world of truth which cannot be expressed by +speech, canvas, or marble, but is only capable of being revealed in the +realm of sound. The gaiety of his music is large and beneficent; its +humor is that of the gods at play; its sorrow is never whimpering; its +cry of passion is never that of earthly desire. ‘It is the gaiety which +cries in the bird, rustles in the reeds, shines in spray; it is a voice +as immediate as sunlight. Some new epithet must be invented for this +music which narrates nothing, yet is epic; sings no articulate message, +yet is lyric; moves to no distinguishable action, yet is already awake +in the wide waters out of which a world is to awaken.’[63] + +The transition to the third period is even more definitely marked than +that to the second. To it belong the pianoforte sonatas opus 101 to +111, the quartets opus 127 to 135, the Ninth Symphony, composed nearly +eleven years after the eighth, and the mass in D--works built on even +a grander scale than those of the second epoch. It would almost seem +as if the form, enlarged and extended, ceased to exist as such and +became a principle of growth, comparable only to the roots and fibres +of a tree. The polyphony, quite unlike the old type of counterpoint, +yet like that in that it is made up of distinct strands, is free and +varied. Like the other artifices of technique, it serves only to +repeat, intensify, or contrast the poetic idea. The usual medium of +the orchestra is now insufficient to express his thought, therefore he +adds a choral part for the full completion of the idea which had been +germinating in his consciousness for more than twenty years. Moreover, +these later works are touched with a mysticism almost beyond any words +to define, as if the musician had ceased to speak in order to let the +prophet have utterance. ‘He passes beyond the horizon of a mere singer +and poet and touches upon the domain of the seer and the prophet; +where, in unison with all genuine mystics and ethical teachers, he +delivers a message of religious love and resignation, identification +with the sufferings of all living creatures, depreciation of self, +negation of personality, release from the world.’[64] + +More radical than the modifications mentioned above were the +substitution of the scherzo for the minuet, and the introduction of +a chorus into the symphony. It will be remembered that the third +symphonic movement, the minuet, originally a slow, stately dance, had +already been modified in spirit and tempo by Mozart and Haydn for the +purpose of contrast. In his symphonies, however, Beethoven abandoned +the dance tune almost entirely, using it only in the Eighth. Even in +the First, where the third movement is entitled ‘menuetto,’ it is in +fact not a dance but a scherzo, and offers almost a miniature model of +the longer and grander scherzos in such works as the Fifth and Ninth +Symphonies, where, as elsewhere, he made the form subservient to his +mood. + +Of the second innovation mentioned, the finale of the Ninth Symphony +remains as the sole, but lasting and stupendous, monument. This whole +work, the only symphony of his last period, deserves to be studied not +only as the crowning achievement of a remarkable career and the logical +outcome of the eight earlier symphonies with their steadily increasing +breadth and power, but also as in itself voicing the last and best +message of the master. Its arrangement, consisting of five parts, is +rather irregular. The _allegro_ is followed by the scherzo, which in +turn is followed by a slow movement. The finale consists of a theme +with variations and a choral movement to the setting of Schiller’s +‘Ode to Joy.’ The thought of composing a work which should express +his ideals of universal peace and love had been in his mind since the +year 1792. It seems as if he conceived the use of the chorus as an +enlargement and enrichment of the forces of the orchestra, rather than +as an extraneous addition--as if human voices were but another group of +instruments swelling that great orchestral hymn which forms the poetic +and dramatic climax to the work, ‘carrying sentiment to the extremest +pitch of exaltation.’ The melody itself is far above the merely +æsthetic or beautiful, it reaches the highest possible simplicity and +nobility. ‘Beethoven has emancipated this melody from all influences of +fashion and fluctuating taste, and elevated it to an eternally valid +type of pure humanity.’[65] + +The changes in technical features inaugurated by Beethoven are of far +less importance, comparatively, than the increase in æsthetic content, +individuality, and expression. As has been noted, he was no iconoclast; +seeking new effects in a striving for mere originality or altering +forms for the mere sake of trying something new. On the contrary, his +innovations were always undertaken with extreme discretion and only +as necessity required; and even to the last the sonata form, ‘that +triune symmetry of exposition, illustration, and repetition,’ can be +discerned as the basis upon which his most extensive work was built. +Even when this basis is not at first clearly apparent, the details +which seemed to obscure it are found, upon study, to be the organic and +logical amplification of the structure itself, never mere additions. It +should be pointed out, however, that the last works, especially those +for the piano, are of so transcendental or mystic a nature as to make +it impossible for the average listener to appreciate them to their +fullest extent; indeed, they provide a severe test even for a mature +interpreter and for that reason they will hardly ever become popular. + + + VII + +In spite of Beethoven’s own assertion that his work is not meant to +be ‘program music,’ his name will no doubt always be connected with +that special phase of modern art. We have seen how distinctly he +grasped the true principles of program or delineative music in his +words, _Mehr Ausdruck der Empfindung als Malerei_ (the expression of +feeling, not a painting); never an imitation, but a reproduction of +the effect. More than any musician of his own or earlier times was he +able to saturate his composition with the mood which prompted it. For +this reason the whole world sees pictures in his sonatas and reads +stories into his symphonies, as it has not done with the work of Haydn, +Emanuel Bach, or Mozart. With the last-named composer it was sufficient +to bring all the devices of art--balance, light and shade, contrast, +repetition, surprise--to the perfection of an artistic ensemble, with +a result which satisfies the æsthetic demands of the most fastidious. +Beethoven’s achievement was art plus mood or emotion; therefore the +popular habit of calling the favorite sonata in C sharp minor the +‘Moonlight Sonata,’ unscholarly though it may be, is striking witness +to one of the most fundamental of Beethoven’s qualities--the power by +which he imbued a given composition with a certain mood recognizable +at once by imaginative minds. The aim at realism, however, is only +apparent. That he is not a ‘programmist,’ in the accepted sense, is +evident from the fact that he gave descriptive names to only the two +symphonies, the _Eroica_ and _Pastoral_. He does not tell a story, he +produces a feeling, an impression. His work is the notable embodiment +of Schopenhauer’s idea: ‘Music is not a representation of the world, +but an immediate voice of the world.’ Unlike the artist who complained +that he disliked working out of doors because Nature ‘put him out,’ +Beethoven was most himself when Nature spoke through him. This is +the new element in music which was to germinate so variously in the +music drama, tone poems and the like of the romantic writers of the +nineteenth century. + +In judging his operatic work, it has seemed to critics that Beethoven +remained almost insensible to the requirements and limitations of a +vocal style and was impatient of the restraints necessarily imposed +upon all writing for the stage; with the result that his work spread +out into something neither exactly dramatic nor oratorical. In spite of +the obvious greatness of _Fidelio_, these charges have some validity. +With his two masses, again, he went far beyond the boundaries +allotted by circumstance to any ecclesiastical production and arrived +at something like a ‘shapeless oratorio.’ His variations, also, so +far exceed the limit of form usually maintained by this species of +composition that they are scarcely to be classed with those of any +other composer. For the pianoforte, solo and in connection with other +instruments, there are twenty-nine sets of this species of music, +besides many brilliant instances of its use in larger works, such as +the slow movement in the ‘Appassionata,’ and the slow movements of the +Fifth and Ninth Symphonies. Sometimes he keeps the melody unchanged, +weaving a varied accompaniment above, below, or around it; again he +preserves the harmonic basis and embellishes the melody itself, these +being types of variation well known also to other composers. Another +method, however, peculiar to himself, is to subject each part--melody, +rhythm, and harmony--to an interesting change, and yet with such skill +and art that the individual theme still remains clearly recognizable. +‘In no other form than that of the variation,’ remarks Dannreuther, +‘does Beethoven’s creative power appear more wonderful and its effect +on the art more difficult to measure.’ + +It is, however, primarily as symphonist and sonata writer that +Beethoven stands preëminent. At the risk of another repetition we must +again say that with Beethoven’s treatment the sonata form assumes a new +aspect, in that it serves as the golden bowl into which the intensity +of his thought is poured, rather than the limiting framework of his +art. He was disdainful of the attitude of the Viennese public which +caused the virtuoso often to be confused with the artist. Brilliant +passages were to him merely so much bombast and fury, unless there +was a thought sufficiently intense to justify the extra vigor; and +to him cleverness of fingers could not disguise emptiness of soul. +‘Such is the vital germ from which spring the real peculiarities and +individualities of Beethoven’s instrumental compositions. It must now +be a form of spirit as well as a form of the framework; it is to become +internal as well as external.’ A musical movement in Beethoven is a +continuous and complete poem; an organism which is gradually unfolded +before us, rarely weakened by the purely conventional passages which +were part of the _form_ of his predecessors. + +It must be noted, however, that Beethoven’s subtle modifications in +regard to form were possible only because Mozart and Haydn had so well +prepared the way by their very insistence upon the exact divisions +of any given piece. Audiences of that day enjoyed the well-defined +structure, which enabled them to follow and know just where they were. +Perhaps for that very reason they sooner grew tired of the obviously +constructed piece, but in any case they were educated to a familiarity +with form, and were habituated to the effort of following its general +outlines. Beethoven profited by this circumstance, taking liberties, +especially in his pianoforte compositions, which would have caused +mental confusion and bewilderment to earlier audiences, but were +understood and accepted with delight by his own. His mastery of musical +design and logical accuracy enabled him so to express himself as to +be universally understood. He demonstrated both the supremacy and the +elasticity of the sonata form, taking his mechanism from the eighteenth +century, and in return bequeathing a new style to the nineteenth--a +style which separated the later school of Vienna from any that had +preceded it, spread rapidly over Europe, and exercised its authority +upon every succeeding composer. + +His great service was twofold: to free the art from formalism and +spirit-killing laws; and to lift it beyond the level of fashionable +taste. In this service he typifies that spirit which, in the persons +of Wordsworth, Lessing, Schiller, and Goethe, has rescued literary +art from similar deadening influences. Wagner expressed this feeling +when he said, ‘For inasmuch as he elevated music, conformably to its +utmost nature, out of its degradation as a merely diverting art to the +height of its sublime calling, he has opened to us the understanding +of that art in which the world explains itself.’ Herein lies his +true relation to the world of art and the secret of his greatness; +for almost unchallenged he takes the supreme place in the realm of +pure instrumental music. His power is that of intellect combined with +greatness of character. ‘He loves love rather than any of the images of +love. He loves nature with the same, or even a more constant, passion. +He loves God, whom he cannot name, whom he worships in no church built +with hands, with an equal rapture. Virtue appears to him with the same +loveliness as beauty.... There are times when he despairs for himself, +never for the world. Law, order, a faultless celestial music, alone +exist for him; and these he believed to have been settled before time +was, in the heavens. Thus his music was neither revolt nor melancholy,’ +and it is this, the noblest expression of a strange and otherwise +inarticulate soul, which lives for the eternal glory of the art of +music. + + F. B. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[50] Edward Dickinson: ‘The Study of the History of Music.’ + +[51] _Dichtung und Wahrheit._ + +[52] Thayer, Vol. I, p. 227. + +[53] Nottebohm: _Beethoveniana_, XXVII. + +[54] Arthur Symons, Essay ‘Beethoven.’ + +[55] Grove: ‘Beethoven and His Nine Symphonies,’ pp. 55-56. + +[56] Berlioz: _Étude critique des symphonies de Beethoven_. + +[57] Arthur Symons, Essay ‘Beethoven.’ + +[58] Thayer: Vol. II, p. 10. + +[59] Muzio Clementi (1752-1832) is now remembered chiefly by his +technical studies for the pianoforte, though a much greater portion of +his work deserves recognition. He was a great concert pianist, a rival +of whom Mozart was a little unwilling to admit the ability. A great +part of his life was spent in England. He composed a great amount of +music for the pianoforte which has little by little been displaced by +that of Mozart; and in his own lifetime symphonies which once were +hailed with acclaim fell into neglect before Haydn’s. His pianoforte +works expanded keyboard technique, especially in the direction of +double notes and octaves, and were the first distinctly pianoforte +works in distinction to works for the harpsichord. + +[60] Wagner, Essay ‘Beethoven.’ + +[61] ‘Oxford History of Music,’ Vol. V. + +[62] Grove, Vol. I, p. 204. + +[63] Arthur Symons, Essay ‘Beethoven.’ + +[64] Dannreuther, ‘Beethoven,’ Macmillan’s Magazine, July, 1876. + +[65] Richard Wagner, Essay ‘Beethoven.’ + + + + + CHAPTER V + OPERATIC DEVELOPMENT IN ITALY AND FRANCE + + Italian opera at the advent of Rossini--Rossini and the + Italian operatic renaissance; _Guillaume Tell_--Donizetti and + Bellini--Spontini and the historical opera--Meyerbeer’s life and + works--His influence and followers--Development of _opéra comique_; + Auber, Hérold, Adam. + + +Operatic development in Italy and France during the first half of the +nineteenth century represents, broadly speaking, the development of the +romantic ideal by Rossini and Meyerbeer; a breaking away from classic +and traditional forms; and the growth of individual freedom in musical +expression. Rossini, as shown by subsequent detailed consideration of +his works and the reforms they introduced, overthrows the time-honored +operatic conventions of his day and breathes new life into Italian +dramatic art. Spontini, ‘the last great classicist of the lyric stage,’ +nevertheless forecasts French grand opera in his extensive historical +scores. And French grand opera (as will be shown) is established +as a definite type, and given shape and coherence by Rossini in +_Tell_, by Meyerbeer in _Robert_, _Les Huguenots_, _Le Prophète_, and +_l’Africaine_. + +In this period the classical movement, interpreting in a manner the +general trend of musical feeling in the eighteenth century, merges +into the romantic movement, expressing that of the nineteenth. A +widespread, independent rather than interdependent, musical activity +in many directions at one and the same time explains such apparent +contradictions as Beethoven and Rossini, Schubert, Cherubini, Spontini, +Weber and Meyerbeer, all creating simultaneously. To understand the +operatic reforms of Rossini and their later development a _résumé_ +of the leading characteristics of the Italian opera of his day is +necessary. + +As is usually the case when an art-form has in the course of time +crystallized into conventional formulas, a revolution of some sort +was imminent in Italian opera at the beginning of the nineteenth +century. In France Gluck had already banished from his scores the +dreary _recitativo secco_, and extended the use of the chorus. The +_opéra comique_ had come to stay, finding its most notable exponents +in Grétry, Méhul, and Boieldieu. Cherubini’s nobly classic but cold +and formal scores gave enjoyment to a capital which has at nearly all +times been independent and self-sufficient. Mozart, in _Zauberflöte_, +had already unlocked for Germany the sacred treasures of national +art, and Weber,[66] following the general trend of German poetry and +fiction, had inaugurated the romantic opera, a musical complement +of the romantic literary movement, to which he gave its finest and +fullest expression. Utilizing fairy tale and legend, he had secured for +opera ‘a wider stage and an ampler air,’ and no longer relegating the +beauties of Nature to the background, but treating them as an integral +part of his artistic scheme, he laid the foundation upon which was +eventually to rise the modern lyric drama. + +But in Italy, beyond innate refinement of thought and grace of style, +the composers whose names are identified with what was best in opera +during the closing years of the eighteenth century had nothing to +say. Cimarosa, Paesiello, Piccini (the one-time rival of Gluck) +were prolific writers of the sort of melodious opera which had once +delighted all Europe and still enchanted the opera-mad populace of +Naples, Florence, Rome, and Venice. They had need to be prolific +at a time when, as Burney says, an opera already heard was ‘like a +last year’s almanac,’ and when Venice alone could boast thirteen +opera houses, public and private. Each had to compose unremittingly, +sometimes three or even four operas a year, and it is hardly surprising +that their works, for all their charm, were thin and conventional +in orchestration, and had but scant variety of melodic line. The +development of the symphonic forms of _aria_ and _ensemble_ by Mozart, +the enlargement of the orchestra, and the exaggerated fondness for +virtuoso singing encouraged these defects, and gave these Italian +composers ‘prosaically golden opportunities of lifting spectators and +singers to the seventh heaven of flattered vanity.’ There was little or +no connection between the music and its drama. Speaking generally, the +operatic ideals of Italy were those of old Galuppi, who, when asked to +define good music, replied: ‘_Vaghezza, chiarezza e buona modulazione_’ +(vagueness, tenderness, and good modulation). + +With all its faults the music of these eighteenth century masters +excelled in a certain gracious suavity. Cimarosa, Paesiello and their +contemporaries represent the perfection of the older Italian _opera +buffa_, the classical Italian comic opera with secco-recitative, +developed by Logroscino, Pergolesi, and Jommelli, a form which then +reigned triumphant in all the large capitals of Europe. In the more +artificial _opera seria_ as well Cimarosa and Paesiello in particular +achieved notable successes, and their works are the link which connects +Italian opera with the most glorious period the lyric drama has known +since the elevation of both Italian and German schools. But the +criticism of the Abbé Arnaud, who said, ‘These operas, for which their +drama is only a pretext, are nothing but concerts,’ is altogether just. + +The reforms of Gluck and the romantic movement in Germany in no +wise disturbed the trend of Italian operatic composition. Weber’s +influence was negligible, for Italian operatic composers were, as a +rule, indifferent to what was going on, musically, outside their own +land. Those who, like Francesco Morlacchi (1784-1841) or the Bavarian +Simon Mayr (1763-1845), were brought into contact with Weber or his +works, showed their indebtedness to him rather in their endeavors to +secure broader and more interesting harmonic development of their +melodies and greater orchestral color than in any direct working +out of his ideals. But one native Italian was destined to exert an +influence, the constructive power of which, within the confines of +his own land, equalled that exerted by Weber in Germany. The time +was at hand when in Italy, the citadel of operatic conventionality +and formalism, a reaction against vapidity of idea, affectation, and +worn-out sentimentality was to find its leaders in Rossini, the ‘Swan +of Pesaro,’ and his followers and disciples, Bellini and Donizetti. + + + I + +Gioacchino Antonio Rossini, his father a trumpeter, his mother a +baker’s daughter, was born in Pesaro, February 29, 1792, and had +his first musical instruction, on the harpsichord, from Prinetti, a +musician of Novara, who played the scale with two fingers only and +fell asleep while giving lessons. He soon left his first teacher, but +when, at the age of fifteen, he was admitted to the counterpoint class +of Padre P. S. Mattei, he read well at sight, and could play both +the pianoforte and the horn. At the Conservatory of Bologna, under +Cavedagni, he also learned to play the 'cello with ease. + +His insight into orchestral writing, however, came rather from the +knowledge he gained by scoring Haydn’s and Mozart’s quartets and +symphonies than from Mattei’s instruction. For counterpoint he never +had much sympathy; but, though the stricter forms of composition did +not appeal to him, he was well enough grounded in the grammar of his +art to enable him at all times to give the most effective expression to +the delicious conceptions which continually presented themselves to his +mind. + +In 1808 the Conservatory of Bologna awarded him a prize for his cantata +_Il pianto d’armonia per la morte d’Orfeo_, and two years later the +favor of the Marquis Cavalli secured the performance of his first +opera, _Il cambiale di matrimonio_, at Venice. Rossini now produced +opera after opera with varying fortune in Bologna, Rome, Venice, and +Milan. The success of _La pietra del paragone_ (Milan, 1812), in which +he introduced his celebrated _crescendo_,[67] was eclipsed by that of +_Tancredi_ (Venice, 1813), the only one among these early works of +which the memory has survived. In it the plagiarism to which Rossini +was prone is strongly evident; it contains fragments of both Paer +and Paesiello. But the public was carried away with the verve and +ingenuity of the opera, and the charm of melodies like _Mi rivedrai, ti +rivedrò_, which, we are told, so caught the public fancy that judges +in the courts of law were obliged to call those present to order for +singing it. Even the arrival of the Emperor Napoleon in Venice, which +took place at the time, could not compete in popular interest with the +performances of _Tancredi_. In 1814 Rossini’s _Il turco in Italia_ was +heard in Milan, and in the next year he agreed to take the musical +direction of the Teatro del Fondo at Naples, with the understanding +that he was to compose two operas every year, and in return to receive +a stipend of 200 ducats (approximately one hundred and seventy-five +dollars) a month, and an annual share of the gaming tables amounting to +one thousand ducats (eight hundred and seventy-five dollars)! + +In Naples the presence of Zingarelli and Paesiello gave rise to +intrigue against the young composer, but all opposition was overcome +by the enthusiastic manner in which the court received _Elisabetta, +regina d’Inghilterra_, set to a libretto by Schmidt, which anticipated +by a few years the incidents of Scott’s ‘Kenilworth.’ As in _La +pietra del paragone_, Rossini had first made effective use of the +_crescendo_, so in _Elisabetta_ he introduced other innovations. The +classic _recitative secco_ was replaced by a recitative accompanied by +a quartet of strings.[68] And for the first time Rossini wrote out the +‘ornaments’ of the arias, instead of leaving them to the fancy of the +singers, on whose good taste and sense of fitness he had found he could +not depend. + +A version by Sterbini of Beaumarchais’ comedy, _Le Barbier de Seville_, +furnished the libretto for his next opera. Given the same year at Rome, +at first under the title of _Almaviva_, it encountered unusual odds. +Rome was a stronghold of the existing conventional type of Italian +opera which Rossini and his followers in a measure superseded. There, +as elsewhere, Paesiello’s _Barbiere_ had been a favorite of twenty-five +years’ standing. Hence Rossini’s audacity to use the same libretto was +so strongly resented that his opera was promptly and vehemently hissed +from the stage. But had not Paesiello himself, many years before, tried +to dim the glory of Pergolesi by resetting the libretto of _La serva +padrona_? Perhaps Italy considered it a matter of poetic justice, for +the success of Rossini’s _Barbiere di Siviglia_, brightest and wittiest +of comic operas, was deferred no longer than the second performance, +and it soon cast Paesiello’s feebler score into utter oblivion. + +Of the twelve operas which followed from Rossini’s pen between 1815 +and 1823, _Otello_ (Rome, 1816) and _Semiramide_ (Venice, 1823) +may be considered the finest. In them the composer’s reform of the +_opera seria_ culminated. ‘William Tell’ belongs to another period +and presents a wholly different phase of his creative activity. In +the field of _opera buffa_, _La Cenerentola_ (Cinderella), given in +Rome in 1817, is ranked after _Il barbiere_. It offers an interesting +comparison with Nicolo Isouard’s[69] _Cendrillon_. In the French +composer’s score all is fragrant with the atmosphere of fairyland and +rich in psychic moods; in Rossini’s treatment of the same subject all +is realistic humor and dazzling vocal effect. He accepted the libretto +of _Cenerentola_ only on condition that the supernatural element +should be omitted! It is the last of his operas which he brought to a +brilliant close for the sake of an individual _prima donna_. + +_La gazza ladra_, produced in Milan the same year, was long considered +Rossini’s best work. It is characteristic of all that is best in his +Italian period. The tuneful overture with its _crescendo_--with the +exception of the _Tell_ overture the best of all he has written--arias, +duets, ensembles, and finales are admirable. The part-writing in the +chorus numbers is inferior to that of none of his other works. Two +romantic operas, _Armida_ (1817)--the only one of Rossini’s Italian +operas provided with a ballet--and _Ricciardo e Zoraide_ (1818), both +given in Naples, are rich in imagination and contain fine choral +numbers. + +In 1820 the Carbonarist revolution, which drove out + +King Ferdinand IV, ruined Rossini’s friend Barbaja and induced Rossini +to visit Vienna. On his way, in 1821, he married Isabella Colbran, +a handsome and wealthy Spanish _prima donna_, seven years older +than himself, who had taken a leading part in the first performance +of his _Elisabetta_ six years before. Upon his return to Bologna a +flattering invitation from Prince Metternich to ‘assist in the general +reëstablishment of harmony,’ took him to Verona for the opening of the +Congress, October 20, 1822. Here he conducted a number of his operas, +and wrote a pastoral cantata, _Il vero omaggio_, and some marches for +the amusement of the royalties and statesmen there assembled, and +made the acquaintance of Chateaubriand and Madame de Lieven. The cool +reception accorded his _Semiramide_ in Venice probably had something +to do with his accepting the suggestion of Benelli, the manager of +the King’s Theatre in London, to pay that capital a visit. He went to +England late in the year and remained there for five months, receiving +many flattering attentions at court and being presented to King George +IV, with whom he breakfasted _tête-à-tête_. His connection with the +London opera during his stay netted him over seven thousand pounds. + +Between the years 1815 and 1823--a comparatively short space of +time--Rossini had completely overthrown the operatic ideals of Cimarosa +and Paesiello, and by sheer intelligence, trenchant vigor, marvellous +keenness in measuring the popular appetite and ability to gratify it +with novel sensations he entirely remodelled both the _opera seria_ and +the _opera buffa_. + +Rossini created without effort, for nature had granted him, as she has +granted most Italian composers, the power of giving a nameless grace to +all he wrote. Yet he was more than versatile, more than merely facile. +In spite of his weakness for popular success and the homage of the +multitude, he was no musical charlatan. Even his weakest productions +were stronger than those of the best of his Italian contemporaries. +His early study of Mozart had drawn his attention to the need of +improvement in Italian methods, and, as a result, his instrumentation +was richer, and--thanks to his own natural instinct for orchestral +color--more glowing and varied than any previously produced in Italy. +In his _cantabile_ melodies he often attained telling emotional +expression, he enriched the existing order with a wider range of novel +forms and ornamentations, and he abandoned the lifeless recitative in +favor of a more dramatic style of accompanied recitation. + +In the Italy of Rossini the _prima donna_ was the supreme arbiter of +the lyric stage, and individual singers became the idols of kings and +peoples. Such singers as Pasta, whose voice ranged from a to high d; +the contraltos Isabella Colbran (Rossini’s first wife) and Malibran, +who, despite the occasional ‘dead’ tones in her middle register, +never failed of an ovation when she sang in Rome, Naples, Bologna, or +Milan; Teresa Belloc, the dramatic mezzo-soprano, who was a favorite +interpreter of Rossinian rôles; Fanny Persiani, so celebrated as a +coloratura soprano that she was called _la piccola Pasta_; Henriette +Sontag, most wonderful of Rosines; and Catalani, mistress of bravura; +the tenors Rubini, Manuel Garcia, Nourrit; the basses Luigi Lablache, +Levasseur, and Tamburini, these were the sovereigns of the days +of Rossini and Meyerbeer. But their reign was not as absolute as +Farinelli’s and Senesino’s in an earlier day. The new ideas which +claimed that the singer existed for the sake of the opera, and not the +opera for that of the singer, inevitably, though slowly, reacted in the +direction of proportion and fitness. + +Rossini was the first to insist on writing out the coloratura cadenzas +and fioriture passages, which the great singers still demanded, instead +of leaving them to the discretion, or indiscretion, of the artists. It +had been the custom to allow each soprano twenty measures at the end +of her solo, during which she improvised at will. As a matter of fact, +the cadenzas Rossini wrote for his _prime donne_ were quite as florid +as any they might have devised, but they were at least consistent; +and his determined stand in the matter sounded the death-knell of the +old tradition that the opera was primarily a vehicle for the display +of individual vocal virtuosity. He was also the first of the Italians +to assign the leading parts to contraltos and basses; to make each +dramatic scene one continuous musical movement; and to amplify and +develop the concerted finale. These widespread reforms culminate, for +_opera buffa_, in _Il barbiere di Siviglia_, and for _opera seria_ in +_Semiramide_ and _Otello_. + +_Il Barbiere_, with its witty and amusing plot and its entertaining and +brilliant music, is one of the few operas by Rossini performed at the +present time. It gives genuine expression in music to Beaumarchais’ +comedy--a comedy of gallantry, not of love--and the music is developed +out of the action of the story. So perfect is the unity of the work +in this respect that its coloratura arias, such as the celebrated +one of Rosine’s, do not even appear as a concession made to virtuoso +technique. One admirer speaks of the score, in language perhaps a +trifle exaggerated, as ‘a glittering, multicolored bird of paradise, +who had dipped his glowing plumage in the rose of the dawn and the +laughing, glorious sunshine,’ and says that ‘each note is like a +dewdrop quivering on a rose-leaf.’ Stendhal says: ‘Rossini has had the +happy thought, whether by chance or deliberate intention, of being +primarily himself in the “Barber of Seville.” In seeking an intimate +acquaintance with Rossini’s style we should look for it in this score.’ + +In _Otello_, which offers a suggestive contrast with the treatment +of the same subject by Verdi at a similar point of his artistic +development, the transition from _recitativo secco_ to pure recitative, +begun in _Elisabetta_, was carried to completion. Shakespeare’s tragedy +was, in a measure, ‘butchered to make a Roman holiday,’ the Roman +public of Rossini’s day insisting on happy endings, which therefore had +to be invented. And it is claimed that there are still places in Italy +in which the Shakespearian end of the story can never be performed +without interruption from the audience, who warn Desdemona of Otello’s +deadly approach. _Otello_ is essentially a melodrama. In his music +Rossini has portrayed a drama of action rather than a tragedy. There +is no inner psychological development, but an easily grasped tale of +passion of much scenic effect, though in some of the dramatic scenes +the passionate accent is smothered beneath roulades. But if the musical +Othello himself is unconvincing from the tragic point of view, in +Desdemona Rossini has portrayed in music a character of real tragic +beauty and elevation. Two great artists, Pasta and Malibran, have +immortalized the rôle--‘Pasta, imposing and severe as grief itself,’ +and Malibran, more restless and impetuous, ‘rushing up trembling, +bathed in her tears and tresses.’ _Semiramide_ composed in forty days +to a libretto by Rossi,[70] gains a special interest because of its +strong leaven of Mozart. In Rossini’s own day and long afterward it +was considered his best _opera seria_, always excepting _Tell_. The +judgment of our own day largely agrees in looking upon it as an almost +perfect example of the _rococo_ style in music. + +Rossini’s removal to Paris in 1824, when he became musical director of +the Théâtre des Italiens, marks the beginning of another stage of his +development, one that produced but a single opera, _Guillaume Tell_, +but that one a masterpiece. + +Owing to Rossini’s activity in his new position, which he held for only +eighteen months, the technical standard of performance was decidedly +raised. Among the works he produced were _Il viaggio a Reims_ (1825), +heard again three years later in a revised and augmented version as +_Le Comte Ory_, and Meyerbeer’s _Il Crociato_, the first work of that +composer to be heard in Paris. In 1826 Charles X appointed him ‘first +composer to the king’ and ‘inspector-general of singing in France,’ two +sinecures the combined salaries of which amounted to twenty thousand +francs. Rossini, who had a keen sense of humor, is said to have been in +the habit of stopping in the street, when some pavement singer raised +his voice, or the sound of song floated down from some open window, +and whispering to his friends to be silent ‘because the inspector of +singing was busy gathering material for his next official report.’ + +The leisure thus afforded him gave him an opportunity to revise and +improve his older works, and to devote himself to a serious study of +Beethoven. Between 1810 and 1828 he had produced forty distinct works; +in 1829 he produced the one great score of his second period, which in +most respects outweighs all the others. It was to be the first of a +series of five operas which the king had commissioned him to write for +the Paris opera, but the overthrow of Charles X made the agreement void +in regard to the others. + +The libretto of _Guillaume Tell_, which adheres closely to Schiller’s +drama, was written by Étienne Jouy and Hippolyte Bis, and further +altered according to Rossini’s own suggestions. Though the original +drama contains fine situations, the libretto was not an ideal one for +musical treatment. Musically it ranks far above any of his previous +scores, since into the Italian fabric of his own creation he had +woven all that was best in French operatic tradition. The brilliant +and often inappropriate _fioriture_ with which many of the works of +his first period were overladen gave way to a clear melodic style, +befitting the simple nobility of his subject and better qualified than +his earlier style to justify the title given him of ‘father of modern +operatic melody.’ No longer abstract types nor mere vehicles for vocal +display, his singers sang with the dramatic accents of genuine passion. +The conventional _cavatina_ was deliberately avoided. The choruses +were planned with greater breadth and with an admirable regard for +unity. The orchestration developed a wonderful diversity of color, and +breathed fresh and genuine life through the entire score. The overture, +not a dramatic preface, but a pastoral symphony in abridged form, with +the obligatory three movements--_allegro_, _andante_, _presto_; the +huntsman’s chorus; the duet between Tell and Arnold; the finale of the +first act; the prelude to the second and Matilda’s aria; the grandiose +scene on the Rütli, the festival scene and the storm scene are, +perhaps, the most noteworthy numbers. + +It cost Rossini six months to compose _Guillaume Tell_, the time in +which he might have written six of his earlier Italian operas. The +result of earnest study and deep reflection, it shows both French +and German influences; something of German depth and sincerity of +expression, a good deal of French _esprit_ and dramatic truth, and the +usual Italian grace are its composite elements. The ease and fluency of +Rossini’s style persist unchanged, while he discards mere mannerisms +and rises to heights of genuine dramatic intensity he had not before +attained. The new and varied instrumental timbres he employed no doubt +had a considerable share in forming modern French composers’ taste for +delicate orchestral effects. + +_Tell_ marks a transitional stage in the history of opera. It is +to be regretted that it does not also mark a transitional stage in +the composer’s own creative activity, instead of its climax. There +is interesting matter for speculation in what Rossini might have +accomplished had he not decided to retire from the operatic field +at the age of thirty-seven. After the success of _Guillaume Tell_ +he retired for a time to Bologna to continue his work according to +the terms of his Paris contract--he had been considering the subject +of _Faust_ for an opera--and was filled with ambitious plans for +the inauguration of a new epoch in French opera. When, in November, +1830, he returned to Paris his agreement had been repudiated by the +government of Louis Philippe, and the interest in dramatic music had +waned. In 1832 he wrote six movements of his brilliant _Stabat mater_ +(completed in 1839, the year of his father’s death) and in 1836, after +the triumph of Meyerbeer’s _Les Huguenots_, he determined to give over +operatic composition altogether. His motive in so doing has always +been more or less a mystery. It has been claimed that he was jealous +of Meyerbeer’s success, but his personal relations with Meyerbeer were +friendly. One of Rossini’s last compositions, in fact, was a pianoforte +fantasia on motives of Meyerbeer’s _L’Africaine_, the final rehearsal +of which he had attended. And after his death there was found among his +manuscripts a requiem chant in memory of Meyerbeer, who had died four +years before. Another and more probable theory is that the successive +mutilation of what he regarded as his greatest work (it was seldom +given in its complete form) checked his ardor for operatic composition. +Again, as he himself remarked to a friend, ‘A new work if successful +could not add to my reputation, while if it failed it might detract +from it.’ And, finally, Rossini was by nature pleasure-loving and fond +of the good things of life. He had amassed a considerable fortune, and +it is quite possible that he felt himself unequal to submitting again +to the strain he had undergone in composing _Tell_. He told Hiller +quite frankly that when a man had composed thirty-seven operas he +began to feel a little tired, and his determination to write no more +allowed him to enjoy the happiness of not outliving his capacity for +production, far less his reputation. + +His first wife had died in 1845. In the interval between the production +of _Tell_ and his second marriage in 1847, with Olympe Pelissier (who +sat to Horace Vernet for his picture of ‘Judith and Holofernes’), +the reaction of years of ceaseless creative work, domestic troubles, +and the annoyance of his law suit against the French government had +seriously affected him physically and mentally. His marriage with Mme. +Pelissier was a happy one, and he regained his good spirits and health. +Leaving Bologna during the year of his second marriage, he remained for +a time in Florence, and in 1855 settled in Paris, where his _salon_ +became an artistic and musical centre. Here Richard Wagner visited +him in 1860, a visit of which he has left an interesting record. The +_Stabat mater_ (its first six numbers composed in 1832), completed in +1842, and given with tremendous success at the Italiens; his _Soirées +musicales_ (1834), a set of album leaves for one and two voices; his +Requiem Mass (_Petite messe solennelle_), and some instrumental solos +comprise the entire output of his last forty years. He died Nov. 13, +1868, at his country house at Passy, rich in honors and dignities, +leaving the major portion of a large fortune to his native town of +Pesaro, to be used for humanitarian and artistic ends. + +It has been said, and with truth, that to a considerable extent the +musical drama from Gluck to Richard Wagner is the work of Rossini. +He assimilated what was useful of the old style and used it in +establishing the character of his reforms. In developing the musical +drama Rossini, in spite of the classic origin of his manner, may be +considered one of the first representatives of romantic art. And by +thus laying a solid foundation for the musical drama Rossini afforded +those who came after him an opportunity of giving it atmosphere and, +eventually, elevating its style. ‘As a representative figure Rossini +has no superior in the history of the musical drama and his name is the +name of an art epoch.’ + +Rossini’s remodelling of Italian opera, representing, as it did, the +Italian spirit of his day in highest creative florescence, could not +fail to influence his contemporaries. Chief among those who followed in +his footsteps were Donizetti and Bellini. Though without the artistic +genius of their illustrious countryman, they are identified with him +in the movement he inaugurated and assisted him in maintaining Italian +opera in its old position against the increasing onslaughts from +foreign quarters. + + + II + +Gaetano Donizetti (1798-1848) was a pupil of Simon Mayr in his native +city of Bergamo, and later of Rossini’s master, Mattei, of Bologna. +His first dramatic attempt was an _opera seria_, _Enrico conte di +Borgogna_, given successfully in Venice in 1818. Obtaining his +discharge from the army, in which he had enlisted in consequence of +a quarrel with his father, he devoted himself entirely to operatic +composition, writing in all sixty-five operas--he composed with +incredible rapidity and is said to have orchestrated an entire opera +in thirty hours--but, succumbing to brain trouble, brought on by the +strain of overwork, he died when barely fifty years of age. + +He added three unaffectedly tuneful and vivacious operas to the _opera +buffa_ repertory: _La fille du régiment_, _L’Elisir d’amore_, and _Don +Pasquale_. In these he is undoubtedly at his best, for he discards +the affectations he cultivated in his serious work to satisfy the +prevailing taste of his day and gives free rein to his imagination and +his power of humorous characterization. + +_La fille du régiment_ made the rounds of the German and Italian +opera houses before the Parisians were willing to reconsider their +verdict after its first unsuccessful production at the Opéra Comique +in 1840. It presents a tale of love which does not run smooth, but +which terminates happily when a high-born mother at length allows her +daughter to marry a Napoleonic officer, her inferior in birth. Though +the music is slight, it is free from pretense and unaffectedly gay. +Like Rossini, Donizetti settled in France after his reputation was +established and suited his style to the taste of his adopted country. +In a minor degree the differences between Rossini’s _Tell_ and his +_Semiramide_ are the same as those between Donizetti’s _Fille du +régiment_ and one of his Italian operas. But there parallel ends. The +‘Daughter of the Regiment’ shows, however, that Donizetti’s lighter +operas have stood the test of time better than his more serious ones. + +_L’Elisir d’amore_ (Milan, 1832) also contains some spontaneous and +gracefully fresh and captivating music. The plot is childish, but +musically the score ranks with that of _Don Pasquale_ (Paris, 1843), +the plot of which turns on a trick played by two young lovers upon +the uncle and guardian of one of them. This brilliant trifle made a +tremendous success, and in it Donizetti’s gay vivacity reached its +climax. It was the last of his notable contributions to the _opera +buffa_ of the Rossinian school. Written for the Théâtre des Italiens, +and sung for the first time by Grisi, Mario, Tambarini, and Lablache, +its success was in striking contrast to the failure of _Don Sebastien_, +a large serious opera produced soon afterward. + +The vogue of Donizetti’s serious operas has practically passed away. +To modern ears, despite much tender melody and occasional dramatic +expressiveness, they sound stilted and lacking in vitality. _Lucia +di Lammermoor_, founded on Scott’s tragic romance ‘The Bride of +Lammermoor’ (Naples, 1835), immensely popular in the composer’s day, +is still given as a ‘prima donna’s opera,’ for the virtuoso display of +some favorite artist. The fine sextet enjoys undiminished popularity +in its original form as well as in instrumental arrangements, but +in general the composer’s subservience to the false standard of +public taste detracts from the music. An instance is the ‘mad-scene,’ +ridiculous from the dramatic standpoint, with its smooth and polished +melody, ending in a virtuoso _fioritura_ cadenza for voice and flute! + +The same criticism applies to the tuneful _Lucrezia Borgia_ (Milan, +1833), which, in spite of charming melodies and occasionally effective +concerted numbers, is orchestrated in a thin and childish manner. _Anna +Bolena_ (Milan, 1830), written for Pasta and Rubini, after the good +old Italian fashion of adapting rôles to singers, and _Marino Faliero_ +(1835) were both written in rivalry with Bellini, and the failure of +the last-named opera was responsible for the supreme effort which +produced _Lucia_. More important is _Linda di Chamounix_, which aroused +such enthusiasm when first performed in Vienna, in 1842, that the +emperor conferred the title of court composer on its composer. But _La +Favorita_, with its repulsive plot, which shares with _Lucia_ the honor +of being the best of Donizetti’s serious operas, is superior to _Linda_ +in the care with which it has been written and in the dramatic power of +the ensemble numbers. _Spirto gentil_, the delightful romance in the +last act, is perhaps the best-known aria in the score. In _Lucia_ and +_La Favorita_ Donizetti’s melodic inspiration--his sole claim to the +favor of posterity--finds its freest and most spontaneous development. + +While Donizetti had an occasional sense of dramatic effect, his +contemporary, Vincenzo Bellini (1802-1835), the son of an organist +of Catania, showed a genius which, if wanting in wit and vivacity, +had much melancholy sweetness and a certain elegiac solemnity of +expression. He had studied the works of both the German and Italian +composers, in particular those of Pergolesi, and, like Donizetti, +he fell a victim to the strain of persistent overwork. Among his +ten operas--he did not attempt the _buffa_ style--three stand out +prominently: _La Sonnambula_ (Milan, 1831), _Norma_ (Milan, 1831), and +_I Puritani_ (Paris, 1835). + +_La Sonnambula_, in which the singer Pasta created the title rôle, is +an admirable example of Bellini in his most tender and idyllic mood. A +graceful melodiousness fills the score and the closing scene attains +genuine sincerity and pathos. _Norma_ (Milan, 1831), set to a strong +and moving libretto by the poet Felice Romani, is a tragedy of Druidic +Britain, and in it the composer may be considered to have reached his +highest level. At a time like the present, when the art of singing is +not cultivated to the pitch of perfection that was the standard in the +composer’s own period, a modern rendering of _Norma_, for instance, +is apt to lose in dramatic intensity, since Bellini and the other +followers of Rossini were content to provide a rich, broad flow of +_cantilena_ melody, leaving it to the singers to infuse in it dramatic +force and meaning--something which Tamburini, Rubini, and other great +Italian singers were well able to do. + +_Norma_ surpasses _I Puritani_ in the real beauty and force of its +libretto, and gains thereby in musical consistency; but the latter +opera, which shows French influences to some extent, cannot be +excelled as regards the tender pathos and sweet sincerity of its +melodies, which, like those in the composer’s other works, depend on +_bel canto_ for their effect. Triumphantly successful at the Théâtre +des Italiens in Paris, 1834, this last of Bellini’s works may well have +been that of which Wagner wrote: ‘I shall never forget the impression +made upon me by an opera of Bellini at a period when I was completely +exhausted with the everlasting abstract complication used in our +orchestras, when a simple and noble melody was revealed to me anew.’ In +a manner Bellini may be considered a link between the exuberant force +and consummate _savoir-faire_ of Rossini’s French period and the more +earnest earlier efforts of Verdi. + +Though Donizetti and Bellini are the leading figures in the group of +composers identified with Rossini’s operatic reforms, a few other +names call for mention here: Saverio Mercadante, who composed both +_opera seria_ and _opera buffa_--a gifted but careless writer whose +best-known work is the tragic opera _Il Giuramento_ (Milan, 1837); +Giovanni Pacini, whose _Safo_, a direct imitation of Rossini, was +most successful; and Niccolò Vaccai, better known for his vocal +exercises--still in general use--than for his once popular opera +_Giuletta e Romeo_ (Milan, 1825). Meyerbeer’s seven Italian operas, +_Romilda e Constanza_, _Semiramide riconosciuta_, _Eduardo e +Christina_, _Emma di Resburgo_, _Margherita di Anjou_, _L’Esule di +Granata_, and _Il Crociato in Egitto_, which were due directly to +the admiration he had conceived for Rossini in 1815, and of which he +afterward repented, also properly belong in this enumeration. + + + III + +Meanwhile the reform in Italian opera associated with Rossini made +itself felt in Germany, where, in opera, the Italian style was still +supreme, by way of one of the most remarkable figures in the history of +music. Gassaro Spontini (1774-1851), the son of a cobbler of Ancona, +had studied composition at the Conservatorio dei Turichi in Naples. By +1799 he had written and produced eight operas. Appointed court composer +to King Ferdinand of Naples the same year, he was compelled to leave +that city in 1800, in consequence of the discovery of an intrigue he +had been carrying on with a princess of the court. Two comic operas, +_Julie_ and _La petite maison_ (Paris, 1804), having been hissed, he +determined to drop the _buffa_ style completely. The production of +_Milton_ (one act) in 1804 was his first gage of adherence to the +higher ideals he henceforth made his own. + +He was influenced materially by an earnest study of Gluck and Mozart +and through his friendship with the dramatic poet Étienne Jouy. _La +Vestale_ (1807), his first great success, was the result of three +years of effort, and upon its performance at the Académie Impériale, +through the influence of the Empress Josephine, a public triumph, it +won the prize offered by Napoleon for the best dramatic work. In _La +Vestale_, one of the finest works of its class, Spontini superseded +the _parlando_ of Italian opera with accompanied recitative, increased +the strength of his orchestra--contemporary criticism accused him of +overloading his scores with orchestration--and employed large choruses +with telling effect. _La Vestale_ glorified the pseudo-classicism of +the French directory; _Ferdinando Cortez_, which duplicated the success +of that opera two years later, represents an attempt on the part of +Napoleon to ingratiate himself with the Spanish nation he designed to +conquer. + +The same year the composer married the daughter of Érard, the +celebrated piano-maker, and in 1810 he became director of the Italian +Opera. In this capacity he paid tribute to the German influences which +had molded his artistic views by giving the first Parisian performance +of Mozart’s _Don Giovanni_ and organizing concerts at which music by +Haydn and other German composers was heard. Court composer to Louis +XVIII in 1814, he was for five years mainly occupied with the writing +of _Olympie_, set to a clumsy and undramatic libretto, which he himself +considered his masterwork, though its production in 1819 was a failure. + +Five months after this disappointment, in response to an invitation +of Frederick William III of Prussia, he settled in Berlin, becoming +director of the Royal Opera, with an excellent salary and plenty of +leisure time. In spite of difficulties with the intendant, Count +Brühl, he accomplished much. _Die Vestalin_, _Ferdinando Cortez_, and +_Olympie_, prepared with inconceivable effort, were produced with +great success in 1821. But in the same year Weber’s _Freischütz_, +full of romantic fervor and directly appealing to the heart of the +German nation, turned public favor away from Spontini. In _Nourmahal_ +(1822), the libretto founded on Moore’s ‘Lalla Rookh,’ and _Alcidor_ +(1825) Spontini evidently chose subjects of a more fanciful type in +order to compete with Weber. His librettos were poor, however, and the +purely romantic was unsuited to his mode of thought. In _Agnes von +Hohenstaufen_, planned on a grander scale than any of his previous +scores, he reverted again to his former style. It is beyond all doubt +Spontini’s greatest work. In grandeur of style and imaginative breadth +it excels both _La Vestale_ and _Ferdinando Cortez_. So thorough-going +were Spontini’s revisions that when it was again given in Berlin in +1837 many who had heard it when first performed did not recognize it. + +Spontini’s suspicious and despotic nature, which made him almost +impossible to get along with, led to his dismissal, though with titles +and salary, in 1841. Thereafter he lived much in retirement and died +in 1851. His music belonged essentially to the epic period of the first +French empire. The wearied nations, after the fall of Napoleon, craved +sensuous beauty of sound, lullabies, arias, cavatinas, tenderness, +and wit rather than stateliness and grandeur. Thus the political +conditions of the time favored Rossini’s success and, in a measure, at +Spontini’s expense. Spontini was the direct precursor of Meyerbeer, +who was to develop the ‘historical’ opera, to which the former had +given distinction, with its large lines and stateliness of detail, +its broadly human and heroic appeal, into the more melodramatic and +violently contrasted type generally known as French ‘grand’ opera. + + * * * * * + +Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791-1863), first known as Jacob Meyer Beer, the son +of the wealthy Jewish banker Beer, of Berlin, was an ‘infant prodigy,’ +for, when but nine years old, he was accounted the best pianist in +Berlin. The first teacher to exert a decided influence on him was +Abbé Vogler, organist and theoretician, of Darmstadt, to whom he went +in 1810, living in his home and, with Carl Maria von Weber, taking +daily lessons in counterpoint, fugue, and organ playing. Appointed +composer to the court by the grand duke two years later, his first +opera, ‘Jephtha’s Vow,’ failed at Darmstadt (1811), and his second, +_Alimelek_, at Vienna in 1814. Though cruelly discouraged, he took +Salieri’s advice and, persevering, went to Italy to study vocalization +and form a new style. + +In Venice Rossini’s influence affected him so powerfully that, giving +up all idea of developing a style of his own, he produced the seven +Italian operas already mentioned, with brilliant and unlooked-for +success, which, however, did not impress his former fellow student, +Weber, who deplored them as treasonable to the ideals of German art. +Meyerbeer himself, before long, regretted his defection. In fact, the +last of the operas of this Italian period, _Il Crociato in Egitto_ +(Venice, 1824), is no longer so evidently after the manner of Rossini. +It was given all over Italy, in London, Paris, St. Petersburg, and +even at Rio de Janeiro. Weber considered it a sign that the composer +would soon abandon the Italian style and return to a higher ideal. The +success of _Il Crociato_ gave Meyerbeer an excellent opportunity of +visiting Paris, in consequence of Rossini’s staging it at the Italiens, +in 1826, where it achieved a triumph. The grief into which the death +of his father and of his two children plunged him interrupted for some +time his activity in the operatic field. He returned to Germany and +until 1830 wrote nothing for public performance, but composed a number +of psalms, motets, cantatas, and songs of an austerely sentimental +character, among them his well-known ‘The Monk.’ This was his second, +or German, period. + +It is probable that in 1830 he planned his first distinctively French +opera, _Robert le Diable_, for which the clever librettist Eugène +Scribe wrote the book. The first performance of that work, typically +a grand romantic opera, on November 22, 1831, aroused unbounded +enthusiasm. Yet certain contemporary critics called it ‘the acme of +insane fiction’ and spoke of it as ‘the apotheosis of blasphemy, +indecency, and absurdity.’ Schumann and Mendelssohn disapproved of +it--the latter accused its music of being ‘cold and heartless’--and +Spontini, because of professional jealousy, condemned it. Liszt and +Berlioz, on the other hand, were full of admiration. There is no doubt +that text and music had united to create a tremendous impression. The +libretto, in spite of faults, was theatrically effective; the music +was pregnant, melodious, sensuously pleasing and rendered dramatic by +reason of shrill contrasting orchestral coloring. So striking was the +impression it made at the time--though from our present-day standpoint +it is decidedly _vieux jeu_--that its faults passed almost unobserved. + +From the standpoint of the ideal, the work is lacking in many respects. +First intended for the _opéra comique_, its remodelling by Scribe and +Meyerbeer himself had built up a kind of romantic and symbolic vision +around the original comedy. The Robert (loyal, proud, and loving) +and Isabella (tender and kind) of the original were the same, but +the characters of Bertram and Alice had been elevated, respectively, +to the dignity of angels of evil and of good, struggling to obtain +possession of Robert’s soul, thus exalting the entire work. The change +had given the score a mixed character, somewhat between drama and +comedy, making it a romantic opera in the manner of _Euryanthe_ or +_Oberon_. Still, excess of variety in effects, the occasional lack of +melodic distinction, and want of character do not affect its forceful +expression and dramatic boldness. The influence of Rossini and of +Auber, whose _Muette de Portici_ had been given three years before, of +Gluck and Weber was apparent in _Robert le Diable_, yet as a score it +was different and in some respects absolutely novel. If Meyerbeer had +less creative spontaneity and freshness than Rossini and less ease than +Auber, in breadth of musical education he surpassed them both. + +In a measure both Spontini and Rossini may be excused if they thought +that Meyerbeer, in developing their art tendencies, transformed and +distorted them. Spontini, no doubt, looked on him as a huckster who +bartered away the sacred mysteries of creative art for the sake of +cheap applause. The straightforward Rossini probably thought him +a hypocrite. And therein they both wronged him. An eclectic, ‘an +art-lover rather than an artist,’ Meyerbeer revelled in the luxury +of using every style and attempting every novelty, in order to prove +himself master of whatever he undertook. But he was undeniably honest +in all that he did, though he lacked that spontaneity which belongs +to the artist alone. And in _Les Huguenots_, his next work, first +performed in 1836, five years after _Robert_, he composed an opera +which in gorgeous color, human interest, consistent dramatic treatment +and accentuation of individual types, in force and breadth generally, +marked a decided advance on its predecessor. + +_Les Huguenots_ was not a historical opera in the sense of _Tell_. +In _Tell_ Rossini showed himself as an Italian and a patriot. The +Hapsburgs of his hero’s day were the same who, at the time he wrote, +oppressed his countrymen. Gessler stood for the imperial governor of +Lombardy, his guards for Austrian soldiers; the liberty-loving Swiss +he identified with the Lombards and Venetians whose liberties were +attacked. But, though the subject of Meyerbeer’s opera is an episode +of the ‘Massacre of St. Bartholomew,’ that episode is merely used as a +sinister background, against which his warm and living characters move +and tell their story. _Les Huguenots_ may be considered Meyerbeer’s +most finished and representative score. Not a single element of color +and contrast has escaped him. In only two respects did its interest +fall short of that awakened by its predecessor. So successful had the +composer been in his treatment of the supernatural in _Robert_ that +the omission of that element now was regretted; and, more important, +the fifth act proved to be an anti-climax. The opera, when given now, +usually ends at the fourth act, when Raoul, leaping from the window +to his death, leaves Valentine fainting. In psychological truth _Les +Huguenots_ is undoubtedly superior to _Robert_. There is a double +interest: that of knowing how the mutual love of Valentine the +Catholic and Raoul the Protestant will turn out; and that of the drama +in general, _against_ which and not _out_ of which the fate of the +Huguenots is developed. + +In the third act especially the opera develops a breadth and eloquence +maintained to the end. The varied shadings of this picture of Paris, +its ensembles, contrasted yet never confounded, constitute, in +Berlioz’s words, ‘a magnificent musical tissue.’ _Les Huguenots_, like +_Robert_, made the tour of the world. And, as _Tell_ was prohibited in +Austria, for political reasons, so Meyerbeer’s opera was forbidden in +strictly Catholic lands. This did not prevent its performance under +such titles as _The Guelphs_ or _The Ghibellines at Pisa_; a letter to +Meyerbeer shows that he refused an arrangement of the libretto entitled +_The Swedes before Prague_! + +After _Les Huguenots_ had been produced Meyerbeer spent a number of +years in the preparation of his next works, _L’Africaine_ and _Le +Prophète_. Scribe[71] had supplied the librettos for both these works, +and both underwent countless revisions and changes at Meyerbeer’s +hands. The story of _L’Africaine_ was more than once entirely +rewritten. In the meantime the composer had accepted (after Spontini’s +withdrawal) the appointment of kapellmeister to the king of Prussia and +spent some years in Berlin. Here he composed psalms, sacred cantatas, +a secular choral work with living pictures, _Una festa nella corte di +Ferrara_; the first of his four ‘Torchlight Marches,’ for the wedding +of Prince Max of Bavaria with Princess Mary of Prussia, and a cantata +for soli, chorus and brasses, set to a poem of King Louis I of +Bavaria. In 1843 he produced _Das Feldlager in Schlesien_ (The Camp in +Silesia), a German opera, based on anecdotes of Frederick the Great, +the national hero of Prussia; which, coldly received at first, was at +once successful when the brilliant Swedish soprano, Jenny Lind, made +her first appearance in Prussia in it, as Vielka, the heroine. Three +years later he composed the incidental music for _Struensee_, a drama +written by his brother Michael. The overture is still considered an +example of his orchestration at his best. + +His chief care, however, from 1843 to 1847 was bestowed on worthily +presenting the works of others at the Berlin Opera. Gluck’s _Armida_ +and _Iphigenia in Tauris_; Mozart’s _Don Giovanni_, _Zauberflöte_; +Beethoven’s _Fidelio_; Weber’s _Freischütz_ and _Euryanthe_; and +Spohr’s _Faust_, the last a tribute of appreciation. He even procured +the acceptance of Wagner’s _Der fliegende Holländer_ and _Rienzi_, that +‘brilliant, showy, and effective exercise in the grand opera manner,’ +whose first performance he directed in 1847. + +In 1849 Meyerbeer produced _Le Prophète_ in Paris, after many months of +rehearsal. The score shows greater elevation and grandeur than that of +_Les Huguenots_, but it is marred by contradictions and inequalities of +style. In spite of its success and many undeniably beautiful sections, +it betrays a falling off of the composer’s creative power; and it +suffers from overemphasis. His two successful efforts to compete with +the composers of French _opéra comique_ on their own ground, _L’Étoile +du Nord_ and _Le pardon de Ploërmel_ (‘Dinorah’), were heard in Paris +in 1854 and 1859, respectively. _L’Étoile du Nord_ was practically _Das +Feldlager in Schlesien_, worked over and given a Russian instead of a +Prussian background. Its success was troubled by the last illness and +death of the composer’s mother, to whom he was passionately attached. +A number of shorter vocal and instrumental compositions were written +during the five years that elapsed between its _première_ and that of +his second comic opera. This, _Le Pardon de Ploërmel_, was set to a +libretto by Carré and Barbier. It is a charming pastoral work, easy, +graceful, and picturesque. Its music throughout is tuneful and bright, +but its inane libretto has much to do with the neglect into which it +has fallen. + +From 1859 to 1864, besides the shorter compositions alluded to, +Meyerbeer worked on various unfinished scores: a _Judith_, Blaze +de Bury’s _Jeunesse de Goethe_, and others. He left a quantity of +unfinished manuscripts of all kinds at his death. But mainly during +this period he was busy with the score of _L’Africaine_, his last great +opera. When at length, after years of hesitation, he had decided to +have it performed and it was in active preparation at the opera, he was +seized with a sudden illness and died, May 2, 1864. He had not been +spared to witness the first performance of this which he loved above +all his other operas and on which he lavished untold pains. It was +produced, however, with regard to his wishes, April 28, 1865, and was +a tremendous success. Scribe’s libretto contains many poetic scenes +and effective situations and gave the composer every opportunity to +manifest his genius. + +It is the most consistent of his works. In it he displays remarkable +skill in delineation of characters and situations. His music, in the +scenes that occur in India, is rich in glowing oriental color. Nowhere +has he made a finer use of the hues of the orchestral palette. And in +the fifth act, which crowns the entire work, he exalts to the highest +emotional pitch the noble and touching character of his heroine, +Selika, who sacrifices her love for Vasco da Gama, that the latter may +be happy with the woman he loves. In dignity and serenity the melodies +of _L’Africaine_ surpass those of the composer’s other operas. Its +music, though in general less popular than that of _Les Huguenots_, +is of a finer calibre, and the ceaseless striving after effect, so +apparent in much of his other work, is absent in this. + +The worth of Meyerbeer’s talent has long been realized, despite the +fact that Wagner, urged by personal reasons, has ungratefuly called him +‘a miserable music-maker,’ and ‘a Jewish banker to whom it occurred +to compose operas.’ Granting that his qualities were those of the +master artisan rather than the master artist, admitting his weakness +for ‘voluptuous ballets, for passion torn to tatters, ecclesiastical +display, and violent death,’ for violent contrast rather than subtle +characterization, he still lives in his influence, which may be said to +have founded the melodramatic school of opera now so popular, of which +_Cavalleria rusticana_ is perhaps the most striking example. As long as +intensity of passion and power of dramatic treatment are regarded as +fitting in dramatic music his name will live. Zola’s eulogy, put in the +mouth of one of the characters in his _L’Œuvre_, rings true: + +‘Meyerbeer, a shrewd fellow who profited by everything, ... bringing, +after Weber, the symphony into opera, giving dramatic expression to +the unconscious formula of Rossini. Oh, what superb evocations, feudal +pomp, military mysticism, the thrill of fantastic legend, the cries +of passion traversing history. And what skill the personality of the +instruments, dramatic recitative symphonically accompanied by the +orchestra, the typical phrase upon which an entire work is built.... An +ingenious fellow, a most ingenious fellow!’ + + * * * * * + +The French grand opera of Rossini and Meyerbeer was the musical +expression of dramatic passionate sentiments, affording scope to every +excellence of vocal and orchestral technique and even to every device +of stage setting. It is not strange that it appealed to contemporary +composers, even Auber, Hérold, Halévy, and Adam, though more generally +identified with the _opéra comique_, attempted grand opera with varying +success. + +Auber, in his _La muette de Portici_ (‘Masaniello’), given in 1828, +meets Spontini, Rossini, and Meyerbeer on their own ground with a +historical drama of considerable beauty and power. Its portrayal of +revolutionary sentiment was so convincing that its first performance +in Brussels (1830) precipitated the revolution which ended in the +separation of Holland and Belgium. Hérold united with Auber’s elegance +and polish greater depth of feeling. _Zampa_ (1831), a grand opera on a +fanciful subject, and _Le pré aux clercs_ (1832) are his best serious +operas. His early death cut short the development of his unusual +dramatic gift. Halévy even went so far as to distort his natural style +in the effort to emulate Meyerbeer. Of his grand operas, _La Juive_ +(1835), _La Reine de Chypre_ (1841), _Charles VI_ (1834), _La Tempesta_ +(1850), only the first, a work of gloomy sublimity, with fine melodies +and much good instrumentation, may be called a masterpiece. Adam’s few +attempts at grand opera were entirely unsuccessful, though his comic +operas enjoyed tremendous vogue. + +But the influence of Rossini and Meyerbeer on grand opera has continued +far beyond their own time. The style of _La Patrie_ by Paladilhe is +directly influenced by Meyerbeer. Verdi, in his earlier works, _Guido_, +_Trovatore_, _I Lombardi_, shows traces of his methods. Gounod, in +the ‘dispute’ scene in the fourth act of _Romeo et Juliette_ likewise +reflects Meyerbeer; and Wagner was not above profiting from him whom he +most scornfully and unjustly belittled. + +In summing up the contributions of Rossini and Meyerbeer to the history +of music, it may be said that their operas, and in particular those of +the latter, are a continuation and amplification of the heritage of +Gluck. Édouard Schuré says in his important work, _Le Drame Musical_: +‘The secret of the opera of Meyerbeer is the pursuit of effect for +effect’s sake.’ Yet it will be remembered that Gluck himself wrote in +the preface of his _Alceste_: ‘I attach no importance to formulas; I +have sacrificed all to the effect to be produced.’ The art of Gluck +and the art of Meyerbeer have the same point of departure, and each +is expressed in formulas which, while quite distinct and individual, +denote the highest dramatic genius. Both Rossini and Meyerbeer +increased the value of the orchestra in expressing emotion in all +its phases in connection with the drama; and helped to open the way +for the later development of French grand opera and the innovations +of Richard Wagner. Weber and Schubert had both died before Meyerbeer +began to play an important part. Succeeding Spontini and Rossini as +the dominant figure of the grand opera stage, his real successor was +Richard Wagner. But, though Rossini, Meyerbeer, and their followers +had enriched the technical resources of opera, had broadened the range +of topic and plot, yet they had not turned aside the main current of +operatic composition very far from its bed. The romantic and dramatic +tendencies which they had introduced, however, were to bear fruit more +especially in French romanticism and the development of the evolution +of the French _opéra comique_ into the _drame lyrique_. + + + IV + +An account of the origin and development of the French _opéra comique_ +as a purely national form of dramatic musical entertainment has already +been given in the chapter dealing with Gluck’s operatic reform. Here +we will briefly show its development during the period of which he have +spoken. + +François-Adrien Boieldieu[72] may be considered (together with Niccolò +Isouard) the last composer of the older type of _opéra comique_, to +which his operas _Jean de Paris_ and _La dame blanche_ gave a new +and lasting distinction. As Pougin says: ‘It is positive that comic +opera, as Boieldieu understood it, was an art-work, delicate in type, +with genuine flavor and an essentially varied color.’ Boieldieu was +especially successful in utilizing the rhythmic life of French folk +song, and _La dame blanche_ has those same qualities of solid merit +and real musical invention found in the serious _opéra comique_ of +Cherubini and Méhul. In fact, it was these three composers who gave +the _genre_ a new trend. In Scudo’s words, Boieldieu’s work is ‘the +happy transition from Grétry to Hérold and, together with Méhul and +Cherubini, the highest musical expression in the comic opera field. +After Boieldieu’s time the influence of Rossini became so strong that +_opéra comique_ began to lose its character as a distinct national +operatic form.’ + +The influence of Rossini was especially noticeable in the work of the +group of _opéra comique_ composers, including Auber, Hérold, Halévy, +Adam, Victor Massé, Maillard, who were to prepare the way for the lyric +drama of Thomas and Gounod. The contributions of Auber, Hérold and +Halévy to the ‘historical’ or grand opera repertory have already been +mentioned in the review of operatic development in Italy and France. +Here we will only consider their work as a factor in transforming the +French comic opera of Méhul and Boieldieu into the more sentimental +and fanciful type of which the modern romantic French opera was to be +born. One fact which furthered the transition from _opéra comique_ to +_drame lyrique_ was the frequent absence of the element of farce, with +the consequent encouragement of a more poetic and romantic musical +development. + +Daniel-François-Esprit Auber (1782-1871) uninterruptedly busy from +1840 to 1871,[73] and his name identified with many of the greatest +successes of the comic opera stage of his time, has been somewhat +unjustly termed ‘a superficial Rossini.’ Auber undoubtedly borrowed +from Rossini in his musical treatment of the comic, and he had little +idea of powerful ensemble effects or of polyphonic writing; but grace, +sweetness, and brilliancy of instrumentation cannot be denied him. +‘The child of Voltaire and Rossini,’ from about 1822 on he wrote +operas in conjunction with the librettist Scribe. _Fra Diavolo_ (1830) +shows Auber at his best in comic opera. ‘The music is gay and tuneful, +without dropping into commonplace; the rhythms are brilliant and +varied, and the orchestration neat and appropriate.’ Incidentally, it +might be remarked that Auber has written an opera on a subject which +since his time has appealed both to Massenet and Puccini, _Manon +Lescaut_ (1856), which in places foreshadows Verdi’s ardently dramatic +art. + +In spite of Auber’s personal and professional success (not only was +he considered one of the greatest operatic composers of his day, but +also he succeeded Gossec in the Académie (1835), was director of the +Conservatory of Music (1842), and imperial _maître de chapelle_ to +Napoleon III), he was essentially modest. With more confidence in +himself than Meyerbeer he was quite as unpretentious as the latter. +Though by no means ungrateful to the artists who contributed to the +success of his works he would say: ‘I don’t cuddle them and put +them in cotton-wool, like Meyerbeer. It is perfectly logical that +he should do so. The Nourrits, the Levasseurs, the Viardot-Garcias, +and the Rogers are not picked up at street corners; but bring me the +first urchin you meet who has a decent voice and a fair amount of +intelligence and in six months he’ll sing the most difficult part I +ever wrote, with the exception of that of Masaniello. My operas are a +kind of warming-pan for great singers. There is something in being a +good warming-pan.’ + +Hérold’s most distinctive comic operas are _Marie_ and _Le Muletier_ +(1848). The last-named is a setting of a rather spicy libretto by Paul +de Kock, the novelist whose field was that of ‘middle class Parisian +life, of _guingettes_ and _cabarets_ and equivocal adventures,’ and +was highly successful. It seems a far cry from an operetta of this +style to the romanticism of the _drame lyrique_. But if an occasional +score harked back as regards vulgarity of subject to the equivocal +popular couplets which the Comtesse du Barry had Larrivée sing for the +entertainment of the sexagenarian Louis XV at Luciennes some sixty +years before, it only serves to emphasize by contrast the trend in the +direction of a finer expression of sentiment. Halévy’s masterpiece in +comic opera is _L’Éclair_ (1835). A curiosity of musical literature, +it is written for two tenors and two sopranos, without a chorus; ‘and +displays in a favorable light the composer’s mastery of the most +refined effects of instrumentation and vocalization.’ Wagner, while +living in greatly reduced circumstances in Paris, had been glad to +arrange a piano score and various quartets for strings of Halévy’s +_Guitarrero_ (1841). + +The most famous of Auber’s disciples was Adolphe-Charles Adam +(1802-1856). Adam had been one of Boieldieu’s favorite pupils and +was an adept at copying Auber’s style. Auber’s music gained or lost +in value according to the chance that conditioned its composer’s +inspiration; but it was always spiritual, elegant, and ingenious, +hiding real science and dignity beneath the mask of frivolity. Adam, +on the other hand, was an excellent imitator, but his music was not +original. He wrote more than fifty light, exceedingly tuneful and +‘catchy’ light operas, of which _Le Châlet_ (1834); _Le postillon de +Longjumeau_ (1836), which had a tremendous vogue throughout Europe; _Le +brasseur de Preston_ (1838); _Le roi d’Yvetot_ (1842), and _Cagliostro_ +(1844) are the best known. Grisar, another disciple of Auber, furnishes +another example of graceful facility in writing, combined with a lack +of originality. Maillart’s (1817-1871) _Les dragons de Villars_, which +duplicated its Parisian successes in Germany under the title of _Das +Glöckchen des Eremiten_, was the most popular of the six operas he +wrote. Victor Massé (1822-1884) is known chiefly by _Galathée_ (1852), +_Les noces de Jeanette_ (1853), and _Paul et Virginie_ (1876). + + F. H. M. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[66] Although Weber was born before Rossini (1786) and his period is +synchronous with the present chapter, it has been thought best, because +of his close connection with the romantic movement in Germany, to treat +him in the next chapter. + +[67] Two measures in the tonic, repeated in the dominant, the whole +gone over three times with increasing dynamic emphasis, constituted the +famous Rossini _crescendo_. + +[68] The recitatives sung by the character of Christ in Bach’s St. +Matthew Passion are so accompanied. Bach likewise wrote out the vocal +ornaments of all his arias. + +[69] Nicolo Isouard is a typical character of the time. He was born +on the island of Malta, educated in Paris, showing unusual ability as +a pianist, prepared for the navy and established in trade in Naples. +Finally against his father’s wishes he became a composer. To spare his +family disgrace he wrote under the name of Nicolo. He died in Paris in +1818. + +[70] Gaetano Rossi (1780-1855), an Italian librettist, quite as +prolific as Scribe and as popular as a text-writer among his own +countrymen as the latter was in Paris, wrote the book of _Semiramide_. +Among his texts were: Donizetti’s _Linda di Chamounix_ and _Maria +Padilla_; Guecco’s _La prova d’un opera seria_; Mercadante’s _Il +Giuramento_; Rossini’s _Tancredi_; and Meyerbeer’s _Crociato in Egitto_. + +[71] Eugène Scribe (1791-1861) was the librettist _de mode_ of the +period. Aside from his novels he wrote over a hundred libretti, +including Meyerbeer’s _Robert_, _Les Huguenots_, _Le Prophète_, +and _L’Africaine_; Auber’s _La Muette_, _Fra Diavolo_, _Le domino +noir_, _Les diamants de la couronne_; Halévy’s _La Juive_ and _Manon +Lescault_; Boieldieu’s _Dame blanche_; and Verdi’s _Les vêpres +siciliennes_. + +[72] Born, Rouen, 1775; died, near Paris, 1834. + +[73] When only a boy of eleven he composed pretty airs which the +_décolletées_ nymphs of the Directory sang between waltzes at the +soirées given by Barras, and he survived the fall of the Second Empire. +_Les pantins de Violette_, a charming little score, was given at the +Bouffes four days before he died. + + + + + CHAPTER VI + THE ROMANTIC MOVEMENT: ITS CHARACTERISTICS AND ITS GROWTH + + Modern music and modern history; characteristics of the music of + the romantic period--Schubert and the German romantic movement + in literature--Weber and the German reawakening--The Paris of + 1830: French romanticism--Franz Liszt--Hector Berlioz--Chopin; + Mendelssohn--Leipzig and Robert Schumann--Romanticism and classicism. + + + I + +Modern history--the history of modern art and modern thought, as well +as that of modern politics--dates from July 14, 1789, the capture of +the Bastille at the hands of the Parisian mob. Carlyle says there +is only one other real date in all history, and that is one without +a date, lost in the mists of legends--the Trojan war. There is no +political event, no war or rumor of war among the European nations of +to-day which, when traced to its source, does not somehow flow from +that howling rabble which sweated and cursed all day long before the +prison--symbol of absolute artistocratic power--overpowered the handful +of guards which defended it and made known to the king, through his +minister, its message: ‘Sire, this is not an insurrection; it is a +revolution!’ + +For a century and a quarter the mob of July 14th has stood like a wall +between the Middle Ages and modern times. No less than modern politics, +modern thought and all its artistic expression date from 1789. For, +against the authority of hereditary rules and rulers, the mob of +the Bastille proclaimed another authority, namely that of facts. The +notion that forms should square with facts and not facts with forms +then became the basis of men’s thinking. This truth had existed as a +theory in the minds of individual thinkers for many decades--even for +many centuries. But the Parisian mob first revealed the truth of it +by enacting it as a fact. From that fact the truth spread among men’s +minds, forcing them, according to their lights, to bring all forms +and authorities to the test of facts. Babies, who were to be the next +generation’s great men, were brought up in this kind of thought and +were subtly inoculated with it so that their later thinking was based +upon it, whether they would or no. And so men have come to ask of a +monarch, not whether he is a legitimate son of his house, but whether +he derives his authority from the will of the nation. They have come +to ask of a philosophy, not whether it is consistent, but whether it +is true. And they have come to ask of an art-form, not whether it is +perfect, but whether it is fitting to its subject-matter. + +When we come to compare the music of the nineteenth century with that +of the century preceding we find a contrast as striking as that between +the state of Europe as Napoleon left it with that as he found it. The +Europe of the eighteenth century was for the most part a conglomeration +of petty states, without national feeling, without standing armies in +the modern sense--states which their princes ruled as private property +for the supplying of their personal wants, with power of life and death +over their subjects; states whose soldiers ran away after the second +volley and whose warfare was little more than a formal and rather +stupid chess game; states whose statesmanship was the merest personal +intrigue of favorites. Among these states a few half-trained mobs of +revolutionary armies spread terror, and the young Napoleon amazed them +by demonstrating that soldiers who had their hearts in a great cause +could outfight those who had not. + +So, in contrast to the crystal clear symphonies of the eighteenth +century and the vocal roulades and delicate clavichord suites, we +find in the nineteenth huge orchestral works, grandiose operas, the +shattering of established forms, an astonishing increase in the size +of the orchestra and the complexity of its parts, the association of +music with high poetic ideas, and the utter rejection of most of the +prevailing harmonic rules. And with this extension of scope there came +a profound deepening in content, as much more profound and human as +the Parisian mob’s notion of society was more profound and human than +that of Louis XVI. The revolution and the Napoleonic age, which had +been periods of dazzling personal glory, in which individual ability +and will power became effective as never before, had stimulated the +egotistic impulses of the nineteenth century. People came to feel that +a thing could perhaps be good merely because they wanted it. Hence +the personal and emotional notes sound in the music of the nineteenth +century as they never sounded before. The sentimental musings of +Chopin, the intense emotional expression of Schumann’s songs, the wild +and willful iconoclasm of Berlioz’s symphonies were personal in the +highest degree. And, as the complement to this individual expression, +there dawned a certain folk or mob-expression, for the post-Napoleonic +age was also an age of national awakening. The feeling of men that +they are part of a group of human beings rather than of a remote +empire is the feeling which we have in primitive literature, in the +epics and fairy stories, the ballads and folk epics. This folk-feeling +came to brilliant expression in Liszt’s Hungarian rhapsodies, and +the deep heroic note sounds quite as grandly in his symphonic poems. +Music took on a power, by the aid of subtle suggestion, of evoking +physical images; and, in deeper sincerity, it achieved something like +accurate depiction of the emotions. A thousand shades of expression, +never dreamed of before, were brought into the art. Men’s ears became +more delicate, in that they distinguished nuance of tone and phrase, +and particularly the individual qualities of various instruments, as +never before; it was the great age of the pianoforte, in which the +instrument was dowered with a musical literature of its own, comparable +in range and beauty with that of the orchestra. The instruments of +the orchestra, too, were cultivated with attention to their peculiar +powers, and the potentialities of orchestral expression were multiplied +many times over. + +It was the great age of subdivision into schools and of the development +of national expression. The differences between German, French, and +Italian music in the eighteenth century are little more than matters of +taste and emphasis--variations from one stock. But the national schools +which developed during the romantic period differ utterly in their +musical material and treatment. + +It was the golden age of virtuosity. The technical facility of such +men as Kalkbrenner and Czerny came to dazzling fruition in Liszt and +Paganini, whose concert tours were triumphal journeys and whose names +were on people’s lips like those of great national conquerors. This +virtuosity took hold of people’s imaginations; Liszt and Paganini +became, even during their lifetimes, glittering miracular legends. +Their exploits were, during the third and fourth decades of the +century, the substitute for those of Napoleon in the first fifteen +years. Their exploits expanded with the growing interrelation of modern +life. The great growth of newspaper circulation in the Napoleonic age, +and the spread of railroads through the continent in the thirties, +increased many times the glory and extent of the virtuoso’s great deeds. + +But the travelling virtuoso was a symbol of a far more important +fact. For in this age musicians began to break away entirely from the +personal patron; they appealed, for their justification and support, +from the prince to the people. The name of a great musician was, thanks +to the means of communication, spread broadcast among men, and there +was something like an adequate living to be made by a composer-pianist +from his concerts and the sale of his compositions. From the time of +the revolution on it was the French state, with its Conservatory and +its theatres, not the French court, which was the chief patron of the +arts. And from Napoleonic times on it was the people at large, or at +least the more cultured part of them, whose approval the artist sought. +In all essentials, from the fall of Napoleon onward, it was a modern +world in which the musician found himself. + +But it is evident that we cannot get along far in this examination +of romantic music without reviewing the outward social history +of the time. It is a time of colors we can never discover from a +mere observation of outward facts and dates, for it is a time of +complexities of superficial intrigue likely to obscure its meaning. We +must, therefore, see the period, not as most historians give it to us, +but as a movement of great masses of people and of the growing ideas +which directed their actions. Royal courts and popular assemblies were +not the real facts, but only the clearing houses for the real facts. +The balances, on one or the other side of the ledger, which they showed +bear only the roughest kind of relation to the truth. + +It is well to skeleton this period with five dates. The first is the +one already met, 1789. The next is the assumption of the consulate by +Napoleon in 1799, which was practically the beginning of the empire. +The next is the fall of Napoleon, which we may place in 1814, after +the battle of Leipzig, or in 1815, after Waterloo, as we prefer. The +next is 1830, when, after conservative reaction throughout Europe, the +mobs in most of the great capitals raised insurrections, and in some +cases overthrew governments and obtained some measure of constitutional +law. And the last is 1848, when these popular outbreaks recurred in +still more serious form, and with a proletarian consciousness that made +this revolution the precursor of the twentieth century as certainly as +1789 was the precursor of the nineteenth. + +We cannot here give the details of the mighty and prolonged +struggle--we shall only recall to the reader the astounding sequence +of cataclysms and exploits that shook Europe; roused its consciousness +strata by strata; remodelled its face, its thought, its ideals, its +laws, and its arts. Paris was the nervous centre of this upheaval, the +stage upon which the most conspicuous acts were paraded; but every blow +struck in that arena reëchoed, multiplied, throughout Europe, just as +every wave of the turmoil originating in any part of Europe recorded +itself upon the seismograph of Paris. From the tyranny and unthinking +submission of before 1789 we pass to a period of constitutional +tolerance of the monarchical form; thence to the aggressive propaganda +for republican principles and the terror; thence to the personal +exploits of a popular hero, arousing wonder and admiration while +imposing a new sort of tyranny. Stimulated imaginations now give +birth to new enthusiasms, stir up the feelings of national unity and +pride; to consciousness of nationality succeeds consciousness of +class--reactions and restorations bring new revolutions, successful +mobs impose terms on submissive monarchs, at Paris in 1833 as at +Berlin in 1848; then finally follows the communist manifesto. France, +Germany, Austria, Hungary, Bohemia, even England, were convulsed with +this glorious upheaval; and not kings and soldiers alone, but men +of peaceful moods--workingmen, men of professions, poets, artists, +musicians--were borne into this whirlpool of politics. Musicians of +the eighteenth century had no thoughts but of their art; those of +the nineteenth were national enthusiasts, celebrants of contemporary +heroes, political philosophers, propagandists, and agitators. What +wonder? Since the days of Julius Cæsar had there been any concrete +events to take hold of men’s imaginations as these did? They set all +men ‘thinking big.’ If the difference between a Haydn symphony of +1790 and Beethoven’s Ninth of 1826 is the difference between a toy +shop and the open world, is not the cause to be found mainly in these +battles of the nations? Not only Beethoven--Berlioz, Chopin, Liszt, and +Wagner, the political exile, were affected by the successive events +of 1789 to 1848. As proof of how closely musical history coincides +with the revolution wrought by these momentous years, let us recall +that Beethoven, the real source of romantic music, lived at the time +of Napoleon and by the _Eroica_ symphony actually touches Napoleon; +and that by the year 1848, which is the last of those dates which we +have chosen as the historic outline of the romantic movement in music, +Schubert and Weber were long dead, Mendelssohn was dead, Chopin was +almost on his deathbed, Schumann was drifting toward the end, Berlioz +was weary of life, and Liszt was working quietly at Weimar, which had +been for years one of the most liberal spots in Germany. And, as if +Wagner’s dreams of a mighty national music attended the realization of +the dream of all Germany, the foundation stone of the national theatre +at Bayreuth was laid hardly a year after the unity of the German empire +was declared at Versailles in 1871. + +How shall we characterize the music of this period? In musical terms +it is almost impossible to characterize it as a whole, for the steady +stream of tradition had broken up violently into a multitude of +forms and styles, and these must be characterized one by one as they +come under our consideration. As a whole, it must be characterized +in broader terms. For the assertion of the Parisian mob was at the +bottom of it all. Previously men’s imaginations had been bounded by +the traditional types; they took it for granted that they must contain +themselves within the limitations to which they had been born. But +since a dirty rabble had overturned the power of the Bourbons, and an +obscure Corsican had married into the house of Hapsburg, men realized +that nothing is impossible; limitations are made only to be broken +down. The intellectual giant of the age had brought this realization to +supreme literary expression in ‘Faust,’ the epic of the man who would +include within himself all truth and all experience. And, whereas the +ideal of the previous age had been to work within limits and so become +perfect, the ideal of this latter age was to work without limits and so +become great. Throughout the first half of the nineteenth century this +sense of freedom to achieve the impossible was the presiding genius of +music. + +And with it, as a corollary to it, came one thing more, a thing +which is the second great message of Goethe’s ‘Faust’--the idea that +truth must be personally experienced, that while it is abstract it +is non-existent. Faust could not know love except by being young and +falling in love. He could not achieve his redemption by understanding +the beauty of service; he must redeem himself by actually serving his +fellowmen. And so in the nineteenth century men came to feel that +beautiful music cannot be merely contemplated and admired, but must be +lived with and felt. Accordingly composers of this period emphasized +continually the sensuous in their music, developing orchestral colors, +dazzling masses of tone, intense harmonies and biting dissonances, +delicate half-lights of modulation, and the deep magic of human song. +The change in attitude from music as a thing to be admired to music +as a thing to be felt is perhaps the chief musical fact of the early +nineteenth century. + + + II + +Let us now consider the great romantic composers as men living amid the +stress and turmoil of revolution. All but Schubert were more or less +closely in touch with it. All but him and Mendelssohn were distinctly +revolutionists, skilled as composers and hardly less skilled to defend +in impassioned prose the music they had written. As champions of the +‘new’ in music they are best studied against the background of young +Europe in arms and exultant. + +But in the case of Franz Schubert we can almost dispense with the +background. His determining influences, so far as they affected his +peculiar contributions to music, were almost wholly literary. He was an +ideal example of what we call the ‘pure musician.’ There is nothing to +indicate that he was interested in anything but his art. He lived in or +near Vienna during all the Napoleonic invasions, but was concerned only +with escaping military service. Schubert was the last of the musical +specialists. From the time when his schoolmaster father first directed +his musical inclinations he had only one interest in the world, outside +of the ordinary amusements of his Bohemian life. If Bach was dominated +by his Protestant piety and Handel by the lure of outward success, +Schubert worked for no other reason than his love of the beautiful +sounds which he created (and of which he heard few enough in his short +lifetime). + +Yet even here we are forced back for a moment to the political +background. For it is to be noticed that the great German composers +of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century found their +activities centred in and near Vienna: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, and +Schubert are all preëminently Austrian. In the second quarter of the +nineteenth century--that is, after the death of Schubert--there is +not a single great composer living in Vienna for more than a short +period of time. The political situation of Vienna, the stronghold of +darkness at this time, must have had a blighting effect on vigorous and +open-minded men. At a time when the most stimulating intellectual life +was surging through Germany generally, Vienna was suffering the most +rigid censorship and not a ray of light from the intellectual world +was permitted to enter the city. Weber felt this in 1814 in Austrian +Prague. He wrote: ‘The few composers and scholars who live here groan +for the most part under a yoke which has reduced them to slavery and +taken away the spirit which distinguishes the true free-born artist.’ +Weber, a true free-born artist, left Prague at the earliest opportunity +and went to Dresden, where the national movement, though frowned +upon, was open and aggressive. Schubert, on the contrary, because of +poverty and indolence, never left Vienna and the territory immediately +surrounding. In the preceding generation, when music was still flowing +in the calm traditions, composers could work best in such a shut-in +environment. (It is possibly well to remember, however, that Austria +had a fit of liberalism in the two decades preceding Napoleon’s +régime.) But with the nineteenth century things changed; when the +beacon of national life was lighting the best spirits of the time, the +composers left Vienna and scattered over Germany or settled in Paris +and London. Schubert alone remained, his imagination indifferent to the +world beyond. In all things but one he was a remnant of the eighteenth +century, living on within the walls of the eighteenth century Vienna. +But this one thing, which made him a romanticist, a link between the +past and the present, a promise for the future, was connected, like all +the other important things of the time, with the revolution and the +Napoleonic convulsions. It was, in short, the German national movement +expressed in the only form in which it could penetrate to Vienna; +namely, the romantic movement in literature. Not in the least that +Schubert recognized it as such; his simple soul doubtless saw nothing +in it but an opportunity for beautiful melodies. But its inspiration +was the German nationalist movement. + +The fuel was furnished in the eighteenth century in the renaissance of +German folk-lore and folk poetry. The researches of Scott among the +Scotch Highlands, Bishop Percy’s ‘Reliques’ of English and Scottish +folk poetry, the vogue which Goethe’s _Werther_ gave to Ossian and +his supposed Welsh poetry, and, most of all, the ballads of Bürger, +including the immortal ‘Lenore,’ contributed, toward the end of the +century, to an intense interest in old Germanic popular literature. +Uhland, one of the most typical of the romantic poets, fed, in his +youthful years, on ‘old books and chronicles with wonderful pictures, +descriptions of travel in lands where the inhabitants had but one +eye, placed in the centre of the forehead, and where there were men +with horses’ feet and cranes’ necks, also a great work with gruesome +engravings of the Spanish wars in the Netherlands.’[74] When he looked +out on the streets he saw Austrian or French soldiers moving through +the town and realized that there was an outside world of romantic +passions and great issues--a thing Schubert never realized. Even +then he was filled with patriotic fervor and his beloved Germanic +folk-literature became an expression of it. In 1806-08 appeared Arnim +and Brentano’s _Des Knaben Wunderhorn_, a collection of German folk +poetry of all sorts--mostly taken down by word of mouth from the +people--which did for Germany what Percy’s ‘Reliques’ had done for +England. Under this stimulus the German romantic movement became, in +Heine’s words, ‘a reawakening of the poetry of the Middle Ages, as it +had manifested itself in its songs, paintings, and architecture,’[75] +placed at the service of the national awakening. + +But patriotic fervor was the ‘underground meaning’ of the romantic +movement. This hardly penetrated to Schubert. He saw in it only his +beautiful songs and the inspiration of immortal longings awakened +by ‘old books and chronicles with wonderful pictures.’ He had at +his disposal a wonderful lyrical literature. First of all Goethe, +originator of so much that is rich in modern German life; Rückert and +Chamisso, and Müller, singers of the personal sentiments; Körner, the +soldier poet, and Uhland, spokesman for the people and apologist for +the radical wing of the liberal political movement; Wieland and Herder; +and, in the last months of his life, Heine, ultra-lyricist, satirist, +and cosmopolite. + +From this field Schubert’s instinct selected the purely lyrical, +without regard to its tendency, with little critical discrimination +of any sort. Thanks to his fertility, he included in his list of +songs all the best lyric poets of his time. And to these poets he +owed what was new and historically significant in the spirit of his +musical output. This new element, reduced to its simplest terms, was +the emotional lyrical quality at its purest. His musical training was +almost exclusively classical, so far as it was anything at all. He knew +and adored first Mozart and later Beethoven. But these composers would +not have given him his wonderful gift of expressive song. And since it +is never sufficient to lay any specific quality purely to inborn genius +(innate genius is, on the whole, undifferentiated and not specific), +we must lay it, in Schubert’s case, to the romantic poets. From the +earliest years of his creative (as opposed to his merely imitative) +life, he set their songs to music; he found nothing else so congenial; +inevitably the spontaneous song called forth by these lyrics dominated +his musical thinking. The romantic poets had taught him to create from +the heart rather than from the intelligence. + +Franz Schubert was born at Lichtenthal, a suburb of Vienna, in +1797, one of a family of nineteen children, of whom ten survived +childhood. Instructed in violin playing by his father--nearly all +German school-masters played the violin--he evinced an astounding +musical talent at a very early age, was taken as boy soprano into the +Vienna court chapel, and instructed in the musical choir school--the +_Convict_--receiving lessons from Rucziszka and Salieri. At sixteen, +when his voice changed, he left the _Convict_ and during three years +assisted his father as elementary school teacher in Lichtenthal. But +in the meantime he composed no less than eight operas, four masses, +and other church works and a number of songs. Not till 1817 was he +enabled, through the generosity of his friend Schober, to devote +himself entirely to music; never in his short life was he in a position +to support himself adequately by means of his art: as musical tutor +in the house of Esterhàzy in Hungary (1818-1824) he was provided for +only during the summer months; Salieri’s post as vice-kapellmeister +in Vienna as well as the conductorship of the Kärntnerthor Theatre he +failed to secure. Hence, he was dependent upon the meagre return from +his compositions and the assistance of a few generous friends--singers, +like Schönstein and Vogl, who made his songs popular. Narrow as his +sphere of action was the circle of those who appreciated him. Public +recognition he secured only in his last year, with a single concert +of his own compositions. He died in 1828, at the age of thirty-one. +During that short span his productivity was almost incredible; operas, +mostly forgotten (their texts alone would make them impossible) and +some lost choral works of extraordinary merit; symphonies, some of +which rank among the masterpieces of all times; fourteen string +quartets and many other chamber works; piano sonatas of deep poetic +content, and shorter piano pieces (_Moments musicals_, impromptus, +etc.) poured from his magic pen, but especially songs, to the number of +650, a great many of which are immortal. Schubert was able to publish +only a portion of this prodigious product during his lifetime. Much +of it has since his death been resurrected from an obscure bundle of +assorted music found among his effects, and at his death valued at 10 +florins ($2.12)! A perfect stream of posthumous symphonies, operas, +quartets, songs, every sort of music appeared year after year till the +world began to doubt their authenticity. Schumann, upon his visit to +Vienna in 1838, still discovered priceless treasures, including the +great C major symphony. + +As a man Schubert never got far away from the peasant stock from which +he came. He was casual and careless in his life; a Bohemian rather +from shiftlessness than from high spirits; content to work hard and +faithfully, and demanding nothing more than a seidel of beer and a +bosom companion for his diversion. He was never intellectual, and what +we might call his culture came only from desultory reading. He was as +sensitive as a child and as trusting and warm-hearted. His musical +education had never been consistently pursued; his fertility was so +great that he preferred dashing off a new piece to correcting an old +one. Hence his work tends to be prolix, and, in the more academic +sense, thin. Toward the end of his life, however, he felt his technical +shortcomings, and at the time of his death had made arrangements for +lessons in counterpoint from Sechter. It is fair to say that we +possess only Schubert’s early works. Though they are some 1,800 in +number, they are only a fragment of what he would have produced had he +reached three-score and ten. By the age at which he died Wagner had not +written ‘Tannhäuser’ nor Beethoven his Third Symphony. + +In point of natural genius no composer, excepting possibly Mozart, +excelled him. His rich and pure vein of melody is unmatched in all the +history of music. We have already pointed out the strong influence of +the great Viennese classics upon Schubert. In forming an estimate of +his style we must recur to a comparison with them. We think immediately +of Mozart when we consider the utter spontaneity, the inevitableness of +Schubert’s melodies, his inexhaustible well of inspiration, the pure +loveliness, the limpid clarity of his phrases. Yet in actual subject +matter he is more closely connected to Beethoven--it is no detraction +to say that in his earlier period he freely borrowed from him, for, in +Mr. Hadow’s words, Schubert always ‘wears his rue with a difference.’ +Again, in his procedure, in his harmonic progression and the rhythmic +structure of his phrases, he harks back to Haydn; the abruptness of +his modulations, the clear-cut directness of his articulation, the +folk-flavor of some of his themes are closely akin to that master’s +work. But out of all this material he developed an idiom as individual +as any of his predecessors’. + +The essential quality which distinguishes that idiom is lyricism. +Schubert is the lyricist _par excellence_. More than any of the +Viennese masters was he imbued with the poetic quality of ideas. His +musical phrases are poetic where Mozart’s are purely musical. They have +the force of words, they seem even translations of words, they are the +equivalents of one certain poetic sentiment and no other; they fit +one particular mood only. In the famous words of Lizst, Schubert was +_le musicien le plus poète qui fût jamais_ (the most poetic musician +that ever lived). We may go further. Granting that Mozart, too, was a +poetic musician, Schubert was a musical poet. What literary poet does +he resemble? Hadow compares him to Keats; a German would select Heine. +For Heine had all of that simplicity, that unalterable directness +which we can never persuade ourselves was the result of intellectual +calculation or of technical skill; he is so artless an artist that we +feel his phrases came to him ready-made, a perfect gift from heaven, +which suffered no criticism, no alteration or improvement. + +Schubert died but one year after Beethoven, a circumstance which alone +gives us reason to dispute his place among the romantic composers. He +himself would hardly have placed himself among them, for he did not +relish even the romantic vagaries of Beethoven at the expense of pure +beauty, though he worshipped that master in love and awe. ‘It must be +delightful and refreshing for the artist,’ he wrote of his teacher +Salieri upon the latter’s jubilee, ‘to hear in the compositions of his +pupils simple nature with its expression, free from all oddity, such as +is now dominant with most musicians and for which we have to thank one +of our greatest German artists almost exclusively....’ Yet, as Langhans +says, ‘not to deny his inclination to elegance and pure beauty, he was +able to approach the master who was unattainable in these departments +(orchestral and chamber music) more closely than any one of his +contemporaries and successors.’[76] Yes, and in some respects he was +able to go beyond. ‘With less general power of design than his great +predecessors he surpasses them all in the variety of his color. His +harmony is extraordinarily rich and original, his modulations are +audacious, his contrasts often striking and effective and he has a +peculiar power of driving his point home by sudden alterations in +volume of sound.’[77] In the matter of form he could allow himself +more freedom--he could freight his sonatas with a poetic message that +stretched it beyond conventional bounds, for his audience was better +prepared to comprehend it. And while his polyphony is never like that +of Beethoven, or even Mozart, his sensuous harmonic style, crystal +clear and gorgeously varied, with its novel and enchanting use of the +enharmonic change and its subtle interchange of the major and minor +modes, supplies a richness and variety of another sort and in itself +constitutes an advance, the starting point of harmonic development +among succeeding composers. By these tokens and ‘by a peculiar quality +of imagination in his warmth, his vividness and impatience of formal +restraint, he points forward to the generation that should rebel +against all formality.’ But, above all, by his lyric quality. He is +lyric where Beethoven is epic; and lyricism is the very essence of +romanticism. Whatever his stature as a symphonist, as a composer in +general, his position as song writer is unique and of more importance +than any other. Here he creates a new form, not by a change of +principle, by a theoretically definable process, but ‘a free artistic +creative activity, such as only a true genius, a rich personality not +forced by a scholastic education into definitely limited tracks, could +accomplish.’ + +The particular merit of this accomplishment of Schubert will have more +detailed discussion in the following chapter. But, aside from that, he +touched no form that he did not enrich. By his sense of beauty, unaided +by scholarship or the inspiration of great deeds in the outer world, +he made himself one of the great pioneers of modern music. Together +with Weber, he set the spirit for modern piano music and invented some +of its most typical forms. His _Moments Musicals_, impromptus, and +pieces in dance forms gave the impulse to an entire literature--the +_Phantasiestücke_ of Schumann, the songs without words of Mendelssohn +are typical examples. His quartets and his two great symphonies (the +C major and the unfinished B minor) have a beauty hardly surpassed in +instrumental music, and are inferior to the greatest works of their +kind only in grasp of form. His influence on posterity is immeasurable. +Not only in the crisp rhythms and harmonic sonorities of Schumann, in +the sensuous melodies and gracious turns of Mendelssohn, but in their +progeny, from Brahms to Grieg, there flows the musical essence of +Schubert. Who can listen to the slow movement of the mighty Brahms C +minor symphony without realizing the depth of that well of inspiration, +the universality of the idiom created by the last of the Vienna masters? + +Schubert’s music was indeed the swan-song of the Viennese period of the +history of music, and it is remarkable that a voice from that city, +more than any other in Europe bound to the old régime, should have sung +of the future of music. But so Schubert sang from a city of the past. +Meanwhile new voices were raised from other lands, strong with the +promise of the time. + + + III + +The great significance of Weber in musical history is that he may +fairly be called the first German national composer. Preceding +composers of the race had been German in the sense that they were of +German blood and their works were paid for by Germans, and also in +that their music usually had certain characteristics of the German +nature. But they were not consciously national in the aggressive +sense. Weber’s works are the first musical expression of a German +patriotism, cultivating what is most deeply and typically German, +singing German unity of feeling and presenting something like a solid +front against foreign feelings and art. But we are too apt to wave away +such a statement as a mere phrase. At a distance we are too liable to +suppose that a great art can come into being in response to a mere +sentimental idea. But German patriotism was a passion which was fought +for by the best brains and spirits of the time. It was in the heat of +conflict that Weber’s music acquired its deep meaning and its spiritual +intensity. + +To understand the state of affairs we must again go back to the +French Revolution. Germany was at the end of the eighteenth century +more rigidly mediæval than any other European country, save possibly +Russia and parts of Italy. The German patriot Stein thus described +the condition of Mecklenburg in a letter written in 1802: ‘I found +the aspect of the country as cheerless as its misty northern sky; +great estates, much of them in pastures or fallow; an extremely thin +population; the entire laboring class under the yoke of serfage; +stretches of land attached to solitary ill-built farm houses; in +short, a monotony, a dead stillness, spreading over the whole country; +an absence of life and activity that quite overcame my spirits. The +home of the Mecklenburg noble, who weighs like a load on his peasants +instead of improving their condition, gives me the idea of the den of +some wild beast, who devastates everything about him and surrounds +himself with the silence of the grave.’ If Stein was perhaps inclined +to be pessimistic in his effort to arouse German spirits, it is because +he has in his mind’s eye the possibility of better things, and the +actual superiority of conditions in France and England. Most observers +of the time viewed conditions with indifference. Goethe showed little +or no patriotism; ‘Germany is not a nation,’ he said curtly. + +After the peace of Lunéville and the Diet of Ratisbon the greater part +of Germany fell under Napoleon’s influence. The German people showed +no concern at thus passing under the control of the French. The German +states were nothing but the petty German courts. Fyffe[78] humorously +describes the process of political reorganization which the territory +underwent in 1801: ‘Scarcely was the Treaty of Lunéville signed when +the whole company of intriguers who had touted at Rastadt posted off +to the French capital with their maps and their money-bags, the keener +for the work when it became known that by common consent the free +cities of the empire were now to be thrown into the spoil. Talleyrand +and his confidant, Mathieu, had no occasion to ask for bribes, or to +maneuver for the position of arbiters in Germany. They were overwhelmed +with importunities. Solemn diplomatists of the old school toiled up +four flights of stairs to the lodging of the needy secretary, or +danced attendance at the parties of the witty minister. They hugged +Talleyrand’s poodle; they played blind-man’s buff and belabored each +other with handkerchiefs to please his little niece. The shrewder of +them fortified their attentions with solid bargains, and made it their +principal care not to be outbidden at the auction. Thus the game was +kept up as long as there was a bishopric or a city in the market.’ + +Such were the issues which controlled the national destiny of Germany +in 1801. Napoleon unintentionally gave the impetus to the German +resurgence by forcing some vestige of rational organization upon +the land. The internal condition of the priest-ruled districts was +generally wretched; heavy ignorance, beggary, and intolerance kept +life down to an inert monotony. The free cities, as a rule, were sunk +in debt; the management of their affairs had become the perquisite +of a few lawyers and privileged families. The new régime centralized +administration, strengthened the financial system, and relieved the +peasants of the most intolerable of their burdens, and thus gave them a +stake in the national welfare. + +Five years later Napoleon helped matters further by a rule of insolence +and national oppression that was intolerable to any educated persons +except the ever servile Prussian court. The battle of Jena and the +capture of Berlin had thrown all Prussia into French hands, and the +court into French alliances. Stein protested and attempted to arouse +the people. He met with indifference. Then came more indignities. +Forty thousand French soldiers permanently quartered on Prussian soil +taught the common people the bitterness of foreign domination. When +the Spanish resistance of 1808 showed the weakness of Napoleon a band +of statesmen and patriots, including the poet Arndt, the philosopher +Fichte and the theologian Schleiermacher, renewed their campaign for +national feeling, the only thing that could put into German armies +the spirit needful for Napoleon’s overthrow. In all this the House of +Hohenzollern and the ministers of the court of Potsdam played a most +inglorious rôle. The patriots were frowned upon or openly prosecuted. +Schill, a patriotic army officer, who attempted to attack the French +on his own account, was denounced from Berlin. Even when Napoleon was +returning defeated from Moscow, the jealousies of the court stood +out to the last against the spontaneous national uprising. Finally +Frederick William, the Prussian king, made a virtue of necessity and +entered the field in the name of German unity. + +But the nationalist movement had become a constitutionalist, even a +republican, movement. The German soldiers, returning home victorious +after the battle of Leipzig, received the expected promise of a +constitution from Frederick William. After two years of delay the +promise had been practically withdrawn. Only the examples of Weimar, +Bavaria, and Baden, together with the propaganda of the liberals, kept +the issue alive and growing, until it came to partial culmination in +1848. + +It was into this Napoleonic situation that Weber was thrown in his +most impressionable years. On a little vacation trip from Prague +he went to Berlin and saw the return of Frederick William and the +victorious Prussians from Paris after the battle of Leipzig. The +national frenzy took hold of him and, at his next moment of leisure, he +composed settings to some of Körner’s war songs, including the famous +_Du Schwert an meiner Linken_, which made him better known and loved +throughout Germany than all his previous works. To this day these +songs are sung by the German singing societies, and nothing in all +the literature of music is more truly German. To celebrate Waterloo +he composed a cantata, _Kampf und Sieg_, which in the next two years +was performed in a number of the capitals and secured to Weber his +nationalist reputation. It was well that he was thus brilliantly and +openly known at the time; he needed this reputation five years later +when his work took on a changed significance. + +Carl Maria Freiherr von Weber was born at Eutin, Oldenburg, in 1786, of +Austrian parentage, into what we should call the ‘decayed gentility.’ +His father was from time to time ‘retired army officer,’ director of a +theatre band, and itinerant theatre manager. His mother, who died when +he was seven, was an opera singer. The boy, under his stepbrother’s +proddings, became something of a musician, and, when left to his own +resources, a prodigy. His travellings were incessant, his studies a +patchwork.[79] Nevertheless he had success on his infantile concert +tours, and showed marked talent in his early compositions. At the age +of thirteen he wrote an opera, _Das Waldmädchen_, which was performed +in many theatres of Germany, and even in Russia. From the age of +sixteen to eighteen he was kapellmeister at the theatre in Breslau. +After some two years of uncertainty and rather fast life he became +private secretary to the Duke Ludwig of Württemberg. His life became +faster. He became involved in debts. Worse, he became involved in +intrigue. The king was suspicious. Weber was arrested and thrown into +prison. He was cleared of the charges against him, but was banished +from the kingdom. Realizing that the way of the transgressor is hard, +Weber now devoted himself to serious living and the making of music. +Then followed three undirected years, filled with literature and +reading, as well as music. In 1812, during a stay in Berlin, he amused +himself by teaching a war-song of his to the Brandenburg Brigade +stationed in the barracks. No doubt his life in the court of Stuttgart +had shown him the insincerity of aristocratic pretensions and had +turned his thoughts already to the finer things about him--that popular +liberal feeling which just now took the form of military enthusiasm. In +the following year he accepted the post of kapellmeister of the German +theatre at Prague, with the difficult problem of reorganizing the +opera, but with full authority to do it at his best. From this time on +his life became steady and illumined with serious purpose. He brought +to the theatre a rigor of discipline which it had not known before, and +produced a brilliant series of German operas. + +Early in 1817 he accepted a position as kapellmeister of the German +(as opposed to the Italian) opera of Dresden. It was a challenge to +his best powers, for the German opera of Dresden was practically +non-existent. For a century Italian opera had held undisputed sway, +with French a respected second. The light German _singspiele_, the +chief representative of German opera, were performed by second-rate +artists. All the prestige and influence of the city was for the Italian +and French. For the court of Dresden, like that of Berlin half a +century before, was thoroughly Frenchified. The king of Saxony owed his +kingdom to Napoleon and aristocratic Germans still regarded what was +German as mean and common. + +But there was a more significant reason for Weber’s peculiar position, +a reason that gave the color to his future importance. What was +patriotic was, as we have seen, in the eyes of the court liberal and +dangerous. To foster German opera was accordingly to run the risk of +fostering anti-monarchical sentiments. If, just at this time, the +court of Dresden chose to inaugurate a separate German opera, it was +as a less harmful concession to the demands of the populace, and more +particularly as a sort of anti-Austrian move which crystallized just at +this time in opposition to Metternich’s reactionism. But, though the +court wished a German opera, it felt no particular sympathy for it. In +the preliminary negotiations it tried to insist, until met with Weber’s +firm attitude, that its German kapellmeister should occupy a lower rank +than Morlacchi, the Italian director. And, as Weber’s fame as a German +nationalist composer grew, the court of Dresden was one of the last +to recognize it. In the face of such lukewarmness Weber established +the prestige of the German opera, and wrote _Der Freischütz_, around +which all German nationalist sentiment centred. But to understand why +_Freischütz_ occupied this peculiar position we must once more turn +back to history. + +‘On the 18th of October, 1817,’ says the ever-entertaining Fyffe, +‘the students of Jena, with deputations from all the Protestant +universities of Germany, held a festival at Eisenach, to celebrate +the double anniversary of the Reformation and of the battle of +Leipzig. Five hundred young patriots, among them scholars who had been +decorated for bravery at Waterloo, bound their brows with oak-leaves +and assembled within the venerable hall of Luther’s Wartburg castle, +sang, prayed, preached, and were preached to, dined, drank to German +liberty, the jewel of life, to Dr. Martin Luther, the man of God, +and to the grand duke of Saxe-Weimar; then descended to Eisenach, +fraternized with the _Landsturm_ in the market-place, and attended +divine service in the parish church without mishap. In the evening +they edified the townspeople with gymnastics, which were now the +recognized symbol of German vigor, and lighted a great bonfire on the +hill opposite the castle. Throughout the official part of the ceremony +a reverential spirit prevailed; a few rash words were, however, uttered +against promise-breaking kings, and some of the hardier spirits took +advantage of the bonfire to consign to the flames, in imitation of +Luther’s dealing with the Pope’s Bull, a quantity of what they deemed +un-German and illiberal writings. Among these was Schmalz’s pamphlet +(which attacked the _Tugendbund_ and other liberal German political +institutions of the Napoleonic period). They also burnt a soldier’s +straitjacket, a pigtail, and a corporal’s cane--emblems of the military +brutalism of past times which was now being revived in Westphalia.’ + +The affair stirred up great alarm among the courts of Europe, an alarm +out of all proportion to its true significance. The result--more +espionage and suppression of free speech. ‘With a million of men +under arms,’ adds Fyffe, ‘the sovereigns who had overthrown Napoleon +trembled because thirty or forty journalists and professors pitched +their rhetoric rather too high, and because wise heads did not grow +upon schoolboys’ shoulders.’ The liberal passion, in short, was there, +burning for a medium of expression. It was not allowed to appear on +the surface. The result was that it must look for expression in some +indirect way--in parables; in short, in works of art. In such times art +takes on a most astonishing parallel of double meanings. The phenomenon +happened in striking form some forty years later in Russia, when the +growing and rigidly suppressed demand for the liberation of the serfs +found expression in Turgenieff’s ‘Memoirs of a Sportsman,’ which is +called ‘the Russian “Uncle Tom’s Cabin.”’ The book was a mere series of +literary sketches, telling various incidents among the country people +during a season’s hunting. It showed not a note of passion, contained +not a shadow of a political reference. There was no ground on which the +censor could prohibit it, nor did the censor probably realize its other +meaning. But it proved the storm centre of the liberal agitation. And +so it has been with Russian literature for the last half century; those +whose hearts understood could read deep between the lines. + +And this was the position of _Der Freischütz_. The most reactionary +government could hardly prohibit the performance of a fanciful tale of +a shooting contest in which the devil was called upon to assist with +magic. But it represented what was German in opposition to what was +French or Italian. Its story came from the old and deep-rooted German +legends; its characters were German in all their ways; the institutions +it showed were old Germanic; its characters were the peasants and the +people of the lower class, who were, in the propaganda of the time, +the heart of the German nation. And, lastly, its melodies were of the +very essence of German folk-song, the institution, above all else save +only the German language, which made German hearts beat in tune. The +opera was first performed in Berlin, at the opening of the new court +theatre, on the sixth anniversary of the battle of Waterloo--that is in +1821. The success was enormous and within a year nearly every stage in +Germany had mounted the work. It was even heard in New York within a +few months. At every performance the enthusiasm was beyond all bounds, +and, after nine months of this sort of thing, Weber wrote in his diary +in Vienna: ‘Greater enthusiasm there cannot be; and I tremble to think +of the future, for it is scarcely possible to rise higher than this.’ +As for the court of Dresden, it realized slowly and grudgingly that it +had in its pay one of the great composers of the world. + +After _Freischütz_ it was indeed ‘scarcely possible to rise higher,’ +but Weber attempted a more ambitious task in a purely musical way +in his next opera, _Euryanthe_, which was a glorification of the +romanticism of the age--that of Jean Paul and E. T. A. Hoffmann, who +represented to the Germans of the time vigor of the imagination and +the freedom of the individual. Both _Euryanthe_ and _Oberon_, which +followed it, are very fine, but they could not repeat the success +of _Der Freischütz_, chiefly because Weber could not find another +_Freischütz_ libretto. The composer died in England on June 4, 1826, +after conducting the first performances of _Oberon_ at Covent Garden. + +Personally we see Weber as a man of the world, yet always with a bit of +aristocratic reserve. He had been one of a wandering theatrical troupe, +had played behind the scenes of a theatre, had known financial ups and +downs, had lived on something like familiar terms with gentlemen and +ladies of the court, had been a _roué_ with the young bloods of degree, +had intrigued and been the victim of intrigue, had been a concert +pianist with the outward success and the social stigma of a virtuoso +musician, had been a successful executive in responsible positions, +had played the litterateur and written a fashionable novel, had been a +devoted husband and father, and had felt the meaning of a great social +movement. Certainly Weber was the first of that distinguished line of +musicians who cultivated literature with marked talent and effect; his +letters reveal the practised observer and the literary craftsman, and +his criticisms of music, of which he wrote many at a certain period, +have the insight of Schumann, with something more than his verve. +Finally, he was the first great composer who was also a distinguished +director; his work at Prague and Dresden was hardly less a creative +feat than _Der Freischütz_. + +Musically Weber has many a distinction. He is the acknowledged founder +of German opera (though Mozart with _Zauberflöte_ may be regarded +as his forerunner), and the man who made German music aggressively +national. Wagner, as we know him, would hardly have been possible +without Weber. Weber is the father of the romanticists in his emphasis +upon the imagination, in his ability to give pictorial and definite +emotional values to his music. It is only a slight exaggeration of +the truth to call him the father of modern instrumentation; his use +of orchestral timbres for sensuous or dramatic effects, so common +nowadays, was unprecedented in his time. With Schubert he is the +father of modern pianoforte music; himself a virtuoso, he understood +the technical capacities of the piano, and developed them, both in the +classical forms and in the shorter forms which were carried to such +perfection by Schumann, with the romantic glow of a new message. He +is commonly regarded as deficient in the larger forms, but in those +departments (and they were many) where he was at his best there are +few musicians who have worked more finely than he. + + [Illustration: Carl Maria von Weber] + + + IV + +The scene now shifts to Paris, a city unbelievably frenzied and +complex, the Paris that gives the tone to a good half of the music of +the romantic period. + +‘As I finished my cantata (_Sardanapalus_),’ writes Berlioz in his +‘Memoirs,’ ‘the Revolution broke out and the Institute was a curious +sight. Grapeshot rattled on the barred doors, cannon balls shook the +façade, women screamed, and, in the momentary pauses, the interrupted +swallows took up their sweet, shrill cry. I hurried over the last pages +of my cantata and on the 29th was free to maraud about the streets, +pistol in hand, with the “blessed riff-raff,” as Barbier said. I shall +never forget the look of Paris during those few days. The frantic +bravery of the gutter-snipe, the enthusiasm of the men, the calm, sad +resignation of the Swiss and Royal Guards, the odd pride of the mob in +being “masters of Paris and looting nothing.”’ + +This was Paris in Berlioz’s and Liszt’s early years there. In Paris +at or about this time were living Victor Hugo, Stendhal, de Vigny, +Balzac, Chateaubriand, de Musset, Lamartine, Dumas the elder, Heine, +Sainte-Beuve, and George Sand among the poets, dramatists, and +novelists; Guizot and Thiers among the historians; Auguste Compte, +Joseph le Maistre, Lamennais, Proudhon, and Saint-Simon among the +political philosophers. It is hard to recall any other city at any +other time in history (save only the Athens of the Peloponnesian War) +which had such a vigorous intellectual and artistic life. Thanks to the +centralization effected by Napoleon, thanks to the tradition of free +speech among the French, the centre of Europe had shifted from Vienna +to Paris. + +A few months before the political revolution of July, 1830, occurred +the outbreak of one of the historic artistic revolutions of the +capital. Victor Hugo’s ‘Hernani,’ on which the young romantic school +centred its hopes, was first performed on February 25, before an +audience that took it as a matter of life and death. The performance +was permitted, so tradition says, in the expectation that the play +would discredit the romantic school once and for all. The principal +actress, Mlle. Mars, was outraged by Hugo’s imagery, and refused +point blank to call Firmin her ‘lion, superb and generous.’ A goodly +_claque_, drawn from the ateliers and salons, brought the play to +an overwhelming triumph, and for fifteen years the dominance of the +romantic school was indisputable. + +This romantic school was somewhat parallel to that of Germany, and, +in a general way, took the same inspiration. The literary influences, +outside of the inevitable Rousseau and Chateaubriand of France +itself, were chiefly Grimm’s recensions of old tales, Schiller’s +plays, Schlegel’s philosophical and historical works; Goethe’s +_Faust_, as well as our old friend _Werther_; Herder’s ‘Thoughts on +the Philosophy of History’; Shakespeare and Dante as a matter of +course; Byron and Sir Walter Scott; and any number of collections of +mediæval tales and poems, foreign as well as French. This much the +French and German romanticists had in common. But the movement had +scarcely any political tinge, though political influences developed +out of it. By a curious inversion the literary radicals were the +legitimists and political conservatives, and the classicists the +political revolutionists--perhaps a remnant of the Revolution, when the +republicans were turning to the art and literature of Greece for ideals +of ‘purity.’ + +For the French intellectuals had perhaps had enough of political +life, whereas the Germans were starved for it. At any rate, the French +romanticists were almost wholly concerned with artistic canons. To +them romanticism meant freedom of the imagination, the demolishing of +classical forms and traditional rules, the mixing of the genres ‘as +they are mixed in life’; the rendering of the language more sensuous +and flexible, and, above all, the expression of the subjective and +individual point of view. They had a great cult for the historic, and +their plays are filled with local color (real or supposed) of the +time in which their action is laid. They supposed themselves to be +returning to real life, using everyday details and painting men as they +are. In particular they made their work more intimately emotional; +they substituted the image for the metaphor, and the pictorial word +for the abstract word. This last fact is of greatest importance in +its influence on romantic music. The painting of the time, though +by no means so radical in technique as that of music, showed the +influences of the great social overturning. Subjects were taken from +contemporary or recent times--the doings of the French in the Far +East, the campaigns of Napoleon, or from the natural scenery round +about Paris, renouncing the ‘adjusted landscape’ of the classicists +with a ruined temple in the foreground. Scenes from the Revolution +came into painting, and the drama of the private soldier or private +citizen gained human importance. Géricault emphasized sensuous color as +against the severe classicist David. The leader, and perhaps the most +typical member, of the romantic school was Delacroix, a defender of the +art of the Middle Ages as against the exaggerated cult of the Greeks. +He took his subjects ‘from Dante, Shakespeare, Byron (heroes of the +literary romanticism); from the history of the Crusades, of the French +Revolution, and of the Greek revolt against the Turks. He painted with +a feverish energy of life and expression, a deep and poetic sense of +color. His bold, ample technique thrust aside the smooth timidities of +the imitators and prepared the way for modern impressionism.’[80] + +But there was still another result of the suppression of political +tendencies in French romantic literature. In looking to the outer world +for inspiration (as every artist must) the writers of the time, turning +from contemporary politics, inevitably saw before their eyes Napoleon +the Great, now no longer Corsican adventurer and personal despot, but +national hero and creator of magnificent epics. The young people of +this time did not remember the miseries of the Napoleonic wars; they +remembered only their largeness and glory. Fifteen years after the +abdication of Napoleon the inspiration of Napoleon came to literary +expression. It was a passion for bigness. Victor Hugo’s professed +purpose was to bring the whole of life within the compass of a work +of art. Every emotion was raised to its nth power. Hernani passes +from one cataclysmic experience to another; the whole of life seems +to depend on the blowing of a hunting horn. The painting of the time, +under Géricault, Delacroix, and Delaroche, was grandiose and pompous. +The stage of the theatre was filled with magnificent pictures. A nation +comes to insurrection in _William Tell_; Catholicism and Protestantism +grapple to the death in _Les Huguenots_. But not only extensively but +intensively this cult of bigness was developed. Victor Hugo sums up +the whole of life in a phrase. The musicians had caught the trick; +Meyerbeer was of Victor Hugo’s stature in some things. He gets the epic +clang in a single couplet, as in the ‘Blessing of the Poignards’ or in +the G flat section of the fourth act duet from _Les Huguenots_. And +this heroic quality came to its finest expression in Liszt, some of +whose themes, like that of Tasso + + [Illustration: Music score] + +or that of _Les Préludes_ + + [Illustration: Music score] + +seem to say, _Arma virumque cano_. + + + V + +If ever a man was made to respond to this Paris of 1830 it was Franz +Liszt. Heroic virtuosity was a solid half of its Credo. Victor Hugo, +as a virtuoso of language, must be placed beside the greatest writers +of all time--Homer, Shakespeare, Dante, and whom else? No less can +be said for Liszt in regard to the piano. He was born in 1811 in +Raiding, Hungary. He is commonly supposed to be partly Hungarian in +blood, although German biographers deny this, asserting that the name +originally had the common German form of List. Almost before he could +walk he was at the piano. At the age of nine he appeared in public. And +at the age of twelve he was a pianist of international reputation. How +such virtuosity came to be, no one can explain. Most things in music +can be traced in some degree to their causes. But in such a case as +this the miracle can be explained neither by his instruction nor by +his parentage nor by any external conditions. It is one of the things +that must be set down as a pure gift of Heaven. Prominent noblemen +guaranteed his further education and, after a few months of study in +Vienna, under Czerny and Salieri, he and his father went to Paris, +which was to be the centre of his life for some twenty years. He was +the sensation of polite Paris within a few months after his arrival +and he presently had pupils of noble blood at outrageous prices. Two +years after his arrival--that is, when he was fourteen--a one-act +operetta of his, _Don Sanche_, was performed at the Académie Royale. +Two years later his father died and he was thrown on his own resources +as teacher and concert pianist. Then, in 1830, he fell sick following +an unhappy love affair, and his life was despaired of until, in the +words of his mother, ‘he was cured by the sound of the cannon.’ + +How did the Paris of 1830, and particularly the temper of Parisian +life, affect Liszt? ‘Monsieur Mignet,’ he said, ‘teach me all of French +literature.’ Here is a new thing in music--a musician who dares take +all knowledge to be his province. He writes, about this time: ‘For two +weeks my mind and my fingers have been working like two of the damned: +Homer, the Bible, Plato, Locke, Byron, Hugo, Lamartine, Chateaubriand, +Beethoven, Bach, Hummel, Mozart, Weber are about me. I study them, +meditate them, devour them furiously.’ He conceived a huge admiration +for Hugo’s _Marion de Lorme_ and Schiller’s _Wilhelm Tell_. Be sure, +too, that he was busy reading the artistic theories of the romanticists +and translating them into musical terms. The revolution of 1830 had +immediate concrete results in his music; he sketched a Revolutionary +Symphony, part of which later became incorporated into his symphonic +poem, _Heroïde Funèbre_. He made a brilliant arrangement of the +_Marseillaise_ and wrote the first number of his ‘Years of Pilgrimage’ +on the insurrection of the workmen at Lyon. + +The early manifestations of modern socialistic theory were then in the +making--in the cult of Saint-Simon--and Liszt was drawn to them. For +many years it was supposed that he was actually a member of the order, +though he later denied this. The Saint-Simonians had a concrete scheme +of communistic society, and a sort of religious metaphysic. This +latter, if not the former, impressed Liszt deeply, especially because +of the place given to art as expressing the ideal toward which the +people--the whole people--would strive. But a still stronger influence +over Liszt was that of the revolutionary abbé, Lamennais. Lamennais +was a devout Catholic, but, like many of the priesthood during the +first revolution, he was also an ardent democrat. He took it as +self-evident that religion was for all men, that God is no respecter of +persons. He was pained by the rôle of the Catholic Church in the French +Revolution--its continual siding with the ministers of despotism, its +readiness to give its blessing and its huge moral influence to any +reactionary government which would offer it material enrichment. He +felt it was necessary--no less in the interest of the Church than in +that of the people--that the Catholic Church should be the defender of +democracy against reactionary princes. He was doing precisely what such +men as G. K. Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc are trying to do in England +to-day. His influence in Paris was great and he became the rallying +point for the liberal party in the Church. Perhaps if his counsel had +prevailed the Church would not have become in the people’s minds the +enemy of all their liberties and would have retained its temporal +possessions in the war for Italian unity forty years later. Liszt had +always been a Catholic, and in his earlier youth had been prevented +from taking holy orders only by his father’s express command. Now he +found Lamennais’ philosophy meat to his soul, and Lamennais saw in +him the great artist who was to exemplify to the world his philosophy +of art. In 1834 Liszt published in the _Gazette Musicale de Paris_ an +essay embodying his social philosophy of art. + +Several points in this manifesto are of importance in indicating what +four years of revolutionary Paris had made of Liszt the artist. Though +primarily a virtuoso, Liszt had been raised above the mere vain +delight of exciting admiration in the crowd. He had made up his mind +to become a creative artist with all his powers. He had asserted the +artist’s right to do his own thinking, to be a man in any way he saw +fit. He had accepted as gospel the romanticist creed that rules must be +broken whenever artistic expression demands it and had imbibed to the +full the literary and romantic imagery of the school. He had linked up +his virtuoso’s sense of the crowd with the only thing that could redeem +it and make it an art--the human being’s sense of democracy. And he had +outlined with great accuracy (so far as his form of speech allowed) the +nature of the music which he was later to compose. We can nowhere find +a better description of the music of Liszt at its best than Liszt’s own +description of the future ‘humanitarian’ music--which partakes ‘in the +largest possible proportions of the characteristics of both the theatre +and the church--dramatic and holy, splendid and simple, solemn and +serious, fiery, stormy, and calm.’ In this democracy Liszt the virtuoso +and Liszt the Catholic find at last their synthesis. + +How many purely musical influences operated upon Liszt in these years +it is hard to say. We know that he felt the message of Meyerbeer and +Rossini (such as it was) and raised it to its noblest form in his +symphonic poems--the message of magnificence and high romance. But +it is fair to say, also, that he appreciated at its true value every +sort of music that came within his range of vision--Schubert’s songs, +Chopin’s exquisite pianistic traceries, Beethoven’s symphonies, and +the fashionable Italian operas of the day. He arranged an astonishing +number and variety of works for the piano, catching with wizard-like +certainty the essential beauties of each. But probably the most +profound musical influence was that of Berlioz, who seemed the very +incarnation of the spirit of 1830. Berlioz’s partial freeing of the +symphonic form, his radical harmony, and, most of all, his use of the +_idée fixe_ or representative melody (which Liszt later developed in +his symphonic poems) powerfully impressed Liszt and came to full fruit +ten years later. + +One more influence must be recorded for Liszt’s early Parisian years. +It was that of Paganini, who made his first appearance at the capital +in 1831. Here was the virtuoso pure and simple. He excited Liszt’s +highest admiration and stimulated him to do for the piano what Paganini +had done for the violin. In 1826 Liszt had published his first études, +showing all that was most characteristic in his piano technique at +that time. After Paganini had stormed Paris he arranged some of the +violinist’s études for the piano, and the advance in piano technique +shown between these and the earlier studies is marked. + +But Liszt had by this time thought too much and too deeply ever to +believe that the technical was the whole or even the most important +part of an artist. He appreciates the value of Paganini and the place +of technical virtuosity in art, but he writes: ‘The form should not +sound, but the spirit speak! Then only does the virtuoso become the +high priest of art, in whose mouth dead letters assume life and +meaning, and whose lips reveal the secrets of art to the sons of +men....’ Finally, note that, amid all this dogma and cocksureness, +Liszt understood with true humility that he was not expressing ultimate +truth, that he spoke for art in a transition stage, and was the +artistic expression of a transitional culture. ‘You accuse me,’ he said +to the poet Heine, ‘of being immature and unstable in my ideas, and +as a proof you ennumerate the many causes which, according to you, I +have embraced with ardor. But this accusation which you bring against +me alone, shouldn’t it, in justice, be brought against the whole +generation? Are we not unstable in our peculiar situation between a +past which we reject and a future which we do not yet understand?’ Thus +revolutionary Paris had made of Liszt a conscious instrument in the +transition of music. + +For some ten years Liszt remained the concert pianist. His concert +tours took him all over Europe, ‘like a wandering gypsy.’ He even +dreamed of coming to America. In 1840 he went to Hungary and visited +his birthplace. He rode in a coach, thus fulfilling, in the minds of +the villagers, the prophecy of an old gypsy in his youth, that he +should return ‘in a glass carriage.’ In his book, ‘The Gypsies and +Their Music,’ he gives a highly colored and delightful account of how +he was received by the gypsies, how he spent a night in their camp, how +he was accompanied on his way by them and serenaded until he was out +of sight. The trip made a lasting impression on his mind. He had heard +once more the gypsy tunes which had so thrilled him in his earliest +childhood, and the Hungarian Rhapsodies were the result. + +In 1833, in Paris, he was introduced to the Countess d’Agoult, and +between the two there sprang up a violent attachment. They lived +together for some ten years, concerning which Liszt’s biographer, +Chantavoine, says bluntly, ‘the first was the happiest.’ They had three +children, one of them the wife of the French statesman, Émile Ollivier, +and another the wife of von Bülow and later of Richard Wagner. +Eventually they separated. + +In 1842 Liszt was invited by the grand duke of Weimar to conduct a +series of concerts each year in the city of Goethe and Schiller. +Soon afterward he became director of the court theatre. He gave to +Weimar ten years of brilliant eminence, performing, among other works, +Wagner’s _Tannhäuser_, _Lohengrin_, and ‘Flying Dutchman’; Berlioz’s +_Benvenuto Cellini_; Schumann’s _Genoveva_ and his scenes from +_Manfred_; Schubert’s _Alfonso und Estrella_; and Cornelius’ ‘The +Barber of Bagdad.’ The last work, an attempt to apply Wagnerian +principles to comic opera, was received with extreme coldness, and +Liszt in disgust gave up his position, leaving Weimar in 1861. But +during these years he had composed many of the most important of his +works. + + [Illustration: Liszt at the Piano] + _After a painting by Josef Danhauser_ + +From this time until his death at Bayreuth in 1886 he divided his +life between Buda-Pesth, Weimar, and Rome. In the ‘Eternal City’ the +religious nature of the man came to full expression and he studied the +lore of the Church like a loyal Catholic, being granted the honorary +title of Abbé. The revolutionist of 1834 had become the religious +mystic. Rome and the magnificent traditions of the Church filled his +imagination. + +Liszt’s compositions may be roughly divided into three periods: +first, the piano period, extending from 1826 to 1842; second, the +orchestral period, from 1842 to 1860 (mostly during his residence at +Weimar); and, third, his choral period, from which date his religious +works. The nature of these compositions and their contribution to +the development of music will be discussed in succeeding chapters. +Here we need only recall a few of their chief characteristics. Of his +twelve hundred compositions, some seven hundred are original and the +others mostly piano transcriptions of orchestral and operatic works +of all sorts. Certainly he wrote too much, and not a little of his +work must be set down as trash, or near it. But some of it is of the +highest musical quality and was of the greatest importance in musical +development. The most typical of modern musical forms--the symphonic +poem--is due solely to him. He formulated the theory of it and gave +it brilliant exemplification. His mastery of piano technique is, +of course, unequalled. He made the piano, on the one hand, a small +orchestra, and, on the other, an individual voice. While he by no means +developed all the possibilities of the instrument (Chopin and Schumann +contributed more that was of musical value), he extended its range--its +avoirdupois, one might almost say--as no other musician has done. His +piano transcriptions, though somewhat distrusted nowadays, greatly +increased the popularity of the instrument, and, in some cases, were +the chief means of spreading the reputations of certain composers. His +use of the orchestra was hardly less masterful than that of Berlioz and +Wagner; in particular he gave full importance to the individuality of +instruments and emphasized the sensuous qualities of their tone. More, +perhaps, than any other composer, he effected the union of pure music +with the poetical or pictorial idea. His use of chromatic harmony was +at times as daring as that of Berlioz and antedated that of Wagner, who +borrowed richly from him. Only his religious music, among his great +works, must be accounted comparatively a failure. He had great hopes, +when he went to Rome, of becoming the Palestrina of the modern Church. +But the Church would have none of his theatrical religious music, while +the public has been little more hospitable. + +Intimate biographies of Liszt have succeeded in staining the brilliant +colors of the Liszt myth, but, on the whole, no composer who gained a +prodigious reputation during his lifetime has lived up to it better, so +to speak, after his death. As an unrivalled concert pianist, the one +conqueror who never suffered a defeat, he might have become vain and +jealous. There is hardly a trace of vanity or jealousy in his nature. +His appreciation of other composers was always generous and remarkably +just. No amount of difference in school or aim could ever obscure, +in his eyes, the real worth of a man. Wagner, Berlioz, and a host of +others owed much of their reputation to him. His life at Weimar was one +continued crusade on behalf of little known geniuses. His financial +generosity was very great; though the income from his concerts was +huge he never, after 1847, gave a recital for his own benefit. In our +more matter-of-fact age much of his musical and verbal rhetoric sounds +empty, but through it all the intellectuality and sincerity of the man +are unmistakable. On the whole, it is hardly possible to name another +composer who possessed at once such a broad culture, such a consistent +idealism, and such a high integrity. + + + VI + +In Hector Berlioz (b. 1803 at Côte St. André, Isère) we have one of +those few men who is not to be explained by any amount of examination +of sources. Only to a small extent was he _specifically_ determined by +his environment. He is unique in his time and in musical history. He, +again, is to be explained only as a gift of Heaven (or of the devil, +as his contemporaries thought). In a general way, however, he is very +brilliantly to be explained by the Paris of 1830. The external tumult, +the breaking of rules, the assertion of individuality, all worked upon +his sensitive spirit and dominated his creative genius. He was at +bottom a childlike, affectionate man, ‘demanding at every moment in +his life to love and be loved,’ as Romain Rolland says. In Renaissance +Florence, we may imagine, he might have been a Fra Angelico, or at +least no more bumptious than a Filippo Lippi. It was because he was so +delicately sensitive that he became, in the Paris of 1830, a violent +revolutionist. + +His father was a provincial physician and, like so many other fathers +in artistic history, seemed to the end of his days ashamed of the fact +that he had a genius for a son. The boy imbibed his first music among +the amateurs of his town. He went to Paris to study medicine--because +his father would provide him funds for nothing else. He loyally +studied his science for a while, but nothing could keep him out of +music. Without his father’s consent or even knowledge he entered the +Conservatory, where he remained at swords’ points with the director, +Cherubini, who cuts a ridiculous figure in his ‘Memoirs.’ By hook and +crook, and by the generosity of creditors, he managed to live on and +get his musical education. His father became partially reconciled when +he realized there was nothing else to do. But how Berlioz took to heart +the lawlessness of the romantic school! Nothing that was, was right. +All that is most typically Gallic--clearness, economy, control--is +absent in his youthful work. ‘Ah, me!’ says he in his ‘Memoirs,’ ‘what +was the good God thinking of when He dropped me down in this pleasant +land of France?’ + +The events of his career are not very significant. He had a wild time +of shocking people. He organized concerts of his own works, chiefly +by borrowing money. After two failures he won the _Prix de Rome_, +and hardly reached Italy when he started to leave it on a picaresque +errand of sentimental revenge. He fell in love with an English actress, +Henriette Smithson, married her when she was _passée_ and in debt, +and eventually treated her rather shamefully. He gave concerts of his +works in France, Germany, England, Russia. He was made curator of the +Conservatory library. He was made an officer of the Legion of Honor. +He wrote musical articles for the papers. He took life very much to +heart. And, from time to time, he wrote musical works, very few of +them anything less than masterpieces. That is all. The details of his +life make entertaining reading. Very little is significant beyond an +understanding of his personal character. He was called the genius +without talent. Romain Rolland comes closer when he says, ‘Berlioz +is the most extreme combination of power of genius with weakness of +character.’ His power of discovering orchestral timbres is only +equalled by his power of making enemies. There is no villainy recorded +of his life; there are any number of mean things, and any number of +wild, irrational things. His artistic sincerity is unquestioned, but it +is mingled with any amount of the bad boy’s delight in shocking others. +Like Schumann, but in his own manner, he made himself a crusader +against the Philistines. + +Of the unhappiness of his life it is quite sufficient to say that it +was his own fault. His creed was the subjective, sentimental creed of +the romanticists: ‘Sensible people,’ he exclaims, ‘cannot understand +this intensity of being, this actual joy in existing, in dragging +from life the uttermost it has to give in height and depth.’ He was +haunted, too, by the romanticists’ passion for bigness. His ideal +orchestra, he tells us in his work on Instrumentation, consists of 467 +instruments--160 violins, 30 harps, eight pairs of kettle drums, 12 +bassoons, 16 horns, and other instruments in similar abundance. + +His great importance in the history of music is, of course, his +development of the orchestra. No one else has ever observed orchestral +possibilities so keenly and used them so surely. His musical ideas, +as played on the piano, may sound banal, but when they are heard in +the orchestra they become pure magic. He never was a pianist; his +virtuosity as a performer was lavished on the flute and guitar. For +this reason, perhaps, his orchestral writing is the least pianistic, +the most inherently contrapuntal of any of the period. + +He was a pioneer in freeing instrumental music from the dominance of +traditional forms. Forms may be always necessary, but their _raison +d’être_, as Berlioz insisted, should be expressive and not traditional. +Berlioz was the first great exponent of program music; Liszt owes an +immense amount to him. He was also the first to use in a thorough-going +way the _leit-motif_, or the _idée fixe_, as he called it. Not that +he developed the theory of the dramatic use of the _leit-motif_ as +Wagner did, but he made extensive use of the melody expressive of a +particular idea or personage. His output was limited, both in range and +in quantity, but there are few composers who have had a higher average +of excellence throughout their work--always on the understanding that +you like his subject-matter. The hearer who does not may intellectually +admit his technical mastery of the orchestra, but he will feel that the +composer is sounding brass and tinkling cymbals. + + + VII + +Frédéric Chopin was far less influenced by external events than most +composers of the time. We have the legend that the C minor _Étude_ was +written to express his emotions upon hearing of the capture of Warsaw +by the Russians in 1831. We hear a good deal (perhaps too much) about +the national strain in his music. The national dance rhythms enter +into his work, and, to some extent, the national musical idiom, though +refined out of any real national expressiveness. Beyond this his music +would apparently have been the same, whatever the state of the world at +large. + +Nor are the events of his life of any particular significance. He +was born near Warsaw, in Poland, in 1810, the son of a teacher +who later became professor of French in the Lyceum of Warsaw. His +father had sufficient funds for his education, and the lad received +excellent instruction in music--in composition chiefly--at the +Warsaw Conservatory. At nine he appeared as a concert pianist, and +frequently thereafter. He was a sensitive child, but hardly remarkable +in any way. There are child love affairs to be recorded by careful +biographers, with fancied influences on his art. In composition he was +not precocious, his Opus 1 appearing at the age of eighteen. A visit +to Vienna in 1829 decided him in his career of professional pianist, +and in 1830 he left Warsaw on a grand concert tour. In 1831 he reached +Paris, where he lived most of his life thereafter. His Opus 2 was +‘announced’ to the world by the discerning Schumann, in the famous +phrase, ‘Hats off, gentlemen. A genius!’ In 1837, through Liszt’s +machinations, he met Madame Dudevant, known to fame by her pen name, +George Sand. She was the one great love affair of his life. Their visit +to Majorca, which has found a nesting place in literature in George +Sand’s _Un Hiver à Majorque_, was a rather dismal failure. The result +was an illness, which his mistress nursed him through, and this began +the continued ill health that lasted until his death. After Majorca +came more composition and lessons in Paris, with summer visits to +George Sand at her country home, and occasional trips to England. Then, +in 1849, severe sickness and death. + +All that was really important in Chopin’s life happened within himself. +No other great composer of the time is so utterly self-contained. +Though he lived in an age of frenzied ‘schools’ and propaganda, he +calmly worked as pleased him best, choosing what suited his personality +and letting the rest go. His music is, perhaps, more consistently +personal than that of any other composer of the century. It is +remarkable, too, that the chief contemporary musical influences on his +work came from second and third-rate men. He was intimate with Liszt, +he was friendly with the Schumanns. But from them he borrowed next to +nothing. Yet he worshipped Bach and Mozart. Nothing of the romantic +Parisian frenzy of the thirties enters into his music; the only +influence which the creed of the romanticists had upon him seems to +have been the freeing of his mind from traditional obstacles, but it is +doubtful whether his mind was not already quite free when he reached +Paris. All that he did was peculiarly his; his choice and rejection +were accurate in the extreme. + +In his piano playing he represented quite another school from that of +Liszt. He was gentle where Liszt was frenzied; he was graceful where +Liszt was pompous. Or, rather, his playing was of no school, but was +simply his own. His imitators exaggerated his characteristics, carrying +his _rubato_ to a silly extreme. But no competent witness has testified +that Chopin ever erred in taste. The criticism was constantly heard, +during his lifetime, that he played too softly, that his tone was +insufficient to fill a large hall. It was his style; he did not change +because of his critics. He was not, perhaps, a virtuoso of the first +rank, but all agree that the things which he did he did supremely well. +The supreme grace of his compositions found its best exponent in him. +Ornaments, such as the cadenzas of the favorite E flat Nocturne, he +played with a liquid quality that no one could imitate. His rubato +carried with it a magical sense of personal freedom, but was never too +marked--was not a rubato at all, some say, since the left hand kept the +rhythm quite even. + +As a workman Chopin was conscientious in the extreme. He never allowed +a work to go to the engraver until he had put the last possible touch +of perfection to it. His posthumous compositions he desired never to +have published. His judgment of them was correct; they are in almost +every case inferior to the work which he gave to the public. Just where +his individuality came from, no one can say; it seems to have been born +in him. From Field[81] he borrowed the Nocturne form, or rather name. +From Hummel[82] and Cramer[83] he borrowed certain details of pianistic +style. From the Italians he caught a certain luxurious grace that is +not to be found in French or German music. But none of this explains +the genius by which he turned his borrowings into great music. + + +Emotionally Chopin ranks perhaps as the greatest of composers. In +subjective expression and the evocation of mood, apart from specific +suggestion by words or ‘program,’ he is supreme. He is by no means +merely the dreamy poet which we sometimes carelessly suppose. Nothing +can surpass the force and vigor of his Polonaises, or the liveliness +of his Mazurkas. In harmony his invention was as inexhaustible as in +melody, and later music has borrowed many a progression from him. +Indeed, in this respect he was one of the most original of composers. +It has been said that in harmony there has been nothing new since +Bach save only Chopin, Wagner, and Debussy. But, however radical his +progressions may be, they are never awkward. They have that smoothness +and that seeming inevitableness which the artist honors with the +epithet, ‘perfection.’ Chopin’s genius was wholly for the piano; in +the little writing he did for orchestra or other instruments (mostly +in connection with piano solo) there is nothing to indicate that music +would have been the richer had he departed from his chosen field. In +a succeeding chapter more will be said about his music. As to the man +himself, it is all in his music. Any biographical detail which we can +collect must pale before the Preludes, the Études, and the Polonaises. + + + * * * * * + +An ‘average music-lover,’ about 1845, being questioned as to whom +he thought the greatest living composer, would almost undoubtedly +have replied, ‘Mendelssohn.’ For Mendelssohn had just the combination +of qualities which at the time could most charm people, giving +them enough of the new to interest and enough of the old to avoid +disconcerting shocks. Our average music-lover would have gone on +to say that Mendelssohn had absorbed all that was good in romantic +music--the freshness, the pictorial suggestiveness, the freedom from +dry traditionalism--and had synthesized it with the power and clearness +of the old forms. Mendelssohn was the one of the romantic composers +who was instantly understood. His reputation has diminished steadily +in the last half century. One does not say this vindictively, for his +polished works are as delightful to-day as ever. But historically he +cannot rank for a moment with such men as Liszt, Schumann, or Chopin. +When we review the field we discover that he added no single new +element to musical expression. His forms were the classical ones, only +made flexible enough to hold their romantic content. His harmony, +though fresh, was always strictly justified by classical tradition. +His instrumentation, charming in the extreme, was only a restrained +and tasteful use of resources already known and used. In a history of +musical development Mendelssohn deserves no more than passing mention. + +Of all the great musicians of history none ever received in his youth +such a broad and sound academic education. In every way he was one of +fortune’s darlings. His life, like that of few other distinguished +men of history (Macaulay alone comes readily to mind), was little +short of ideal. He was born in 1809 in Hamburg, son of a rich Jewish +banker. Early in his life the family formally embraced Christianity, +which removed from the musician the disabilities he would otherwise +have suffered in public life. His family life during his youthful +years in Berlin was that which has always been traditionally +Jewish--affectionate, simple, vigorous, and inspiring--and his +education the best that money could secure. His father cultivated +his talents with greatest care, but he was never allowed to become +a spoiled child or to develop without continual kindly criticism. +He became a pianist of almost the first rank, and was precocious in +composition, steadily developing technical finish and individuality. At +the age of 17, under the inspiration of the reading of Shakespeare with +his sister Fanny, he wrote the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ overture, as +finished and delightful a work as there is in all musical literature. +At twenty he was given money to travel and look about the world for his +future occupation. As a conductor (chiefly of his own works) and, to +a lesser extent, as a pianist he steadily became more famous, until, +in 1835, he was invited to become conductor of the concerts of the +Gewandhaus Orchestra at Leipzig. In this position he rapidly became the +most noted and perhaps the most immediately influential musician in +Europe. From 1840 to 1843 he was connected with Berlin, where Frederick +William IV had commissioned him to organize a musical academy, but in +1843 he did better by organizing the famous Conservatory at Leipzig, of +which he was made director, with Schumann and Moscheles on the teaching +staff. In 1847, after his tenth visit to England, he heard of the death +of his beloved sister Fanny, and shortly afterward died. All Europe +felt his death as a peculiarly personal loss. + +What we feel in the man, beyond all else, is poise--one of the best +of human qualities but not the most productive in art. He knew and +loved the classical musicians--Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven--indeed, +the ‘resurrection’ of Bach dates from his performance of the Matthew +Passion in Berlin in 1828. He also felt, in a delicate way, the +romantic spirit of the age, and gave the most charming poetical +pictures in his overtures. All that he did he did with a polish that +recalls Mozart. His self-criticism was not profound, but was always +balanced. In his personal character he seems almost disconcertingly +perfect; we find ourselves wishing that he had committed a few real +sins so as to become more human. His appreciation of other musicians +was generous but limited; he never fully understood the value of +Schumann, and his early meeting with Berlioz, though impeccably polite, +was quite mystifying. His ability as an organizer and director was +marked. His work in Leipzig made that city, next to Paris, the musical +centre of Europe. Though his culture was broad he was scarcely affected +by external literary or political currents, except to refine certain +aspects of them for use in his music. + + + VIII + +There were more reasons than the accidental conjunction of the +Schumanns and Mendelssohn for the brilliant position of Leipzig in +German musical life. For centuries the city had been, thanks to its +university, one of the intellectual centres of Germany. Being also +a mercantile centre, it became the logical location for numerous +publishing firms. The prestige and high standard of the _Thomasschule_, +of which Bach had for many years been ‘Cantor,’ had stimulated +its musical life, and even when Mendelssohn arrived in 1835 the +Gewandhaus Orchestra was one of the most excellent in Europe. The +intellectual life of the city was of the sort that has done most honor +to Germany--vigorous, scholarly, and critical, but self-supporting +and self-contained. Around Mendelssohn and his influence there grew +up the ‘Leipzig school,’ with Ferdinand Hiller,[84] W. Sterndale +Bennett,[85] Carl Reinecke,[86] and Niels W. Gade[87] as its chief +figures. Mendelssohn’s emphasis on classicism and moderation was +probably responsible for the tendency of this school to degenerate into +academic dryness, but this was not present to dim its brilliancy during +Mendelssohn’s life. + +In the ‘Leipzig circle’ Schumann was always something of an outsider. +Though he was much more of Leipzig than Mendelssohn, he was too much +of a revolutionary to be immediately influential. Nor did he have +Mendelssohn’s advantages in laying hold on the public. For the first +twenty years of his life his connection with music was only that of the +enthusiastic dilettante. Though his father, a bookseller of Zwickau +in Saxony, favored the development of his musical gifts, his mother +feared an artistic career and kept him headed toward the profession +of lawyer until his inclinations became too strong. In the meantime +he had graduated from the Gymnasium of Zwickau, where he was born in +1810, and entered the University of Leipzig as a student of law. His +sensitiveness to all artistic influences in his youth was extremely +marked, especially to the efflorescent poet and pseudo-philosopher, +Jean Paul Richter (Jean Paul), on whom Schumann later based his +literary style. In his youth he would organize amateur orchestras +among his playfellows or entertain them with musical descriptions of +their personalities on the piano. When, at about seventeen, he arrived +in Leipzig to study in the University, he plunged into music, in +particular studying the piano under Frederick Wieck, whose daughter, +the brilliant pianist, Clara Wieck, later became his wife. An accident +to his hand, due to over-zeal in practice, shattered his hopes of +becoming a concert pianist, and he took to composition. He now devoted +his efforts to repairing the gaps in his theoretical education, though +not until a number of years later was he completely at home in the +various styles of writing. His romantic courtship of Clara Wieck +culminated, in 1840, in their marriage, against her father’s wishes. +Their life together was devoted and happy. The year of their marriage +is that of Schumann’s most fertile and creative work. His life from +this time on was the strenuous one of composer and conductor, with +not a few concert tours in which he conducted and his wife played his +compositions. But more immediately fruitful was his literary work as +editor of the _Neue Zeitschrift für Musik_, founded in 1834 to champion +the romantic tendencies of the younger composers. Toward 1845 there +were signs of a failing in physical and mental powers and at times an +enforced cessation of activity. In 1853 he suffered extreme mental +depression, and his mind virtually gave way. An attempted suicide in +1854 was followed by his confinement in a sanatorium, and his death +followed in 1856. + +Schumann is the most distinguished in the list of literary musicians. +His early reactions to romantic tendencies in literature were intense, +and when the time came for him to use his pen in defense of the music +of the future he had an effective literary style at his command. It +was the style of the time. Mere academic or technical criticism he +despised, not because he despised scholarship, but because he felt it +had no place in written criticism. He set himself to interpret the +spirit of music. True to romantic ideals, he was subjective before all. +He sent his soul out on adventures among the masterpieces--or, rather, +his souls; for he possessed several. One he called ‘Florestan,’ fiery, +imaginative, buoyant; another was ‘Eusebius,’ dreamy and contemplative. +It was these two names which chiefly appeared beneath his articles. +Then there was a third, which he used seldom, ‘Meister Raro,’ cool +judgment and impersonal reserve. He set himself to ‘make war on the +Philistines,’ namely, all persons who were stodgy, academic, and dry. +He had a fanciful society of crusaders among his friends which he +dubbed the _Davidsbund_. With this equipment of buoyant fancy he was +the best exemplar of the romantic idealism of his time and race. + +The _Neue Zeitschrift für Musik_, organized in connection with +enthusiastic friends, bravely battled for imagination and direct +expression in music during the ten years of Schumann’s immediate +editorship and during his contributing editorship thereafter. +Schumann’s ‘announcement’ of Chopin in 1831, and of Brahms in 1853, +have become famous. In most things his judgment was extraordinarily +sound. Though he was frankly an apologist for one tendency, he +appreciated many others, not excluding the reserved Mendelssohn, who +was in many things his direct opposite. Sometimes, particularly in his +prejudice against opera music, he disagreed with the tendencies of +the time. After hearing ‘Tannhäuser’ in Dresden he could say nothing +warmer than that on the whole he thought Wagner might some day be of +importance to German opera. But, though Schumann was thus limited, he +had the historical sense, and had scholarship behind his articles, if +not in them. During a several months’ stay in Vienna he set himself to +discovering forgotten manuscripts of Schubert, and the great C major +symphony, first performed under Mendelssohn at the Gewandhaus concerts +in 1839, owes its recovery to him. + +Schumann worked generously in all forms except church music. At +first he was chiefly a composer for the piano, and his genre pieces, +‘pianistic’ in a quite new way, opened the field for much subsequent +music from other pens. In them his romantic fervor best shows itself. +They are buoyantly pictorial and suggestive, though avoiding extremes, +and they abound in literary mottoes. In 1840 begins his chief activity +as a song composer, and here he takes a place second only to Schubert +in lovableness and second to none in intimate subjective expression. +Between 1841 and 1850 come four lovely symphonies, uneven in quality +and without distinction in instrumentation, but glowing with vigorous +life. In the last ten years of his life come the larger choral works, +the ‘Faust’ scenes, several cantatas, the ---- and the opera ‘Genoveva.’ +Throughout the latter part of his life are scattered the chamber works +which are permanent additions to musical literature. These works, +and their contributions to musical development, will be described in +succeeding chapters. + + * * * * * + +These are the preëminent romantic composers. What they have in common +is not so evident as seems at first glance. The very creed that +binds them together makes them highly individual and dispartite. At +bottom, the only possible specific definition of romantic music is a +description of romantic music itself. ‘Romantic’ is at best a loose +term; and it happens always to be a relative term. + +But a brief formal statement of the old distinction between +‘romanticism’ and ‘classicism’ may be helpful in following the +description of romantic music in the following chapters. For the terms +have taken on some sort of precise meaning in their course down the +centuries. Perhaps the chief distinction lies in the æsthetic theory +concerning limits. The Greek temple and the Gothic cathedral are the +standard examples. The Greek loved to work intensively on a specific +problem, within definite and known limits, controlling every detail +with his intelligence and achieving the utmost perfection possible to +careful workmanship. The Greek temple is small in size, can be taken +in at a glance; every line is clear and definitely terminated; details +are limited in number and each has its reason for existing; the work +is a unit and each part is a part of an organic whole. The mediæval +workman, on the other hand, was impressed by the richness of a world +which he by no means understood; he loved to see all sorts of things in +the heavens above and the earth beneath and to express them in his art. +Ruskin makes himself the apologist for the Gothic cathedral when he +says: ‘Every beautiful detail added is so much richness gained for the +whole.’ The mediæval cathedral, then, is an amazing aggregation of rich +detail. Unity is a minor matter. The cathedral is never to be taken in +at a glance. Its lines drive upward and vanish into space; it is filled +with dark corners and mysterious designs. It is an attempt to pierce +beyond limits and achieve something more universal. + +Here is the distinction, and it is more a matter of individual +temperament than of historical action and reaction. The poise and +control that come from working within pre-defined limits are the chief +glory of the classical; the imagination and energy that come from +trying to pass beyond limits are the chief charm of the romantic. Let +us never expect to settle the controversy, for both elements exist +in all artists, even in Berlioz. But let us try to understand how the +artist feels toward each of these inspirations, and to see what, in +each age, is the specific impulse toward one or the other. + + H. K. M. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[74] ‘Uhland’s Life,’ by his widow. + +[75] Heine: _Die romantische Schule._ + +[76] Wilhelm Langhans: ‘The History of Music,’ Eng. transl. by J. H. +Cornell, 1886. + +[77] _Ibid._ + +[78] Fyffe: ‘History of Modern Europe’, Vol. I. + +[79] He was a pupil first of his stepbrother, Fridolin, of Heuschkel +in Hildburghausen, of Michael Haydn in Salzburg (1797), of Kalcher in +theory, and Valesi in singing. + +[80] Reinach’s ‘Apollo.’ + +[81] John Field, b. Dublin, 1782; d. Moscow, 1837; pianist and +composer; was a pupil of Clementi, whom he followed to Paris and later +to St. Petersburg, where he became noted as a teacher. Afterwards he +gave concerts successfully in London, as well as in Belgium, France, +and Italy. His 20 ‘Nocturnes’ for pianoforte are the basis of his +fame. Being the first to use the name, he may be considered to have +established the type. His other compositions include concertos, +sonatas, etc., and some chamber music. + +[82] Johann Nepomuk Hummel (1778-1837). Sec Vol. XI. + +[83] Johann Baptist Cramer (1771-1858). See Vol. XI. + +[84] Born, Frankfort, 1811; died, Cologne, 1885; was a man of many +parts, brilliant pianist and conductor, composer of fine sensibility +and mastery of form, and a talented critic and author; cosmopolite and +friend of many distinguished musicians, from Cherubini to Berlioz, +and especially of Mendelssohn. He left operas, symphonies, oratorios, +chamber music, etc., and theoretical works. His smaller works--piano +pieces and songs--are still popular. + +[85] Born, Sheffield, England, 1816; died, London, 1875. See Vol. XI. + +[86] Born in Altona, near Hamburg, 1824; a highly educated musician, +distinguished as pianist, conductor, composer, pedagogue, and critic. +As conductor of the Gewandhaus Orchestra and as professor of piano and +composition at the Leipzig Conservatory he exerted a long and powerful +influence. As composer he followed the school of Mendelssohn and +Schumann, was very prolific and distinguished by brilliant musicianship +and ingenious if not highly original imagination. Besides operas, +_singspiele_ cantatas, symphonies, etc., he published excellent chamber +music and many piano works. + +[87] See Vol. III. Chap. I. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + SONG LITERATURE OF THE ROMANTIC PERIOD + + Lyric poetry and song--The song before Schubert--Franz Schubert; Carl + Löwe--Robert Schumann; Robert Franz; Mendelssohn and Chopin; Franz + Liszt as song writer. + + +Song in the modern sense (the German word _Lied_ expresses it) is +peculiarly a phenomenon of the nineteenth century. In the preceding +centuries it can hardly be said to have claimed the attention of +composers. Vocal solos of many sorts there had, of course, been; +but they were of one or another formal type and are sharply to be +contrasted with the song of Schubert, Schumann, and Franz. If a prophet +and theorist of the year 1800, foreknowing what was to be the spirit of +the romantic age, had sketched out an ideal art form for the perfect +expression of that spirit he would surely have hit upon the song. The +fact that song was not composed in the seventeenth and eighteenth +centuries proves how predominantly formal and how little expressive in +purpose the music of that time was. + +It is strange how little of the lyrical quality (in the poet’s sense +of the term) there was in the music of the eighteenth century. The +lyric is that form of poetry which expresses individual emotion. It +is thus sharply to be contrasted in spirit with all other forms--the +epic, which tells a long and heroic story; the narrative, which tells +a shorter and more special story; the dramatic, which pictures the +characters as acting; the satiric, the didactic, and the other forms of +more or less objective intent. No less is the lyric to be contrasted +with the other types in point of form. For, whereas the epic, the +dramatic, and the rest can add detail upon detail at great length, +and lives by its quantity of good things, the lyric stands or falls +at the first blow. Either it transmits to the reader the emotion it +seeks to express, or it does not, and if it does not then the longer it +continues the greater bore it becomes. For all the forms of objective +poetry can get their effect by reproducing objective details in +abundance. But to transmit an emotion one must somehow get at the heart +of it--by means of a suggestive word or phrase or of a picture that +instantly evokes an emotional experience. The accuracy of the lyrical +expression depends upon selecting just the right details and omitting +all the rest. Thus the lyric must necessarily be short, while most of +the other poetic forms can be indefinitely extended. + +And, besides, an emotion usually lasts in its purity only for a moment. +You divine it the instant it is with you, or you have lost it. It +cannot be prolonged by conscious effort; it cannot be recalled by +thinking about it. The expression of it will therefore last but for a +moment. It must be caught on the wing. And the power so to catch an +emotion is a very special power. Few poets have had it in the highest +degree. Those who have had it, such as Burns, Goethe, or Heine, can, +in a dozen lines or so, take their place beside the greatest poets +of all time. The special beauty of ‘My love is like a red, red rose’ +or ‘_Der du von dem Himmel bist_’ or ‘_Du bist wie eine Blume_’ is +as far removed from that of the longer poem--say, ‘Il Penseroso’ or +Swinburne’s ‘Hymn to Man’--as a tiny painting by Vermeer is from a +canvas by Veronese. Emotional expression, of course, exists in many +types of poetry, but it cannot be sustained and hence is only a sort of +recurrent by-product. The lyric is distinguished by the fact that in it +individual emotional expression is the single and unique aim. + +This lyric spirit is obviously seldom to be found in the ‘art’ music +of the eighteenth century. It is not too much to say that music in +that age was regarded as dignified in proportion to its length. +The clavichord pieces of Rameau or Couperin were hardly more than +after-dinner amusements; and the fugues and preludes of Bach, for all +the depth of the emotion in them and despite their flexible form, were +primarily technical exercises. The best creative genius of the latter +half of the century was expended upon the larger forms--the symphony, +the oratorio, the opera, the mass. + +All the qualities which are peculiar to the lyric in poetry we find +in the song--the _Lied_--of the nineteenth century. A definition or +description of the one could be applied almost verbatim to the other. +The lyric song must be brief, emotional, direct. Like the lyric poem, +it cannot waste a single measure; it must create its mood instantly. +It is personal; it seeks not to picture the emotion in general, but +the particular emotion experienced by a certain individual. It is +unique; no two experiences are quite alike, and no two songs accurately +expressive of individual experiences can be alike. It is sensuous; +emotions are felt, not understood, and the song must set the hearer’s +soul in vibration. It is intimate; one does not tell one’s personal +emotions to a crowd, and the true song gives each hearer the sense +that he is the sole confidant of the singer. Musical architecture, in +the older sense, has very little to do with this problem. Individual +expression goes its own way, and the music must accommodate itself to +the form of the text. Abundance of riches is only in a limited way a +virtue in a good song. The great virtue is to select just the right +phrase to express the particular mood. Fine sensibilities are needed +to appreciate a good song, for the song is a personal confession, and +one can understand a friend’s confession only if one has sensitive +heart-strings. + +Thus the song was peculiarly fitted to express a large part of the +spirit of the romantic period. This period, which appreciated the +individual more than any other age since the time of Pericles (with +the possible exception of the Italian Renaissance), which sought to +make the form subsidiary to the sense, which sought to get at the inner +reality of men’s feelings, which longed for sensation and experience +above all other things--this period expressed itself in a burst of +spontaneous song as truly as the drama expressed Elizabethan England, +or the opera expressed eighteenth century Italy. + + + I + +Lyrical song begins with Schubert. Before him there was no standard of +that form which he brought almost instantaneously to perfection. It +is hard for us to realize how little respect the eighteenth century +composer had for the short song. His attitude was not greatly unlike +the attitude of modern poets toward the limerick. Gluck set his hand to +a few indifferent tunes in the song-form, and Haydn and Mozart tossed +off a handful, most of which are mediocre. These men simply did not +consider the song worthy of the best efforts of a creative artist. + +If we take a somewhat broader definition of the word song we find that +it has been a part of music from the beginning. Folk-song, beginning +in the prehistoric age of music, has kept pretty much to itself until +recent times, and has had a development parallel with art music. From +time to time it has served as a reservoir for this art music, opening +its treasures richly when the conscious music makers had run dry. Thus +it was in the time of the troubadours and trouvères (themselves only +go-betweens) who took the songs of the people and gave them currency +in fashionable secular and church music. So it was again in the time +of Luther, who used the familiar melodies of his time to build up his +congregational chorales (a great part of the basis of German music from +that day to this). So it was again in the time of Schubert, who enjoyed +nothing better than walking to country merry-makings to hear the +country people sing their songs of a holiday. And so it has been again +in our own day, when national schools--Russian, Spanish, Scandinavian +and the rest--are flourishing on the treasures of their folk-songs. And +when we say that song began with Schubert we must not forget that long +before him, though almost unrecognized, there existed songs among the +people as perfect and as expressive as any that composers have ever +been able to invent. But these songs are constructed in the traditional +verse-form and are, therefore, very different from most of the art +songs of the nineteenth century, which are detailed and highly flexible. + +Of the songs composed before the time of Schubert, mostly by otherwise +undistinguished men, the greater part were in the simple form and +style of the folk-song. A second element in pre-Schubertian song was +the chorale. The _Geistliche Lieder_ (Spiritual Songs) of J. S. Bach +were nothing but chorales for solo voice. And the spirit and harmonic +character of the chorale, little cultivated in romantic song, are to be +found in a good part of the song literature of the eighteenth century. +A third element in eighteenth century song was the _da capo_ aria of +the opera or oratorio. Many detached lyrics were written in this form, +or even to resemble the more highly developed sonata form--as, for +instance, Haydn’s charming ‘My Mother Bids Me Bind My Hair,’ which is +otherwise as expressive and appropriate a lyric as one could ask for. +The effect of such an artificial structure on the most intimate and +delicate of art forms was in most cases deadly, and songs of this type +were little more than oratorio arias out of place. + +It will be seen that each of these sorts of song has some structural +form to distinguish it. The folk-song, which must be easy for +untechnical persons to memorize, naturally is cast in the ‘strophic’ +form--that is, one in which the melody is a group of balanced phrases +(generally four, eight, or sixteen), used without change for all the +stanzas of the song. The chorale or hymn tune is much the same, being +derived from the folk-song and differing chiefly in its more solid +harmonic accompaniment. And the _da capo_ aria is distinguished and +defined by its formal peculiarity. + +Now it is evident that for free and detailed musical expression the +melody must be allowed to take its form from the words and that +none of these three traditional forms can be allowed to control the +musical structure. And the _Lied_ of the nineteenth century is chiefly +distinguished, at least as regards externals, by this freedom of form. +Such a song, following no traditional structure, but answering to +the peculiarities of the text throughout, is the _durchkomponiertes +Lied_, or song that is ‘composed all the way through,’ which Schubert +established once and for all as an art-type. + +But in its heart of hearts the ‘art’ song at its best remains an own +cousin to the folk-song. This art, the mother of art and the fountain +of youth to all arts that are senescent, takes what is typical, what +is common to all men, casts it into a form which is intelligible to +all men, and passes through a thousand pairs of lips and a thousand +improvements until it is past the power of men further to perfect it. +Its range of subject is as wide as life itself, only it chooses not +what is individual and peculiar, but what is universal and typical. +It has a matchless power for choosing the expressive detail and the +dramatic moment. An emotion which shakes nations it can concentrate +into a few burning lines. It is never conscious that it is great art; +it takes no thought for the means; it is only interested in expressing +its message as powerfully and as simply as possible. In doing this it +hits upon the phrases that are at the foundation of our musical system, +at the cadences which block in musical architecture upon the structure +from which all conscious forms are derived. + +This popular art, as we have said, has revivified music again and +again. It was the soul of the Lutheran chorale, which, the Papists +sneeringly said, was the chief asset of the Reformation, since it +furnished the sensuous form under which religion took its place in the +hearts of the people. It is the foundation of Johann Sebastian Bach’s +music from beginning to end. And it is therefore the foundation of +the work of Bach’s most famous son, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, from +whom the ‘art song’ takes its rise. In the fifties he published the +several editions of his ‘Melodies’ to the spiritual songs of Christian +Fürchtegott Gellert; these may be taken as the beginning of modern +song. In his preface Bach shows the keenness of his understanding, +stating in theory the problem which Schubert solved in practice. He +says that he has endeavored to invent, in each case, the melody which +will express the spirit of the whole poem, and not, as had been the +custom, merely that which accords with the first stanza. In other +words, he recognizes the incongruity of expecting one tune to express +the varying moods of several dissimilar stanzas. His solution was to +strike a general average among the stanzas and suit his tune to it. +Schubert solved the problem by composing his music continuously to suit +each stanza, line, and phrase--in other words, by establishing the +_durchkomponiertes Lied_, the modern art song. + +Philipp Emanuel Bach thus saw that the _Lied_ should do what the +folk-song and the formal aria could not do. It is a nice question, +whether the conscious _durchkomponiertes Lied_ is more truly +expressive than the strophic folk-song. Mr. Henderson, in his book +‘Songs and Song Writers’[88] illustrates the problem by comparing +Silcher’s well-known version of Heine’s _Die Lorelei_ with Liszt’s. +Silcher’s eight-line tune has become a true folk-song. It keeps an +unvarying form and tune through three double stanzas, using, to express +the lively action of the end, the same music that expresses the natural +beauty of the beginning. Liszt, on the other hand, with masterful +imaginative precision, follows each detail of the picture and action +in his music. Mr. Henderson concludes that he would not give Liszt’s +setting for a dozen of Silcher’s. Some of us, however, would willingly +give the whole body of Liszt’s music for a dozen folk tunes like +Silcher’s. It is, of course, a matter of individual preference. But +we should give an understanding heart to the method of the folk-song, +which offers to the poem a formal frame of great beauty, binding the +whole together in one mood, while it allows the subsidiary details to +play freely, and perhaps the more effectually, by contrast with the +dominant tone. Whatever may be one’s final decision in the matter, a +study and comparison of the two settings will make evident the typical +qualities of the folk-song and ‘art’ song as nothing else could. + +Emanuel Bach also showed his feeling for the lyrical quality of the +_Lied_ by apologizing, between the lines, for his poems, saying that, +although the didactic is not the sort of poetry best suited to musical +treatment, Gellert’s fine verses justified the procedure in his case. +There is in the melodies, as we have said, something of the feeling of +the folk-song and of the Lutheran chorale. And there is also in them an +indefinable quality which in a curious way looks forward to the free +melodic expression of Schubert. + +Throughout the eighteenth century the chief representative of pure +German song was the singspiel, or light and imaginative dramatic +entertainment with songs and choruses interspersed with spoken +dialogue. The singspiel was not a highly honored form of art; it held a +place somewhat analogous to the vaudeville among us--that is, loved by +the people, but regarded as below the dignity of a first-class musician +(Italian opera being _à la mode_). Nevertheless, we find some excellent +light music among these singspiele. Reichardt’s _Erwin und Elmira_, to +Goethe’s text, contains numbers which in simple charm and finish of +workmanship do not fall far below Mozart. These singspiele maintained +the German spirit in song in the face of the Italian tradition until +Weber came and made the tinder blaze in the face of all Europe. +Reichardt felt the spirit of the time. He was one of those valuable +men who make things move while they are living and are forgotten after +they are dead. As kapellmeister under Frederick the Great he introduced +reforms which made him unpopular among the conservative spirits. His +open sympathy with the principles of the French revolution led to his +dismissal from his official post. From such a man we should expect +exactly what we find--an admiration for folk-songs and an insistence +that art songs should be founded on them. He was widely popular and had +a considerable influence on his time. He was thus a power in keeping +German song true to the best German traditions until the time when +Schubert raised it to the first rank. Reichardt was also the first +to make a specialty of Goethe’s songs, having set some hundred and +twenty-five of them. + +Zelter,[89] likewise, was best known in his time for his settings of +Goethe’s lyrics, and the poet preferred them to those of Schubert. +This fact need not excite such indignation as is sometimes raised in +reference to it, for Goethe was little of a musician. Zelter kept +true to the popular tradition and some of his songs are still sung by +the German students. Zumsteeg[90] was another important composer of +the time, the first important composer of ballads, and a favorite with +Schubert, who based his early style on him. + +Historically the songs of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven are of less +importance than those of the composers just named. Haydn’s are +predominantly instrumental in character. Mozart was much more of a poet +for the voice, and has to his credit at least one song, ‘The Violet,’ +a true _durchkomponiertes Lied_, which can take its place beside the +best in German song literature. Beethoven’s songs are often no more +than musical routine. His early ‘Adelaide,’ a sentimental scena in +the Italian style, is his best known, but his setting to Gellert’s +‘The Heavens Declare the Glory of the Eternal’ is by far the finest. +Except that it is a little stiff in its grandeur it would be one of the +noblest of German songs. Yet Beethoven’s place in the history of song +rests chiefly upon the fact that he was one of the first to compose +a true song cycle having poetical and musical unity. In some ways he +anticipated Schumann’s practises. + + + II + +With Schubert the _Lied_ appears, so to speak, ready made. After his +early years there is no more development toward the _Lied_; there is +only development _of_ the _Lied_. In his eighteenth year Schubert +composed a song which is practically flawless (‘The Erlking’) and +continued thereafter producing at a mighty pace, sometimes nodding, +like Homer, and ever and again dashing off something which is +matchless. In all he composed some six hundred and fifty songs. Many +of them are mediocre, as is inevitable with one who composes in such +great quantity. Many others, like the beautiful _Todesmusik_, are +uneven, passages of highest beauty alternating with vapid stretches +such as any singing teacher might have composed. He wrote as many as +six or seven songs between breakfast and dinner, beginning the new one +the instant he had finished the old. He sometimes sold them at twenty +cents apiece (when he could sell them at all). It is easy to say that +he should have composed less and revised more, but it does not appear +that it cost him any more labor to compose a great song than a mediocre +one. On the whole, it seems that Schubert measured his powers justly +in depending on the first inspiration. At the same time, it has been +established that he was not willfully careless with his songs--not, +at any rate, with the ones he believed in. A number were revised and +copied three and four times. But generally his first inspiration, +whether it was good or bad, was allowed to stand. + +Now this facility is not to be confounded with superficiality. +Schubert, taking an inspiration from the poems he read, went straight +for the heart of the emotion. No amount of painstaking could have +made _Am Meer_ more profound in sentiment. His course was simply that +of Nature, producing in great quantity in the expectation that the +inferior will die off and the best will perpetuate themselves. The +range of his emotional expression is very great. It is safe to say that +there is no type of sentiment or mood in any song of the last hundred +years which cannot find its prototype in Schubert. His songs include +ballads with a touch of the archaic, like ‘The Erlking’; lyrics with +the most delicate wisp of symbolism, like _Das Heidenröslein_ (‘Heather +Rose’); with the purest lyricism, like the famous ‘Serenade’ or the +‘Praise of Tears’; lyrics of the deepest tragedy, like ‘The Inn,’ or +pathos, like ‘Death and the Maiden’; of the most intense emotional +energy, like _Aufenthalt_; of the merriest light-heartedness, like +‘Hark, Hark, the Lark’ or the _Wanderlied_; and of the most exalted +grandeur, like _Die Allmacht_. + +It would be out of place here to estimate these songs in any detail. +For they have a personal quality which makes the estimating of them for +another person a ridiculous thing. Like all truly personal things, they +have, to the individual who values them, a value quite incommensurable. +Each of the best songs is unique, and is not to be compared with any +other. They are irreplaceable and their value seems infinite. Hence the +praise of one who loves these songs would sound foolishly extravagant +to another. We can here only review and point out the general qualities +and characteristics of Schubert’s output. + +With one of his earliest songs--‘Gretchen at the Spinning +Wheel’--composed when he was seventeen, Schubert establishes the +principle of detailed delineation in the accompaniment, developed so +richly in the succeeding decades. The whole of the melody is bound +together by the whirring of the wheel in the accompaniment. But when +Gretchen comes to her exclamation, ‘And ah, his kiss!’ she stops +spinning for a moment and the harmonies in the piano become intense +and colorful. This principle of delineative detail, even more than +the _durchkomponierte_ form, constitutes the difference between the +‘art’ song and its prototype, the folk-song. The details become more +and more frequent in Schubert’s songs as his artistic development +continues. They are rarely realistic, as in Liszt, but they always +catch the mood or the emotional nuance with eloquent suggestiveness. A +free song, like _Die Allmacht_, follows the varying moods of the text +line for line. But Schubert did not follow his text word for word as +later song-writers did. He felt what the folk-singer feels, the formal +musical unity of his song as apart from the unity in the meaning of the +words. He was never willing to admit a delineative detail that involved +a harsh break in the flow of beautiful melody. It was his choice of +melody, much more than his choice of delineative detail, that gave +eloquence to his songs. + +This melody is of great beauty and fluency from the beginning. The +lovely songs of the spectral tempter in ‘The Erlking’ could not +be more beautiful. Yet this gift of lovely melody becomes richer, +deeper, and even more spontaneous as Schubert grew older--richer and +more spontaneous than has been known in any other composer before or +since. It is nearly always based on the regular and measured melody of +folk-song, and rarely becomes anything approaching the free ‘endless +melody’ of Wagner. But beyond such a generalization as this it can +scarcely be covered with a single descriptive phrase. It was adequate +to every sort of emotional expression, and was so gently flexible in +form that it could fit any sort of poem without losing its graceful +contour. + +‘The Erlking,’ perhaps Schubert’s best known song (it is certainly one +of his greatest), is a perfect example of the ballad, or condensed +dramatic-narrative poem, a type which had been cultivated by Zumsteeg, +but had never reached real artistic standing. It demands sharp +characterization of the speaking characters, and especially some means +of setting the mood of the poem as a whole, in order to keep the story +within its frame and give it its artistic unity. The former Schubert +supplies with his melodies; the latter with the accompaniment of +triplets, with the recurring figure representing the galloping of the +horse. Without interrupting the musical flow of his song he introduces +the delineative detail where it is needed, as in the double dissonance +at the repeated shriek of the child--a musical procedure that was +revolutionary at the time it was written. And, if there were nothing +else in the song to prove genius, it would be proved by the last line +in which, for the first time, the triplets cease and the announcement +that the child was dead is made in an abrupt recitative, carrying us +back to a realization of the true nature of the ballad as a tale that +is told, a legend from the olden times. It must always be a pity that +Schubert did not write more ballads. He is commonly known as a lyric +genius, but he could be equally a descriptive genius. Yet only ‘The +Young Nun,’ among the better known of his songs, is at all narrative in +quality. + +Schubert’s form, as we have said, ranges all the way from the simple +strophe, or verse form, up to the verge of the declamatory. He was +extremely fond of the strophe, and usually used it with perfect +justice, as in the famous ‘Who is Sylvia,’ ‘Hark, Hark, the Lark,’ and +‘Ave Maria.’ Very often he uses the strophe form modified and developed +for the last stanza, as in _Du bist die Ruh_, or the ‘Serenade.’ +Again, as in _Die Allmacht_ and _Aufenthalt_, the melody, while being +perfectly measured and regular, follows the text with utmost freedom. +And, finally, there is _Der Doppelgänger_, which is scarcely more than +expressive declamation over a delineative accompaniment. ‘The music of +the future!’ exclaims Mr. Henderson. ‘Wagner’s theories a quarter of a +century before he evolved them.’ + +A number of Schubert’s are grouped together in ‘cycles,’ a procedure +practised by Beethoven in his _An die Ferne Geliebte_, and brought to +perfection by Schumann. Schubert’s twenty-four songs, ‘The Fair Maid of +the Mill,’ to words by Müller, tell the story of a love affair and its +consequent tragedy, enacted near the mill, by the side of the brook, +which ripples all through the series. The songs tell a consecutive +story somewhat in the fashion of Tennyson’s ‘Maud,’ but the group has +little of the inner unity of Schumann’s cycles. The ‘Winter Journey’ +series, also to Müller’s text, is more closely bound together by its +mood of old-aged despair. The last fourteen songs which the composer +wrote were published after his death as ‘Swan Songs,’ and the name has +justly remained, for they seem one and all to be written under the +oppressive fear of death. They include the six songs composed to the +words of Heine, whose early book of poems the composer had just picked +up. What a pity, if Schubert could not have lived longer, that Heine +did not live earlier! Each of, these Heine songs is a masterpiece. + +Schubert’s literary sense may not have been highly critical, but it +managed to include the greatest poets and the best poems that were to +be had. His settings include seventy-two to words by Goethe, fifty-four +of Schiller, forty-four of Müller, forty-eight of his friend Mayrhofer, +nineteen of Schlegel, nineteen of Klopstock, nineteen of Körner, ten of +Walter Scott, seven of Ossian, three of Shakespeare, and the immortal +six of Heine. And, though he was not inspired in any very direct +proportion to the literary worth of his poems, he responded truly to +the lyrical element wherever he found it. + +Writing at about the same time with Schubert were the opera composers +Ludwig Spohr, Heinrich Marschner, and Weber. The song output of these +men has not proved historically important, but they have to their +credit the fact that they were true to the German faith. Marschner’s +songs are not altogether dead to-day, and Weber’s are in a few +instances excellent. They come nearer than those of any other composer +to the true style and spirit of the folk-song, and reveal from another +angle the presiding genius of Weber’s operas. + +The place for the ballad which Schubert left almost vacant in his +work was filled by Johann Carl Gottfried (Carl) Löwe, born only a +few months before him.[91] The numerous compositions of his long life +have been forgotten, except for his ballads. And these have lived, +in spite of their feeble melodic invention, by their sheer dramatic +energy. Löwe’s ballads depend wholly on their words--that is their +virtue; as music apart they have scarcely any existence. But Löwe’s +dramatic sense was abundant and vigorous. A study of his setting of +‘The Erlking’ as compared with that of Schubert will instantly make +evident the differences between the two men. The motif of the storm +is more complex and wild; the speeches of the Erlking are strange and +mystical, as far as possible removed from the suave melody of Schubert. +The voice part is at every turn made impressive rather than beautiful. +Superficially Schubert’s method looks the more superficial and +inartistic, but it conquers by the matchless expressive power of its +melody. Löwe’s ballads compel our respect, in spite of their lack of +melodic invention. They are carefully selected and include some of the +best poetry of the time. They are worked out with great care, and are +conscientiously true to the meaning of the words as songs rarely were +in his day. They are designed to make an impressive effect in a large +concert hall. They have a considerable range, from the mock-primitive +heroics of Ossian to the boisterous humor of Goethe’s ‘Sorcerer’s +Apprentice.’ And in their cultivation of the declamatory style and +of the delineative accompaniment they were important in the musical +development of the age. + + + III + +Schumann was not, like Schubert, a singer from his earliest years. He +was at first a dilettante of the piano, and as he grew up dreamed +of becoming a virtuoso. He was enchanted by the piano, told it his +thoughts, and was fascinated by its undiscovered possibilities. His +genius came to its first maturity in his piano works, and all his +thoughts were at first for this instrument. + +He did not write his first song until 1840; that is, until almost +the end of his thirtieth year. When he did take to song-writing he +wrote furiously. There was a reason for it. For after several years +of passionate love-making to his Clara, and of almost more passionate +stubbornness on the part of her father, the young people took the +law into their own hands (quite literally, since they had to invoke +the courts) and were married in 1840. The first happiness of married +life and the anticipations leading up to it seem to have generated +in Schumann that demand for a more personal and intimate expression +than his beloved piano could offer. Though he had never been a rapid +writer he now wrote many songs at a stretch, as many as three or four +in a day. He seemed unable to exhaust what he had to say. By the +time the year was over he had composed more than a hundred songs. He +declared himself satisfied with what he had done. He might come back to +song-writing, he said; but he wasn’t sure. + +He did come back to it, but not until his creative powers were on the +wane. In the last six or seven years of his life he wrote more than a +hundred new songs, but hardly one of them rises above mediocrity. All +the songs that have made him famous, and all that are worthy of his +genius, date from the year of his marriage. + +Just what, in a technical way, Schumann was trying to do in his first +songs we do not know. It is probable that the ammunition for his +unusual harmonic progressions and his freer declamatory style came +from his own piano pieces. Fundamentally we know he admired Schubert +almost without reserve, having already spent the best part of a year +in Vienna, unearthed a number of Schubert scores, and spread Schubert’s +reputation to the best of his ability. Yet there is hardly one of +Schumann’s songs that could for a moment be mistaken for Schubert’s, +so different was the musical genesis of the two composers in their +song-writing. Schumann is a part of the Schubert tradition; but he is +just so much further developed (whether for the better or for the worse +may be left to the theorists). + +With Schumann the tendency of detailed musical description is carried +into a greater number of songs and into a greater variety of details. +The declamatory element increases, both in the number of songs which +it dominates and in the extent to which it influences the more melodic +songs. The part of the piano is tremendously increased, so much so that +the _Waldesgespräch_ has been called a symphonic poem with recitative +accompaniment by the voice. The harmony, while lacking in Schubert’s +entrancingly simple enharmonic changes, is more unusual, showing in +particular a tendency to avoid the perfect cadence, which would have +hurt Franz Schubert’s ear for a time. Schumann’s songs are commonly +called ‘psychological,’ and this much-abused word may be allowed to +stand in the sense that Schumann offered a separate statement of the +separate strands of an emotional state, while Schubert more usually +expressed the emotional state pure and simple. No songs could be more +subjective than some of Schubert’s later ones, but many, including +Schumann’s, have been more complex in emotional content. But perhaps +the first thing one feels on approaching the Schumann songs is that +they are consciously wrought, that they are the work of a thinker. This +is no doubt partly because Schumann, with all his gifts, did not have +at his disposal Schubert’s wonderfully rich melody and was obliged +to weigh and consider. But it is also quite to be expected from the +nature of the man. While Schumann’s songs are by no means so rich as +Schubert’s in point of melody, there are a few of his tunes, especially +the famous _Widmung_, which can stand beside any in point of pure +musical beauty. Still, it must be admitted that Schumann’s truly great +songs, even from the output of 1840, are decidedly limited in number. + +To understand better what is meant by the word ‘psychological’ in +connection with Schumann’s songs, let us turn to his most famous +group, the ‘Woman’s Life and Love.’ The first of the group, ‘Since +My Eyes Beheld Him,’ tells of the young girl who has awakened to +her first half-consciousness of love. It is hero worship, but it is +disconcerting, making her strangely conscious of herself, anxious to be +alone and dream, surrounded by a half sensuous, half sentimental mist. +The music is hesitating and broken, with many chromatic progressions +and suspensions in the piano part which rob it of any firm harmonic +outline. In the whole of the voice part there is not a single perfect +cadence. The melody is utterly lovely, but it sounds indefinite, as +though it were always just beginning; only here and there it rises into +a definite phrase of moody longing. In the second song, the famous _Er, +der Herrlichste von Allen_ the girl has come to full consciousness of +her emotion. Her loved one is simply her hero, the noblest of men. The +music is straightforward and decisive; the main theme begins with the +notes of the tonic chord (the ‘bugle notes’). There is no lack of full +cadence and pure half cadences. In the third song the girl has received +the man’s avowal of love, and is overcome with amazement, almost +terror, that her hero should look with favor upon _her_. The voice part +is scarcely more than a broken recitative, and the accompaniment is +largely of short sharp chords. Only for one ecstatic instant the melody +becomes lyrically lovely, in the richest German strain: it is on the +words ‘I am forever thine.’ In the sixth song the mother is gazing at +her newborn baby and weeping. The voice part is free declamation, with +a few rich chords in the accompaniment to mark the underlying depth of +emotion. In the eighth and last song the husband has died. The form +of the song is much the same as that of the sixth, only the chords +are now heavy and tragic. As the lamenting voice dies away the piano +part glides into the opening song, played softly; the wife dreams of +the first awakening of her love. The effect is to cast the eight songs +into a long backward vista, magically making us feel that we have lived +through the years of the woman’s life and love. + +This, easily the most famous of song cycles, is the type of all of +them. Beethoven wrote a true cycle, but his songs are by no means equal +to Schumann’s. Schubert wrote cycles, but none with the close bond and +inner unity of this one. Nor are Schumann’s other cycles--‘Myrtles,’ +the _Liederkreis_, song series from Eichendorff and another under the +same name from other poets, the ‘Poet’s Love’ from Heine, the Kerner +cycle, and the ‘Springtime of Love’ cycle--so closely bound as this. +The song cycle, on this plane, is a triumph of the accurate delineative +power of music. + +Almost as much as of this type of ‘psychology’ Schumann is master of +the delicate picture of mood, as in _Die Lotosblume_, _Der Nussbaum_, +and the thrice lovely _Mondnacht_. His musical high spirits often +serve him in good stead, as in Kerner’s ‘Wanderer’s Song.’ In ‘To the +Sunshine’ he imitates the folk-song style with remarkable success. +In the short ballad he has at least two works of supreme beauty, +the _Waldesgespräch_, already referred to, and the well known ‘Two +Grenadiers.’ There is a certain grim humor (one of the few lyrical +qualities which Schubert never successfully attempted) in his setting +of Heine’s masterly ‘The Old and Bitter Songs.’ And, finally, one +song that stands by itself in song literature--the famous _Ich grolle +nicht_, admired everywhere, yet not beyond its deserts. Here is tragedy +deep and exalted as in a Greek drama--though it is disconcerting to +note how much more seriously Schumann took the subject than did his +poet, Heine. + + + IV + +In 1843, when Schumann had made his first success as a song writer, +he received from an unknown young man a batch of songs in manuscript. +With his customary promptitude and sureness, he announced the young man +in his journal, the _Neue Zeitschrift für Musik_. This man was Robert +Franz, who, many insist, is the greatest song writer in the world, +barring only Schubert.[92] Franz, it seems, had had an unhappy love +affair, and had taken to song-writing to ease his feelings, having +burned up all his previous compositions as worthless. Schumann did for +Franz what he did for Brahms and to some extent for Chopin--put him on +the musical map--and that on the strength of an examination of only +a few early compositions. Through his influence Franz’s Opus I was +published, and thereafter, steadily for many years, came songs from +Franz’s pen. He wrote little other original music, save a few pieces +for church use. His reputation refused to grow rapidly, for there was +little in his work or personality on which to build _réclame_, but +it has grown steadily. The student of his songs will discover a high +proportion of first-rate songs among them--higher, probably, than in +any other song composer. + +Franz is one of those composers of whose work little can be told in +print. It is all in the music. Unlike Schubert and Schumann, he limited +himself in his choice of subjects, taking mostly poems of delicate +sentiments, and avoiding all that was realistic. Unlike Schubert, he +worked over his songs with greatest care, sometimes keeping them for +years before he had fashioned them to perfection. His voice parts are, +on the whole, more independent than Schumann’s. They combine perfect +declamatory freedom and accurate observance of the text with a delicate +finish of melodic grace. The accompaniments are in many styles. Broken +chords he uses with distinction, so that the individual notes seem +not only harmonic but melodic in their function. In him, more than in +previous song writers, polyphony (deriving from his familiarity with +Bach) plays a prominent part. He is a master in the use of delicate +dissonance, and in some ways the poetry of his accompaniments looks +forward to the ‘atmospheric’ effects of what we loosely term the +‘impressionistic school.’ He does not strike the heights or depths of +emotion, but his music at times is as moving as any in song literature. +Above all, he stands for the perfect and intimate union of text and +music, in a more subtle way than was accomplished either by Schubert or +Schumann. + +Mendelssohn wrote many songs during his days of fame, which had a +popularity far outshining that of the songs we have been speaking +of. They sold in great abundance, especially in England, and fetched +extraordinary prices from publishers. But by this time they have sunk +pretty nearly into oblivion. They are polished, as all his work is, +and have the quality of instantly pleasing a hearer who doesn’t care +to listen too hard. Needless to say, their musicianship is above +reproach. But their melody, while graceful, is undistinguished, and +their emotional message is superficial. + +Chopin, however, composed a little book of Polish songs which deserves +to be immortal. They purported to be arrangements of Polish melodies +together with original songs in the same spirit. As a matter of fact, +they are probably almost altogether Chopin’s work. In them we find the +highest refinement of melodic contour, and an exotic poetry in the +accompaniments such as none but Chopin, at the time, could write. ‘The +Maiden’s Wish’ is perhaps the only one familiar to the general public, +and that chiefly through Liszt’s piano arrangement of it. But among the +others there are some of the first rank, particularly the ‘Baccanale,’ +‘My Delights,’ and ‘Poland’s Dirge.’ + +In the intervals of his busy life Liszt managed to pen some sixty +or more _Lieder_, of which a large proportion are of high quality. +They suffer less than the other classes of his compositions from the +intrusion of banality and gallery play. In them Liszt is never the +poet of delicate emotion, but certain things he did better than either +Schubert or Schumann. The high heroism, often mock, which we feel in +his orchestral writing is here, too. He had command of large design; he +could paint the splendid emotion. His ballads are, on the whole, among +the best we have. In his setting of Uhland’s ‘The Ancestral Tomb,’ he +caught the mysterious aura of ancient balladry as few others have. When +there is a picture to be described Liszt always has a musical phrase +that suits the image. And in a few instances, as in his settings of +_Der du von dem Himmel bist_ and _Du bist wie eine Blume_, he achieved +the lyric at its least common denominator--the utmost simplicity of +sentiment expressed by the utmost simplicity of musical phrase. It was +a feat he rarely repeated. For in these songs he painted not only the +picture, but also the emotion. In Mignon’s song, ‘Know’st thou the +Land?’ he has put into a single phrase the very breath of homesickness. +His setting of ‘The Loreley’ has already been mentioned. It could +hardly be finer in its style. The preliminary musing of the poet, the +quivering of a dimly remembered song, the flow of the Rhine, the song +of the Loreley, the sinking of the ship, are all described. Still finer +is ‘The King of Thule,’ which, with all its elaboration of detail, +keeps to the sense of archaic simplicity that is in Goethe’s poem. In +his settings of Victor Hugo, Liszt was as appropriate as with Goethe, +and we find in them all the transparency of technique and the delicacy +of sentiment that distinguishes French verse. In all these songs Liszt +uses the utmost freedom of declamation in the voice part, with fine +regard for the integrity of the text. + + H. K. M. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[88] W. J. Henderson: ‘Songs and Song Writers,’ pp. 182 ff. + +[89] Carl Friedrich Zelter, b. Petzow-Werder on the Havel, 1758; d. +Berlin, 1832. + +[90] Johann Rudolph Zumsteeg, b. Sachsenflur (Odenwald), 1760; d. +Stuttgart, 1802. + +[91] In 1796 at Löbejün, near Köthen. He was educated in Halle, +patronized by King Jerome of Westphalia, Napoleon’s brother, and later +became municipal musical director at Stettin. He died in Kiel, 1869. + +[92] Originally his name was Knauth, but his father changed it by royal +consent to Franz. He was born in Halle in 1815 and died there in 1892. +He became organist, choral conductor, and university musical director +in his native city. An assiduous student of Bach and of Handel, his +townsman, he combined a contrapuntal style with Schumannesque sentiment +in his songs, of which there appeared 350, besides some choral works. +His critical editions of Bach and Handel works are of great value. +Almost total deafness cut short Franz’s professional activity. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + PIANOFORTE AND CHAMBER MUSIC OF THE ROMANTIC PERIOD + + Development of the modern pianoforte--The pioneers: Schubert and + Weber--Schumann and Mendelssohn--Chopin and others--Franz Liszt, + virtuoso and poet--Chamber music of the romantic period; Ludwig Spohr + and others. + + + I + +The striking difference between the pianoforte music of the nineteenth +century and that of the eighteenth is, of course, not an accident. That +of the eighteenth is in most cases not properly piano music at all, +since it was composed specifically for the clavichord or harpsichord, +which have little beyond the familiar keyboard in common with the +modern pianoforte. Both classes of instruments were known and in use +throughout the greater part of the eighteenth century, and the date +1800 may be taken as that at which the pianoforte displaced its rivals. +Much of the old harpsichord music is played to-day on the piano (as, +for instance, Bach’s preludes and fugues), but the structure of the +music is very different, and the effect on the piano gives no idea of +the effect as originally intended. + +The most superficial glance shows eloquently the difference between +the two sorts of keyboard music. That of the nineteenth century +differs from its predecessor in its emphasis on long sustained +‘singing’ melody, in its greater range, in its reliance on special tone +qualities, in being (to a great extent) melodic instead of polyphonic, +in wide skips and separation of notes, and, above all, in its use of +sustained chords. Leaving aside the specific tendencies of the romantic +period, all these differences can be explained by the difference in the +instruments for which the two sorts of music were written. + +The clavichord was a very simple instrument of keys and strings. The +length of the vibrating string (which determines its pitch) was set, at +the stroke which set it in vibration, by a metal ‘tangent’ on the end +of the key lever, being at once the hammer and the fret of the string. +The stroke was slight, the tone was extremely soft. The vibration +continued only a few seconds and was so slight that anything like +the ‘singing tone’ of the pianoforte was impossible. But within the +duration of a single note the player, by a rapid upward and downward +movement of the wrist which varied the pressure on the key, could +produce a wavering tone similar to the vibrato of the human voice and +the violin, which gave a faint but live warmth to the tone, unhappily +wholly lacking in the tone of the pianoforte. It was doubtless this +peculiar ‘live’ expressiveness which made the instrument a favorite of +the great Bach, and which, moreover, justifies the player in making +the utmost possible variety of tone in playing Bach’s clavier works on +the modern instrument. The sound of the instrument was something like +that of an æolian harp, and was therefore quite unsuited to the concert +hall. But it was of a sympathetic quality that made it a favorite for +small rooms, and much loved by composers for their private musings. + +The harpsichord was the concert piano, so to speak, of the time. +Its strings were plucked by means of a short quill, and a damper +automatically deadened the tone an instant afterwards. The instrument +was therefore quite incapable of sustained melody, or of gradations of +volume, except with the use of stops, which on the best instruments +could bring new sets of strings into play. Its tone was sharp and +mechanical, not very unlike that of a mandolin. + +Now what the modern pianoforte possesses (apart from its greater range +and resonance) is chiefly ability to control the power of the tone by +force or lightness of touch, and to sustain individual notes, by means +of holding down the key, or all of them together through the use of +the sustaining pedal. Theoretically, the clavichord could both control +power and sustain notes, but the tone was so slight that these virtues +were of little practical use. The ground principle of the pianoforte is +its rebounding hammer, which strikes the string with any desired power +and immediately rebounds so as to permit it to continue vibrating. Each +string is provided with its damper, which is held away from it as long +as the key is pressed down. The sustaining or damper pedal removes +all the dampers from the strings, so that any notes which are struck +will continue vibrating. The one thing which the piano cannot do is +to control the tone after it is struck. By great care in the use of +materials piano makers have been able to produce a tone which continues +vibrating with great purity and persistence, but this inevitably dies +out as the vibrations become diminished in amplitude. The ‘legato’ of +the pianoforte is only a second best, and is rather an aural illusion +than a fact. Any increasing of the tone, as with the violin, is quite +impossible. Any true sustaining of the tone is equally impossible, but, +by skillful writing and playing, the illusion of a legato tone can be +well maintained and a far greater beauty and variety of effect can be +reached than one might think possible from a mechanical examination of +the instrument. + +Before 1770 (the date of Beethoven’s birth) clavier music existed only +for the clavichord and the harpsichord, though it could also be played +on the pianoforte. Beethoven grew up with the maturing pianoforte. By +the time he had reached his artistic maturity (in 1800) it had driven +its rivals from the field. Up to 1792 all Beethoven’s compositions were +equally adapted to the piano and the harpsichord. Up to 1803 they were +published for pianoforte _or_ harpsichord, though it is probable that +in the preceding decade he had written most of his clavier music with +the pianoforte in mind. + +The earliest pianoforte (made in the first two decades of the +eighteenth century) had a compass of four and a half octaves, a little +more than that of the ordinary clavichord. The pianoforte of Mozart’s +time had five octaves, and Clementi added half an octave in 1793. By +1811 six and a half octaves had been reached, and in 1836 (about the +time of the publication of Liszt’s first compositions, barring the +youthful Études) there were seven, or seven and one-third, which have +remained the standard ever since. During all this time piano makers +had been endeavoring to increase the rigidity of the piano frame. This +was partly to take care of the greater size due to the adding of bass +strings, but chiefly to permit of greater tension. The quality and +persistency of the vibration depends to a great extent on the tension +of the strings. Other things being equal, the excellence of the tone +increases (up to a certain limit) with the tension. This led gradually +to the introduction of iron supports, and later to a solid cast iron +or steel frame, though up to 1820 only wood was used in the body of +the pianoforte, until the tension became so great and the pitch so +high (for the sake of tonal brilliancy) that the wooden frame proved +incapable of sustaining the strain. The average tension on each string +is, in the modern piano, some one hundred and seventy-five pounds, and +was up to recent times much higher. The present Steinway concert grand +suffers a strain of more than twenty tons, and, under the higher pitch +of former years, had to stand thirty. The weight of the instrument +itself is half a ton. + +These improvements have made the piano second only to the orchestra for +all around usefulness and expressiveness. The size of the instrument +and the high tension of the strings made its tone sufficient for the +largest concert hall, and permitted a keyboard range almost double that +of the harpsichord. The individual dampers responsive to the pressure +of the key made a quasi-legato and true melody playing possible. +The rebounding hammer directly controlled by the key made possible +all varieties of soft and loud tone. And the sustaining or damper, +incorrectly called the loud pedal, made possible the sustaining of +chords in great richness. The usefulness of this last device is still +not half stated in saying that chords can be sustained; for, when all +the strings are left open, there occurs a sympathetic vibration in the +strings which are not struck by the hammers but are in tune with the +overtones of the strings that are struck. This fact increases to an +astonishing extent the resonance and sonority of any chords sounded +with the help of the sustaining pedal. It makes the instrument almost +orchestral in quality, opening to it an amazing range and variety of +effect which Chopin, Liszt, and many piano writers after them, used +with supreme and magical skill. The soft pedal opens another range of +effects. On the grand piano it shifts the hammers so that they hit but +one of the three strings proper to each note in the middle and upper +registers. Hence the direction _una corda_, written in the pianoforte +works of all great masters, including Beethoven. + +The piano thus became an ideal sounding board for the romantic +movement. It was capable of luscious expressive melody. It could +obtain effects of great delicacy and intimate character. It could be +loud, astonishing and orchestral. Its tone was in itself a thing of +sensuous beauty. Its freedom in harmony was no less than its freedom +in melody, and enharmonic changes, beloved of all the romanticists, +became easy. It allowed the greatest liberty in the disposition of +notes, and harmonic accompaniment, with broken chords and arpeggios, +could take on an absolute beauty of its own. This sufficiently explains +the complete change in the method of writing clavier music in the +nineteenth century. One example of the way in which Mozart and Chopin +obtained harmonic sonority in accompaniments will show how far-reaching +the change was. + + [Illustration: Music score: Mozart: Sonata in F major] + + [Illustration: Music score: Chopin: Nocturne Op. 27, No. 2] + +By the use of the damper pedal the Chopin formula gives the effect of +a sustained chord. On the harpsichord it would have sounded like a few +notes too widely scattered to be united in sonority. + +With such an instrument every style of music became possible. Liszt +asserted that he could reproduce any orchestral effect on it, and +many of the best orchestral works of his time became generally known +first through his pianoforte arrangements of them. Equally possible +were the simple song-like melodies of some of Chopin’s preludes, or +the whimsical genre pieces of Schumann. As a consequence the wonderful +piano literature of the nineteenth century is equal to any music in +range, power, and emotional expressiveness. + + + II + +Nearly all the qualities of romantic music find their beginnings in +Beethoven. But it is not always easy to disentangle the romantic from +the classical element in his music, and for convenience we begin +the history of the romantic period with Schubert and Weber. For +the specific and conscious tendencies of romanticism first showed +themselves in the fondness for smaller free pianoforte forms, which +Beethoven cultivated not at all, if we omit his historically negligible +_Für Elise_ and one or two other pieces of the same sort. Beethoven’s +later sonatas, while romantic in their breaking through the classic +form and seeking a more intense emotional expression, are rather the +prophets of romanticism than its ancestors. + +When Schubert dared to write lovely pieces without any reference to +traditional forms he began the history of romantic piano music. This +he did in his lovely Impromptus, opus 90, and the famous _Moments +musicals_, both published in the year of his death, 1828. The +Impromptus were not so named by the composer, but the title can well +stand. They are essentially improvisations at the piano. They were +written not to suit any form, nor to try any technical task, but simply +because the composer became fascinated with his musical idea and +wanted to work it out, which is true (theoretically at least) of all +romantic music. In the very first of the Impromptus, that in C minor, +we can almost see Schubert running his fingers over his piano, timidly +experimenting with the discovery of a new tune, his childlike delight +at finding it a beautiful one, and his pleasure in lingering over +lovely cadences and enharmonic changes, or in working out new forms for +his melody. The very first note--the octave G struck fortissimo--is +a note for the pianoforte and not for clavichord or harpsichord. +For it is held, and with the damper pedal pressed down, so that the +other strings may join in the symphony in sympathetic vibration. And +throughout the piece this G seems to sound magically as the dominant +around which the whole harmony centres as toward a magnet. In other +words, we are meeting in this first Impromptu our old Romantic friend, +sensuous tone. The pleasure which Schubert takes in repeating the G, +either by inference or in fact, or in swelling his chords by the use +of the pedal, or in drawing out melodic cadences, or in coaxing out +the reverberating tones of the bass, or in letting his melodic tone +sound as though from the human voice--this, we might almost say, marks +the discovery of the pianoforte by the nineteenth century. And it is +equally romanticism’s growing realization of itself. + +All the impromptus are of great beauty, and all are unmistakably of +Schubert. They have the fault of improvisations in that they are +too long, but if one is in a leisurely mood to receive them, they +never become a bore. The _Moments musicals_ are still more typical +of Schubert’s genius--some of them short, ending suddenly almost +before the hearer is aware that they have begun, but leaving behind a +definite, clear-cut impression like a cameo. They are the ancestors of +all the genre pieces of later times. Each of them might have a fanciful +name attached, and each has the directness of genius. Schubert’s +sonatas are important only in their possession of the qualities of +the Impromptus and _Moments musicals_. They are filled with beauties, +but as sonatas--as representatives of classical organization and +logic--they are negligible. Schubert cannot resist the charm of a +lovely melody, and, when he finds one, the claims of form retire into +the background. Certain individual movements are of high excellence, +but played consecutively they are uneven. The ‘Fantasia’ in C minor +(containing one of the themes from Schubert’s song, ‘The Wanderer,’) +is a fine imaginative and technical work, but its freedom of form is +of no historical importance, as Mozart wrote a long fantasia in C that +was even more daring. The dances, likewise, have no significance in +point of form, being written altogether after the usual manner of the +day (they were, in fact, mostly pot boilers), but they contain at times +such appealing beauty that they helped to dignify the dance as a type +of concert piano music. The ability to create the highest beauty _in +parvo_ is distinctive of the romantic movement, and Schubert’s dances +and marches have stimulated many another composer to simplicity of +expression. The influence of them is evident in the _Carnaval_ and the +_Davidsbündler Tänze_ of Schumann. Liszt elaborated them and strung +several together for concert use, and the waltzes of Brahms, who, more +perhaps than any other, admired Schubert and profited by him, are +derived directly from those of Schubert. + +Liszt may be quoted once more, in his rhetorical style, but with his +sympathetic understanding that never misses the mark: ‘Our pianists,’ +he says, ‘hardly realize what a noble treasure is to be found in the +clavier music of Schubert. The most of them play him through _en +passant_, notice here and there repetitions and retards--and then lay +them aside. It is true that Schubert himself is partly responsible for +the infrequent performance of his best works. He was too unconsciously +productive, wrote ceaselessly, mingling the trivial and the important, +the excellent and the mediocre, paying no heed to criticism and +giving his wilfullness full swing. He lived in his music as the birds +live in the air and sang as the angels sing--oh, restlessly creative +genius! Oh, faithful hero of my youthful heaven! Harmony, freshness, +power, sympathy, dreaminess, passion, gentleness, tears, and flames +stream from the depths and heights of your soul, and in the magic +of your humanity you almost allow us to forget the greatness of your +mastership!’ + +Along with Schubert, Weber stands as the progenitor of the modern +pianoforte style. (The comparative claims of the two can never be +evaluated.) Here, again, it was Liszt who chiefly made the importance +of the man known to the world. He took loving pains in the editing +of Weber’s piano works late in his life, and, with conscientious +concern for the composer’s intention, wrote out amplified paraphrases +of many of the passages to make them more effective in performance. +The absolute value of these works, especially the sonatas, is much +disputed. It is customary to call them structurally weak, and at +least reputable to call them indifferent in invention. Yet we are +constantly being reminded in them that their author was a genius, +and the genius who composed _Der Freischütz_. Certainly they deserve +more frequent performance. As sonatas, they are, on the whole, more +brilliant and more adequate than Schubert’s. Single movements, such +as the andante of the A flat sonata, opus 39, can stand beside +Beethoven in emotional dignity and tender beauty. But, whatever is +the absolute musical value of these works, they are an advance on +Beethoven in one particular, the quality which the Germans describe +with the word _klaviermässig_--suited to the piano. For Beethoven, +with all the daring of his later sonatas, got completely away from the +harpsichord method of writing only to write for piano in orchestral +style. He never began to exhaust the qualities of the pianoforte which +are distinctive of the instrument. Weber’s writing is more for the +pianoforte. Especially Weber enriched piano literature with dramatic +pathos and romantic tone coloring, with vigorous harmony and expressive +song-like melody. The famous ‘Invitation to the Dance’ shows him at his +best, giving full play to his love of the simple and folk-like tune, +separating the hands and the fingers, and slashing brilliant streaks +of light and shade in the piano keyboard. The famous _Konzertstück_, a +great favorite of Liszt, and the concerto, once the rival in popularity +of Chopin’s, are rapidly slipping back into the gloom of a forgotten +style. As show pieces they pointed the way to further development +of pianoforte technique; but that which made them brilliant is now +commonplace, the stock in trade of even third-rate pianists; and the +genuine emotional warmth which has made much of Schubert’s pianoforte +works immortal is absent in these _tours de force_ of Weber. + +Historically Schubert leads the way to the piano style of Schumann, and +Weber to that of Liszt, and both in company to the great achievements +of the romantic period. But their style is a long way from modern +pianoforte style--much more closely related to Beethoven than to +Chopin. The dependence on the damper pedal for harmonic effects, the +extreme separation of the notes of a broken chord, the striving for +excessive power by means of sympathetic vibrations of the strings, and, +in general, the _pointillage_ use of notes as spots of color in the +musical picture, are only in germ in their works. The chorale method +of building up harmonies by closely adjacent notes still continues to +the detriment of the best pianistic effect. But in the work of the +composers immediately following we find the qualities of the piano +developed almost to the limit of possible effect. + + + III + +Keyboard music now tended more and more away from the old chorale and +polyphonic style, in which eighteenth century music was ‘thought,’ +toward a style which could take its rise from a keyed instrument +with pedals. Weber and Schubert achieved only at times this complete +freedom in their clavier music. It remained for Schumann, Liszt, and +Chopin to reveal the peculiar richness of the piano. Their styles are +widely differentiated, yet all truly pianistic and supplementary one +to the other. The differences can be derived from the personalities +and the outward lives of the three men. Schumann was the unrestrained +enthusiast, who was prevented by an accident from becoming a practising +virtuoso and was obliged to do his work in his work-room and his +inner consciousness. Liszt was, above all, the man of the world, the +man who loved to dominate people by his art and understood supremely +well how to do it. Chopin was by nature too sensitive ever to be a +public virtuoso; he reflected the Paris of the thirties in terms of +the individual soul where Liszt reflected it in terms of the crowd. +Each of them loved his piano ‘as an Arab his steed,’ in Liszt’s words. +Hence Schumann’s music, while supremely pianistic, has little concern +for outward effect, and was, in point of fact, slow in winning wide +popularity. With an influential magazine and a virtuoso wife to preach +and practise his music in the public ear, Schumann nevertheless had to +see the more facile Mendelssohn win all the fame and outward success. +Schumann’s reputation was for many years an ‘underground’ one. But +he was too much a Romantic enthusiast to make any concessions to the +superficial taste of the concert hall or drawing room, and continued +writing music which sounded badly unless it was very well played, and +even then rather austerely separated the sheep from the goats among its +hearers. Schumann is, above all, the pianists’ pianist. The musical +value and charm of his works is inextricably interwoven with the +executant’s delight in mastering it. + +Liszt is, of course, no less the technician than Schumann--in fact, +much more completely the technician in his earlier years. But his +was less the technique of pleasing the performer than of pleasing +the audience. With a wizardry that has never been surpassed he hit +upon those resources of the piano which would dazzle and overpower. +Very frequently he adopts the too easy method of getting his effect, +the crashing repeated chord and the superficial fireworks. None of +Schumann’s technical difficulties are without their absolute musical +value; all of Liszt’s, whether they convey the highest poetry or the +utmost banality, are directed toward the applause of the crowd. + +Chopin is much more than the elegant salon pianist, which is the part +of him that most frequently conditions his external form. He was the +sensitive harpstring of his time, translating all its outward passions +into terms of the inward emotions. Where Schumann had fancy Chopin had +sentiment or emotion. Chopin had little of Schumann’s vivid interest +in experimenting in pianistic resources for their own sake. Even his +Études are so preëminently musical, and have so little relation to a +pianistic method, that they show little technical enthusiasm in the +man. Chopin was interested in the technical possibilities of the piano +only as a means of expressing his abounding sentiments and emotions. +It is because he has so much to express and such a great variety of +it that his music is of highest importance in the history of piano +technique, and is probably the most subtly difficult of all pianoforte +music. It is hardly an exaggeration to say that there are twenty +pianists who can play the Liszt studies to one who can play those of +Chopin. The technical demands he makes upon his instrument are always +just enough to present his musical message and no more. Though he was +utterly and solely of the piano (as neither Schumann nor Liszt was) he +had neither the executant nor the public specifically in mind when he +composed. + +Schumann’s first twenty-six published works (covering \ most of the +decade from 1830 to 1840) were almost exclusively for the piano. From +the beginning he showed his instinct for its technical possibilities. +Opus 1, published in November, 1831, was a set of variations, the theme +being the musical ‘spelling’ of the name of a woman friend of his, the +‘Countess Abegg,’ perhaps as much a product of the imagination as was +the music itself. The variations show the crudities of dilettantism, as +well as its enthusiasm and courage. They were far from being the formal +mechanical variations of classical clavier music. No change of the +theme but has a musical and expressive beauty apart from its technical +ingenuity. Especially they reveal a vivid sense of what the piano could +do as distinguished from what the clavichord or harpsichord could do. +Much better was opus 2, the _Papillons_, or ‘Butterflies,’ which is +still popular on concert programs. All that is typical of Schumann the +pianist is to be found in some measure in this opus 2. For, besides the +vivid joy they reveal in experimentation with pianistic effects, there +is the fact that they came, by way of Schumann’s colorful imagination, +out of literature. Here was romanticism going full tilt. From his +earliest years Schumann had adored his Jean Paul. He had equally adored +his piano. When he read the one he heard the other echoing. This was +precisely the origin of the _Papillons_, as Schumann confessed in +letters to his friends. The various dances of opus 2 are the portions +of the masked dance of the conclusion of Jean Paul’s _Flegeljahre_--not +as program music, nor even as pictorial music, but in the vaguest +way the creation of the sensitive musician under the stimulus of +literature. Schumann attached no especial value to the fanciful titles +which he gave much of his piano music; in his later revisions of it he +usually withdrew them altogether. He always insisted that the music and +not the literature was the important thing in his music. The names +which betitle his music were often afterthoughts. They were nearly +always given in a playful spirit. The literary music of Schumann is not +in the least music which expresses literature, but only music written +by a sensitive musician under the creative stimulus of literature. + +The ‘Butterflies’ of opus 2 (_Papillons_) are by no means the +flittering, showy butterflies common to salons of that day. They are +free and fanciful dances, rich in harmonic and technical device, and +rich especially in buoyant high spirits. The canons, the free melodic +counterpoint, the recurrence of passages to give unity to the series, +the broken or rolling chords, the spicy rhythmical devices, the +blending of voices in a manner quite different from the polyphonic +style of old, and the use of single anticipatory or suspended notes for +changes of key--these gave evidence of what was to be the nature of +Schumann’s contribution to piano literature. + +From now on until 1839, when Schumann began to be absorbed in song +writing, there appeared at leisurely intervals piano works from his +study, few of which are anything short of creations of genius. In the +Intermezzi his technical preoccupations were given fuller play; in +the _Davidsbündler Tänze_ our old friends ‘Florestan,’ ‘Eusebius,’ +and ‘Meister Raro’ contribute pieces in their own special vein, all +directed to the good cause of ‘making war on the Philistines’--in +other words, asserting the claims of lovely music against those of +mechanical music, and of technically scholarly music against those of +sentimental salon music. Following this work came the Toccata, one of +Schumann’s earliest serious works later revised--an amazing achievement +in point of technical virtuosity, based on a deep knowledge of Bach and +polyphonic procedure, yet revealing the new Schumann in every bar. It +proved that the young revolutionist who was emphasizing musical beauty +over musical learning was not doing so because he was technically +unequipped. + +He now wrote the _Carnaval_, perhaps the most popular of Schumann’s +piano works, with Schumann’s friends, including Clara Wieck, Chopin, +and Paganini, appearing among the ‘musical pictures.’ Schumann’s humor +is growing more noisy, for in the last movement the whole group join +in an abusive ‘march against the Philistines,’ to the tune of the +old folk-song, ‘When Grandfather Married Grandmother.’ Why should an +avowed revolutionist take as his patron theme a song which praises the +good old times ‘when people knew naught of Ma’m’selle and Madame,’ and +deprecates change? But the romanticists, especially of Schumann’s type, +prided themselves on nothing more than their historical sense and their +kinship with the past--especially the German past. + +Next came more ambitious piano works, and interspersed among them the +_Phantasiestücke_ (‘Fantasy Pieces’), containing some of Schumann’s +most characteristic numbers, and the brilliant ‘Symphonic Études,’ +masterpieces one and all. And still later the ‘Novelettes,’ the +_Faschingsswank_, the well-known ‘Scenes from Childhood,’ and the +_Kreisleriana_. This group Schumann felt to be his finest work. It +was taken, like the _Papillons_, from literature, this time E. T. A. +Hoffmann’s tales of the eccentric Kapellmeister Kreisler. + +It is worth while to recall Hoffmann’s story, as an example of the +sort of literature to which Schumann responded musically. In Dr. Bie’s +words:[93] ‘The garden into which the author leads us is full of tone +and song. The stranger comes up to the young squire and tells him of +many distant and unknown lands, and strange men and animals; and his +speech dies away into a wonderful tone, in which he expresses unknown +and mysterious things, intelligibly, yet without words. But the castle +maiden follows his enticements, and they meet every midnight at the +old tree, none venturing to approach too near the strange melodies +that sound therefrom. Then the castle maiden lies pierced through +under the tree, and the lute is broken, but from her blood grow mosses +of wonderful color over the stone, and the young Chrysostom hears +the nightingale, which thereafter makes its nest and sings its song +in the tree. At home his father is accompanying his old songs on the +clavicymbal, and songs, mosses, and castle maiden are all fused in his +mind into one. In the garden of tone and song all sorts of internal +melodies rise in his heart, and the murmur of the words gives them +their breath. He tries to set them to the clavier, but they refuse to +come forth from their hiding places. He closes the instrument, and +listens to see whether the songs will not now sound forth more clearly +and brightly; for “I knew well that the tones must dwell there as if +enchanted.” Out of a world like this floated all sorts of compositions +in Schumann’s mind.... A thousand threads run from all sides into this +intimate web in which the whole lyrical devotion of a musical soul +is interwoven. The piano is the orchestra of the heart. The joys and +sorrows which are expressed in these pieces were never put into form +with more sovereign power. For the external form Bach gave the impulse; +for the content, Hoffmann. The garlanded roses of the middle section +of No. 1, the shimmering blossoms of the ‘inverted’ passage in the +_Langsamer_ of No. 2, the immeasurable depth of the emotions in the +slow pieces (4 and 6), the bass unfettered by accent, in the last bars +of No. 8, leading down to final whisperings, all are among the happiest +of inspirations.’ + +It will be noticed that most of the piano works of Schumann which +we have mentioned are series of short pieces. Some of the series, +notably the _Papillons_, the _Carnaval_, and _Kreisleriana_, are +held loosely together by a literary idea. The twenty little pieces +which constitute the _Carnaval_ have, moreover, an actual relation +to each other, in that all of them contain much the same melodic +intervals. Three typical sequences of intervals, which Schumann called +‘Sphinxes,’ are the groundwork of the _Carnaval_, but very subtly +disguised. That _Pierrot_, _Arlequin_, the _Valse Noble_, _Florestan_, +and _Papillons_ are thus closely related is likely to escape even the +careful listener; and these are perhaps the clearest examples. But +this device of ‘Sphinxes,’ and other devices for uniting a long series +of short pieces, really accomplish Schumann’s purpose. On the other +hand, they never give to the works in question the broad design and +the epic continuity of the classical sonata at its best. The Beethoven +sonatas opus 101 and 110, for example, are carved out of one piece. +The Schumann cycles are many jewels exquisitely matched and strung +together. The skill in so putting them together was peculiarly his, and +is the more striking in that each little piece is separately perfect. + +In general, it may be said that Schumann was at his best when working +on this plan. The power over large forms came to him only later, after +most of his pianoforte music had been written. The two sonatas, one +in F sharp and one in G minor, both belong to the early period; and +both, in spite of most beautiful passages, are, from the standpoint of +artistic perfection, unsatisfactory. In neither are form and content +properly matched. Exception must be made, however, for the Fantasia in +C major, opus 17. Here, what was uncertainty or insincerity becomes an +heroic freedom by the depth of ideas and the power of imagination which +so found expression. The result is a work of immeasurable grandeur, +unique in pianoforte literature. + +After his marriage to Clara Wieck Schumann gave most of his attention +to music for voice and for orchestra. In this later life belongs the +concerto for piano and orchestra. No large concert piece in all piano +literature is more truly musical and less factitious; no large work of +any period in the history of music shows more economy in the use of +musical material and means. In it Schumann is as completely sincere as +in his smaller pieces, and, in addition, reveals what came more into +view in his later years--the fine reserve and even classic sense of +fitness in the man. + +Mendelssohn as piano composer is universally known by his ‘Songs +Without Words,’ a title which he invented in accordance with the +fashion of the time. Like all the rest of his music, these pieces +are less highly regarded now than a few decades ago. Modern music +has passed far beyond the romanticism of the first half of the last +century, and the ‘Songs Without Words,’ with all their occasional +charm, have no one quality in sufficient proportion to make them +historical landmarks. They are never heard on concert programs; their +chief use is still in the instruction of children. Their finish and +fluidity would not plead very strongly for them if it were not for +the occasional beauty of their melodies. They remain chiefly as an +indication of the better dilettante taste of the time. And, as Mr. +Krehbiel has pointed out,[94] we should give generous credit to the +music which was engagingly simple and honest in a time when the taste +was all for superficial brilliance. + +But Mendelssohn as a writer for the pianoforte is at his best in the +Scherzos, the so-called ‘Elf’ or ‘Kobold’ pieces, a type in which he +is in his happiest and freshest mood. One of these is a ‘Battle of +the Mice,’ ‘with tiny fanfares and dances, all kinds of squeaks, and +runnings to and fro of a captivating grace.’ Another is the well-known +‘Rondo Capriccioso,’ one of his best. In these ‘fairy pieces’ +Mendelssohn derives directly from Schubert and the _Moments musicaux_. +In the heavier pianoforte forms Mendelssohn had great vogue in his day, +and Berlioz tells jestingly how the pianos at the Conservatory started +to play the Concerto in G minor at the very approach of a pupil, +and how the hammers continued to jump even after the instrument was +demolished. + + + IV + +The quality of the musical taste which Chopin and in part Liszt were +combatting is forcibly brought out in the ‘Recollections of the Life of +Moscheles,’ as quoted by Dr. Bie.[95] ‘The halls echo with jubilations +and applause,’ he says, ‘and the audiences, especially the easily +kindled Viennese, are enthusiastic in their cheers; and music has +become so popular and the compositions so banal that it seldom occurs +to them to condemn shallowness. The dilettantes push forward, the +circle of instruction widens the cheaper and better the pianos become. +They push themselves into rivalry with the artists, in great concerts. +From professional piano-playing--and they often played at two places +in an evening--the artists took recreation with the good temper which +never failed in those years. The great singer Malibran would sit down +to the piano and sing the “Rataplan” and the Spanish songs, to which +she would imitate the guitar on the keyboard. Then she would imitate +famous colleagues, and a Duchess greeting her, and a Lady So-and-so +singing “Home, Sweet Home” with the most cracked and nasal voice in the +world. Thalberg would then take his seat and play Viennese songs +and waltzes with “obbligato snaps.” Moscheles himself would play with +hand turned round, or with the fist, perhaps hiding the thumb under the +fist. In Moscheles’ peculiar way of playing the thumb used to take the +thirds under the palm of the hand.’ + + [Illustration: Frédéric Chopin] + _From a study by Delacroix_ + +The piano recital of modern times was then unknown. It was not until +1838 that Liszt dared give a recital without the assistance of other +artists, and it was not Liszt’s music so much as his overshadowing +personality that made the feat possible then. Chopin, coming to Paris +under excellent auspices, had little need to make a name for himself in +the concert hall under these conditions, and, as we may imagine, had +still less zest for it. He was chiefly in demand to play at private +parties and aristocratic salons, where he frequently enough, no doubt, +met with stupidity and lack of understanding, but where, at least, he +was spared the noisy vulgarity of a musical vaudeville. Taking the best +from his friends, and selecting the excellent from the atmosphere of +the salons which he adorned, Chopin went on composing, living a life +which offers little color to the biographer. By the time he had reached +Paris in 1831 he had several masterpieces tucked away in his portfolio, +but, though perfectly polished, they are of his weaker sentimental +style. The more powerful Chopin, the Chopin of the polonaises, the +ballades, the scherzos, and some of the preludes, was perhaps partly +the result of the intimacy with George Sand, whose personality was of +the domineering, masculine sort. But more probably it was just the +development of an extraordinarily sensitive personality. At any rate, +it was not long after his arrival in Paris that Chopin’s creative power +had reached full vigor. + +After that the chronology of the pieces counts for little. They can +be examined by classes, and not by opus numbers, except for the +posthumous pieces (following opus 65), which were withheld from +publication during the composer’s life by his own wish, and were meant +by him to be burned. They are, in almost every case, inferior to the +works published during his lifetime. The works, grouped together, may +be summed up as follows: over fifty mazurkas, fifteen waltzes, nearly +as many polonaises, and certain other dances; nineteen nocturnes, +twenty-five preludes, twenty-seven études, four ballades, four +scherzos, five rondos, three impromptus, a berceuse, a barcarolle, +three fantasias, three variations, four sonatas, two piano concertos, +and a trio for piano and strings. All his works, then, except the +Polish songs mentioned in the last chapter, are written primarily for +the piano, a few having other instruments in combination or orchestral +accompaniment, but the vast majority for piano alone. + +The dances are highly variable in quality. Of the many mazurkas, some +are almost negligible, while a few reveal Chopin’s use of the Polish +folk-manner in high perfection. They are not a persistent part of +modern concert programs. The waltzes, on the other hand, cannot be +escaped; they are with us at every turn in modern life. Theorists +have had fine battles over their musical value; some find in them the +most perfect art of Chopin, and others regard them as mere glorified, +superficial salon pieces. Certainly they concede more to mere outward +display than do most of his compositions, and the themes sometimes +border on the trivial. The posthumous waltzes are like Schubert’s in +that they are apt to be thin in style with occasional rare beauties +interspersed. Of the remaining waltzes, the most pretentious, such +as the two in A flat, are extremely brilliant in design, offering to +the executant, besides full opportunity for the display of dexterity, +innumerable chances for nuance of effect (which are, of course, +frequently abused, so that the dances become disjointed and specious +caricatures of music). The waltz in A minor is far finer, containing +the true emotional Chopin, by no means undignified in the dance form. +No less fine is the hackneyed C-sharp minor waltz, in which the +opportunities for legitimate refinement and variety of interpretation +are infinite. These waltzes retain little of the feeling of the dance, +despite the frequent buoyancy of their rhythm. Chopin was interested +in emotional expression and extreme refinement of style; it mattered +little to him by what name his piece might be called. + +The Polonaises are a very different matter. Here we find a type of +heroic expression which Liszt himself could not equal. The fine energy +of the ‘Military’ polonaise in A major is universally known. The sound +and fury of this piece is never cheap; it is the exuberant energy of +genius. Even greater, if possible, are the polonaises in F sharp minor +and in A flat major. No element in them falls below absolute genius. +All of Liszt’s heroics never evoked from the piano such superb power. +The sick and ‘pathological’ Chopin which is described to us in music +primers is here hardly to be found--only here and there a touch of +moody intensity, which is, however, never repressive. The Chopin of +the waltzes and nocturnes would have been a man of weak and morbid +refinement, all the more unhealthy because of his hypersensitive +finesse. But, when we have added thereto the Chopin of the Polonaises, +we have one of the two or three greatest, if not the very greatest, +emotional poet of music. The Polonaises will stand forever as a protest +against the supposition that Chopin’s soul was degenerate. + +The traditional ‘sick’ Chopin is to be found _ipsissimus_ in the +Nocturnes, the most popular, with the waltzes, of his works. In such +ones as those in E flat or G the sentiment is that of a lad suffering +from puppy-love and gazing at the moon. From beginning to end there is +scarcely a bar which could correspond to the feelings of a physically +healthy man. Yet we must remember that this sort of sentiment was +quite in the fashion of the time. Byron had created of himself a myth +of introspective sorrow. Only a few decades before, the Werther of +Goethe’s novel, committing suicide in his suit of buff and blue, was +being imitated by love-sick swains among all the fashionable circles +which sought to do the correct thing. Chateaubriand and Jean Paul had +cast their morbid spell over fashionable society, and this spell was +not likely to pass away from the hectic Paris of the thirties while +there were such men as Byron and Heine to bind it afresh each year +with some fascinating book of verse. From such an influence a highly +sensitive man like Chopin could not be altogether free. There is +something in every artistic nature which can respond sympathetically +to the claims of the morbid, for the reason that the artist is a man +to feel a wide variety of the sensations that pertain to humanity. No +one of the great creative musicians of the time was quite free from +this morbid strain; in the sensitive, retiring Chopin it came out in +its most effeminate guise. But the point is, it did not represent the +whole of the man, nor necessarily any essential part of him. It was +the response of his nervous organism to certain of the influences to +which he was subject. Chopin may have been physiologically decadent or +psychologically morbid; it is hardly a question for musicians. But his +music, taken as a whole, does not prove a nature that was positively +unhealthy. Its persistent emphasis of sensuousness and emotion makes +it doubtless a somewhat unhealthy influence on the nerves of children; +but the same could be said of many of the phases of perfectly healthy +adult life. And, whatever may be the verdict concerning Chopin, we must +admire the manner in which he held his powerful emotional utterance +within the firm restraint of his aristocratic sense of fitness. If he +has sores, he never makes a vulgar display of them in public. + +The Preludes have a bolder and profounder note. They are the +treasure-house of his many ideas which, though coming from the best of +his creative spirit, could not easily find a form or external purpose +for themselves. We may imagine that they are the selected best of his +improvisation on his own piano, late at night. Some of them, like the +prelude in D flat major (the so-called ‘raindrop’ prelude) he worked +out at length, with conscientious regard for form. Others, like that +in A major, were just melodies which were too beautiful to lose but +were seemingly complete just as they stood. The marvellous prelude in +C-sharp minor is the ultimate glorification of improvisation with all +the charm of willful fancy and aimlessness, and all the stimulation of +a sensitive taste which could not endure having a single note out of +place. The Preludes are complete and unique; a careful listener can +hear the whole twenty-six successively and retain a distinct impression +for each. This is the supreme test of style in a composer, and in sense +of style no greater composer than Chopin ever lived. + +The Études deserve their name in that they are technically difficult +and that the performer who has mastered them has mastered a great deal +of the fine art of the pianoforte. But they are the farthest possible +from being études in the pedagogical sense. It is quite true that each +presents some particular technical difficulty in piano playing, but the +dominance of this technical feature springs rather from the composer’s +sense of style than from any pedagogical intent. Certainly these +pieces could not be more polished, or in most cases, more beautiful, +whatever their name and purpose. They may be as emotional as anything +of Chopin’s, as the ‘Revolutionary’ étude in C minor, which, tradition +says, was written in 1831 when the composer received news of the fall +of Warsaw before the invading Russians. The steady open arpeggio of +the bass is supposed to represent the rumble of conflict, and the +treble melody alternately the cries of rage of the combatants and the +prayers of the dying. But for the most part the Études are pure grace +and ‘pattern music,’ with always that morose or emotional under-current +which creeps into all Chopin’s music. The peculiar virtue of the +Études, apart from their interest for the technician, consists in their +exquisite grace and freedom combined with perfection of formal pattern. + +In the miscellaneous group of larger compositions, which includes the +Ballades, the Scherzos, the Fantasias, the Sonatas, and the Concertos, +we find some of Chopin’s greatest musical thoughts. The Ballades are +the musical narration of some fanciful tale of love or adventure. +Chopin supplied no ‘program,’ and it is probable that he had none in +mind when he composed them. But they tease us out of thought, making +us supply our own stories for the musical narration. They have the +power of compelling the vision of long vistas of half-remembered +experiences--the very mood of high romance. The Scherzos show Chopin’s +genius playing in characteristic perfection. They are not the ‘fairy +scherzos’ of Mendelssohn, but vivid emotional experiences, and Schumann +could well say of the first, ‘How is gravity to clothe itself if jest +goes about in dark veils?’ Though they seem to be wholly free and +fantastical in form, they yet are related to the traditional scherzo, +not only in their triple rhythm, but in the general disposition of +musical material. Traces of the old two-part song form, in which most +of the scherzos of Beethoven were written, are evident, and also of the +third part, called the Trio. On the other hand, elaborate transitional +passages from one part back to another conceal or enrich the older, +simpler form, and in all four there is a coda of remarkable power and +fire. The Fantasia in B minor, long and intricate, is one of the most +profoundly moving of all Chopin’s works; it leaves the hearer panting +for breath, as though he had waked up from an experience which had +sapped the energy of his soul. As for the Sonatas and the Concertos, +Chopin’s detractors have tried to deny them any particular merit--or +any excellence except that of incidental beauties. The assertion will +hardly stand. Chopin’s strength was not in large-scale architecture, +nor in what we might call ‘formal form.’ But the sonatas and concertos +have a way of charming the hearer and freeing his imagination in spite +of faulty structure, and one sometimes feels that, had a few more +of them been written, they would have created the very standards of +form on which they are to be judged. The famous ‘Funeral March’ was +interpolated as a slow movement of the B flat minor sonata, with which +it is always heard. Liszt’s eulogy of this may seem vainly extravagant +to our materialistic time, but it represents exactly what happens to +any one foolish enough to try to put into words the emotions stirred up +by this wonderful piece. + +Chopin, as we have said, played little in public. He said the public +scared him. When he did play people were wont to complain that he could +not be heard. They were used to the bombastic tone of Kalkbrenner. +Chopin might have remedied this defect and made a successful concert +performer out of himself, but his physical strength was always delicate +and his artistic conscience, moreover, unwilling to permit forcing or +grossness; so he continued to play too ‘softly.’ The explanation was +his delicate finger touch, coming entirely from the knuckles except +where detached chords were to be taken, when the wrists, of course, +came into play. Those who were so fortunate as really to _hear_ +Chopin’s playing had ecstasies of delight over this pearly touch, +which made runs and florid decorations sound marvellously liquid +and flute-like. No other performer before the public could do this. +Chopin’s pupils were in this respect never more than pupils. + +People complained, on hearing Chopin’s music played by others, that +it had no rhythm, that it was all _rubato_. The inaccuracy of this +was evident when Chopin played his own compositions. For the melody, +the ornament, of the right hand might be _rubato_ as it pleased, but +beneath it was a steady, almost mechanical operation of the left hand. +It was a part of Chopin’s conscious method, and it is said he used a +metronome in practising. The point is worth emphasizing because of the +way it illuminates Chopin’s fine sense of self-control and fitness. + +No technical method was ever more accurately suited to its task than +Chopin’s. He grew up in the atmosphere of the piano, and ‘thought +piano’ when composing music. He then drew on this and that piano +resource until, by the time he had ended his short life, he had +revealed the greater part of its potential musical possibilities--and +always in what he had needed in the business of expressing his musical +thoughts. With him the piano became utterly freed from the last traces +of the tyranny of the polyphonic and chorale styles. But he supplied a +polyphony of his own, the strangest, eeriest thing imaginable. It was +the combination of two or three melodies, widely different and very +beautiful, sometimes with the harmonic accompaniment added, sometimes +with the harmony rising magically out of the counterpoint, but always +in a new manner that was utterly pianistic. Chopin carried to its +extreme the widely broken chord, as in the accompaniment to the major +section of the ‘Funeral March.’ + +But it was in the art of delicate figuration (borrowed in the first +place from Hummel) that Chopin was perhaps most himself. This, with +Chopin, can be contained within no formula, can be described by no +technical language. It was inexhaustible; it was eternally fluid, yet +eternally appropriate. It somehow fused the utmost propriety of mood +with the utmost grace of pattern. Even when it is most abundant, as in +the F sharp major nocturne, it never seems exaggerated or in bad taste. + +Harmonically Chopin was an innovator, at times a radical one. Here, +again, he seemed to appropriate what he needed for the matter in hand, +and exhibit no experimental interest in what remained. His free changes +of key are graceful rather than sensuous, as with Schubert, and, when +the modulation grows out of quasi-extemporaneous embellishment, as +in the C sharp minor prelude, it melts with an ease that seems to +come quite from the world of Bach. The later mazurkas anticipate the +progressive harmonies of Wagner. + +Much of his manner of playing, as well as the notion of the nocturne, +Chopin got from the Scotchman, Field, who had fascinated European +concert halls with his dreaming, quiet performance, and with the free +melody of the nocturne genre which he had invented. From Hummel, as we +have said, Chopin borrowed his embellishment, and from Cramer he chose +many of the fundamentals of pianistic style. From the Italians (Italian +opera included) he received his taste for long-drawn, succulent melody; +in the composer of ‘Norma’ we see a poor relation of the aristocratic +Pole. Thus from second and third-rate sources Chopin borrowed or took +what he needed. He was surrounded by first-rate men, but dominated +by none. He took what he wanted where he found it, but only what he +wanted. He was constantly selecting--and rejecting. Therein he was the +aristocrat. + +This is the place to make mention of several writers for the piano +whose works were of importance in their day and occasionally to-day +appear upon concert programs. Stephen Heller,[96] slightly younger than +Chopin, and, unlike the Pole, blessed with a long life, wrote in the +light and graceful style which was much in vogue, yet generally with +sufficient selective sense to avoid the vapid. About the same can be +said for Adolph Henselt (1814-1889), whose étude, ‘If I Were a Bird,’ +still haunts music conservatories. His vigorous concerto for piano +is also frequently played. William Sterndale Bennett, who, after his +student years in Leipzig, became Mendelssohn’s priest in England, wrote +four concertos, a fantasia with orchestra, a trio, and a sonata in F +minor. His work is impeccable in form, often fresh and charming in +content, but without radical energy of purpose--precisely Mendelssohn’s +list of qualities. Finally, we may mention Joachim Raff (1822-1882), +writer of a concerto and a suite, besides a number of smaller pieces +which show programmistic tendencies. + + + V + +Liszt, the supreme virtuoso of the piano, is the Liszt who wrote about +three-fourths of the compositions which bear his name. The other +fourth, or perhaps a quarter share of the whole, comes from another +Liszt, a great poet, who could feel the values of whole nations as +Chopin could feel the values of individual souls. It is not a paradox +to say that Liszt was so utterly master of the piano that he was a +slave to it. With it he won a place for himself among counts and +princesses, storming a national capital with twenty-four concerts at +a single visit by way of variety between flirtations. Having so deeply +in his being the pianistic formulas for conquering, it was inevitable +that when he set out to do other tasks the pianistic formula conquered +him. So it is, at least, in much of his music, which, with all its +supreme pianistic skill, is sometimes pretty worthless music. Only, +apart from this Liszt of the piano, there always stood that other +Liszt--the one who, as he tells us in his book on gypsy music, slept in +the open fields with the gypsies, studied and noted their tunes, and +felt the great sweeps of nature as strongly as he felt the great sweeps +of history. Both Liszts must be kept in mind if we would understand his +piano works. + +Liszt’s piano style was quite the opposite of Chopin’s. The Pole +played for a few intimate friends; the Hungarian played for a vast +auditorium. He had the sense of the crowd as few others have ever had +it. His dazzling sweeps of arpeggios, of diatonic and chromatic runs, +his thunderous chords, piling up on one another and repeated in violent +succession, his unbelievable rapidity of finger movement, his way of +having the whole seven octaves of the keyboard apparently under his +fingers at once--in short, his way of making the pianoforte seem to be +a whole orchestra--this was the Liszt who wrote the greater part of +what we are about to summarize briefly. + +Liszt’s piano style was not born ready made. Although he captured Paris +as an infant prodigy when he first went there, he had an immense amount +of maturing and developing to do. ‘It is due in great measure to the +example of Paganini’s violin playing that Liszt at this time, with +slow, deliberate toil, created modern piano playing,’ says Dr. Bie. +‘The world was struck dumb by the enchantment of the Genoese violinist; +men did not trust their ears; something uncanny, inexplicable, ran +with this demon of music through the halls. The wonder reached Liszt; +he ventured on _his_ instrument to give sound to the unheard of; leaps +which none before him had ventured to make, “disjunctions” which no +one had hitherto thought could be acoustically united; deep tremolos +of fifths, like a dozen kettle-drums, which rushed forth into wild +chords; a polyphony which almost employed as a rhythmical element the +overtones which destroy harmony; the utmost possible use of the seven +octaves in chords set sharply one over another; resolutions of tied +notes in unceasing octave graces with harmonies hitherto unknown of +the interval of the tenth to increase the fullness of tone-color; a +regardless interweaving of highest and lowest notes for purposes of +light and shade; the most manifold application of the tone-colors of +different octaves for the coloration of the tone-effect; the entirely +naturalistic use of the tremolo and the glissando; and, above all, a +perfect systematization of the method of interlacing the hands, partly +for the management of runs, so as to bring out the color, partly to +gain a doubled power by the division, and partly to attain, by the use +of contractions and extensions in the figures, a fullness of orchestral +chord-power never hitherto practised. This is the last step possible +for the piano in the process of individualization begun by Hummel and +continued by Chopin.’ + +The earliest of Liszt’s published études, published in 1826, are now +difficult to obtain. They were the public statement of his pianistic +creed, the ultimatum, so to speak, of the most popular pianist of the +day to all rivals. They seemed to represent the utmost of pianistic +skill. Then, in 1832, came Paganini to Paris, and Liszt, with his +customary justice toward others, recognized in him the supreme +executant, and, what was more significant, the element of the true +artist. Inevitably the experience reacted on his own art. He adapted +six of Paganini’s violin caprices for piano, achieving a new ‘last +word’ in pianoforte technique. These studies still hold their place +in piano concerts, especially the picturesque ‘Campanella.’ In 1838 +Liszt sought to mark the progress of his pianism to date by publishing +a new arrangement of his earliest études, under the name of _Études +d’exécution transcendante_. These, while primarily technical studies, +are also the work of a creative artist. The _Mazeppa_ was a symphonic +poem in germ (later becoming one in actuality). The _Harmonies du +Soir_, experimenting with ‘atmospheric’ tone qualities on the piano, +is an ancestor of the modern ‘impressionistic’ school. The _Étude +Héroique_ foreshadows the _Tasso_ and _Les Préludes_. The significant +thing in this is the way in which Liszt’s creative impulse grew out of +his mastery of the piano. + +A predominant part of Liszt’s earlier activity has in recent times +passed into comparative insignificance. We are nowadays inclined +to sneer at his pompous arrangements of everything from Beethoven +symphonies and Bach preludes to the popular operas of the day. But +these arrangements, by which his pianistic method chiefly became known, +were equally important in their effect on pianism and on musical taste. +The name and fame of Berlioz’s _Symphonie Fantastique_ went out among +the nations chiefly through Liszt’s playing of his arrangement of it. +Schubert’s songs, likewise, which one would suppose were possible only +for the voice, were paraphrased by Liszt with such keen understanding +of the melodic resources of the piano, and such pious regard for the +intentions of Schubert, that Liszt’s piano was actually the chief +apostle of Schubert’s vocal music through a great part of Europe. Liszt +was similarly an apostle of Beethoven’s symphonies. It is eternally to +his credit that Liszt, though in many ways an aristocrat in spirit, was +never a musical snob; his paraphrases of Auber’s and Bellini’s operas +showed as catholic a sense of beauty as his arrangements of Beethoven. +He could bow to the popular demand for opera _potpourris_ without ever +quite descending to the vulgar level of most pianists of his day, +though coming perilously near it. His arrangements were always in some +degree the work of a creative artist, who could select his themes and +develop them into an artistic whole. They were equally the work of an +interpretive artist, for they frequently revealed the true beauties and +meanings of an opera better than the conductors and singers of the day +did. + +As Liszt travelled about the world on his triumphal tours, or sojourned +in the company of the Countess d’Agoult in Switzerland, he sought +to confide his impressions to his piano. These impressions were +published in the two volumes of the ‘Years of Pilgrimage,’ poetic +musical pictures in the idiom of pianistic virtuosity. The first +of these pieces was written to picture the uprising of the workmen +in Lyons, following the Paris revolution of 1830. Thereafter came +impressions of every sort. The chapel of William Tell, the Lake of +Wallenstein, the dances of Venice or Naples, the reading of Dante or +of Petrarch’s sonnets--all gave him some musical emotion or picture +which he sought to translate into terms of the piano. The musical +value of these works is highly variable, but at their best, as in +certain of the grandiose Petrarch sonnets, they equal the best of +his symphonic poems. In these works, too, his experiments in radical +harmony are frequent, and at times he completely anticipates the novel +progressions of Debussy--whole-toned scale and all. Along with the +‘Years of Pilgrimage’ may be grouped certain other large compositions +for the piano, such as the two ‘Legends’ of St. Francis, the six +‘Consolations,’ the brilliant polonaises, the fascinating ‘Spanish +Rhapsody,’ and the grandiose _Funerailles_. All of these works are +still frequently played by concert pianists. + +The two grand concertos with orchestra--in E flat major and A +major--are of dazzling technical brilliancy. In the second in +particular the pianistic resource seems inexhaustible. The thematic +material is in Liszt’s finest vein and the orchestral accompaniment is +executed in the highest of colors. In the second, too, Liszt not only +connects the movements, as was the fashion of the day, but completely +fuses them, somewhat in the manner that a Futurist painter fuses the +various parts of his picture. Scherzo, andante, and allegro enter when +fancy ordains, lasting sometimes but a moment, and returning as they +please. In the same way is constructed the superb pianoforte sonata +in B minor, a glorious fantasy in Liszt’s most heroic style. It is +commonly said that as a sonata this work is structurally weak; it +would be truer to say that as a sonata it has no existence. It is the +nobility of the work, in its contrapuntal and pianistic mastership, +that carries conviction. + +The Hungarian Rhapsodies, perhaps Liszt’s most typical achievement, +are universally known. They were the outcome of his visit to his +native land in 1840, and of the notes he made at the time from the +singing of the gypsies. His book, ‘The Gypsies and Their Music,’ is +well worth reading for any who wish to know the real impulse behind +the Rhapsodies. Liszt, beyond any of his time, understood the æsthetic +and ethical import of folk-music, and knew how to place it at the +foundation of all other music whatsoever. Without such an appreciation +he could not have caught so accurately the distinctive features of +Hungarian music and developed them through his fifteen rhapsodies +without ever once losing the true flavor. In them the gypsy ‘snap,’ +the dotted notes, the instrumental character, the extreme emphasis on +rhythm, and the peculiar oriental scales become supremely expressive. +Liszt is here, as he aspired to be, truly a national poet. The Lassan +or slow movement of the second, and every note of the twelfth, the +national hymn and funeral march which open the fourteenth, are a +permanent part of our musical heritage. On the other hand, their real +musical value is unhappily obscured by virtuoso display. They are, +first and foremost, pieces for display, however much genuine life and +virility the folk melodies and rhythms on which they are based may +give them. As such they find their usual place at the end of concert +programs, to suit the listener who is tired of really listening and +desires only to be taken off his feet by pyrotechnics; as well as to +furnish the player his final opportunity to dazzle and overpower. + + + VI + +The romantic age produced many works in the quieter forms of chamber +music, but, perhaps because these forms were quieter, was not at +its best in them. Nearly all the German composers of the period, +save Liszt, wrote quantities of such music. The string quartet was +comparatively under a cloud after Schubert’s death, suffering a decline +from his time on. But no quartets, save those of Beethoven, are finer +than Schubert’s. He brought to them in full power his genius for +melody. Moreover, he showed in them a genius for organization which +he did not usually match in his other large works. In the best of +his quartets he escaped the danger to which a lesser melodist would +have succumbed--that of incontinently putting a chief melody into +the first violin part and letting the remaining instruments serve as +accompaniment In no musical type are all the voices so absolutely +equal as in the string quartet; the composer who unduly stresses any +one of the four is false to the peculiar genius of the form. But +Schubert feels all the parts: he gives each its individuality, not in +the close polyphonic manner of Bach, but in the melodist’s manner of +writing each voice with an outline that is distinctive. In these works +the prolixity which so often beset him is purged away; the musical +standard is steadily maintained. The movements show steady development +and coherence. The instruments are admirably treated with reference to +their peculiar possibilities. Often the quartets are highly emotional +and dramatic, though they never pass beyond the natural limitations +of this peculiarly abstract type of music. In his search for color +effects, too, Schubert frequently foreshadows the methods and feelings +of modern composers, but these effects, such as the tremolo climax, +are not false to the true nature of the instruments he is using. Some +of Schubert’s chamber works still hold their place in undiminished +popularity in concerts. A few make use of the melodies of some of his +best songs, such as ‘The Wanderer,’ ‘Death and the Maiden,’ and _Sei +mir gegrüsst_. The best are perhaps those in A minor, G major, and D +minor. To these we must add the great C major quintet, which uses the +melody of ‘The Trout’ in its last movement. + +Contemporary with Schubert, and outliving him by a number of years +was Ludwig Spohr (1784-1859), whose quartets number as many as those +of Mozart and Beethoven put together. The only one which still holds +its place in concert programs is that in G minor, opus 27. His +quartets have the personal faults and virtues of their composer, +being somewhat tenuous and mannered, and inclined to stress solo +virtuosity. Schumann’s early quartets, especially the three in opus +41, show him very nearly at his best. These, written in the early +years of his married life, after a deliberate study of the quartets of +Beethoven, are thoroughly workmanlike, and are eminently successful as +experiments in direct and ‘aphoristic’ expression. They rank among the +best in string quartet literature. Not so much can be said for those +of Mendelssohn. They were, of course, immensely popular in their time. +But, though their style is polished, their content is not creative +in the finer sense. And, strangely enough, their composer frequently +committed in them faults of taste in his use of the instruments. The +best to be said of them, as of much of the rest of Mendelssohn’s music, +is that they were of immense value in refining and deepening the +musical taste of the time, when the greater works of every type were +caviar to the general. + +In addition to the quartets of the romantic period we should mention +the vast quantity of chamber music written for various combinations +of instruments. Spohr in particular was very prolific, and his +combinations were sometimes highly unusual. For instance, he has to +his credit a nonet, four double quartets, a ‘nocturne’ for wind and +percussion instruments, a sextet for strings and a concerto for string +quartet with orchestral accompaniment. Mendelssohn’s octet for strings, +opus 22, is fresh and interesting, especially in the scherzo, where the +composer is at his best. And, to follow the great trios (piano, violin, +and 'cello) of Beethoven, we have two trios, D minor and C minor, by +Mendelssohn, and three trios, in D minor, F major, and G minor, by +Schumann, of which the first is the best. The later Schumann sonatas +for violin show only too clearly the composer’s declining powers. + +The romantic period was naturally the time for great pianoforte +concertos. Weber, in his two concertos, in C and E flat, and in his +_Concertstück_ for piano and orchestra, foreshadowed the spirit of +great concertos that followed, though his technique was still one of +transition. Mendelssohn’s concerto in G minor was for years the most +popular of show pieces in conservatories, though it has since largely +dropped out of use. (His _Capriccio_, however, is still familiar +and beautiful.) But the great concerto of the period, and one of the +great ones of all time, was Schumann’s in A minor. This was originally +written as a solo piece of moderate length, but broadened into a +concerto of three distinct though joined movements, each representing +the best of Schumann’s genius. No concerto ever conceded less to mere +display, or maintained a more even standard of musical excellence. +And to-day, though the technical brilliance is somewhat dimmed by +comparison with more modern works, the idealistic sincerity of the +lovely concerto speaks with unlessened vigor. Numerous other concertos +for pianoforte were composed and were popular in the period we are +discussing, but most of them have dropped out of use, except for the +instruction of conservatory students. Among them we may mention the +concerto in F minor by Adolph Henselt (1814-1889), one of the famous +virtuosos of the time, whose work is exceedingly pianistic, elaborate +and graceful, but somewhat pedantic and lacking in force; that in A +flat by John Field (1782-1837); that in C sharp minor by Ferdinand Ries +(1784-1838); that in F minor by Sterndale Bennett (1816-1875); that in +F sharp minor by Ferdinand Hiller (1811-1885), a famous virtuoso of +the time, who was closely identified with the work and activities of +some of the greatest composers; and that in G minor by Joachim Raff +(1822-1882). Chopin’s two concertos, composed in his earliest years +of creative activity, are uneven, but in parts reveal the genius of +their composer and justly maintain their somewhat limited popularity in +modern concerts. + +Ludwig Spohr, whom Rupert Hughes calls one of ‘the first of second-best +composers,’ was a virtuoso of the violin, and it is chiefly through +his writing for that instrument that he retains what position he has +in modern times. He first became known as a violinist and constantly +showed his predilection for the instrument in his writings. In his +day he seemed a dazzling genius, with his eleven operas, his nine +symphonies, and his great oratorio ‘The Last Judgment.’ Yet these +have hardly more than a historical value to-day--except for the quiet +pleasure they can give the student who takes the trouble to examine +the scores. It is as a composer for the violin that Spohr continues +to speak with some authority. His seventeen concertos still enter +largely into the training of young violin virtuosos, and figure to a +considerable though diminishing extent in concerts. As a master of the +violin Spohr represents the old school. His bowing, when he played, +was conservative. He drew from his instrument a broad singing quality +of tone. All his writing shows his intimacy with the instrument of +his personal triumphs. It has been said that ‘everything turned to a +concerto at his touch.’ His style, however, was not lurid, but rather +delicate and nuanced. Presently he was eclipsed by Paganini,[97] a +genius who was half charlatan, who stopped short of no trick with his +instrument provided it might procure applause. Spohr could see nothing +but the trickster in this man who thrilled Liszt and who has left +several pieces which are to-day in constant use and are not scorned +by the best of musicians. Spohr, however, had an individuality which +could not blend with that of the meteoric virtuoso. In some respects +he is extraordinarily modern. His harmony was continually striving +for peculiar and colorful effects. He was addicted, in a mild way, +to program music, and gave titles to much of his music, such as +the ‘Seasons’ symphony. But his genius always stopped short of the +epoch-making quality of supreme creativeness. + +In violin literature we must mention one more work, one which has +never been surpassed in beauty of workmanship and which remains one +of the great things of its kind in all music. This is Mendelssohn’s +concerto. It is, outside of the concert overtures, the one work of his +which has not sunk materially in the eyes of musicians since its first +years. Its themes, though not robust, are of the very highest beauty. +Its technical qualities make it one of the best beloved of works to +violinists. And its unmatchable polish and balance of architecture make +it a constant joy to concert audiences. + + H. K. M. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[93] Oskar Bie: ‘A History of the Pianoforte and Pianoforte Players,’ +Chap. VIII. + +[94] ‘The Pianoforte and Its Music,’ Chap. X. + +[95] ‘The Pianoforte and Pianoforte Players,’ Chap. VII. + +[96] B. Pesth, 1814; d. Paris, 1888. + +[97] Niccolò Paganini, the greatest of all violin virtuosi, was born in +1782 in Genoa, and died, 1840, in Nizza. + + + + + CHAPTER IX + ORCHESTRAL LITERATURE AND ORCHESTRAL DEVELOPMENT + + The perfection of instruments; emotionalism of the romantic period; + enlargement of orchestral resources--The symphony in the romantic + period; Schubert, Mendelssohn, Schumann; Spohr and Raff--The concert + overture--The rise of program music; the symphonic leit-motif; + Berlioz’s _Fantastique_; other Berlioz symphonies; Liszt’s dramatic + symphonies--The symphonic poem; _Tasso_; Liszt’s other symphonic + poems--The legitimacy of program music. + + + I + +Most typical of the romantic period--more typical even than its +art of song--was its orchestral music. Here all that was peculiar +to it--individuality, freedom of form, largeness of conception, +sensuousness of effect--could find fullest development. The orchestra +in its eighteenth-century perfection was a small, compact, well-ordered +body of instruments, in which every emphasis was laid on regularity +and balance. The orchestra of Liszt’s or Berlioz’s dramatic symphonies +was a bewildering collection of individual voices and romantic tone +qualities. It would hardly be an exaggeration to say that, whereas +a Haydn symphony was a chaste design in lines, a Liszt symphony was +a gorgeous tapestry of color. Between the two every instrument had +been developed to the utmost of tonal eloquence which composers could +devise for it. The number of kinds of instruments had been doubled or +trebled, thanks partly to Beethoven, and the size of the orchestra in +common use had been increased at least once over. The technique of +orchestral instruments had increased astonishingly; Schubert’s C major +symphony, which was declared unplayable by the orchestra of the Vienna +Musikverein, one of the best of the age, is a mere toy compared with +Liszt’s or Berlioz’s larger works. Such instruments as the horns and +trumpets were greatly improved during the second and third decades of +the century, so that they could take a place as independent melodic +voices, which had been almost denied them in Beethoven’s time. As an +instrument of specific emotional expression the orchestra rose from +almost nil to its present position, unrivalled save by the human voice. + +It is doubtless true to say that this enlargement resulted from +the technical improvements in orchestral instruments and from the +increase of instrumental virtuosity, but the converse is much more +true. The case is here not so much as with the piano, that an improved +instrument tempted a great composer to write for it, but rather that +great composers needed more perfect means of expression and therefore +stimulated the technicians to greater efforts. For, as we have seen, +the musical spirits of the romantic period insisted upon breaking +through conventional limitations and expressing what had never before +been expressed. They wanted overpowering grandeur of sound, impressive +richness of tone, great freedom of form, and constant variety of color. +They wanted especially those means which could make possible their +dreams of pictorial and descriptive music. Flutes and oboes in pairs +and two horns and two trumpets capable of only a partial scale, in +addition to the usual strings, were hardly adequate to describe the +adventures of Dante in the Inferno. The literary and social life of the +time had set composers thinking in grand style, and they insisted upon +having the new and improved instruments which they felt they needed, +upon forcing manufacturers to inventions which should facilitate +complicated and extended passages in the wind, and the performers +to the acceptance of these new things and to unheard-of industry in +mastering them. Thus the mere external characteristics of romantic +orchestral music are highly typical of the spirit of the time. + +Perhaps the most typical quality of all is the insistence upon sensuous +effect. We have seen how the denizens of the nineteenth century longed +to be part of the things that were going on about them, how, basing +themselves on the ‘sentimental’ school of Rousseau, they considered a +truth unperceived until they had _felt_ it. This distinction between +contemplating life and experiencing it is one of the chief distinctions +between the classical and the romantic spirit everywhere, and between +the attitude of the eighteenth century and that of the nineteenth in +particular. When Rousseau offered the feelings of his ‘new Heloïse’ as +justification for her conduct, he sent a shock through the intelligent +minds of France. He said, in substance: ‘Put yourself in her place +and see if you wouldn’t do as she did. Then ask yourself what your +philosophic and moral disapproval amounts to.’ Within some fifty years +it became quite the craze of polite society to put itself in the new +Heloïse’s place, and George Sand did it with an energy which astonished +even France. + +Now, when one commences thoroughly to reason out life from +one’s individual feelings, it becomes necessary to reconstruct +philosophy--namely, to construct it ‘from the bottom up,’ from the +demands and relations of the individual up to the constitution of the +mass. And it is quite natural that when insistence is thus laid on +the individual point of view the senses enter into the question far +more largely than before. At its most extreme this view comes to an +unrestrained license for the senses--a vice typical of Restoration +France. But its nobler side was its desire to discover how the other +man felt and what his needs were, in place of reasoning on abstract +grounds how he ‘ought’ to act. Besides, since the French Revolution +people had been experiencing things so incessantly that they had +got the habit. After the fall of Napoleon they could not consent to +return to a calm observation of events. Rather, it was precisely +because external events had calmed down that they so much more needed +violent experience in their imaginative and artistic life. The classic +tragedies of the French ‘golden age’ were indeed emotional and in high +degree, but the emotions were those of types, not of individuals. They +were looked on as grand æsthetic spectacles rather than as appeals from +one human being to another. It was distinctly bad form to show too much +emotion at a tragedy of Racine’s; whereas in the romantic period tears +were quite in fashion. However great the human falsity of the romantic +dramas, they at least pretended to be expressions of individual +emotions, and were received by their audiences as such. The life of a +follower of the arts in Paris in the twenties and thirties (or anywhere +in Europe, for that matter) was one of laughing and weeping in the joys +and sorrows of others, moving from one emotional debauch to another, +and taking pride in making the feelings of these creations of art as +much as possible one’s own. It was small wonder, then, that musicians +did the same; that, in addition to trying to paint pictures and tell +stories, they should endeavor to make every stroke of beauty _felt_ by +the auditor, and felt in a physical sensuous thrill rather than in a +philosophic ‘sense of beauty.’ + +And nothing could offer the romantic musicians a finer opportunity for +all this than the timbres of the orchestra. The soft golden tone of the +horn, the brilliant yellow of the trumpet, the luscious green of the +oboe, the quiet silver white of the flute seemed to stand ready for the +poets of the senses to use at their pleasure. In the vibrating tone of +orchestral instruments, even more than in complicated harmonies and +appealing melodies, lay their chance for titillating the nerves of a +generation hungry for sensuous excitement. But we must remember that if +these instruments have poetic and colorful associations to us it is in +large measure because there were romantic composers to suggest them. +The horn and flute and oboe had been at Haydn’s disposal, yet he was +little interested in the sensuous characteristics of them which we feel +so acutely. In great measure the poetic and sensuous tone qualities of +the modern orchestra were brought out by the romantic composers. + +The classical orchestra, as we have seen in an earlier chapter, had +originally been based on the ‘string quartet’--namely, the first +violins, the second violins, the violas, and the ‘cellos, with +the double basses reënforcing the 'cello part. The string section +completely supported the musical structure. This was because the +strings alone were capable of playing complete and smooth scales and +executing all sorts of turns and trills with nearly equal facility. +Wind instruments in the eighteenth century were in a very imperfect +condition. Some of them, like the trumpets, were capable of no more +than eight or ten notes. All suffered from serious and numerous +restrictions. Hence they were originally used for giving occasional +color or ornamentation to the music which was carried by the strings. +About the middle of the century the famous orchestra of the court +of Mannheim, under the leadership and stimulus of Cannabich and +of the Stamitz family, reached something like a solid equilibrium +in the matter of instrumentation, and from its disposition of the +strings and wind all later orchestration took its rise. The Mannheim +orchestra became renowned for its nuance of effect, and especially for +its organized crescendos and diminuendos. The ideal orchestra thus +passed on to Haydn and Mozart was a ‘string quartet’ with wood-wind +instruments for the occasional doubling of the string parts, and the +brass for filling in and emphasizing important chords. Gradually +the wood-wind became a separate section of the orchestra, sometimes +carrying a whole passage without the aid of strings, and sometimes +combining with the string section on equal terms. With this stage +modern instrumentation may be said to have begun. The brass had to +wait; its individuality was not much developed until Beethoven’s time. + +Yet during the period of orchestral development under Haydn and Mozart +the strings remained the solid basis for orchestral writing, partly +because of their greater practical efficiency, and partly because the +reserved character of the violin tone appealed more to the classic +sense of moderation. And even with the increased importance of the +wood-winds the unit of writing was the group and not the individual +instrument (barring occasional special solos). The later history of +orchestral writing was one of a gradually increasing importance and +independence for the wood-wind section (and later for the brass) +and of individualization for each separate instrument. Mozart based +his writing upon the Mannheim orchestration and upon Haydn, showing +considerable sensitiveness to timbres, especially that of the +clarinet. Haydn, in turn, learned from Mozart’s symphonies, and in his +later works for the orchestra further developed freedom of writing, +being particularly fond of the oboe. Beethoven emancipated all the +instruments, making his orchestra a collection of individual voices +rather than of groups (though he was necessarily hampered by the +technically clumsy brass). + +Yet, compared to the writing of Berlioz and Liszt, the classical +symphonies were in their orchestration rather dry and monochrome +(always making a reservation for the pronounced romantic vein in +Beethoven). Haydn and Mozart felt orchestral contrasts, but they used +them rather for the sake of variety than for their absolute expressive +value. So that, however these composers may have anticipated and +prepared the way for the romanticists, the difference between the two +orchestral palettes is striking. One might say it was the difference +between Raphael’s palette and Rubens’. And in mere externals the +romanticists worked on a much larger scale. The string orchestra in +Mozart’s time numbered from twenty-two to thirty instruments, and to +this were added usually two flutes and two horns, and occasionally +clarinets, bassoons, trumpets, and kettle-drums in pairs. Beethoven’s +orchestra was little larger than this, and the capabilities of +his instruments only slightly greater, but his use of the various +instruments as peculiar and individual voices was masterly. All the +great composers of the second quarter of the nineteenth century studied +his instrumentation and learned from it. But Beethoven, though he +sought out the individual character of orchestral voices, did not make +them sensuously expressive as Weber and Liszt did. About the time of +Beethoven’s death the use of valves made the brass possible as an +independent choir, capable of performing most of the ordinary diatonic +and accidental notes and of carrying full harmony. But it must be said +that even the most radical of the romantic composers, such as Berlioz, +did not avail themselves of these improvements as rapidly as they +might, and were characteristic rather in their way of thinking for +instruments than in their way of writing for them. The valve horns and +valve trumpets came into use slowly; Schumann frequently used valve +horns plus natural horns, and Berlioz preferred the vulgar _cornet à +pistons_ to the improved trumpet. + +But the romantic period added many an instrument to the limited +orchestra of Mozart and Beethoven. Clarinets and trombones became the +usual thing. The horns were increased to four, and the small flute +or piccolo, the English horn, and the bass clarinet (or the double +bassoon), and the ophicleide became frequent. Various instruments, +such as the ‘serpent,’ the harp, and all sorts of drums were freely +introduced for special effects. + +Berlioz especially loved to introduce unusual instruments, and +quantities of them. For his famous ‘Requiem’ he demanded (though he +later made concessions): six flutes, four oboes, six clarinets, ten +bassoons, thirty-five first and thirty-five second violins, thirty +‘cellos, twenty-five basses, and twelve horns. In the _Tuba Mirum_ +he asks for twelve pairs of kettle-drums, tuned to cover the whole +diatonic scale and several of the accidentals, and for four separate +‘orchestras,’ placed at the four corners of the stage, and calling +for six cornets, five trombones, and two tubas; or five trumpets, six +ophicleides, four trombones, four tubas, and the like. His scores are +filled with minute directions to the performers, especially to the +drummers, who are enjoined to use a certain type of drumstick for +particular passages, to place their drum in a certain position, and +so on. His directions are curt and precise. Liszt, on the other hand, +leaves the matter largely to ‘the gracious coöperation of the director.’ + +Experimentation with new and sensational effects made life thrilling +for these composers. Berlioz recalls with delight in his Memoirs an +effect he made with his arrangement of the ‘Rackoczy March’ in Buda +Pesth. ‘No sooner,’ says he, ‘did the rumor spread that I had written +_hony_ (national) music than Pesth began to ferment. How had I treated +it? They feared profanation of that idolized melody which for so many +years had made their hearts beat with lust of glory and battle and +liberty; all kinds of stories were rife, and at last there came to +me M. Horwath, editor of a Hungarian paper, who, unable to curb his +curiosity, had gone to inspect my march at the copyist.’ + +'“I have seen your Rakoczy score,” he said, uneasily. + +'“Well?” + +'“Well, I feel horribly nervous about it.” + +'“Bah! Why?” + +'“Your motif is introduced piano, and we are used to hearing it +fortissimo.” + +'“Yes, by the gypsies. Is that all? Don’t be alarmed. You shall have +such a forte as you never heard in your life. You can’t have read the +score carefully; remember the end is everything.” + +‘All the same, when the day came my throat tightened, as it did in +times of great excitement, when this devil of a thing came on. First +the trumpets gave out the rhythm, then the flutes and clarinets, with +a pizzicato accompaniment of strings--softly outlining the air--the +audience remaining calm and judicial. Then, as there came a long +crescendo, broken by the dull beats of the big drum (as of distant +cannon), a strange restless movement was perceptible among them--and, +as the orchestra let itself go in a cataclysm of sweeping fury and +thunder, they could contain themselves no longer. Their overcharged +souls burst with a tremendous explosion of feeling that raised my hair +with terror.’ + +This bass-drum beat pianissimo ‘as of distant cannon’ has never to this +day lost its wild and mysterious potency. But it must not be supposed +that the romanticists’ contribution to orchestration consisted mainly +in isolated sensational effects. Their work was marvellously thorough +and solid. Berlioz in particular had a wizard-like ear for discerning +and developing subtleties of timbre. His great work on Orchestration +(now somewhat passé but still stimulating and valuable to the student) +abounds in the mention of them. He points out the poetic possibilities +in the lower registers of the clarinets, little used before his day. +He makes his famous notation as to the utterly different tone qualities +of one violin and of several violins in unison, as though of different +instruments. And so on through hundreds of pages. The scores of the +romanticists abound in simple effects, unheard of before their time, +which gain their end like magic. Famous examples come readily to mind: +the muted violins in the high registers in the ‘Dance of the Sylphs’ +from ‘The Damnation of Faust’; the clumsy bassoons for the dance of the +‘rude mechanicals’ in Mendelssohn’s incidental music to ‘A Midsummer +Night’s Dream’; the morose viola solo which recurs through Berlioz’s +‘Harold in Italy’; the taps and rolls on the tympani to accompany the +speeches of the devil in _Der Freischütz_ or the flutes in their lowest +register in the accompaniment to Agathe’s air in the same opera--all +these are representative of the richness of poetic imagination and +understanding of orchestral possibilities in the composers of the +romantic period. + + + II + +It was inevitable that the pure symphonic form should decline in +esteem during the romantic period; for it is based primarily on a love +of pure design--the ‘da capo’ scheme of statement, development, and +restatement, which remains the best method ever invented for vividly +presenting musical ideas without extra-musical association or aid. It +is primarily a mold for receiving ‘pure’ musical material, and the +romantic period, as we have seen, had comparatively little use for +music without poetic association. Of the best symphonies of the time +the greater part have some general poetical designation, like the +‘Italian’ and ‘Scotch’ symphonies of Mendelssohn, or the ‘Spring’ and +‘Rhenish’ symphonies of Schumann. These titles were in some cases mere +afterthoughts or concessions to the demands of the time, and in every +case the merest general or whimsical suggestion. Yet they can easily +be imagined as fitting the musical material, and they always manage +to add interest to the work without interfering with the ‘absolute’ +musical value. And even when they are without specific title they are +infused with the spirit of the age--delight in sensuous effects and +rich scoring, emotional melody, and varied harmonic support. + +For all this, as for nearly everything else in modern music, we must +go back to Beethoven if we wish to find the source, but for purposes +of classification Schubert may be set down as the first romantic +symphonist. He adhered as closely as he could to the classical mold, +though he never had a predominant gift for form. A beautiful melody +was to him the law-giver for all things, and when he found such a +melody it went its way refusing to submit to the laws of proportion. +Yet this willfulness can hardly be regarded as standing in the way +of outward success; the ‘Unfinished’ symphony in B minor could not +be better loved than it is; it is safe to say that of all symphonies +it is the most popular. It was written (two movements and a few bars +of a scherzo) in 1822, was laid aside for no known reason, and lay +unknown in Vienna for many years until rescued by Sir George Grove. The +mysterious introduction in the ‘cellos and basses, as though to say, +‘It happened once upon a time’; the haunting ‘second theme’ introduced +by the ‘cellos; the stirring development with its shrieks of the +wood-wind--all are of the very stuff of romantic music. A purist might +wish the work less diffuse, especially in the second movement; no one +could wish it more beautiful. In the great C major symphony, written +in the year of his death, Schubert seems to have been attempting a +_magnum opus_. If he had lived, this work would certainly have been +regarded as the first composition of his ‘second period.’ He labored +over it with much more care than was his custom, and showed a desire to +attain a cogent form with truly orchestral ideas. The best parts of the +‘Unfinished Symphony’ could be sung by the human voice; the melodies +of the C major are at home only with orchestral instruments. The work +was all but unprecedented for its time in length and difficulty; it is +Schubert’s finest effort in sustained and noble expression, and, though +thoroughly romantic in tone, his nearest approach to ‘absolute’ music. +It seems outmoded and at times a bit childlike to-day, but by sheer +beauty holds its place steadily on orchestral programs. Schubert’s +other symphonies have dropped almost completely out of sight. + +Mendelssohn’s four symphonies, including the ‘Italian,’ the ‘Scotch,’ +and the ‘Reformation,’ have had a harder time holding their place. It +seems strange that Mendelssohn, the avowed follower of the classics, +should not have done his best work in his symphonies, but these +compositions, though executed with extreme polish and dexterity, sound +thin to-day. A bolder voice might have made them live. But the ‘Scotch’ +and ‘Italian’ in them are seen through Leipzig spectacles, and the +musical subject-matter is not vigorous enough to challenge a listener +in the midst of modern musical wealth. As for the ‘Reformation’ +symphony, with its use of the Protestant chorale, _Ein feste Burg_, +a technically ‘reformed’ Jew could hardly be expected to catch the +militant Christian spirit. Yet these works are at their best precisely +in their romantic picturesqueness; as essays in the ‘absolute’ symphony +they cannot match the nobility and strength of Schubert’s C major. + +Schumann, the avowed romantic, had much more of worth to put into his +symphonies, probably because he was an apostle and an image-breaker, +and not a polite ‘synthesist.’ The ‘Spring’ symphony in B flat, +written in the year of his marriage, 1840 (the year of his most +exuberant productivity), remains one of the most beautiful between +Beethoven and recent times. The austerity of the classical form +never robbed him of spontaneity, for the ideas in his symphony are +not inferior to any he ever invented. The form is, on the whole, +satisfactory to the purist, and, beyond such innovations as the +connecting of all four movements in the last symphony, he attempted +little that was new. The four works are fertile in lovely ideas, +such as the graceful folk-song intoned by ‘cellos and wood-wind in +the third, or the impressive organ-like movement from the same work. +Throughout there is the same basic simplicity of invention--the +combination of fresh melodic idea with colorful harmony--which endears +him to all German hearts. It is customary to say that Schumann was a +mere amateur at orchestration. It is certainly true that he had no +particular turn for niceties of scoring or for searching out endless +novelties of effect, and it is true that he sometimes proved himself +ignorant of certain primary rules, as when he wrote an unplayable +phrase for the horns in his first symphony. But his orchestration is, +on the whole, well balanced and adequate to his subject-matter, and is +full of felicities of scoring which harmonize with the romantic color +of his ideas. + +Of the other symphonists who were influenced by the romantic fervor +the greater part have dropped out of sight. Spohr, who may be reckoned +among them, was in his day considered the equal of Beethoven, and his +symphonies, though often manneristic, are noble in conception, romantic +in feeling, and learned in execution. Of a much later period is Raff, +a disciple of Liszt, and, to some extent, a crusader on behalf of +Wagner. Like Spohr, he enjoyed a much exaggerated reputation during +his lifetime. Of his eleven symphonies _Im Walde_ and _Leonore_ +(both of a mildly programmistic nature) were the best known, the +latter in particular a popular favorite of a generation ago. Raff +further developed the resources of the orchestra without striking +out any new paths. Many of his ideas were romantic and charming, but +he was too often facile and rather cheap. Still, he had not a little +to teach other composers, among them the American MacDowell. Gade, +friend of Mendelssohn and his successor at Leipzig, was a thorough +scholarly musician, one of the few of the ‘Leipzig circle’ who did not +succumb to dry formalism. He may be considered one of the first of +the ‘national composers,’ for his work, based to some extent on the +Danish folk idiom, secured international recognition for the national +school founded by J. P. E. Hartmann. Ferdinand Hiller, friend of Liszt +and Chopin, wrote three symphonies marked by romantic feeling and +technical vigor, and Reinecke, for many years the representative of the +Mendelssohn tradition at Leipzig, wrote learnedly and at times with +inspiring freshness. + + + III + +In the romantic period there developed, chiefly at the hands of +Mendelssohn, a form peculiarly characteristic of the time--the +so-called ‘concert overture.’ This was based on the classic overture +for opera or spoken drama, written in sonata form, usually with a slow +introduction, but poetic and, to a limited extent, descriptive, and +intended purely for concert performance. The models were Beethoven’s +overtures, ‘Coriolanus,’ ‘Egmont,’ and, best of all, the ‘Leonore No +3,’ written to introduce a particular opera or drama, it is true, but +summing up and in some degree following the course of the drama and +having all the ear-marks of the later romantic overture. From a mere +prelude intended to establish the prevailing mood of the drama the +overture had long since become an independent artistic form. These +overtures gained a great popularity in concert, and their possibilities +for romantic suggestion were quickly seized upon by the romanticists. + +Weber’s overture to _Der Freischütz_, though written for the opera, +may be ranked as a concert overture (it is most frequently heard in +that capacity), and along with it the equally fine _Euryanthe_ and +_Oberon_. The first named was a real challenge to the Philistines. The +slow introduction, with its horn melody of surpassing loveliness, and +the fast movement, introducing the music of the Incantation scene, are +thoroughly romantic. Weber’s best known concert overture (in the strict +sense), the _Jubel Ouvertüre_, is of inferior quality. + +Schumann, likewise, wrote no overtures not intended for a special drama +or a special occasion, but some of his works in this form rank among +his best orchestral compositions. Chief among them is the ‘Manfred,’ +which depicts the morbid passions in the soul of Byron’s hero, as +fine a work in its kind as any of the period. The ‘Genoveva’ overture +is fresh and colorful in the style of Weber, and that for Schiller’s +‘Bride of Messina’ is scarcely inferior. Berlioz has to his credit a +number of works in this form, mostly dating from his earliest years of +creative activity. Best known are the ‘Rob Roy’ (introducing the Scotch +tune, ‘Scots Wha’ Hae’) and the _Carnival Romain_, but the ‘Lear’ and +‘The Corsair,’ inspired by two of his favorite authors, Shakespeare and +Byron, are also possessed of his familiar virtues. Another composer +who in his day made a name in this form is William Sterndale Bennett, +an Englishman who possessed the highest esteem of Mendelssohn and +Schumann, and was a valuable part of the musical life of Leipzig in +the thirties and later. The best part of his work, now forgotten save +in England, is for the piano, but the ‘Parisina’ and ‘Wood Nymphs’ +overtures were at one time ranked with those of Mendelssohn. Like all +English composers of those times he was inclined to the academic, +but his work had much freshness and romantic charm, combined with an +admirable sense of form. + +But it is Mendelssohn whose place in this field is unrivalled. His +‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ overture, written when he was seventeen, has +a place on modern concert programs analogous to that of Schubert’s +‘Unfinished Symphony.’ This work is equally the delight of the +musical purist and of the untechnical music-lover. It is marked by +all Mendelssohn’s finest qualities. Not a measure of it is slipshod +or lacking in distinction. Its scoring is deft in the extreme. Its +themes are fresh and charming. And upon it all is the polish in which +Mendelssohn excelled; no note seems out of place, and none, one +feels, could be otherwise than as it is. It is mildly descriptive--as +descriptive as Mendelssohn ever was. The three groups of characters in +Shakespeare’s play are there--the fairies, the love-stricken mortals, +and the rude mechanicals--each with its characteristic melody. The +opening chords, high in the wood-wind, set the fanciful tone of the +whole. For deft adaptation of the means to the end it has rarely been +surpassed in all music. In his other overtures Mendelssohn is even less +descriptive, being content to catch the dominant mood of the subject +and transmit it into tone in the sonata form. ‘Fingal’s Cave,’ the +chief theme of which occurred to him and was noted down on the supposed +scene of its subject in Scotland, is equally picturesque in its subject +matter, but lacks the buoyant invention of its predecessor. The ‘Calm +Sea and Prosperous Voyage’ is a masterpiece of restraint. The technical +means are exceedingly simple, for in his effort to paint the reigning +quiet of his theme Mendelssohn dwells inordinately upon the pure tonic +chord. Yet the work never lacks its composer’s customary freshness or +sense of perfect proportion. His fourth overture--‘To the Story of +the Lovely Melusina’--is only second to the ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ +in popularity. In these works Mendelssohn is at his best; only the +‘Elijah’ and the violin concerto equally deserve long life and frequent +repetition. For the overtures best show Mendelssohn the synthesist. In +them he has caught absolutely the more refined spirit of romanticism, +with its emphasis on tone coloring and its association of literary +ideas, and has developed it in a classic mold as perfect as anything in +music. Nowhere else do the dominating musical ideas of the eighteenth +and nineteenth centuries come to such an amicable meeting ground. + + + IV + +Yet this ‘controlled romanticism,’ which Mendelssohn doubtless hoped +would found a school, had little historical result. The frenzied +spirits of the time needed some more vigorous stimulation, and those +who had vitality sufficient to make history were not the ones to be +guided by an academic gourmet. The Mendelssohn concert overtures are a +pleasant by-path in music; they by no means strike a note to ring down +the corridors of time. ‘Controlled romanticism’ was not the message +for Mendelssohn’s age; for this age was essentially militant, smashing +idols and blazing new paths, and nothing could feed its appetite save +bitter fruit. + +This bitter fruit it had in full measure in Berlioz’s romantic +symphonies, as in Liszt’s symphonic poems. Of the true romantic +symphonies the most remarkable is Berlioz’s _Symphonie Fantastique_, +one of the most astonishing productions in the whole history of music. +It seems safe to say that in historical fruitfulness this work +ranks with three or four others of the greatest--Monteverdi’s opera +_Orfeo_, in 1607; Wagner’s _Tristan_, and what else? The _Fantastique_ +created program music; it made an art form of the dramatic symphony +(including the not yet invented symphonic poem and all forms of free +and story-telling symphonic works). At the same time it gave artistic +existence to the _leit-motif_, or representative theme, the most +fruitful single musical invention of the nineteenth century. + +The _Fantastique_ seems to have no ancestry; there is nothing in +previous musical literature to which more than the vaguest parallel can +be drawn, and there is nothing in Berlioz’s previous works to indicate +that he had the power to take a new idea--two new ideas--out of the sky +and work them out with such mature mastery. One might have expected a +period of experimentation. One might at least expect the work to be the +logical outcome of experiments by other men. But Berlioz had no true +ancestor in this form; he had no more than chance forerunners. + +Nevertheless program music, or at least descriptive music, in some +form or other, is nearly as old as music itself. We have part-songs +dating from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries which imitate the +cuckoo’s call, or the songs of other birds. Jannequin, contemporary +with Palestrina, wrote a piece descriptive of the battle of Marignan, +fought between the French and the Swiss in 1515. Even Bach joins the +other program composers with his ‘Caprice on the departure of his +brother,’ in which the posthorn is imitated. Couperin gave picturesque +titles to nearly all his compositions, and Rameau wrote a delightful +piece for harpsichord, suggestively called ‘The Hen.’ Many of Haydn’s +symphonies have titles which add materially to the poetry of the music. +Beethoven admitted that he never composed without some definite image +in mind. His ‘Pastoral Symphony’ is so well known that it need only +be mentioned, though strict theorists may deny it a place with program +music on the plea that, in the composer’s own words, it is ‘rather +the recording of impressions than painting.’ Yet Beethoven wrote one +piece of downright program music in the strict sense, for his ‘Battle +of Vittoria’ frankly sets out to describe one of the battles of the +Napoleonic wars. It is, however, pure hack work, one of the few works +of the master which might have been composed by a mediocre man. It is +of a sort of debased program music which was much in fashion at the +time, easy and silly stuff which pretended to describe anything from +a landscape up to the battle of Waterloo. The instances of imitative +music in Haydn’s ‘Creation’ are well known. Coming down to later +times we find the ophicleide imitating the braying of the ass in +Mendelssohn’s ‘Midsummer Night’s Dream’ overture, and since then few +composers, however reserved in manner and classic in taste, have wholly +disdained it. + +Yet all this long, even distinguished, history does not fully prepare +the way for the program music of Berlioz. It is not likely that he was +familiar with much of it. And even if he had been he could have found +no programmistic form or idea ready at hand for his program pieces. The +program music idea was rather ‘in the air’ than in specific musical +works. From the literary romanticists’ theory of the mixing of the +genres and the mingling of the arts his lively mind no doubt drew a +hint. And the influence of his teacher, Lesueur, at the Conservatory +must be reckoned on. Lesueur was something of a radical and apostle +of program music in his day, having been, in fact, relieved of his +duties as director of music in Notre Dame because he insisted upon +attuning men’s minds to piety by means of ‘picturesque and descriptive’ +performances of the Mass. Program music! Here was a true forerunner of +Berlioz--a very bad boy in a very solemn church. Perhaps this accounts +for Berlioz’s veneration of his teacher, one of the few men who doesn’t +figure somewhat disgracefully in the Memoirs. At any rate, the young +revolutionist found in Lesueur a sympathetic spirit such as is rarely +to be found in conservatories. + +To sum up, then, we find that Berlioz had no precedent in reputable +music for a sustained work of a close descriptive nature. Works of +picturesque quality, which specifically do not ‘depict events’--like +the ‘Pastoral’ symphony--are not program music in the more exact +sense. Isolated bits of description in good music, like the famous +‘leaping stag’ and ‘shaggy lion’ of Haydn’s ‘Creation,’ offer no +analogy for sustained description. And the supposed pieces of sustained +description, like the fashionable ‘battle’ pieces, had and deserved no +musical standing. The _Fantastique_, as we shall see, was detailed and +sustained description of the first rank musically. The gap between the +_Fantastique_ and its supposed ancestors was quite complete. It was +bridged by pure genius. + +As for the _leit-motif_, it is even more Berlioz’s own invention. +The use of a particular theme to represent a particular personage or +emotion was, of course, in such program music as had existed. But +only in a few isolated instances had this been used recurrently to +accompany a dramatic story. Mozart, in _Don Giovanni_, had used the +famous trombone theme to represent the Statue, first in the Graveyard +scene and later in the Supper scene. Weber had somewhat loosely used +a particular theme to represent the devil Samiel in _Der Freischütz_. +We know from Berlioz’s own description[98] how this work affected him +in his early Parisian years and we may assume that the notion of the +leit-motif took hold on him then. But the leit-motif in Mozart and +Weber is hardly used as a deliberate device, rather only as a natural +repetition under similar dramatic conditions. The use of the leit-motif +in symphonic music, and its variation under varied conditions belongs +solely to Berlioz. + +True to romantic traditions, Berlioz evolved the _Fantastique_ out of +his own joys and sorrows. It originated in the frenzy of his love for +the actress, Henriette Smithson. He writes in February, 1830:[99] + +‘Again, without warning and without reason, my ill-starred passion +wakes. She is in London, yet I feel her presence ever with me. I listen +to the beating of my heart, it is like a sledge-hammer, every nerve in +my body quivers with pain. + +‘Woe upon her! Could she but dream of the poetry, the infinite bliss +of such love as mine, she would fly to my arms, even though my embrace +should be her death. + +‘I was just going to begin my great symphony (Episode in an Artist’s +Life) to depict the course of this infernal love of mine--but I can +write nothing.’ + +Why, this is very midsummer madness! you say. But the kind of madness +from which came much good romantic music. For the work had been planned +in the previous year, not long after Miss Smithson had rejected +Berlioz’s first advances. + +But the composer very soon found that he could write--and he wrote like +a fiend. In May he tells a friend that the rehearsals of the symphony +will begin in three days. The concert is to take place on the 30th. +As for Miss Smithson, ‘I pity and despise her. She is nothing but a +commonplace woman with an instinct for expressing the tortures of the +soul that she has never felt.’ Yet he wished that ‘the theatre people +would somehow plot to get _her_ there--that wretched woman! She could +not but recognize herself.’ + +The performance of the symphony finally came off toward the end of the +year. But in the meantime a new goddess had descended from the skies. +The composer’s marriage was to depend on the success of the concert--so +he says. ‘It must be a _theatrical_ success; Camille’s parents insist +upon that as a condition of our marriage. I hope I shall succeed. + +‘P. S. That wretched Smithson girl is still here. I have not seen her.’ + +And a few weeks later: ‘I had a frantic success. They actually encored +the _Marche au Supplice_. I am mad! mad! My marriage is fixed for +Easter, 1832. My blessed symphony has done the deed.’ + +But not quite. He was rewriting this same symphony a few months later +in Italy when there came a letter from Camille’s mother announcing her +engagement to M. Pleyel! + +As explanation to the symphony the composer wrote an extended +‘program’--in the strictest modern sense. He notes, however, that the +program may be dispensed with, as ‘the symphony (the author hopes) +offers sufficient musical interest in itself, independent of any +dramatic intention.’ The program of the _Fantastique_ is worth quoting +entire, since it stands as the prototype and model of all musical +programs since: + +‘A young musician of morbid sensitiveness and ardent imagination +poisons himself with opium in an excess of amorous despair. The +narcotic dose, too weak to cause his death, plunges him into a heavy +sleep, accompanied by the strangest visions, while his sensations, +sentiments and memories translate themselves in his sick brain into +musical thoughts and images. The loved one herself has become for him a +melody, like a fixed idea which he rediscovers and hears everywhere. + +‘First Part: Reveries, Passions. He first recalls that uneasiness of +the soul, that wave of passions, those melancholies, those reasonless +joys, which he experienced before having seen her whom he loves; then +the volcanic love with which she suddenly inspired him, his frenzied +heart-rendings, his jealous fury, his reawakening tenderness, his +religious consolations. + +‘Second Part: A Ball. He finds the loved one at a ball, in the midst of +tumult and a brilliant fête. + +‘Third Part: In the Country. A summer evening in the country: he hears +two shepherds conversing with their horns; this pastoral duet, the +natural scene, the soft whispering of the winds in the trees, a few +sentiments of hope which he has recently conceived, all combine to give +his soul an unwonted calm, to give a happier color to his thoughts; but +_she_ appears anew, his heart stops beating, painful misapprehensions +stir him--if she should deceive him! One of the shepherds repeats his +naïve melody; the other does not respond. The sun sets--distant rolls +of thunder--solitude--silence---- + +‘Fourth Part: March to the Gallows. He dreams that he has killed his +loved one, that he is condemned to death, led to the gallows. The +cortège advances, to the sounds of a march now sombre and wild, now +brilliant and solemn, in which a dull sound of heavy steps follows +immediately upon the noisiest shouts. Finally, the fixed idea reappears +for an instant like a last thought of love, to be interrupted by the +fatal blow. + +‘Fifth Part: Dream of the Witches’ Festival. He fancies he is present +at a witches’ dance, in the midst of a gruesome company of shades, +sorcerers, and monsters of all sorts gathered for his funeral. Strange +sounds, sighs, bursts of laughter, distant cries and answers. The loved +melody reappears again; but it has lost its character of nobility and +timidity; it is nothing but an ignoble dance, trivial and grotesque; +it is she who comes to the witches’ festival. Sounds of joy at her +arrival. She mingles with the hellish orgy; uncanny noises--burlesque +of the _Dies Irae_; dance of the witches. The witches’ dance and the +_Dies Irae_ follow.’ + +The music follows this program in detail, and supplies a host of other +details to the sympathetic imagination. The opening movement contains +a melody which Berlioz avers he composed at the age of twelve, when he +was in love with yet another young lady, a certain Estelle, six years +his senior. And in each movement occurs the ‘fixed idea,’ founder of +that distinguished dynasty of leit-motifs in the nineteenth century: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +In the opening movement, when the first agonies of love are at their +height, this theme undergoes a long contrapuntal development which +is a marvel of complexity and harmonic energy. It recurs practically +unchanged in the next three movements, and at its appearance in the +fourth is cut short as the guillotine chops the musician’s head off. +In the last movement it undergoes the change which makes this work the +predecessor of Liszt’s symphonic poems: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +The structure of this work is complicated in the extreme, and it +abounds in harmonic and contrapuntal novelties which are strokes of +pure genius. Many a musician may dislike the symphony, but none can +help respecting it. The orchestra, though not large for our day, was +revolutionary in its time. It included, in one movement or another +(besides the usual strings) a small flute and two large ones; oboes; +two clarinets, a small clarinet, and an English horn; four horns, two +trumpets, two _cornets à pistons_, and three trombones; four bassoons, +two ophicleides, four pairs of kettle-drums, cymbals, bells, and bass +drum. + +A challenge to the timid spirits of the time; and a thing of +revolutionary significance to modern music. + +The other great dramatic symphonies of the time belong wholly to +Berlioz and Liszt. The Revolutionary Symphony which Berlioz had planned +under the stimulus of the 1830 revolution, became, about 1837, the +_Symphonie Funèbre et Héroïque_, composed in honor of the men killed +in this insurrection. It is mostly of inferior stuff compared with +the composer’s other works, but the ‘Funeral Sermon’ of the second +movement, which is a long accompanied recitative for the trombones, is +extremely impressive. ‘Harold in Italy,’ founded upon Byron’s ‘Childe +Harold,’ was planned during Berlioz’s residence in Italy, and executed +under the stimulus of Paganini. Here again we have the ‘fixed idea,’ +in the shape of a lovely solo, representing the morose hero, given to +the viola. The work was first planned as a viola concerto, but the +composer’s poetic instinct carried him into a dramatic symphony. First +Harold is in the mountains and Byronic moods of longing creep over him. +Then a band of pilgrims approaches and his melody mingles with their +chant. Then the hero hears an Abruzzi mountaineer serenading his lady +love, and to the tune of his ‘fixed idea’ he invites his own soul to +muse of love. And, finally, Harold is captured by brigands, and his +melody mingles with their wild dance. + +Berlioz’s melodies are apt to be dry and even cerebral in their +character, but this one for Harold is as beautiful as one could wish: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +The ‘Romeo and Juliet’ is by many considered Berlioz’s finest work. +It is in two parts, the first including a number of choruses and +recitatives narrating the course of the tragedy, and the second +developing various pictures selected out of the action. The love scene +is ‘pure’ music of the highest beauty, and the scherzo, based on the +‘Queen Mab’ speech, is one of Berlioz’s most typical inventions. + +All these compositions antedate by a number of years the works of +Liszt and Wagner, which make extended use of Berlioz’s means. Wagner +describes at length how the idea of leit-motifs occurred to him during +his composition of ‘The Flying Dutchman’ (completed in 1841), but he +was certainly familiar with Berlioz’s works. Liszt was from the first a +great admirer of Berlioz, and greatly helped to extend his reputation +through his masterly piano arrangements of the Frenchman’s works. His +development of the leit-motif in his symphonic poems is frankly an +adaptation of the Berlioz idea. + +Liszt’s dramatic symphonies are two--‘Dante’ and ‘Faust’--by which, +doubtless, if he had his way, his name would chiefly be known among +the nations. We have seen in an earlier chapter how deeply Liszt +was impressed by the great paintings in Rome, and how in his youth +he dreamed of some later Beethoven who would translate Dante into +an immortal musical work. In the quiet of Weimar he set himself to +accomplish the labor. The work is sub-titled ‘Inferno, Purgatory, and +Paradise,’ but it is in two movements, the Purgatory leading into, or +perhaps only to, the gate of Heaven. The first movement opens with +one of the finest of all Liszt’s themes, designed to express Dante’s + + [Illustration: Music score] + +lines: ‘Through me the entrance to the city of horror; through me the +entrance into eternal pain; through me the entrance to the dwelling +place of the damned.’ And immediately another motive for the horns and +trumpets to the famous words: ‘All hope abandon, ye who enter here.’ +The movement, with an excessive use of the diminished seventh chord, +depicts the sufferings of the damned. But presently the composer comes +to a different sort of anguish, which challenges all his powers as +tone poet. It is the famous episode of Paolo and Francesca da Rimini. +It is introduced by another motive of great beauty, standing for the +words: ‘There is no greater anguish than, during suffering, to think of +happier times.’ In the Francesca episode Liszt lavishes all his best +powers, and achieves some of his finest pages. The music now descends +into the lower depths of the Inferno, and culminates in a thunderous +restatement of the theme, ‘All hope abandon,’ by the horns, trumpets +and trombones. The second movement, representing Purgatory, strikes +a very different note, one of hope and aspiration, and culminates in +the Latin _Magnificat_, sung by women’s voices to a modal tune, which +Liszt, now once more a loyal Catholic, writes from the heart. + +The ‘Faust’ symphony, written between 1854 and 1857, is hardly less +magnificent in its plan and execution. It is sub-titled ‘three +character-pictures,’ and its movements are assigned respectively to +Faust, Gretchen, and Mephistopheles. Yet the last movement merges into +a dramatic narration of the love story and of Faust’s philosophic +aspirations, and reaches its climax in a men’s chorus intoning the +famous final chorus from Goethe’s drama: ‘All things transitory are +but a semblance.’ The Faust theme deserves quoting because of its +chromatic character, which has become so typical of modern music: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +The whole work is in Liszt’s most exalted vein. The ‘character +pictures’ are suggestive in the extreme, and are contrasted in the most +vivid manner. Liszt has rarely surpassed in sheer beauty the Gretchen +episode, the theme of which later becomes the setting for Goethe’s +famous line, ‘The eternal feminine leads us upward and on.’ These two +works--the ‘Dante’ and the ‘Faust’--are doubtless not so supremely +creative as Liszt imagined, but they remain among the noblest things in +modern music. Their great difficulty of execution, even to orchestras +in our day, stands in the way of their more frequent performance, but +to those who hear them they prove unforgettable. In them, more than in +any other of his works, Liszt has lavished his musical learning and +invention, has put all that was best and noblest in himself. + + + V + +The most typical musical form of to-day--the symphonic poem--is wholly +the creation of Liszt. The dramatic symphony attained its highest +development at the hands of its inventor; later works of the kind, +such as Raff’s ‘Lenore Symphony,’ have been musically of the second or +third rate. It is quite true that a large proportion of the symphonies +of to-day have some sort of general program or ‘subject,’ and nearly +all are sufficiently dramatic in feeling to invite fanciful ‘programs’ +on the part of their hearers. But few composers have cared or dared to +go to Berlioz’s lengths. The symphonic poem, on the other hand, has +become the ambition of most of the able orchestral writers of our day. +And, whereas Berlioz has never been equalled in his line, Liszt has +often been surpassed, notably by Richard Strauss, in his. + +Curiously enough, Berlioz, who was by temperament least fitted to work +in the strict symphonic form, always kept to it in some degree. The +most revolutionary of spirits never broke away wholly from the past. +Liszt carried Berlioz’s program ideas to their logical conclusion, +inventing a type of composition in which the form depended wholly and +solely on the subject matter. This latter statement will almost serve +as a definition of the symphonic poem. It is any sort of orchestral +composition which sets itself to tell a story or depict the emotional +content of a story. Its form will be--what the story dictates, and no +other. The distinction sometimes drawn between the symphonic poem and +the tone poem is largely fanciful. One may say that the former tends +to the narrative and the latter to the emotional, but for practical +purposes the two terms may be held synonymous. + +In any kind of musical narration it is usually necessary to represent +the principal characters or ideas in particular fashion, and the +leit-motif is the natural means to this end. And, though theoretically +not indispensable, the leit-motif has become a distinguishing feature +of the symphonic poem and inseparable from it. Sometimes the themes are +many (Strauss has scores of them in his _Heldenleben_), but Liszt took +a particular pleasure in economy of means. Sometimes a single theme +served him for the development of the whole work. He took the delight +of a short-story writer in making his work as compact and unified +as possible. In fact, the formal theory of the symphonic poem would +read much like Poe’s well known theory of the short story. Let there +be some predominant character or idea--‘a single unique effect,’ in +Poe’s language--and let this be developed through the various incidents +of the narration, changing according to the changing conditions, +but always retaining an obvious relation to the central idea. Or, +in musical terms, select a single theme (or at most two or three) +representing the central character or idea, and repeat and develop this +in various forms and moods. This principle brought to a high efficiency +a device which Berlioz used only tentatively--that of _transformation_. +To Liszt a theme should always be fluid, rarely repeating itself +exactly, for a story never repeats itself. And his musicianship and +invention show themselves at their best (and sometimes at their worst) +in his constant variation of his themes through many styles and forms. + +But such formal statement as this is vague and meaningless without +the practical application which Liszt gave it. The second and in many +respects the noblest of Liszt’s symphonic poems is the ‘Tasso, Lament +and Triumph,’ composed in 1849 to accompany a festival performance of +Goethe’s play at Weimar on the hundredth anniversary of the poet’s +birth. The subject caught hold of Liszt’s romantic imagination. He +confesses, like the good romanticist that he is, that Byron’s treatment +of the character appealed to him more than Goethe’s. ‘Nevertheless,’ +he says in his preface to the work, ‘Byron, in his picture of Tasso in +prison, was unable to add to the remembrance of his poignant grief, +so nobly and eloquently uttered in his “Lament,” the thought of the +“Triumph” that a tardy justice gave to the chivalrous author of +“Jerusalem Delivered.” We have sought to mark this dual idea in the +very title of our work, and we should be glad to have succeeded in +pointing this great contrast--the genius who was misjudged during his +life, surrounded, after death, with a halo that destroyed his enemies. +Tasso loved and suffered at Ferrara; he was avenged at Rome; his +glory still lives in the folk-songs of Venice. These three elements +are inseparable from his memory. To represent them in music, we first +called up his august spirit as he still haunts the waters of Venice. +Then we beheld his proud and melancholy figure as he passed through +the festivals of Ferrara where he had produced his master-works. +Finally, we followed him to Rome, the eternal city, that offered him +the crown and glorified in him the martyr and the poet.’ A few lines +further Liszt says: ‘For the sake, not merely of authority, but the +distinction of historical truth, we put our idea into realistic form +in taking for the theme of our musical hero the melody to which we +have heard the gondoliers of Venice sing over the waters the lines of +Tasso, and utter them three centuries after the poet.’ The theme is +one of the finest in the whole Liszt catalogue. We need hardly go to +the length of saying that its origin was a fiction on the part of the +composer, but doubtless he changed it generously to suit his musical +needs. Yet his evident delight in its pretended origin is typical of +the man and the time; romanticism had a sentimental veneration for +‘the people,’ especially the people of the Middle Ages, and a Venetian +gondolier would naturally be the object of a shower of quite undeserved +sentimental poetry. The whole story, and the atmosphere which +surrounded it, was meat for Liszt’s imagination. + + [Illustration: Music score] + +This is the theme--a typical one--which Liszt transforms, ‘according +to the changing conditions,’ to delineate his hero’s struggles, the +heroic character of the man; his determination to achieve greatness; +his ‘proud and melancholy figure as he passed through the festivals at +Ferrara’--the theme of the dance itself is developed from the Tasso +motif: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +and then his boisterous acclamation by the crowd in Rome: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +And here, for a moment, the listener hides his face. For Liszt has +become as cheap as any bar-room fiddler. His theme will not stand this +transformation. It happens again and again in Liszt, this forcing of a +theme into a mold in which it sounds banal. No doubt the acclamations +of the crowd _were_ banal (if Liszt intended it that way), but this +thought cannot compensate a listener who is having his ears pained. It +is one of the regrettable things about Liszt, whose best is very nearly +equal to the greatest in music, that he sometimes sails into a passage +of banality without seeming to be at all conscious of it. Perhaps in +this case he was conscious of it, but stuck to his plan for the sake +of logical consistency. (The most frenzied radicals are sometimes the +most rigid doctrinaires.) The matter is worth dwelling on for a moment, +because it is one of the most characteristic faults of the great man. +In the present case we are compensated for this vulgar episode by the +grand ‘apotheosis’ which closes the work: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +Such is the method, and it is in principle the same as that since +employed by all composers of ‘symphonic poems’--of program music in +fact. + +Liszt’s symphonic poems number twelve (excluding one, ‘From the +Cradle to the Grave’ which was left unfinished at the time of his +death). When they are at their best they are among the most inspiring +things in modern music. But Liszt’s strange absence of self-criticism +mingles with these things passages which an inferior composer might +have been suspicious of. In consequence many of his symphonic poems +have completely dropped from our concert programs. Such ones as the +‘Hamlet,’ the _Festklänge_, and ‘What is to Be Heard on the Mountain,’ +are hardly worth the efforts of any orchestra. _Les Préludes_, on the +other hand, remains one of the most popular of our concert pieces. +Nowhere are themes more entrancing than in this work, or his structural +form more convincing. ‘The Ideal,’ after Schiller’s poems, was one +of Wagner’s favorites among the twelve, but is uneven in quality. +‘Orpheus,’ which is less ‘programmistic’ than any of the others, in +that it attempts only an idealized picture of the mythical musician, +is worked out on a consistently high plane of musicianship. ‘Mazeppa,’ +narrating the ride of Byron’s hero tied on the back of a wild horse, +is simply an elaboration and orchestral scoring of one of the piano +études published as Liszt’s opus 1 in 1826. The étude was even +entitled ‘Mazeppa,’ and was descriptive of the wild ride, so we may, if +we choose, give Liszt the credit of having schemed the symphonic poem +form in germ before he became acquainted with the works of Berlioz. +‘Hungaria,’ a heroic fantasy on Hungarian tunes, should have been, one +would think, one of the best of Liszt’s works, but in point of fact +it sounds strangely empty, and exhibits to an irritating degree the +composer’s way of playing to the gallery. The _Festklänge_ was written, +tradition says, to celebrate his expected marriage with the Princess +von Wittgenstein, and, in view of Huneker’s remark that Liszt accepted +the Pope’s veto to this project ‘with his tongue in his cheek,’ we may +assume that its emptiness was a true gauge of his feelings. In most +of these works there is more than one chief theme, and sometimes a +pronounced antithesis or contrast of two themes. In this classification +falls ‘The Preludes,’ which, in attempting to trace man’s struggles +preparatory to ‘that great symphony whose initial note is sounded by +death,’ makes use of two themes, each of rare beauty, to depict the +heroic and the gentle sides of the hero’s nature, respectively. The +antithesis is more pronounced in ‘The Battle of the Huns,’ founded on +Kalbeck’s picture, which is meant to symbolize the struggle between +Christianity (or the Church) and Paganism. The Huns have a wild minor +theme in triplets, and the Church is represented by the Gregorian hymn, +_Crux Fidelis_. + +Thus by works as well as by faith Liszt established the musical type +which best expressed his fervent romantic nature. The symphonic poem +form, coming to something like maturity at the hands of one man, was +a proof of his intellectuality and his high musicianship. We may wish +that he had written less and criticized his work more, but many of the +pages are inescapable in their beauty. In them we are in the very +heart of nineteenth-century romanticism. + + + VI + +Since the early days of violent opposition to Berlioz and Liszt the +question of the ‘legitimacy’ of program music has not ceased to +interest theorists. There are not a few writers to-day who stoutly +maintain that the program and the pictorial image have no place in +music; that music, being constructed out of wholly abstract stuff, must +exist of and for itself. They wish to have music ‘pure,’ to keep it to +its ‘true function’ or its ‘legitimate place.’ Music, they say, can +never truly imitate or describe outward life, and debases itself if it +makes the unsuccessful attempt. + +Yet program music continues to be written in ever-increasing abundance, +and, though from the practical point of view it needs no apologist, it +boasts an increasing number who defend it on various grounds. These +theorists point to the ancient and more or less honorable history of +program music, extending back into the dark ages of the art. They +mention the greatest names of classical music--Bach and Beethoven--as +those of composers who have at least tried their hand at it. They +show that the classic ideal of the ‘purity of the arts’ (by no means +practised in classical Greece, by the way) has broken down in every +domain, and that some of the greatest works have been produced in +defiance of it. And, arguing more cogently, they point out that whether +or not music _should_ evoke visual images in people’s minds, evoke them +it does, and in a powerful degree. When _Tod und Verklärung_ makes +vivid to the imaginations of thousands the soul’s agonies of death +and ecstasies of spiritual resurrection, it is no better than yelping +at the moon to moan that this music is not ‘pure,’ or is out of its +‘proper function.’ + +Undoubtedly it is true that music which attempts to be accurately +imitative or descriptive of physical objects or events is not worth +the trouble. Certainly bad music cannot become good merely by having +a program. But it is to be noted that all the great composers of +program music insisted that their work should have a musical value +apart from its program. Even Berlioz, as extreme as any in his program +music, recorded the hope that his _Fantastique_, even if given without +the program, would ‘still offer sufficient musical interest in +itself.’ As music the _Fantastique_ has lived; as descriptive music +it has immensely added to its interest and vividness in the minds of +audiences. And so with all writers of program music up to Strauss and +even Schönberg, with his _Pelleas und Melisande_ (though Schönberg is +one of the most abstract of musicians in temperament). + +Further, good program music throws its emphasis much more on the +emotional than on the literal story to be told. Liszt rarely describes +outward events. He is always depicting some emotion in his characters, +or some sentimental impression in himself. And there are few, even +among the most conservative of theorists, who will deny the power of +music to suggest emotional states. If so, why is it not ‘legitimate’ to +suggest the successive emotional states of a particular character, as, +for instance, Tasso? The fact that a visual image may be present in the +minds of the hearers does not alter the status of the music itself. If +we admit this, then we can hardly deny that the composer has a right to +evoke this image, by means of a ‘program’ at the beginning. + +The fact is that not one listener in a hundred has any sense of true +absolute music--the pure ‘pattern music’ which is as far from emotions +and sentiments as a conventional design is from a Whistler etching. +Even the most rabid of purists, who exhaust a distinguished vocabulary +of abuse in characterizing program music, may expend volumes of emotion +in endeavoring to discover the ‘meaning’ of classical symphonies. +They may build up elaborate significations for a Beethoven symphony +which its composer left quite without a program, making each movement +express some phase of the author’s soul, or detecting the particular +emotion which inspired this or that one. They will even build up a +complete programmistic scheme for _every_ symphony, ordaining that the +first movement expresses struggle, the second meditation, the third +happiness, and the last triumph--and more of the like. They will enact +that a symphony is ‘great’ only in so far as it expresses the totality +of emotional experience--of _specific_ emotional experience, be it +noted. This sort of ‘interpretation’ has been wished on any number of +classical symphonies which were utterly innocent of any intent save the +intent to charm the ear. And nearly always the deed has been done by +professed enemies of program music. + +But, in spite of the fact that the instinct for programs and meanings +resides in nearly every breast, still there _is_ a theoretical case for +absolute music. There is nothing to prove that music, in and of itself, +has any specific emotional implications whatsoever. It is merely an +organization of tones. As such, since it sets our nerves tingling, it +can indeed arouse emotion, but not _emotions_. That is, it can heighten +and excite our nervous state, but what particular form that nervous +state will take is determined by other factors. In psychological +language, it increases our suggestibility. Under the nervous excitement +produced by music a particular emotional suggestion will more readily +make an impression, and this impression will become associated in our +minds with the music itself. The program is such a suggestion. In a +more precise way the words and actions of a music drama supply the +suggestion. Of course, we have been so long and so constantly under +the influence of musical suggestions that music without a particular +suggestion may have a more or less specific import to us. Slow minor +music we are wont to call ‘sad,’ and rapid major music ‘gay.’ But +this is because such music has nearly always, in our experience, been +associated with the sort of mood it is supposed to express. Somewhere, +in the course of our musical education, there came the specific +suggestion from outside. + +But this discussion is purely theoretical. The practical fact is that +music, thanks to a complex web of traditional suggestion, is capable +of bringing to us more or less precise emotional meanings--or even +pictorial meanings, for there is no dividing line. And this fact must +be the starting point for any practical discussion of the ‘legitimacy’ +of programme music. Starting with it, we find it difficult to exclude +any sort of music on purely abstract grounds. Any individual may +personally care more for ‘abstract’ music than for program music; that +is his privilege. But it is a very different thing to try to ordain +‘legitimacy’ for others, and legislate a great mass of beautiful music +out of artistic existence. + +After all, the case reduces to this: that an ounce of practice is worth +a ton of precept. And the successful practice of program music is one +of the chief glories of the romantic movement. Whatever may have been +the faults of the period, it demonstrated its faith by deed, and the +present musical age is impregnated with this faith from top to bottom. + + H. K. M. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[98] ‘Berlioz’s Memoirs,’ Chap. X. + +[99] ‘Letters to Humbert Ferrand,’ quoted in Everyman English edition +of the Memoirs, Chapters XV and XVI. + + + + + CHAPTER X + ROMANTIC OPERA AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF CHORAL SONG + + The rise of German opera; Weber and the romantic opera; Weber’s + followers--Berlioz as opera composer--The _drame lyrique_ from + Gounod to Bizet--_Opéra comique_ in the romantic period; the _opéra + bouffe_--Choral and sacred music of the romantic period. + + + I + +If vivid imagery was one of the chief lusts of the romantic school it +would seem that opera should have proved one of its most typical and +effective art forms. And, throughout the time, opera flourished in the +theatres of Germany, and in Paris as a matter of course. Yet we cannot +say that the artistic output was as excellent as we might expect. Of +the works to be described in this chapter not more than eight are +to-day thoroughly alive, and two of these are overestimated choral +works. Yet in the most real sense the opera of the romantic period +prepared the way for Wagner, who would no doubt be called a romanticist +if he were not too great for any labels. And much of the music of the +period, though it has been displaced by modern works (styles change +more quickly in opera than in any other form) has a decided interest +and value if we do not take too high an attitude toward it. + +Modern opera can be dated from _Der Freischütz_. Yet it goes without +saying (since nothing is quite new under the sun) that the work was +not as novel in its day as it seems to us after the lapse of nearly a +century. The elements of romanticism had existed in opera long before +Weber’s time. In Gluck’s ‘Armide’ the voluptuous adventures of Rinaldo +in the enchantress’s garden had breathed the spirit of the German +folk-lore awakening, though treated in Gluck’s style of classical +purity. Mozart, especially, must be counted among the romanticists of +opera. The final scene of _Don Giovanni_, with its imaginative playing +with the supernatural, to the accompaniment of most impressive music, +seems to be a sketch in preparation for _Freischütz_. And the spirit +of German song had already entered into opera in ‘The Magic Flute,’ +which is in great part as truly German as Weber, except for its Italian +grace and delicacy of treatment. Moreover, ‘The Magic Flute’ was a +_singspiel_, or dramatic work with music interspersed with spoken +text--the form in which _Der Freischütz_ was written. Mozart’s opera +might have founded the German school, had conditions been different, +but beyond the fact that the story is obscure and distinctly not +national, the German national movement had not yet begun. We have seen +in a previous chapter how it took repeated invasions and insults from +Napoleon to arouse patriotism throughout the disjointed German lands, +and how the patriotic spirit had to fight the repression of the courts +at every turn. We have seen how it was hounded from the streets to the +cellars and how from beneath ground it cried for some work of art which +should symbolize and express its aspiration while it was in hiding. +It was this conjunction of conditions which gave _Freischütz_ such +peculiar popularity at the time--a popularity, however, which was fully +justified by its artistic value and could not have been achieved in +such overwhelming degree without it. + +The Italian opera, before Weber’s time, had carried everything its own +way. Those patriots who longed for the creation of a German operatic +art had no sort of tradition to turn to except the _singspiel_. This +was never regarded highly, and was considered quite beneath the +dignity of the aristocracy and of those who prided themselves on being +artistically _comme il faut_. And it was frequently as cheap and thin +(not to say coarse) as a second-rate vaudeville ‘skit’ to-day. But it +had in it elements of good old German humor, together with occasional +doses of German pathos, and cultivated a German type of song, such as +then existed. At any rate, it was all there was. Weber had no turn +for the Italian ways of doing things, and little knowledge of them. +So when he sought to write serious German opera that should appeal to +a great mass of the people--the desire for national popularity had +already been stirred in him by the success of his _Leyer und Schwert_ +songs--he was obliged to write in a tongue that was understood by his +fellow men. It is doubtful whether _Der Freischütz_ could have gained +its wide popularity had its few pages of spoken dialogue been replaced +by musical recitative in the Italian style. Such is the influence of +tradition. + +But he had no need to be ashamed of the true German tradition to which +he attached himself. The _singspiel_, which represented all there +was of German opera, frequently cultivated a style of music which, +if simple, was genuinely musical and highly refined. Reichardt’s +singspiel, _Erwin und Elmire_, to Goethe’s text, has been mentioned +in the chapter on Romantic Song, and its Mozart-like charm of melody +referred to. The singspiel was a repository for German song, and +frequently drew upon German folk-lore or ‘house’ lore for its subject +matter. It needed only the right genius at the right time to raise it +into a supreme art form. + +As early as 1810, when Weber was still sowing his wild oats and +flirting with a literary career, he had run across the story of the +_Freischütz_ in Apel’s newly published book of German ‘ghost-tales.’ +The subject stirred his imagination and he planned to make an opera +of it. But he found other things to turn his hand to, and was unable +to hit upon a satisfactory librettist until in 1817 he met Friedrich +Kind, who had already become popular with his play, _Das Nachtlager von +Granada_. Kind took up with the idea, and in ten days completed his +libretto. Weber worked at it slowly, but with great zest. Four years +later, on the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, it was performed +for the first time, at the opening of the new Royal Theatre in Berlin. +Its electric success, as it went through the length and breadth of +Germany, has been described in a previous chapter. + +Kind deserves a large share of the credit for the success of the work, +though it must be confessed that he did not wear his laurels with +much dignity. He protested rather childishly against the excision of +two superfluous scenes from his libretto, and was forever trying to +exaggerate his share in the artistic partnership. It seems to have been +pique which prevented him from writing more librettos for Weber--and +what a series of operas might have come out of that union! In 1843, +long after Weber’s death, he published a book, _Das Freischützbuch_, in +which he aired his griefs. The volume would have little significance +except for one or two remarkable statements in it. ‘Every opera,’ he +says, ‘must be a complete whole, not only from the musical, but also +from the poetical point of view.’ And again: ‘I convinced myself that +through the union of all arts, as poetry, music, action, painting, and +dance, a great whole could be formed.’ How striking these statements +sound in view of the art theories which Wagner was evolving for himself +five and ten years later! And it must be said, to Kind’s justice, +that he had worked consistently on this theory in the writing of the +_Freischütz_ libretto. He had insisted that Weber set his work as he +had written it, and his insistence seems to have been due to more than +a petty pride. + +The opera tells a story which had long been told, in one form or +another, in German homes. Max, a young hunter, aspires to the position +of chief huntsman on Prince Ottokar’s domains. If he gains it he will +have the hand of the retiring chief huntsman’s daughter, Agathe, whom +he loves. His success depends upon overcoming all rivals in a shooting +contest. In the preliminary contest he has made a poor showing. In fear +of failure he listens to the temptation of one Caspar, and sells his +soul to the devil, Samiel, in return for six magic bullets, guaranteed +by infernal charms to hit their mark. A seventh, in Max’s possession, +Samiel retains for his own use. The bullets are charmed and the price +of the soul stipulated upon in dark Wolf’s Glen at midnight. In this +transaction Caspar acts as middleman in the affair in order to induce +Samiel to extend the earthly life of his soul, which has similarly been +sold. On the day of the shooting match Agathe experiences evil omens; +instead of a bridal wreath a funeral wreath has been prepared for her. +She decides to wear sacred roses instead. Max enters the contest and +his six bullets hit the mark. Then, at the prince’s commands, he shoots +at a passing dove--with the seventh bullet. Agathe falls with a shriek, +but she is protected by her sacred wreath and the bullet pierces +Caspar’s heart. Overcome with remorse Max confesses his sin. He is +about to be banished in disgrace when a passing hermit pleads for him, +urging his extreme temptation in extenuation, and he is restored by the +prince to all his happiness, on condition that he pass successfully +through a year’s probation. + +This story may stand as a type of the romantic opera plots of the +time. Of first importance was its use of purely German materials--the +national element which gave it its political significance. Only second +in importance was the fact that it was drawn from folk-lore and hence +was material intelligible and interesting to everybody, as contrasted +with the classic stories of the operas and plays of eighteenth century +France, which were intelligible only to the upper class educated in the +classics, and which was specifically intended to exclude the vulgar +rabble from participation and so serve as a sort of test of gentility. +Third was the incidental fact of the form which this democratic and +national spirit took--an interest in the element of the bizarre, the +fanciful, and the supernatural. It was wholly suited to the tastes +of the romantic age that the devil Samiel should come upon the stage +in person and charm the seven bullets before the gaping eyes of the +audience. + +The music shows Weber supreme in two important qualities, the folk +sense and the dramatic sense. No one before him had been able to +put into opera so well the very spirit of German folk-song, as he +did in Agathe’s famous moonlight scene, or in the impressive male +chorus, accompanied by the brass, in the first act. In power of +characterization Weber is second only to Mozart. The opening duet of +the second act, sung by the dreamy Agathe and the sprightly Ännchen, +gives to each character a melody which expresses her state of soul, +yet the two combine with utmost grace. In his characterization of the +supernatural Weber had no adequate prototype save the Mozart of the +cemetery and supper scenes in _Don Giovanni_, for Spohr’s operatic +setting of the Faust legend was classic in tone and method. The verve +of the music of Wolf’s Glen is exhilarating to the imagination. Samiel, +whose speeches are accompanied by rolls or taps on the kettle-drums, +seems to live to our ears and eyes, and as the bullets, one after +another, are charmed, the music rises until it bursts in a stormy fury. +Many of the tunes of _Der Freischütz_ have become folk-songs among +the German people, and the bridal chorus and Agathe’s scene may be +heard among the very children on their way home from school, while the +vigorous huntsmen’s chorus is a staple of German singing societies +wherever the German language is spoken. + +From the earliest years of his creative activity Weber had been +composing operas. And they grew steadily better. The one just preceding +_Freischütz_ was _Abu Hassan_, a comic opera in one act telling the +difficulties of Hassan and his wife Fatima to escape their debts. The +dainty and bustling music has helped to keep the piece alive. But the +piece which Weber intended should be his _magnum opus_ was _Euryanthe_, +which followed _Freischütz_. The critics, differing with the public in +their opinion concerning the latter work, admitted Weber’s power of +writing in simple style, but asserted that he could not master longer +concerted forms. Weber accepted the challenge and wrote _Euryanthe_ +as a work of pure romanticism, separated from the national element, +conceived on the broadest musical scale. It is a true opera, without +spoken dialogue. The music is in parts the finest Weber ever wrote, +and in more than one way suggests _Lohengrin_, which seems to have +germinated in Wagner’s mind in part from the study of _Euryanthe_. +Weber’s last opera, written on commission from Covent Garden, London, +and completed only a few months before his death, was ‘Oberon,’ a +return to the singspiel type, with much of the other-worldly in its +story. _Euryanthe_ had failed of popular success, chiefly through +its impossibly crude and involved libretto. ‘Oberon’ was better, but +far from ideal. It has, like ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream,’ Oberon, +Titania, Puck, and the host of fairies, together with mortal lovers +whose destinies become involved with those of the elves. The music +is often charming, revealing a delicacy of imagination not found in +_Freischütz_, but it is lacking in characterizing power, and reveals +its composer’s lessening bodily and mental vigor. + +Weber had established German opera on a par with Italian, and there +stood men ready to take up his mantle. Chief of these was Heinrich +Marschner.[100] He is best known by his opera _Hans Heiling_, which +tells the adventurer of the king of the elves who takes human form as +the schoolmaster, Hans Heiling, in order to win a mortal maiden. The +music is full of romantic imagination and is generally supposed to have +influenced Wagner in the writing of ‘The Flying Dutchman.’ Marschner’s +other important operas are _Templer und Jüdin_, founded upon ‘Ivanhoe,’ +and ‘The Vampire.’ + +Conradin Kreutzer (1780-1849) was a prolific contemporary of +Marschner’s, but little of his music has remained to our time outside +of _Das Nachtlager von Granada_ and a few songs. The music of the +opera is often thin, but now and then Kreutzer could catch the +German folk-spirit as scarcely any others could save Weber. Lortzing +(1801-1851) was a more gifted musician, and several of his operas are +occasionally performed now. Chief of these is _Czar und Zimmermann_, +which tells the adventures of Peter the Great of Russia working among +his shipbuilders. In more farcical vein is _Der Wildschütz_. The music +admirably suits the bustling comedy of peasant intrigue. E. T. A. +Hoffmann, who so deeply influenced Schumann, was a talented composer, +and a number of his operas, thoroughly in the romantic spirit, were +popular at the time. Nicolai’s[101] setting of Shakespeare’s ‘Merry +Wives of Windsor,’ dating from about this time, is a comic opera +classic, and Friedrich von Flotow’s ‘Martha’ is everywhere known. Its +composer (1812-1883) wrote numerous operas, German and French, and at +least one besides ‘Martha’ is still popular in Germany--‘Stradella.’ +His music is, however, more French than German, though its rhythmic +grace and piquancy, its easy, simple melody are universal in their +appeal. + +Two more important figures, musically considered, are Schumann, with +his one opera, ‘Genoveva,’ and Peter Cornelius, with several works +which deserve more frequent performance than they receive. Schumann had +well-defined longings toward dramatic activity, but had the customary +difficulties of discriminating musicians in finding a libretto. He hit +upon an adaptation of Hebbel’s _Genoveva_, a play drawn from a mediæval +legend, rather diffuse and uneven in workmanship, but suffused with +a noble poetic spirit that is only beginning to be appreciated. The +play lacks the dramatic elements necessary for successful operas, and +Schumann’s music, though filled with beauties, is not fully successful +in characterization, and hence tends to become monotonous. The +overture, however, is a permanent part of our concert programs. We feel +about Schumann as about Schubert (whose several operas, _Fierrabras_, +_Alfonso und Estrella_ and others, need be no more than mentioned), +that they might have produced great dramatic works had they been +permitted to live a little longer. + +A man of ample musical stature and far too little reputation is +Cornelius.[102] He was an actor and painter before turning to music. +For some years he served Liszt as secretary and confidant at Weimar, +working hard at music while acting as a sort of literary press agent +for the more radical tendencies in music. He was one of the earliest +to understand and believe in Wagner’s music and theories (see Chapter +XI). As early as 1855 he was attempting to apply them to comic opera. +The result was the two-act opera ‘The Barber of Bagdad,’ which Liszt +thought highly of and brought to performance under his own direction +at the Weimar Court Theatre. But the denizens of Weimar were by this +time tired of the fad of being radical, and laughed the piece off the +stage. It was in disgust at this fiasco that Liszt decided to give up +his directorship in Weimar, and, after a few more months of gradually +slipping away from his duties, he left the town for Italy, returning +thereafter only for occasional visits. ‘The Barber of Bagdad’ (the +libretto by Cornelius himself) carries out Wagner’s theories concerning +the close union of text and music, the dramatic and meaty character of +the libretto, the fusion of recitative and cantilena style, and the +use of the leit-motif. It is full-bodied music, excellent in technique +and, moreover, filled with delightful musical humor and beautiful +melodies. But it insists on treating its sparkling plot with high +artistic seriousness, and this mystified the Weimar audience, who, no +doubt, failed to see why one should take a comic opera so in earnest. +Cornelius’ later opera, ‘The Cid,’ was a serious work in the Wagnerian +style and necessarily was overshadowed by Wagner’s great works, then +just becoming known. It is diffuse and uneven. But the last opera, +_Gunlöd_, left unfinished at the composer’s death and completed by +friends, contains much to justify frequent revival. + + + II + +The movement which we have just discussed had its parallel in France, +though there the nationalistic element was lacking--conditions did not +call for it; the fight had long since been fought (cf. Chapter I). But +in France, like in Germany, the romantic opera, the _drame lyrique_, +was to grow out of the lighter type, the _opéra comique_, the French +equivalent of the _singspiel_. Before discussing that development, +however, we must consider for a moment the work of a composer who has +already engaged our attention and who cannot be classed with any of his +compatriots. + +Hector Berlioz stood apart from the course of French opera. Fashionable +people in his day applauded the pomposity of Meyerbeer and Halévy, the +facility of Auber, but made short work of Berlioz’s operas, when these +were fortunate enough to reach performance. Berlioz might conceivably +have adapted himself to the popular taste, but he was too sincere an +artist and too impetuous an egotist. He continued to the end of his +life writing the best he was capable of--and contracting debts. His +operas were much in advance of his day, and are in many respects in +advance of ours. They continue to be appreciated by connoisseurs, but +the public has little use for the high seriousness of their music. A +daring French impresario recently brought himself to a huge financial +failure by attempting a series of excellent operas on the best possible +scale, and in his list was _Benvenuto Cellini_, which had no small +part in swinging the scale of fortune against him. The second part of +_Les Troyens_ was performed near the end of Berlioz’s life, and was +a flat failure; it did not even succeed in stirring up discussion; +the public was simply indifferent. The first part of ‘The Capture of +Troy’ did not reach the stage until Felix Mottl organized his Berlioz +cycle at Carlsruhe in 1893. Doubtless the chief factor which led to +the failure of these excellent works was their lack of balanced and +readily intelligible melody. Berlioz’s melodic writing was always a +little dry, and one must be something of a gourmet to get beneath the +surface to the rare beauty within. But on the whole it is fair to say +that the music fails of its effect simply because opera publics are too +superficial and stupid. Yet it is possible to see signs of improvement +in this respect, and we may hope for the day when Berlioz’s operas will +have some established place on the lyric stage. + +‘Beatrice and Benedict,’ the libretto adapted by Berlioz from +Shakespeare’s ‘Much Ado about Nothing,’ is a work filled to the brim +with romantic loveliness and animal life. It is one of that small class +of comic operas (of which ‘The Barber of Bagdad’ is a distinguished +member), which are of the finest musical quality throughout, yet +thoroughly in accord with the gaiety of their subjects. The thrice +lovely scene and duet which opens the opera has a pervading perfume +of romanticism not often equalled in opera, and the rollicking chorus +of drunken servants in the second act is that rarest of musical +achievements, solid and scholarly counterpoint used to express +boisterous humor. Shakespeare has rarely had the collaboration of a +better poet-musician. + +_Benvenuto Cellini_ takes an episode in the artist’s life and narrates +it against the brilliant background of fashionable Rome in carnival +time. The music is picturesque and the carnival scenes are brilliant +and effective. But a far greater interest attaches to Berlioz’s double +opera ‘The Trojans.’ It was the work on which Berlioz lavished the +affection and inspiration of his last years, the failure of which +broke his heart. In it a remarkable change has come over the frenzied +revolutionist of the thirties. It is a work of the utmost restraint, +of the finest sense of form and proportion, of truly classical purity. +Romain Rolland has pointed out the classical nature of Berlioz’s +personality, and the paradox is amply justified by this last opera. In +Rolland’s view Berlioz was a Mozart born out of his time. His sensitive +soul, ‘eternally in need of loving or being loved,’ was seared by +the noise and bustle of the age, and reflected it in his music until +disappointment and failure had forced him to withdraw into his own +personality and write for himself and the muses. Berlioz’s admiration +for Gluck’s theories, music, and artistic personality is vividly +recorded in the earlier pages of the Memoirs. But in his student days +there was no opportunity for such an influence to show itself. In his +last years it came back--all Gluck’s refinement, high artistic aim and +classic self-control, but deepened by a wealth of technical mastery +that Gluck knew nothing of. We are amazed, as we look over the choruses +of ‘The Trojans,’ to see the utter simplicity of the writing, which is +never for a moment routine or commonplace--the simplicity of high and +rigid selection. The first division of the opera tells the story told +in the Iliad, of the finding of the wooden horse, the entrance into +Troy, the night sally, and the sack of the city. Cassandra, priestess +of woe, warns her people, but is received with deaf ears. Over the work +there hangs the tragic earnestness of the Iliad, which Berlioz loved +and studied. In the second division the Trojans are at Carthage, and, +instead of war we have the voluptuous lovemakings of Dido and Æneas, +and the final tragedy of the Trojan queen, all told with such emotional +intensity that the music is almost worthy to stand beside that of +Wagner. + +‘The Damnation of Faust,’ which follows the course of Goethe’s +play with special emphasis on the supernatural elements (freely +interpolated), is best known as a concert work, being hardly fitted for +the stage at all. It is picturesque in the highest degree. Berlioz’s +mastery of counterpoint and orchestration is here at its highest. The +interpolated ‘Rackozcy March’ is universally known, and the ‘Dance +of the Sylphs’ is one of the stock examples of Berlioz’s use of the +orchestra for eerie effects. The chorus of demons is sung, for the +sake of linguistic accuracy, to the words which Swedenborg gives as the +authentic language of Hell. + +Berlioz’s music admits of no compromise. Either it must come to us or +we must come to it. We have been trying ever since his death to patch +up some kind of middle course. + + H. K. M. + + III + +As we have seen in an earlier chapter, the _opéra comique_ had +developed after Boildieu into a new type, of which Auber, Hérold, +Halévy, and Adam were the principal exponents. These were the men who +prepared the way for the new lyric drama which grew out of the _opéra +comique_--for the romantic opera of Gounod and Thomas. The romantic +movement in French literature had, we may recall, received its impulse +by Victor Hugo, whose _Hernani_ appeared in 1829. Its influence on +French music was most powerful from 1840 on. Composers of all schools +yielded to it in one way or another, from Berlioz, who followed the +ideals of Gluck, to Halévy, whose _Jaguarita l’Indienne_ pictures +romance in the tropics. + +The direct result of this influence of literary romanticism was the +creation of the _drame lyrique_. Yet it must not be thought that Thomas +and Gounod deliberately created the _drame lyrique_ as a distinct +operatic form. Auber and others of his school had already produced +operas which may justly lay claim to the titles of lyric dramas. And +the earlier works of both Thomas and Gounod themselves were light in +character. In fact, Thomas’ _La double échelle_ and _Le Perruquier de +la Régence_ are _opéras comique_ of the accepted type; and _Le Caïd_ +has received the somewhat doubtful compliment of being considered ‘a +precursor of the Offenbach torrent of _opéra bouffe_.’ In Gounod’s +_Médecin malgré lui_, wherein he anticipated Richard Strauss and +Wolf-Ferrari in choosing a Molière comedy for operatic treatment, the +composer achieved a success. Yet this opera, as well as that charming +modernization of a classic legend, _Philemon et Baucis_, both adhere +strictly to the conventional lines of _opéra comique_. + +Gounod’s _Faust_ remains the epochal work of his career. His _Sapho_ +(1851) never achieved popularity, but is of interest because it +foreshadows his later style in its departure from tradition; in the +final scene he ‘struck a note of sensuous melancholy new to French +opera.’ Adam (in his capacity as a music critic) even claimed that +in _Sapho_ Gounod was trying to revive Gluck’s system of musical +declamation. + +In March, 1859, the first performance of _Faust_ took place at +the Théâtre Lyrique in Paris. In a manner it represents the ideal +combination of the brilliant fancy, dreamy mysticism, and picturesque +description that is the stuff of which romanticism is made. Goethe’s +masterpiece, which had already been used operatically by Spohr, and, to +mention a few among many, had also inspired Schumann, Berlioz, Liszt, +and Wagner, achieved as great a success in the land of Goethe as it did +in France. It was well received at its debut by the critics of the day, +but its success in Paris was gradual, notwithstanding the fact that the +_Révue des Deux Mondes_ spoke of ‘the sustained distinction of style, +the perfect good taste shown in every least detail of the long score, +the color, supreme elegance and discreet sobriety of instrumentation +which reveal the hand of a master.’ But it must be remembered that at +the time of its production Rossini and Meyerbeer were still regarded as +the very incarnation of music. + +Gounod’s own style was essentially French, yet he had studied +Mendelssohn and Schumann, and the charm of the poetic sentimentality +that permeated his music was novel in French composition. For several +decades _Faust_ remained the recognized type of modern French opera, +of the _drame lyrique_, embodying the poesy of an entire generation. +The dictum ‘sensuous but not sensual,’ which applies in general to all +Gounod’s work, is especially appropriate to _Faust_. It shows at its +best his lyric genius, his ability to produce powerful effects without +effort, and that languorous seduction which has been deprecated as +an enervating influence in French dramatic art. In spite of elements +unsympathetic to the modern musician, _Faust_, taken as a whole, is a +work of a high order of beauty, shaped by the hand of a master. ‘Every +page of the music tells of a striving after a lofty ideal.’ + +In _Faust_ Gounod’s work as a creator culminates. His remaining operas +repeat, more or less, the ideas of his masterpiece. The four-act _Reine +de Saba_, given in England under the name of ‘Irene,’ contains noble +pages, but was unsuccessful. Neither did _Mireille_ (1864), founded +on a libretto by the Provençal poet Mistral, nor _Colombe_, a light +two-act operetta, win popular favor. _Romeo et Juliette_ (1867) ranks +as his second-best opera. The composer himself enigmatically expressed +his opinion of the relative values of the two operas in the words: +‘“Faust” is the oldest, but I was younger; “Romeo” is the youngest, but +I was older.’ _Romeo et Juliette_ was an instant success in Paris, and +was eventually transferred to the repertory of the Grand Opera, after +having for some time formed part of that of the Opéra Comique. Gounod’s +last operas _Cinq Mars_ and _Le Tribut de Zamora_, which is in the +style of Meyerbeer, were alike unsuccessful. + +Gounod struck a strong personal note, and he may well be considered +the strongest artistic influence in French music up to the death of +César Franck. His art is eclectic, a curious mixture of naïve and +refined sincerity, of real and assumed tenderness, of voluptuousness +and worldly mysticism, and profound religious sentiment. The influence +of ‘Faust’ was at once apparent, and its new and fascinating idiom was +soon taken up by other composers, who responded to its romantic appeal. + +Among these was Charles-Louis-Ambroise Thomas (1811-1896), who had +already produced five ambitious operas with varying success before the +appearance of _Faust_. But _Mignon_ (1866) is the opera in which after +_Faust_ the transition from the _opéra comique_ to the romantic poetry +of the lyric drama is most marked. Gounod’s influence acted on Thomas +like a charm. _Mignon_ is an opera of great dramatic truth and beauty, +one which according to Hanslick is ‘the work of a sensitive and refined +artist,’ characterized by ‘rare knowledge of stage effects, skill in +orchestral treatment, and purity of style and sentiment.’ Like Gounod, +Thomas had chosen a subject by Goethe on which to write the opera which +was to raise him among the foremost operatic composers of his day. Mme. +Galti Marie, the creator of the title rôle, had modelled her conception +of the part of the poor orphan girl upon the well-known picture by Ary +Scheffer, and _Mignon_ at once captivated the public, and remained +one of the most popular operas of the second half of the nineteenth +century.[103] + +Again, like Gounod, Thomas turned to Shakespeare after having set +Goethe. His ‘Hamlet’ (1868) was successful in Paris for a long time. +And, though the music cannot match its subject, it contains some of +the composer’s best work. The vocal parts are richly ornamented; the +poetically conceived part of Ophelia is a coloratura rôle, such as +modern opera, with the possible exception of Delibes’ _Lakmé_, has not +produced, and the ballet music is brilliant. _Françoise de Rimini_ +(1882) and the ballet _La Tempête_ were his last and least popular +dramatic works. + +Léo Delibes (1836-1891), a pupil of Adam, is widely known by his +charming ballets. The ballet, which had played so important a part +in eighteenth century opera, was quite as popular in the nineteenth +century. If Vestris, the god of dance, had passed with the passing of +the Bourbon monarchy, there were Taglioni (who danced the Tyrolienne +in _Guillaume Tell_ and the _pas de fascination_ in Meyerbeer’s +_Robert le Diable_), Fanny Elssler, and Carlotta Grisi, full of grace +and gentility, to give lustre to the art of dancing. The ballet as +an individual entertainment apart from opera was popular during the +greater part of the nineteenth century, and was brought to a high +perfection, best typified by the famous Giselle, written for Carlotta +Grisi, on subject taken from Heinrich Heine, arranged by Théophile +Gautier, and set to music by Adam. To this kind of composition Delibes +contributed music of unusual charm and distinction. _La Source_ shows +a wealth of ravishing melody and made such an impression that the +composer was asked to write a divertissement, the famous _Pas des +Fleurs_ to be introduced in the ballet _Le Corsaire_, by his old master +Adam, for its revival in 1867. His ‘Coppelia’ ballet, written to +accompany a pretty comedy of the same name, and the grand mythological +ballet ‘Sylvia’ are considered his best and established his superiority +as a composer of artistic dance music. + +The music of Delibes’ operas is unfailingly tender and graceful, and +his scores remain charming specimens of the lyric style. _Le roi l’a +dit_ (1873) is a dainty little work upon an old French subject, ‘as +graceful and fragile as a piece of Sèvres porcelain.’ _Jean de Nivelle_ +has passed from the operatic repertory, but _Lakmé_ is a work of +exquisite charm, its music dreamy and sensuous as befits its oriental +subject, and full of local color. In _Lakmé_ and the unfinished +_Kassaya_[104] Delibes shows an awakening to the possibilities of +oriental color. Ernest Reyer’s (1823-1909) _Salammbo_ is in the same +direction; but it is Félicien David (1810-1876) who must be credited +with first drawing attention to Eastern subjects as being admirably +adapted to operatic treatment. He was a pupil of Cherubini, Reber[105] +and Fétis, and he was for a time associated with the activity of the +Saint-Simonian Socialists. Later he made a tour of the Orient from +1833 to 1835; then, returning to Paris with an imagination powerfully +stimulated by his long stay in the East, he set himself to express the +spirit of the Orient in music. The first performance of his symphonic +ode _Le Désert_ (1844) made him suddenly famous. It was followed by the +operas _Christophe Colomb_, _Eden_, and _La Perle du Brésil_, which +was brilliantly successful. Another great operatic triumph was the +delightful _Lalla Roukh_ which had a run of one hundred nights from May +in less than a year (1862-1863). At a time when the works of Berlioz +were still unappreciated by the majority of people, David succeeded +in making the public take an interest in music of a picturesque and +descriptive kind, and in this connection may be considered one of the +pioneers of the French _drame lyrique_. _Le Désert_ founded the school +which counts not only _Lakmé_ and _Salammbo_ but also Massenet’s _Le +Roi de Lahore_ and many others among its representatives. + +No French composer responded more delightfully to the orientalism +of David than Georges Bizet (1838-1875) in his earlier works. His +_Pêcheurs de Perles_ (1863) tells the loves of two Cingalese pearl +fishers for the priestess Leila. It had but a short run, though its +dreamy melodies are enchanting. Several of its forceful dramatic scenes +foreshadow the power and variety of _Carmen_. His second opera _La +jolie fille de Perth_ (1867), a tuneful and effective work, was based +upon one of Sir Walter Scott’s novels; but in _Djamileh_ (1872), his +third opera, he returned to an Eastern subject. This was the most +original effort he had thus far made, and it was thought so advanced at +the time of its production, that accusations of Wagnerism--at that time +anything but praise in Paris--were hurled at the composer. He was more +fortunate in the incidental music he wrote for Alphonse Daudet’s drama +_L’Arlésienne_, which is still a favorite in the concert hall. + +It has been said that the quality of Bizet’s operatic work, like that +of Gluck, depended in a measure on the value of his book. He was indeed +fortunate in the libretto of _Carmen_, adapted from Prosper Merimée’s +celebrated study of Spanish gypsy character, by Meilhac and Ludovic +Halévy, the best librettists of their day. The dramatic element in +the story as written was hidden by much descriptive analysis, but by +discarding this the authors produced one of the most famous libretti +in the whole range of opera. _Carmen_ was brought out at the Opéra +Comique in 1875. Bizet’s occasional use of the Wagnerian leading motive +was perhaps responsible for some of the coldness with which the work +was originally received. Its passionate force was dubbed brutality, +though we now know that it is a most fine artistic feeling which makes +the score of _Carmen_ what it is. _Carmen_ was to Bizet what _Der +Freischütz_ was to Weber. It represents the absolute harmony of the +composer with his work. In modern opera of real artistic importance +it is the perfect model of the lyric song-play type, and as such it +has exercised a great influence on dramatic music. It is in every way +a masterpiece. The libretto is admirably concise and well balanced, +the music full of a lasting vitality, the orchestration brilliant. +Unhappily, only three months after its production in Paris the genial +composer died suddenly of heart trouble. His early death--he was +no more than thirty-seven--robbed the French school of one of its +brightest ornaments, one who had infused in the _drame lyrique_ of +Gounod and Thomas the vivifying breath of dramatic truth. The later +development of French operatic romanticism in Massenet and others, +as well as Saint-Saëns’ revival of the classic model, are more fitly +reserved for future consideration. Our present object has been to +describe the development of the _drame lyrique_ out of the older comic +opera, and in a manner this culminates in _Carmen_. + + + IV + +We have still to give an account of the development of the _opéra +comique_ in another direction--that of farcical comedy, a task which +falls well within the chronological limits of this chapter. One +reason for the gradual approximation of the _opéra comique_ to the +_drame lyrique_ and grand opera, quite aside from the influence of +romanticism, lay in the appearance of the _opéra bouffe_, representing +parody, not sentiment. For if the _opéra comique_ and _drame lyrique_ +of the first three quarters of the nineteenth century represented the +advance of artistic taste and the preference of the musically educated +for the essentially romantic rather than the merely entertaining; the +_opéra bouffe_ or farcical operetta, a small and trivial form, was the +delight of the musical groundlings of the second empire, at a time when +the pursuit of pleasure and the satisfaction of material wants were +the great preoccupations of society; Jacques Offenbach (1819-1880) was +in a sense the creator of this Parisian novelty. Though Offenbach was +born of German-Jewish parents in Cologne, the greater part of his life +was spent in Paris, and his music was more typically French than that +of any of his French rivals. The tone of French society during the +period of the Second Empire was set by the court. The court organized +innumerable entertainments, banquets, reviews, and gorgeous official +ceremonies which succeeded one another without interruption. Music +hall songs and _opéras bouffes_, races and public festivals, evening +restaurants and the amusements they provided, made the fame of this new +Paris. And the music of the music halls and _opéras bouffes_ was the +music of Offenbach, the offspring of ‘an eccentric, rather short-kilted +and disheveled Muse,’ who later assumed a soberer garb in the hands of +Lecocq, Audran, and Hervé. + +In conjunction with Offenbach the librettists Meilhac and Ludovic +Halévy were the authors of these _operettes_ and _farces_ which +made the prosperity of the minor Parisian theatres of the period. +The libretto of the _opéra bouffe_ was usually one of intrigue, +witty, if coarse, and into the texture of which the representation +of contemporary whims and social oddities was cleverly interwoven. +Although the _opéras bouffes_ were broad and lively libels of the +society of the time, ‘they savored strongly of the vices and the +follies they were supposed to satirize.’ Offenbach was peculiarly +happy in developing in musical burlesque the extravagant character of +his situations. His melodic vein, though often trivial and vulgar, +was facile and spontaneous, and he was master of an ironical musical +humor.[106] The theatre which he opened as the ‘Bouffes Parisiens’ +in 1855 was crowded night after night by those who came to hear his +brilliant, humorous trifles. _La grande duchesse de Gerolstein_, in +which the triumph of the Bouffes Parisiens culminated, is perhaps +the most popular burlesque operetta ever written, and it marked +the acceptance of _opéra bouffe_ as a new form worth cultivating. +Offenbach’s works were given all over Europe, were imitated by +Lecocq, Audran, Planquette, and others; and, being gay, tuneful, and +exhilarating, were not hindered in becoming popular by their want +of refinement. But after 1870 the vogue of parody largely declined, +and, though Offenbach composed industriously till the time of his +death and though his _opéras bouffes_ are still given here and there +at intervals, the form he created has practically passed away. As a +species akin in verbal texture to the _comédie grivoise_ of Collet, +adapted to the idiom of a later generation, and as a return of +the _opéra comique_ to the burlesque and extravagance of the old +vaudeville, the _opéra bouffe_ has a genuine historic interest. + +But it must not be forgotten that Offenbach created at least one work +which is still a favorite number of the modern grand opera repertory. +This is _Les Contes d’Hoffmann_, a fantastic opera in three acts. It +appeared after his death. It is genuine _opéra comique_ of the romantic +type, rich in pleasing grace of expression, in variety of melodic +development, and grotesque fancy; and, though the music lacks depth, it +is descriptive and imaginatively interesting, wonderfully charming and +melodious, and has survived when the hundred or more _opéras bouffes_ +which Offenbach composed are practically forgotten. + + F. H. M. + + V + +Having described the trend of operatic development in various +directions, there remains only one class of composition which, though +partially allied to it in form, is usually so different in spirit as +to appear at first sight antagonistic--namely, choral song. Choral +song has had, especially in recent times, a distinct development +independent of the church, and in this broader field it has assumed +a new importance. The Romantic influence made itself felt even in the +church, though perhaps secondarily--for, like the Renaissance, it was +a purely secular movement. For purposes of convenience, however, the +secular and sacred works are here treated together. + + [Illustration: Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy] + +Of the choral church music of the German romantic period only two works +are frequently heard in these days--the ‘Elijah’ and ‘St. Paul’ of +Mendelssohn. The church had largely lost its hold over great composers, +and when it did succeed in attracting them it did so spasmodically and +by the romantic stimulus of its ritual rather than by direct patronage. +And the spirit of the time was not favorable to the oratorio form. +Mendelssohn’s great success in this field is due to his rare power of +revivifying classical procedure with romantic coloring. And his success +was far greater in pious and unoperatic England than in his native +land. The oratorio form did exercise some attraction for composers of +the period, but their activity took rather a secular form. Schumann, +who composed scarcely any music for the church, worked hard at secular +choral music. + +Schubert, as a remnant of the classic age, wrote masses as a matter of +course. They are beautiful yet, and their lovely melodies rank beside +those of Mozart’s, though far below Mozart in mastery of the polyphonic +manner. Schubert’s cantata, ‘Miriam’s Song of Victory,’ written toward +the end of his life, is a charming work for chorus and soprano solo, +full of color and energy, conquering by its triumphantly expressive +melody. + +In Byron’s ‘Manfred’ Schumann found a work which took his fancy, in +the morbid years of the decline of his mental powers. Byron’s hero +fell in love with his beautiful sister and locked himself up in a +lonely castle and communed with demons in his effort to live down his +incestuous affection. The soul of the man is shown in the well known +overture, and many of the emotional scenes have a tremendous power. +Perhaps best of all are the delicate choruses of the spirits. The great +vitality and beauty of the music make one wish that this work could +have been a music drama instead of disjointed scenes for concert use. +In ‘Paradise and the Peri’ Schumann found a subject dear to his heart, +but his creative power was failing and the musical result is uneven. +In the scenes from Goethe’s ‘Faust,’ especially in the mystical third +part, he rose higher, occasionally approaching his best level. The +spirit of these works, so intense, so genuine, so broad in conception, +so much more profound than that of his early piano pieces and songs, +make us want to protest against the fate that robbed him of his mental +balance, and robbed the world of what might have been a ‘third period’ +analogous to Beethoven’s. + +Mendelssohn was canny enough (whether consciously or not) to use the +thunder of romanticism in a modified form for his own profit. The +intensity of the romanticists had in his time achieved a little success +with the general public--to the extent of a love for flowing, sensuous +melody and a taste for pictorial music. This, and no more, Mendelssohn +adopted in his music. Hence he was the ‘sane’ romanticist of his time. +We can say this without depreciating his sound musicianship, which was +based on all that was greatest and best in German music. At times in +the ‘Elijah’ one can imagine one’s self in the atmosphere of Bach and +Handel. But not for long. Mendelssohn was writing pseudo-dramatic music +for the concert hall, and was tickling people’s love for the theatrical +while gratifying their weakness for respectable piety. At least this +characterization will hold for England, which took Mendelssohn with +a seriousness that seems quite absurd in our day. The ‘Elijah,’ in +fact, can be acted on the stage as an opera, and has been so acted +more than once. The wind and the rain which overtake the sacrifices +to Baal are vividly pictured in the music and throughout the work the +theatrical exploits of the holy man of God are made the most of. Yet +the choruses in ‘Elijah’ often attain a high nobility, and the deep +and sound musicianship, the mastery of counterpoint, and the sense of +formal balance which the work shows compel our respect. ‘St. Paul,’ +written several years earlier, is in all ways an inferior work. There +is little in it of the high seriousness of Handel, and it could hardly +hold the place it still holds except for the melodic grace of some of +its arias. In all that makes oratorio dignified and compelling, Spohr’s +half-forgotten ‘Last Judgment,’ highly rated in its day, would have the +preference. + +The bulk of the sacred music of the romantic period must be sought +for on the shelves of the musical libraries. Many a fine idea went +into this music. But it has never succeeded in permanently finding +a home in the church or in the concert hall. The Roman church, the +finest institution ever organized for the using of musical genius, has +steadily drawn away from the life of the world about it in the last +century. The Italian revolution of 1871, which resulted in the loss +of the Pope’s temporal power, was a symbol of the separation that had +been going on since the French Revolution. The church, drawing away +from contact whenever it felt its principles to be at stake, lost the +services of the distinguished men of art which it had had so absolutely +at its disposal during the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. Liszt, +pious Catholic throughout his later life, would have liked nothing +better than to become the Palestrina of the nineteenth century church, +but, though he had the personal friendship and admiration of the pope, +his music was always too theatrical to be quite acceptable to the +ecclesiastical powers. Since the distinguished men of secular music +have consistently failed to make permanent connections with the church +in these later days, it is a pity that the quality of scholarly and +excellent music which is written for it by the composers it retains +in its service is not known to the outside world. For the church has +a whole line of musicians of its own, but so far as the history of +European music is concerned they might as well never have existed. + +Berlioz’s gigantic ‘Requiem,’ which is known to all music students, +is rarely performed. The reason is obvious; its vast demands on +orchestral and choral resources, described in the succeeding chapter, +make its adequate performance almost a physical as well as a financial +impossibility. The work is theatrical in the highest degree. Its four +separated orchestras, its excessive use of the brass, its effort after +vast masses of tone have no connection with a church service--nor were +they meant to have. On the whole, Berlioz was more interested in his +orchestra than in his music in this work. If reduced to the piano score +the ‘Requiem’ would seem flat and uninspired music. At the same time, +its apologists are right in claiming that outside of its orchestral and +choral dress it is not itself and cannot be judged. Given as it was +intended to be given, it is in the highest degree effective. Some of +the church music which Berlioz wrote in his earlier years has little +interest now except to the Berlioz student, but the oratorio ‘The +Childhood of Christ’ (for which the composer wrote the text) is a fine +work in his later chastened manner. + +While Gounod is most usually known as a composer of opera, we must not +forget that he wrote for the church throughout his life, and that, in +the opinion of Saint-Saëns, his ‘St. Cecilia Mass,’ and the oratorios +‘The Redemption’ and _Mors et Vita_ will survive all his operas. In +all his sacred music Gounod has struck the happy medium between the +popularity which easy melodious and inoffensive harmony secure and the +solidity and strength due to a discreet following of the classic models. + +Liszt wrote two pretentious choral works of uneven quality. The +‘Christus’ is obscured by the involved symbolism which the composer +took very seriously. But its use of Gregorian and traditional motives +is an idea worthy of Liszt, which becomes effective in establishing the +tone of religious grandeur. The ‘Legend of Saint Elizabeth’ is purely +secular, written to celebrate the dedication of the restored Wartburg, +the castle where Martin Luther was housed for some months, and the +scene of Wagner’s opera ‘Tannhäuser.’ This work is chiefly interesting +for its consistent and thorough use of the leit-motif principle. The +chief theme is a hymn sung in the sixteenth century on the festival of +St. Elizabeth--quite the best thing in the work. This appears in every +possible guise and transformation, corresponding with the progress of +the story. The scene which narrates the miracle of the roses is famous +for its mystic atmosphere, but on the whole the ‘legend’ has far too +much pomp and circumstance and far too little music. + +In his masses Liszt touched the level of greatness. The Graner mass, +written during the Weimar period, is ambitious in the extreme, using an +orchestra of large proportions and a wealth of Lisztian technique. Here +the imagination of the man becomes truly stirred by the grandeur of the +church. But the most interesting of Liszt’s religious works, from the +point of view of the æsthetic theorist, is the ‘Hungarian Coronation +Mass,’ written for performance in Buda-Pesth. Here Liszt, returning +under triumphal auspices to his native land, tried an astonishing +experiment. He used for his themes the dance rhythms and the national +scales of his people. In the _Kyrie_ it is the Lassan--the dance which +forms the first movement to nearly all the Rhapsodies. It is there, +unmistakable, but ennobled and dignified without being distorted. The +well known cadence, with its firm accent and its subsequent ‘twist,’ +continues, with more and more emphasis to an impressive climax, then +dies away in supplication. In the _Qui tollis_ section of the _Gloria_ +Liszt uses a Hungarian scale, with its interval of the minor third, +utterly removed from the spirit of the Gregorian mass. Again, in the +_Benedictus_, the solo violin fiddles a tune with accents and grace +notes in the spirit of the extemporization which Liszt heard so often +among the gypsies in the fields. We are aghast at these experiments. +They have met with disfavor; the church naturally will have none of +such a tendency, and most hearers will pronounce it sacrilegious and go +their way without listening. + +So we may perhaps hear no more from Liszt’s experiment of introducing +folk elements into sacred music. But it was done in the music of this +same Roman church in the fifteenth century. It was done in the Lutheran +church in the sixteenth century. The attitude of the church in regard +to this is an ecclesiastical matter. But it is impossible for an +open-minded music lover to hear the Hungarian Mass and pronounce it +sacrilegious. + + H. K. M. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[100] Born, Zittau, Saxony, 1795; died, Hanover, 1861. Like Schumann, +he went to Leipzig to study law but abandoned it for music. A patron +took him to Vienna. He secured a tutorship in Pressburg and there wrote +three operas, the last of which Weber performed in Dresden in 1820. +There Marschner secured employment as musical director at the opera, +but after Weber’s death (1826) went to Leipzig as conductor at the +theatre. From 1831 till 1859 he was court kapellmeister in Hanover. + +[101] Otto Nicolai, born Königsberg, 1810; died, Berlin, 1849. + +[102] Born, Mainz, 1824; died there 1874. + +[103] In 1894 Thomas’ _Mignon_ was given for the thousandth time in +Paris. + +[104] Orchestrated by Massenet and produced in 1893. + +[105] See Vol. XI. + +[106] His best works are: _Orphée aux Enfers_ (1858), _La belle Hélène_ +(1864), _Barbe-Bleue_ and _La vie parisienne_ (1866), _La grande +duchesse de Gerolstein_ (1867), _La Périchole_ (1868), and _Madame +Favart_ (1879). + + + + + CHAPTER XI + WAGNER AND WAGNERISM + + Periods of operatic reform; Wagner’s early life and works--Paris: + _Rienzi_, ‘The Flying Dutchman’--Dresden: _Tannhäuser_ + and _Lohengrin_; Wagner and Liszt; the revolution of + 1848--_Tristan_ and _Meistersinger_--Bayreuth; ‘The Nibelungen + Ring’--_Parsifal_--Wagner’s musico-dramatic reforms; his harmonic + revolution; the leit-motif system--The Wagnerian influence. + + + I + +The student or reader of musical history will perceive that it is +impossible to determine with any exactitude the dividing lines which +mark the epochs of art evolution. Here and there may be fixed a sharper +line of demarcation, but for the most part there is such a merging of +phases and confusion of simultaneous movements that we are forced, +in making any survey or general view of musical history, to measure +approximately these boundaries. It may be, however, noted that, as +in all other forms of human progress, the decisive and revolutionary +advances have been made by those prophetic geniuses who, in +single-handed struggle, have achieved the triumphs which a succeeding +generation proclaimed. It is the names of these men that mark the real +milestones of musical history and on that which marks the stretch of +musical road we now travel stands large the name of Richard Wagner. + +That we may the more readily appreciate Wagner’s place as the author +of the ‘Music of the Future’ and the creator of the music drama, it +is necessary to review briefly the course of musical history and +particularly that of the opera as it led up to the time of Wagner’s +birth at Leipzig, May 22, 1813. A glance at our chronological +tables will show us that at the time Beethoven still lived and at +the age of forty-three was creating those works so enigmatic to his +contemporaries. Weber at the age of twenty-seven was, after the freedom +of a gay youth, settling down to a serious career, seven years later +to produce _Der Freischütz_. Mendelssohn, Schumann, Liszt, and Chopin +were in their earliest infancy, while Schubert was but sixteen and +Berlioz was ten. Thus may it be seen at a glance that Wagner’s life +falls exactly into that epoch which we designate as ‘romantic,’ and to +this same school we may correctly assign the works of Wagner’s earlier +periods. But, as we of to-day view Wagner’s works as a whole, it is at +once apparent that the label of ‘romanticist’ is entirely inadequate +as descriptive of his place in musical history. We shall trace in +this chapter the growth of his art and follow its development in some +detail, but for the moment it will suffice us if we recognize the fact +that Wagner arrested the stream of romantic thought at the point where +it was in danger of running muddy with sentimentality, and turning into +it the clearer waters of classic ideals, opening a stream of nobler +breadth and depth than that which had been the channel of romanticism. + +Wagner’s service to dramatic art was even larger, for the opera was +certainly in greater danger of decay than absolute music. Twice had the +opera been rescued from the degeneration that now again threatened it, +and at the hands of Gluck and of Weber had been restored to artistic +purity. Gluck, it will be remembered, after a period of imitation +of the Italians, had grown discontent with the inadequacy of these +forms and his genius had sought a more genuine dramatic utterance in +returning to a chaster line of melody. He also adopted the recitative +as it had been introduced into the earlier French operas, employed the +chorus in a truly dramatic way, and, spurning the hitherto meaningless +accompaniment, he had placed in the orchestra much of dramatic +significance, thereby creating a musical background which was in many +ways the real precursor of all that we know to-day as dramatic music. + +Weber we have seen as the fountain head of the romantic school, and +his supreme achievements, the operas, we find to be the embodiment of +all that romanticism implies; a tenderness and intense imaginativeness +coupled with a tragic element in which the supernatural abounds. +Musically his contributions to dramatic art were a greater advance than +that of any predecessor; melodically and harmonically his innovations +were amazingly original and in his instrumentation we hear the first +flashes of modern color and ‘realism’ in music. + +It was on these two dramatic ideals--the classic purity and strength of +Gluck and the glowing and mystic romanticism of Weber--that Wagner’s +early genius fed. Wagner’s childhood was one which was well calculated +to develop his genius. With an actor as stepfather, brothers and +sisters all following stage careers, an uncle who fostered in him the +love of poetry and letters, the early years of Richard were passed in +an atmosphere well suited to his spiritual development. While evincing +no early precocity in music, we find him, even in his earliest boyhood, +possessed with the creative instinct. This first sought expression in +poetry and tragic drama written in his school days, but following some +superficial instruction in music and the hearing of many concerts and +operas, he launched forth into musical composition, and throughout +his youthful student days he persisted in these efforts at musical +expression--composing overtures, symphonies, and sonatas, all of which +were marked with an extravagance which sprang from a total lack of +technical training. In the meantime, however, he was not disdaining +the classic models, and he relates in his autobiography[107] his early +enthusiasm for Weber’s _Freischütz_, for the symphonies of Beethoven, +and certain of Mozart’s works. At the age of seventeen he succeeded in +obtaining in Leipzig a performance of an orchestral overture and the +disillusioning effect of this work must have had a sobering influence, +for immediately after he began those studies which constituted his +sole academic schooling. These consisted of several months’ training +in counterpoint and composition under Theodor Weinlich, at that time +musical director of the Thomaskirche. After these studies he proceeded +with somewhat surer hand to produce shorter works for orchestra +and a futile attempt at the text and music of an opera called _Die +Hochzeit_. In 1833, however, Wagner, at twenty-one, completed his +first stage work, _Die Feen_, and in the next year, while occupying +his first conductor’s post at Magdeburg, he wrote a second opera, +_Das Liebesverbot_. The first of these works did not obtain a hearing +in Wagner’s lifetime, while the second one had one performance which +proved a ‘fiasco’ and terminated Wagner’s career at Magdeburg. While +these early works form an interesting historical document in showing +the beginnings of Wagner’s art, there is in them nothing of sufficient +individuality that can give them importance in musical history. The +greatest interest they possess for us is the evidence which they bear +of Wagner’s studies and models. Much of Weber, Mozart, and Beethoven, +and--in the _Liebesverbot_, written at a time when routine opera +conducting had somewhat lowered his ideal--much of Donizetti. + + [Illustration: Richard Wagner’s last portrait] + _Enlarged from an instantaneous photograph (1883)_ + + + II + +The six years which followed were troublous ones for Wagner. In the +winter of the following year (1837) he became conductor of the opera +at Königsberg, and while there he married Minna Planer, a member of +the Magdeburg opera company, whom he had met the previous year. After +a few months’ occupancy of this post he became conductor at Riga. Here +a season of unsatisfactory artistic conditions and personal hardships +determined him to capture musical Europe by a bold march upon Paris, +then the centre of opera. In the summer of 1839, accompanied by his +wife and dog, the journey to Paris was made, by way of London and +Boulogne. At the latter place Wagner met Meyerbeer, who furnished him +with letters of introduction which promised him hopes of success in the +French capital. Again, however, Wagner was fated to disappointment and +chagrin, and the two years which formed the time of his first sojourn +in Paris were filled with the most bitter failures. It was, in fact, +at this period that his material affairs reached their lowest point, +and, to keep himself from starvation, Wagner was obliged to accept the +drudgery of ‘hack’ literary writing and the transcribing of popular +opera scores. The only relief from these miseries was the intercourse +with a few faithful and enthusiastic friends[108] and the occasional +opportunity to hear the superior concerts which the orchestra of the +Conservatoire furnished at that time. + +But the hardships of these times did not lessen Wagner’s creative +activities and from these years date his first important works: +_Rienzi_, ‘The Flying Dutchman,’ and _Eine Faust Ouvertüre_. + +Wagner, during his stay at Riga, had become fully convinced that in +writing operas of smaller calibre for the lesser theatres of Germany +he was giving himself a futile task which stood much in the way of +the realization of those reforms which had already begun to assume +shape in his mind. He resolved to seek larger fields in writing a +work on a grander scale. ‘My great consolation now,’ we read in his +autobiography, ‘was to prepare _Rienzi_ with such utter disregard of +the means which were available there for its production that my desire +to produce it would force me out of the narrow confines of this puny +theatrical circle to seek a fresh connection with one of the larger +theatres.’ Two acts of the opera had been written at Riga and the +work was finished during his first months at Paris. Wagner sent the +manuscript of the work back to Germany, where it created a friendly and +favorable impression, and the prospects of an immediate hearing brought +Wagner back to Germany in April, 1842. The work was produced in Dresden +on the twentieth of the following October and was an immediate success. + +It is _Rienzi_ which marks the real beginning of Wagner’s career as an +operatic composer; the small and fragmentary works which preceded it +serve only to record for us the experimental epoch of Wagner’s writing. +It is this place as first in the list of Wagner’s work which gives +_Rienzi_ its greatest interest, for neither the text nor the music are +such as to make it of artistic value when placed by the side of his +later productions. + +The libretto was written by Wagner himself after the novel by Bulwer +Lytton. The hand of the reformer of the opera is not visible in this +libretto, which was calculated, as Wagner himself frankly confessed, to +afford opportunities for the brilliant and theatrical exhibition which +constituted the popular opera of that time. While the lines attain to +a certain dignity and loftiness of poetic conception, there is no +trace of the attempt at the realization of those dramatic ideals which +Wagner was soon to experience. Everything is calculated to musical +effectiveness of a pronounced theatrical quality and the work presents +the usual order of arias, duets, and ensemble of the Italian opera. The +music for the greater part is matched to the spirit and form of the +libretto. Here again theatrical effectiveness is the aim of Wagner, +and to obtain it he has employed the methods of Meyerbeer and Auber. +Not that the deeper and more noble influences are entirely forgotten, +for there are moments of intensity when the worshipper of Beethoven +and Weber discloses the depths of musical and dramatic feeling that +were his. But of that style which Wagner so quickly developed, of +that marvellously individual note which was destined to dominate the +expression of future generations there is but a trace. A few slightly +characteristic traits of melodic treatment, certain figurations in +the accompaniment and an individual quality of chorus writing is all +that is recognizable. The orchestration shows the faults of the other +features of the work--exaggeration. It is noisy and theatrical, and, +excepting in the purely orchestral sections, such as the marches and +dances, it performs the function of the operatic orchestra of the day, +that of a mere accompaniment. + +‘The Flying Dutchman’ was written in Paris and the inspiration for +the work was furnished by the stormy voyage which Wagner had made in +his journey to London. The account which he himself has given of its +composition gives an interesting idea of his methods of working and a +touching picture of the conditions under which it was written. He says +in the autobiography: ‘I had already finished some of the words and +music of the lyric parts and had had the libretto translated by Émile +Deschamps, intending it for a trial performance, which, also, never +took place. These parts were the ballad of Senta, the song of the +Norwegian sailors, and the “Spectre Song” of “The Flying Dutchman.” +Since that time I had been so violently torn away from the music that, +when the piano arrived at my rustic retreat, I did not dare to touch it +for a whole day. I was terribly afraid lest I should discover that my +inspiration had left me--when suddenly I was seized with the idea that +I had forgotten to write out the song of the helmsman in the first act, +although, as a matter of fact, I could not remember having composed it +at all, as I had in reality only just written the lyrics. I succeeded, +and was pleased with the result. The same thing occurred with the +“Spinning Song”; and when I had written out these two pieces, and on +further reflection could not help admitting that they had really only +taken shape in my mind at that moment, I was quite delirious with joy +at the discovery. In seven weeks the whole of the music of “The Flying +Dutchman,” except the orchestration, was finished.’ + +While one is prompted to group ‘Rienzi’ and ‘The Flying Dutchman’ as +forming Wagner’s first period, in the latter work there is such an +advance over the former in both spirit and style that we can hardly so +classify them. + +In ‘The Flying Dutchman’ we see Wagner making a decided break from the +theatrical opera and turning to a subject that is more essentially +dramatic. The mystic element which he here infuses and his manner of +treatment are very decided steps toward that revolution of musical +stage works which was to culminate in the ‘music drama.’ In its form +the libretto presents less of a departure from the older style than in +its subject and spiritual import; there is still the old operatic form +of set aria and ‘scene,’ but so consistently does all hang upon the +dramatic structure that the entire work is of convincing and moving +force. + +This same advance in spirit and dramatic earnestness rather than in +actual methods is that which also distinguishes the score of ‘The +Flying Dutchman’ from that of ‘Rienzi.’ The superficial brilliancy of +the latter gives place in ‘The Flying Dutchman’ to a dramatic power +which is entirely lacking in the earlier work. One important innovation +in form must be remarked: the use of the ‘leading motive,’ which we +find for the first time in ‘The Flying Dutchman.’ Wagner here begins +to employ those characteristic phrases which so vividly characterize +for us the figures and situation of the drama. In harmonic coloring +the score shows but slight advance over ‘Rienzi.’ We can observe in +the frequent use of the chromatic scale and the diminished seventh +chord an inclination toward a richer harmonic scheme, but, taken in its +entirety, the musical composition of the work belongs distinctly to +what we may call Wagner’s ‘classic’ period and is still far from being +the ‘music of the future.’ + +The success of ‘Rienzi’ brought to Wagner the appointment of court +conductor to the king of Saxony, in which his principal duties +consisted of conducting the opera at Dresden. Wagner occupied +this position for seven years; he gained a practical experience +of conducting in all its branches and a wide knowledge of a very +varied musical repertoire which broadened his outlook and increased +considerably his scope of expression. Besides the operatic +performances, the direction of which he shared with Reissiger, Wagner +organized for several seasons a series of symphony concerts at which +he produced the classic symphonies, including a memorable performance +of Beethoven’s ninth symphony on Palm Sunday, 1846.[109] Wagner threw +himself with great zeal into the preparation of this work, one of his +first sources of inspiration. + +The result was a performance which thoroughly roused the community, +including the musical profession, which was well represented at the +performance, to a sense of Wagner’s greatness as an interpretative +artist. There were many other events of importance in Wagner’s external +musical life at Dresden. Among these he tells us of the visits of +Spontini and of Marschner to superintend the performances of their +own works and of a festival planned to welcome the king of Saxony as +he returned from England in August, 1844, on which occasion the march +from _Tannhäuser_ had its first performance by the forces of the opera +company in the royal grounds at Pillnitz. In the winter of the same +year we find Wagner actively interested in the movement which resulted +in the removal of Weber’s remains from London to their final resting +place in his own Dresden. In the ceremony which took place when Weber’s +remains were finally committed to German soil, Wagner made a brief but +eloquent address and conducted the music for the occasion, consisting +of arrangements from Weber’s works made by him. In the midst of a life +thus busied Wagner found, however, time for study, and, in the summer +months, for musical creation. His interest in the classic drama dates +from this period and it is to his studies in mediæval lore pursued at +this time that we may attribute his knowledge of the subjects which he +later employed in his dramas. + +Two musical works are the fruit of these Dresden years. _Tannhäuser_ +and _Lohengrin_. These two works we suitably bracket as forming the +second period of Wagner’s creative work; and, while his advance was so +persistent and so marked that each new score presents to us an advance +in spirit and form, these two are so similar in spirit and form that +they may be named together as the next step in the development of his +style. + +_Tannhäuser_ and _Lohengrin_ are designated by Wagner as romantic +operas, a title exactly descriptive of their place as musical +stage settings. While infusing into the spirit and action a more +poetical conception, their creator had not as yet renounced the more +conventional forms of the operatic text. The most important feature of +the opera to which he still adhered was the employment, both scenically +and musically, of the chorus. This, together with the interest of the +‘ensemble’ and a treatment of the solo parts more nearly approaching +the lyric aria than the free recitative of the later dramas are points +which these works share with the older ‘opera.’ The advance in the +musical substance of these operas over the earlier works is very +great. In _Tannhäuser_ we find for the first time Wagner the innovator +employing a melodic and harmonic scheme that bears his own stamp, +the essence of what we know as ‘Wagnerism.’ From the first pages of +_Tannhäuser_ there greets us for the first time that rich sensuousness +of melody and harmony which had its apotheosis in the surging mysteries +of _Tristan und Isolde_. Wagner here first divined those new principles +of chromatic harmony and of key relations which constituted the +greatest advance that had been made by a genius since Monteverdi’s bold +innovations of over two centuries before. + +In his treatment of the orchestra Wagner’s advance was also great and +revealed the new paths which an intimate study of Berlioz’s scores had +opened to him. In these two scores, and particularly in _Lohengrin_, we +find the beginnings of the rich polyphonic style of _Tristan_ and the +_Meistersinger_ and the marvellously expressive and original use of the +wind instruments by which he attained, according to Richard Strauss, ‘a +summit of æsthetic perfection hitherto unreached.’ + +With the advent of these two music dramas there commenced that bitter +opposition and antagonism to Wagner and his works from almost the +entire musical fraternity and particularly from the professional +critics, the records of which form one of the most amazing chapters of +musical history. The gathering of these records and their presentation +has been the pleasure of succeeding generations of critics who, in +many cases, by their blindness to the advances of their own age, have +but unconsciously become the objects for the similar ridicule of their +followers. Great as may be our satisfaction in seeing history thus +repeat itself, the real study of musical development is more concerned +with those few appreciators who, with rare perceptive powers, saw the +truth of this new gospel and by its power felt themselves drawn to the +duty of spreading its influence. + +Wagner once complained that musicians found in him only a poet +with a mediocre talent for music, while the appreciators of his +music were those outside of his own profession. This was in a large +measure true and the explanation may be easily found in the fact that +attention to the letter so absorbed the minds of his contemporaries +that the spiritual significance of his art entirely escaped them in +the consternation which they experienced in listening to a form of +expression so radically new. It is interesting to note, in passing, +the attitude toward Wagner’s art held by some of his contemporaries. +That of Mendelssohn as well as that of Schumann and Berlioz was at +first one of almost contemptuous tolerance, which in time, as Wagner’s +fame increased and his art drew further away from their understanding, +turned to animosity. It is somewhat strange to find in contrast to +this feeling on the part of these ‘romanticists’ the sympathy for +Wagner which was that of Louis Spohr, a classicist of an earlier +generation. The noble old composer of _Jessonda_ was a ready champion +of Wagner, and in producing his operas studied them faithfully and +enthusiastically until that which he at first had called ‘a downright +horrifying noise’ assumed a natural form. But he who was to champion +most valiantly the cause of Wagner, and to extend to him the helping +hand of sympathy as well as material support, was Franz Liszt. + +Wagner’s acquaintance with Liszt dates from his first sojourn at Paris, +but it was only after Wagner’s return to Germany and the production +of _Rienzi_ that Liszt took any particular notice of the young and +struggling composer. From that time on his zeal for Wagner’s cause knew +no bounds. He busied himself in attracting the attention of musicians +and people of rank to the performances at Dresden, and made every +effort to bring Wagner a recognition worthy of his achievement. In 1849 +Liszt produced _Tannhäuser_ at Weimar, where he was court conductor, +and in August of the following year he gave the first performance of +_Lohengrin_. During the many years of Wagner’s exile from Germany it +was Liszt who was faithful to his interests in his native land and +helped to obtain performances of his works. The correspondence of +Wagner and Liszt contains much valuable information and throws a strong +light on the reciprocal influences in their works. And so throughout +Wagner’s entire life this devoted friend was continually fighting his +battles, and extending to him his valuable aid, till, at the end, +we see him sharing with Wagner at Bayreuth the consummation of that +glorious life, finally to rest near him who had claimed so much of his +life’s devotion. + +Wagner’s term of office as court conductor at Dresden ended with +the revolutionary disturbances of May, 1849. It is only since the +publication of his autobiography that we have been able to gain any +clear idea of Wagner’s participation in those stormy scenes. While the +forty pages which he devotes to the narration of these events give +us a very vivid picture of his personal actions, and settles for us +the heretofore much discussed question as to whether or not Wagner +bore arms, we can find no more adequate explanation of these actions +than those which he could furnish himself when he describes his state +of mind at that time as being one of ‘dreamy unreality.’ Wagner’s +independent mind and revolutionary tendencies naturally drew him +into intimate relations with the radical element in Dresden circles: +August Röckel, Bakunin and other leaders of the revolutionary party. +It was this coupled with Wagner’s growing feeling of discontent at the +conditions of art life and his venturesome and combative spirit rather +than any actual political sympathies which led him to take active part +in the stormy scenes of the May revolutions. While his share in these +seems to have been largely that of an agitator rather than of an actual +bearer of arms, the accounts he gives of his part in the disturbance +show us plainly that the revolution enlisted his entire sympathies. He +made fiery speeches, published a call to arms in the _Volksblatt_, a +paper he undertook to publish after the flight of its editor, Röckel, +and was conspicuous in meetings of the radical leaders. With the fall +of the provisional government Wagner found it necessary to join in +their flight, and it was by the merest chance that he escaped arrest +and gained in safety the shelter of Liszt’s protection at Weimar. +Wagner’s share in these events resulted in his proscription and exile +from Germany until 1861. + +The following six years were again a period of wanderings. While +maintaining a household at Zürich for the greater part of this time, +his intervals of quiet settlement were few and he travelled restlessly +to Paris, Vienna, and to Italy, besides continually making excursions +in the mountains of Switzerland. While Wagner, during this period, +enjoyed the companionship of a circle of interested and sympathetic +friends, among whom were the Wesendoncks and Hans von Bülow, his +severance from actual musical environment acted as a stay to the flow +of his musical creative faculties. Aside from conducting a few local +concerts in several Swiss cities, his life seems to have been quite +empty of musical stimulus. But this lapse in musical productivity +only furnished the opportunity for an otherwise diverted intellectual +activity which greatly broadened Wagner’s outlook and engendered in him +those new principles of art that mark his entrance into a new phase +of musical creation. At the beginning of his exile Wagner’s impulse +to expression found vent in several essays in which he expounds some +of his new ‘philosophy’ of art. ‘Art and Revolution’ was written +shortly after his first arrival in Zürich and was followed by ‘The +Art Work of the Future,’[110] ‘Opera and Drama,’[111] and ‘Judaism in +Music.’[112] He also was continuously occupied with the poems of his +Nibelungen cycle, which he completed in 1853. + +In the same year Wagner began work on the musical composition of the +first of the Nibelungen cycle, _Rheingold_, and at the same time he +conceived the poem for _Tristan und Isolde_, the spirit of which he +says was prompted by his study of Schopenhauer, whose writings most +earnestly attracted him at that time. Composition on the Ring cycle +meanwhile proceeded uninterruptedly, and 1854 saw the completion of the +second opera, _Walküre_. + +In 1855 he passed four months in London as conductor of the +Philharmonic, an episode in his life which he recalls with seemingly +little pleasure. In the following year (1856) he had completed the +second act of _Siegfried_, when the impulse seized him to commence +work on the music of _Tristan und Isolde_, the text of which he had +originally planned in response to an order for an opera from the +emperor of Brazil. During the next two years Wagner was feverishly +immersed in the composition of this work. The first act was written in +Zürich, the second act during a stay in Venice in the winter of 1858, +and the summer of 1859 saw the work completed in Zürich. + +While the earlier operas of the Ring, _Rheingold_, _Walküre_, and +a part of _Siegfried_, were composed before _Tristan und Isolde_, +it is the latter opera which definitely marks the next step in the +development of Wagner’s art. It is impossible to allot to any one +period of Wagner’s growth the entire Nibelungen cycle. The conception +and composition of the great tetralogy covered such a space of time as +to embrace several phases of his development. Between the composition +of _Lohengrin_ and that of _Rheingold_, however, stands the widest +breach in the theories and practices of Wagner’s art, for there does he +break irrevocably with all that is common to the older operatic forms +and adopts those methods by which he revolutionizes the operatic art +in the creation of the music drama. In first putting these theories +into practice we find, however, that Wagner passed again through an +experimental stage where his spontaneous expression was somewhat under +the bondage of conscious effort. The score of the _Rheingold_, while +possessing the essential dramatic features of the other Ring operas and +many pages of musical beauty and strength, is, it must be confessed, +the least interesting of Wagner’s works. It is only when we come to +_Tristan und Isolde_ that we find Wagner employing his new methods with +a freedom of inspiration which precludes self-consciousness and through +which he becomes completely the instrument of his inspiration. + + + III + +The drama of ‘Tristan and Isolde’ Wagner drew from the Celtic legend +with which he made acquaintance as he pursued his studies in the +Nibelungen myths. As has been noted before, Wagner attributed the mood +that inspired the conception of ‘Tristan and Isolde’ to his studies +of Schopenhauer, and commentators have made much of this influence in +attempting to read into portions of ‘Tristan’ and the other dramas a +more or less complete presentation of Schopenhauer’s philosophy. But +Wagner’s own writings have proved him to belong to that rather vague +class of ‘artist-philosophers’ whose philosophy is more largely a +matter of moods than of a dispassionate seeing of truths. The key to +the situation is found in Wagner’s own remark: ‘I felt the longing +to express myself in poetry. This must have been partly due to the +serious mood created by Schopenhauer which was trying to find an +ecstatic expression.’ Wagner’s studies had developed in him a new +sense of the drama in which the unrealities of his early romanticism +entirely disappeared. A classic simplicity of action, laying bare the +intensity of the emotional sweep, and a pervading sense of fatalistic +tragedy--this was the new aspiration of Wagner’s art. + +The score of ‘Tristan and Isolde’ is one of the highest peaks of +musical achievement. It is a modern classic which in spirit and form +is the prototype of almost all that has followed in modern dramatic +music. Wagner has in this music drama developed his ‘leit-motif’ +system more fully than heretofore and the entire score is one closely +woven fabric of these eloquent phrases combined with such art that +Bülow, who was the first to see the score, pronounced it a marvel of +logic and lucidity. In his employment of chromatic harmony Wagner here +surpassed all his previous mastery. A wealth of chromatic passing +notes, suspensions and appoggiaturas gives to the harmony a richness +of sensuous color all its own; while the orchestral scoring attains to +that freedom of polyphonic beauty, to which alone, according to Richard +Strauss, modern ‘color’ owes its existence. + +Wagner, on the completion of _Tristan und Isolde_, began to long for +its performance, a longing which he was compelled to bear for eight +years. During these he experienced the repetition of his past sorrows +and disappointments. Again he resumed his wanderings and for the next +five years we find him in many places. In September, 1859, he settled +in Paris, where he spent two entire seasons. After a series of concerts +in which he gave fragments of his various works, Wagner, through the +mediation of Princess Metternich, obtained the promise of a hearing of +_Tannhäuser_ at the Opéra. The first performance was given on March +13th after an interminable array of difficulties had been overcome. +Wagner was forced to submit to many indignities and to provide his +opera with a ballet in compliance with the regulations of the Opéra. +At the second performance, given on the 18th of March, occurred +the memorable and shameful interruption of the performance by the +members of the Jockey Club, who, prompted by a foolish and vindictive +chauvinism, hooted and whistled down the singers and orchestra. The +ensuing disturbance fell little short of a riot. + +It was during this last residence of Wagner in Paris that he was +surrounded by the circle through which his doctrines and ideas were to +be infused into the spirit of French art. This circle, constituting the +brilliant _salon_ meeting weekly at Wagner’s house in the rue Newton, +included Baudelaire, Champfleury, Tolstoi, Ollivier and Saint-Saëns +among its regular attendants. + +In 1861 Wagner, through the influence of his royal patrons in Paris, +was able to return unmolested to Germany. While the success of the +earlier works was now assured and they had taken a permanent place in +the repertoire of nearly every opera house, the way to a fulfillment of +his present aim, the production of ‘Tristan,’ seemed as remote as ever. +Vain hopes were held out by Karlsruhe and Vienna, but naught came of +them and Wagner was again obliged to obtain such meagre and fragmentary +hearings for his works as he could obtain through the medium of the +concert stage. In 1863 he made concert tours to Russia and Hungary +besides conducting programs of his works in Vienna and in several +German cities. These performances, while they spread Wagner’s fame, did +little to assist him toward a more hopeful prospect of material welfare +and thus in 1864 Wagner at the age of 51 found himself again fleeing +from debts and forced to seek an asylum in the home of a friend, Dr. +Wille at Mariafeld. But this season of hardship proved to be only +the deepest darkness before the dawning of what was indeed a new day +in Wagner’s life. While spending a few days at Stuttgart in April +of that year he received a message from the king of Bavaria, Ludwig +II, announcing the intention of the youthful monarch to become the +protector of Wagner and summoning him to Munich. Wagner, in the closing +words of his autobiography, says, ‘Thus the dangerous road along which +Fate beckoned me to such great ends was not destined to be clear of +troubles and anxieties of a kind unknown to me heretofore, but I was +never again to feel the weight of the everyday hardship of existence +under the protection of my exalted friend.’ + +Wagner, settled in Munich under the affectionate patronage of the king, +found himself in a position which seemed to him the attainment of all +his desires. He was to be absolutely free to create as his own will +dictated, and, having completed his works, was to superintend their +production under ideal conditions. During the first summer spent with +the king at Lake Starnberg he wrote the _Huldigungsmarsch_ and an +essay entitled ‘State and Religion,’ and on his return to Munich in +the autumn he summoned Bülow, Cornelius, and others of his lieutenants +to assist him in preparing the performances of ‘Tristan.’ These were +given in the following June and July with Bülow conducting and Ludwig +Schnorr as Tristan. Many of Wagner’s friends drew together at Munich +for these performances and the event took on an aspect which forecasted +the spirit of the Wagner festivals of a later day. Shortly after +these first performances of ‘Tristan’ there arose in Munich a wave of +popular suspicion against Wagner, which, fed by political and clerical +intrigue, soon reached a point where the king was obliged to implore +Wagner for his own safety’s sake to leave Bavaria. Wagner again sought +the refuge of his years of exile, and, thanks to the king’s bountiful +patronage, he was able to install himself comfortably in the house at +Triebschen on the shores of Lake Lucerne, which was to be his home for +the six years that were to elapse before he took up his final residence +at Bayreuth. It was here that Wagner found again ample leisure to +finish a work the conception of which dates from his early days at +Dresden when he had found the material for the libretto in Gervinus’ +‘History of German Literature’ and at the composition of which he had +been occupied since 1861. This was his comic opera _Die Meistersinger +von Nürnberg_. + +While the musical material of _Die Meistersinger_ is such as to place +it easily in a class with ‘Tristan’ as a stage work, it offers certain +unique features which place it in a class by itself. The work is +usually designated as Wagner’s only ‘comic’ opera, but the designation +comic here implies the absence of the tragic more than an all-pervading +spirit of humor. The comic element in this opera is contrasted with +a strong vein of romantic tenderness and the earnest beauty of its +allegorical significance. In _Die Meistersinger_ Wagner restores to the +action some of the more popular features of the opera; the chorus and +ensemble are again introduced with musical and pictorial effectiveness, +but these externals of stage interest are made only incidental in a +drama which is as admirably well-knit and as subtly conceived as are +any of Wagner’s later works, and it is with rare art that Wagner has +combined these differing elements. The most convincing feature of the +work as a drama lies in the marvellously conceived allegory and the +satirical force with which it is drawn. So naturally do the story and +scene lend themselves to this treatment that, with no disagreeable +sense of self-obtrusion, Wagner here convincingly presents his plea for +a true and natural art as opposed to that of a conventional pedantry. +The shaft of good-humored derision that he thrusts against the critics +is the most effective retort to their jibes, while the words of art +philosophy which he puts into the mouth of Hans Sachs are indeed the +best index he has furnished us of his artistic creed. + +In the music, no less than in the libretto, of _Die Meistersinger_ +Wagner has successfully welded into a cohesive unit several diffusive +elements. The glowing intensity of his ‘Tristan’ style is beautifully +blended with a rich and varied fund of musical characterization, which +includes imitations of the archaic, literally reproduced, as in the +chorales, or parodied, as in Köthner’s exposition of the mastersingers’ +musical requirements. The harmonic treatment is less persistently +chromatic than that of ‘Tristan’ owing to the bolder diatonic nature of +much of its thematic material, a difference which, however, cannot be +said to lessen in any degree the wonderful glow of color which Wagner +had first employed in _Tristan und Isolde_. Polyphonically considered, +_Die Meistersinger_ stands as the first work in which Wagner brought +to an ultimate point his system of theme and motive combinations. The +two earlier operas of the Ring contained the experiments of this system +and in ‘Tristan’ the polyphony is one more of extraneous ornamentation +and variation of figure than of the thematic combination by which +Wagner is enabled so marvellously to suggest simultaneous dramatic and +psychological aspects. + +_Die Meistersinger_ had its first performance at Munich on June 21, +1868, and the excellence of this first performance was due to the +zealous labors of those who at that time constituted Wagner’s able +body of helpers, Hans von Bülow, Hans Richter, and Karl Tausig. In +the following year, at the instigation of the king, _Rheingold_ and +_Walküre_ were produced at Munich, but failed to make an impression +because of the inadequacy of their preparation. + +Wagner in the meantime was living in quiet retirement at Triebschen +working at the completion of the ‘Nibelungen Ring.’ From this date +commences Wagner’s friendship with Friedrich Nietzsche, a friendship +which unfortunately turned to indifference on the part of Wagner, and +to distrust and animosity on the part of Nietzsche. + +On August 25, 1870, Wagner married Cosima von Bülow, in which union +he found the happiness which had been denied to him through the long +years of his unhappy first marriage. A son, Siegfried, was born in the +following year, an event which Wagner celebrated by the composition of +the ‘Siegfried Idyl.’ + + + IV + +We now approach the apotheosis of Wagner’s career, Bayreuth and the +Festival Theatre, a fulfillment of a dream of many years. A dance +through Wagner’s correspondence and writings shows us that the idea of +a theatre where his own works could be especially and ideally presented +was long cherished by him. This idea seemed near its realization +when Wagner came under the protection of King Ludwig, but many more +years passed before the composer attained this ambition. In 1871 he +determined upon the establishment of such a theatre in Bayreuth. +Several circumstances contributed to this choice of location; his love +of the town and its situation, the generous offers of land made to him +by the town officials and the determining fact of its being within +the Bavarian kingdom, where it could fittingly claim the patronage of +Wagner’s royal protector. Plans for the building were made by Wagner’s +old friend, Semper, and then began the weary campaign for necessary +funds. Public apathy and the animosity of the press, which, expressing +itself anew at this last self-assertiveness of Wagner, delayed the +good cause, but May 22, 1872, Wagner’s fifty-ninth birthday, saw the +laying of the cornerstone. Four more years elapsed before sufficient +funds could be found to complete the theatre. Wagner in the meantime +had taken up his residence at Bayreuth, where he had built a house, +Villa Wahnfried. On August 13, 1876, the Festival Theatre was opened. +The audience which attended this performance was indeed a flattering +tribute to Wagner’s genius, for, besides those good friends and artists +who now gathered to be present at the triumph of their master, the +German emperor, the king of Bavaria, the emperor of Brazil, and many +other royal and noble personages were there as representatives of a +world at last ready to pay homage to genius. The entire four operas of +the ‘Ring of the Nibelungen’ were performed in the following week and +the cycle was twice repeated in August of the same season. + +As has been noted, the several dramas of the ‘Ring’ belong to widely +separated periods of his creative activity, and, musically considered, +have independent points of regard. The poems, however, conceived as +they were, beginning with _Götterdämmerung_, which originally bore the +title of ‘Siegfried’s Death’ and led up to by the three other poems of +the cycle, are united in dramatic form and feeling. The adoption of the +Nibelungen mythology, as a basis for a dramatic work, dated from about +the time that _Lohengrin_ was finished. Wagner, in searching material +for a historical opera, ‘Barbarossa,’ lost interest in carrying out his +original scheme upon discovering the resemblance of this subject to +the Nibelungen and Siegfried mythology. He says: ‘In direct connection +with this I began to sketch a clear summary of the form which the +old original Nibelungen myth had assumed in my mind in its immediate +association with the mythological legend of the gods; a form which, +though full of detail, was yet much condensed in its leading features. +Thanks to this work, I was able to convert the chief part of the +material itself into a musical drama. It was only by degrees, however, +and after long hesitation, that I dared to enter more deeply into my +plans for this work; for the thought of the practical realization of +such a work on our stage literally appalled me.’ + +While the Ring poems constitute a drama colossal and imposing in its +significance, far outreaching in conception anything that had been +before created as a musical stage work, it is in many of its phases +an experimental work toward the development of the ideal music drama +which ‘Tristan and Isolde’ represents. Written at a time when Wagner +was in the throes of a strong revolutionary upheaval and when his +philosophy of art and life was seeking literary expression, we find +the real dramatic essence of these poems somewhat obscured by the mass +of metaphysical speculation which accompanies their development. In +Siegfried alone has Wagner more closely approached his new ideal and +created a work which, despite the interruption in its composition, is +dramatically and musically the most coherent and most spontaneously +poetic of the Ring dramas. It has been already noted that the break +between the musical style of _Lohengrin_ and that of _Rheingold_ is +even greater than that between the dramatic forms of the two works. +In the six years which separated the composition of these two operas +Wagner’s exuberant spontaneity of expression became tempered with +reflective inventiveness, and there pervades the entire score of +_Rheingold_ a classic solidity of feeling which by the side of the +lyric suavity of _Lohengrin_ is one of almost austere ruggedness. +We find from the start Wagner’s new sense of dramatic form well +established and the metrical regularity of _Tannhäuser_ and _Lohengrin_ +is now replaced with the free dramatic recitative and ‘leit-motif’ +development. Of harmonic color and polyphonic richness _Rheingold_ has +less interest than have the other parts of the cycle, and one cannot +but feel that after the six years of non-productiveness Wagner’s +inventive powers had become somewhat enfeebled. With the opening scenes +of _Walküre_, however, we find again a decided advance, a melodic +line more graceful in its curve and the harmonic color enriched with +chromatic subtleties again lends sensuous warmth to the style to +which is added the classic solidity which _Rheingold_ inaugurates. In +polyphonic development _Walküre_ marks the point where Wagner commences +to employ that marvellously skillful and beautiful system of combining +motives, which reached its full development in the richly woven fabric +of _Tristan_, _Die Meistersinger_, and _Parsifal_. + +Wagner has told us that his studies in musical lore were made, so to +speak, backward, beginning with his contemporaries and working back +through the classics. The influences, as they show themselves in his +works, would seem to bear out this statement, for, after the rugged +strength of Beethoven’s style which _Rheingold_ suggests, the advancing +polyphonic interest, which next appears in _Walküre_, reaches back to +an older source for its inspiration, the polyphony of Johann Sebastian +Bach. While, as has been remarked, _Siegfried_ in its entirety forms +a coherent whole, the treatment of the last act clearly displays the +added mastery which Wagner had gained in the writing of _Tristan_ +and of _Die Meistersinger_. There is a larger sweep of melody and a +harmonic freedom which belongs distinctly to Wagner’s ultimate style. +In _Götterdämmerung_ we find the first manifestation of this latest +phase of Wagner’s art. A harmonic scheme that is at once bolder in +its use of daring dissonances and subtler in its mysterious chromatic +transitions gives added color to a fabric woven almost entirely of +leit-motifs in astounding variety of sequence and combination. + +The inauguration of the Bayreuth Festival Theatre and the first +performances there of the Nibelungen Ring certainly marked the moment +of Wagner’s greatest external triumph, but it was a victory which by +no means brought him peace. A heavy debt was incurred by this first +season’s Bayreuth festival and it was six years later before the funds +necessary to meet this deficit and to provide for a second season +could be obtained. The second Bayreuth season was devoted entirely to +the initial performances of _Parsifal_, with the composition of which +Wagner had been occupied since 1877. The intervening six years had +brought many adherents to the Wagner cause and financial aid to the +support of the festival was more generously extended. After a series of +sixteen performances it was found that the season had proved a monetary +success and its repetition was planned for the following year, 1883. +The history of the Festival Theatre since that date is so well known +that its recitation here is unnecessary. Bayreuth and the Wagner +festival stand to-day a unique fact in the history of art. As a shrine +visited not only by the confessed admirers and followers of Wagner, but +by a large public as well, it represents the embodiment of Wagner’s +life and art, constituting a sacred temple of an art which, by virtue +of its power, has forced the attention of the entire world. Bayreuth, +moreover, preserving the traditions of the master himself, has served +as an authentic training school to those hosts of artists whose duty it +has become to carry these traditions to the various opera stages of the +world. + +Wagner was fated not to see the repetition of the _Parsifal_ +performances. In September, 1882, being in delicate health and feeling +much the need of repose, he again journeyed to Italy. Settling in +Venice, where he hired a part of the Palazzo Vendramin, he passed +there the last seven months of his life in the seclusion of his family +circle. On February 1, 1883, Wagner was seized with an attack of heart +failure and died after a few moments’ illness. Three days later the +body was borne back to Bayreuth where, after funeral ceremonies, in +which a mourning world paid a belated tribute to his genius, Richard +Wagner was laid to his final rest in the garden of Villa Wahnfried. + + + V + +The first conception of an opera on the theme and incidents of which +_Parsifal_ is the expression dates from an early period in Wagner’s +life. The figure of Christ had long presented to him a dramatic +possibility, and it is from the fusion of the poetical import of his +life and character with the philosophical ideas he had gleaned from his +studies in Buddhism and Schopenhauer that Wagner evolved his last and +most profound drama. + +It is the religious color and element in _Parsifal_ that calls forth +from Wagner the latest expression of his musical genius. We find in +those portions of the _Parsifal_ score devoted to the depiction of this +element a serenity and sublimity of ethereal beauty hitherto unattained +by him. As we listen to the diatonic progression of the ‘Faith’ and +‘Grail’ motives, we are aware that Wagner’s genius continually sent +its roots deeper into the soil of musical tradition and lore and that +in seeking the truly profound and religious feeling he had sounded the +depths of the art that was Palestrina’s. + +The _Parsifal_ controversy has now become a matter of history. Wagner’s +idea and wish was to reserve the rights of performance of this work +solely for the Bayreuth stage. This plan was undoubtedly the outcome of +a sincere desire to have this last work always performed in an ideal +manner and under such conditions as would not always accompany its +production should it become the common property of the operatic world +at large. This wish of Wagner was disrespected in 1904 by Heinrich +Conried, then director of the Metropolitan Opera Company of New York, +who announced a series of performances of _Parsifal_ at that house +during the season of 1903. The Wagner family made both legal and +sentimental appeals in an attempt to prevent these performances, but +they were unheeded and the work was first heard outside of Bayreuth on +December 24, 1903. It must be said that the performance was a worthy +one, as have been subsequent performances of this work on the same +stage, and, apart from the sentimental regret that one must feel at +this disregard of Wagner’s will, the incident was not so deplorable as +it was then deemed by the more bigoted Wagnerites. By the expiration of +copyright, the work became released to the repertoire of European opera +houses on January 1, 1914, and simultaneous performances in every part +of Europe attested the eagerness with which the general public awaited +this work. + +With Wagner’s musical works before us, the voluminous library of +discussion and annotation which Wagner himself and writers on music +have furnished us seems superfluous. Wagner’s theories of art reform +need little further explanation or support than those furnished by +the operas themselves; it is in the earnest study of these that we +learn truly to appreciate his ‘philosophy’ of art, it is in the +universal imitation of these models that we find the best evidence +of their dominating influence on modern art. The Wagnerian pervasion +of almost all subsequent music forms the most important chapter of +modern musical history, but before we turn to the consideration of +this phenomenon let us briefly summarize the achievements of Wagner in +this potent reform which Walter Niemann[113] says extends not only to +music, the stage, and poetry, but to modern culture in its entirety; a +sweeping statement, the proving of which would lead us into divers and +interesting channels of thought and discussion, but which we must here +renounce as not appertaining directly to the history of music in its +limited sense. + +Wagner’s reformation of the opera as a stage drama, stated briefly, +consisted in releasing it, as it had before been released by Gluck and +by Weber, from the position which it had occupied, as a mere framework +on which to build a musical structure, the words furnishing an excuse +for the popularities of vocal music, the stage pictures and situations +providing further entertainment. It was to this level that all opera +bade fair to be brought at the time when Meyerbeer held Europe by the +ears. We have in the foregoing sketch of the composer’s life shown +briefly how at first Wagner, still under the spell of romanticism, +effected a compromise between the libretto of the older opera form +and a text which should have intrinsic value as poetry and convincing +dramatic force. Then after reflective study of classic ideals we find +him making the decisive break with all the conventionalities and +traditions of ‘opera,’ thus evolving the music drama in which music, +poetry and stage setting should combine in one unified art. Situations +in such a drama are no longer created to afford musical opportunities, +but text and music are joined in a unity of dramatic utterance of +hitherto unattained eloquence. Then as a final step in the perfection +of this conception Wagner clarifies and simplifies the action while, by +means of his inspired system of tonal annotation, he provides a musical +background that depicts every shade of feeling and dramatic suggestion. + +That system may be termed a parallel to the delineative method employed +by Berlioz and Liszt in developing the dramatic symphony and the +symphonic poem. Like them, Wagner employs the leit-motif, but with a +far greater consistency, a more thorough-going logic. Every situation, +every character or object, every element of nature, state of feeling +or mental process is accompanied by a musical phrase appropriate and +peculiar to it. Thus we have motifs of fate, misfortune, storm, breeze; +of Tristan, of Isolde, of Beckmesser, of Wotan; of love and of enmity, +of perplexity, deep thought, and a thousand different conceptions. The +Rhine, the rainbow, the ring and the sword are as definitely described +as the stride of the giants, the grovelling of Mime or the Walkyries’ +exuberance. So insistently is this done that the listener who has +provided himself with a dictionary, as it were, of Wagner’s phrases, +can understand in minute detail the comments of the orchestra, which +in a manner makes him the composer’s confidant by laying bare the +psychology of the drama. Such dictionaries or commentaries have been +provided by annotators without number, and in some measure by Wagner +himself, and labels have been applied to every theme, melody, passage +or phrase that is significantly reiterated. A certain correspondence +exists between motifs used in different dramas for similar purposes, +such as the heroic motif of Siegfried in B flat and the one for +Parsifal in the same key. Wagner goes further--in his reference to the +story of Tristan, which Hans Sachs makes in the _Meistersinger_, we +hear softly insinuating itself into the musical texture the motifs of +love and death from Tristan and Isolde, and so forth. + +The efficacy of the system has been thoroughly proved and for a time it +seemed to the Wagnerites the ultimate development of operatic language. +Wagner himself indicated that he had but made a beginning, that others +would take up and develop the system after him. It has been ‘taken +up’ by many disciples but it has hardly been found capable of further +development upon the lines laid down by the master. Our age rejects +many of his devices as obvious and even childish. But in a larger sense +the method has persisted. A new sense of form characterizes the musical +substance of the modern, or post-Wagnerian, opera. The leit-motif, with +its manifold reiterations, modifications, variations, and combinations, +has given a more intense significance to the smallest unit of the +musical structure; it has made possible the Wagnerian ‘endless melody’ +with its continuously sustained interest, its lack of full cadences, +and its consequent restless stimulation. That style of writing is one +of the essentially new things that Wagner brought, and with it came +the ultimate death of the conventional operatic divisions, the concert +forms within the opera. The distinction between aria and recitative is +now lost forever, by a _rapprochement_ or fusion of their two methods, +rather than the discontinuance of one. Wagner’s recitative is an +arioso, a free melody that has little in common with the heightened +declamation of a former age, yet is vastly more eloquent. It rises to +the sweep of an aria, yet never descends to vocal display, and even in +its most musical moments observes the spirit of dramatic utterance. It +is a wholly new type of melody that has been created, which was not at +first recognized as such, for the charge of ‘no melody’ has been the +first and most persistent levelled at Wagner. + +Great as was the manifestation of Wagner’s dramatic genius, the fact +must ever be recognized that his musical genius far overtopped it in +its achievement and in its influence. It is as musical works that these +dramas make their most profound impression. The growth of Wagner’s +musical powers far surpassed his development as poet or dramatist. If +we take the poems of Wagner’s works and make a chronologically arranged +study of them, we shall see that, while there is the evolution in form +and in significance that we have noted above, the advancing profundity +of conception and emotional force may be largely attributed to the +advance which the music makes in these respects. It may be argued +that it was the progress of Wagner’s dramatic genius that prompted +and inspired the march of his musical forces, and, while this may be +to some extent true, it is the matured musicianship of Wagner which +removes _Götterdämmerung_ far from _Rheingold_ in its significance and +not the difference in the inspiration of the two poems, which were +written during the same period. + +We have spoken of the immense influence of Wagner as a phenomenon. +Surely such must be called the unprecedented obsession of the musical +thought of the age which he effected. In rescuing the opera from its +position as a mere entertainment and by restoring to its service +the nobler utterances which absolute music had begun to monopolize, +Wagner’s service to the stage was incalculable. Opera in its older +sense still exists and the apparition of a ‘Carmen,’ a _Cavalleria +rusticana_, a truly dramatic Verdi, or the melodic popularities of a +Massenet or Puccini attest the vitality and sincerity of expression +which may be found outside of pure Wagnerism. It is, in fact, true that +as we make a survey of the post-Wagner operas the actual adoption of +his dramatic methods is not by any means universal, omnipresent as may +be the influence of his reforms. The demand for sincerity of dramatic +utterance is now everywhere strongly felt, but the music drama, as it +came from the hand of Wagner, still remains the unique product of him +alone whose genius was colossal enough to bring it to fruition. + +More completely enthralling has been the spell of Wagner’s musical +influence, but before measuring its far-reaching circle let us consider +for a moment Wagner’s scores in the light of absolute music and remark +upon some of their intrinsic musical content. Wagner’s principal +innovations were in the department of harmonic structure. Speaking +broadly, the essence of this new harmonic treatment was a free use +of the chromatic element, which, radical as it was, was directly due +to the influence of Beethoven’s latest style. This phase of Wagner’s +composition first asserted itself, as we have before noted, in +_Tannhäuser_ and found its highest expression in ‘Tristan and Isolde.’ +The chromatic features of Wagner’s melodic line are undoubtedly in a +measure an outgrowth of this harmonic sense, though it would perhaps +be truer to say that discoveries in either department reflected +themselves in new-found effects in the other. Volumes would not suffice +to enumerate even superficially the various formulæ which these +chromaticisms assume, but a very general classification might divide +them into two groups; the first consisting of passages of sinuous +chromatic leadings in conjunct motion. One of the earliest evidences +of this idiom is found in _Tannhäuser_: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +and the full development of its possibilities are exemplified in the +sensuous weavings of ‘Tristan’: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +The second type of harmonic formula is one in which remotely related +triads follow each other in chromatic order with an enharmonic +relationship. The following passage from _Lohengrin_ is an early +example of this type: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +and its ultimate development may be seen in the following passage from +the _Walküre_: + + [Illustration: Music score] + +The latter passage contains (at *) another striking feature of Wagner’s +harmonic scheme, namely the strong and biting chromatic suspensions +which fell on the ears of his generation with much the same effect +as must have had those earlier suspensions on the age of Monteverdi. +Wagner’s scores are replete with the most varied and beautiful examples +of these moments of harmonic strife. In these three features, together +with an exceedingly varied use of the chord of the ninth, lie many of +the principles upon which Wagner built his harmonic scheme, though it +would be folly to assert that any such superficial survey could give +an adequate conception of a system that was so varied in its idiom and +so intricate in its processes. It must be added that, although, as we +have stated, chromaticism was the salient feature of Wagner’s harmony, +his fine sense of balance and contrast prevented him from employing +harmonies heavily scented to a point of stifling thickness; he +interspersed them wisely with a strong vein of diatonic solidity, the +materials of which he handled with the mastery of Beethoven. We have +already cited the diatonic purity of certain of the _Parsifal_ motives +and we need only remind the reader of the leading _Meistersinger_ +themes as a further proof of Wagner’s solid sense of tonality. + +In rhythmical structure Wagner’s music possesses its most conventional +feature. We find little of the skillful juggling of motive and +phrase which was Beethoven’s and which Brahms employed with such +bewildering mastery. Wagner in his earliest work uses a particularly +straightforward rhythmical formula; common time is most prevalent and +the phrases are simple in their rhythmical structure, an occasional +syncopation being the only deviation from a regular following of +the beat and its equal divisions. The rhythmical development of his +later style is also comparatively simple in its following; rhythmical +excitement is largely in the restless figuration which the strings +weave round the harmonic body. These figures are usually well defined +groups of the regular beat divisions with an occasional syncopation and +no disturbance of the regular pulse of the measure. An examination of +the violin parts of ‘Tristan’ or the _Meistersinger_ will reveal the +gamut of Wagner’s rhythmical sense. Summing up we may say that Wagner’s +methods, radical as they appear, are built on the solid foundation of +his predecessors and, now that in our view of his art we are able to +employ some sense of perspective, we may readily perceive it to assume +naturally its place as a step after Beethoven and Schubert in harmonic +development. + +It is with hypnotic power that these methods and their effects have +possessed the musical consciousness of the succeeding generation and, +becoming the very essence of modernity, insinuated themselves into the +pages of all modern music. The one other personality in modern German +music that assumes any proportions beside the overshadowing figure of +the Bayreuth master is Johannes Brahms. As it would seem necessary +for the detractors of any cause or movement to find an opposing force +that they may pit against the object of their disfavor, so did the +anti-Wagnerites, headed by Hanslick,[114] gather round the unconcerned +Brahms with their war-cries against Wagner. Much time and patience have +been lost over the Brahms-Wagner controversy and surely to no end. +So opposed are the ideals and methods of these two leaders of modern +musical thought that comparisons become indeed stupidly odious. To the +reflective classicist of intellectual proclivities Brahms will remain +the model, while Wagner rests, on the other hand, the guide of those +beguiled by sensuous color and dramatic freedom. That the two are not +irreconcilable in the same mind may be seen in the fact that Richard +Strauss showed a strong Brahms influence in his earlier works, and +then, without total reincarnation, became a close follower of Wagner, +whose style has formed the basis on which the most representative +living German has built his imposing structures. It is, indeed, Richard +Strauss who has shown us the further possibilities of the Wagner +idiom. Though he has been guided by Liszt in certain externals of form +and design, the polyphonic orchestral texture and harmonic richness +of Strauss’ later style, individual as they are, remain the distinct +derivative of Richard Wagner’s art. The failure of Strauss in his +first opera, _Guntram_, may be attributed to the dangerous experiment +of which we have spoken--that of a too servile emulation of Wagner’s +methods. In attempting to create his own libretto and in following too +closely the lines of Wagner, he there became little more than a mere +imitator, a charge which, however, cannot be brought against him as the +composer of _Salomé_ and _Rosenkavalier_. + +In Humperdinck’s _Hänsel und Gretel_ we find perhaps the next most +prominent manifestation of the Wagnerian influence. Humperdinck met +Wagner during the master’s last years and was one of those who assisted +at the first _Parsifal_ performances. While his indebtedness to Wagner +for harmonic, melodic, and orchestral treatment is great, Humperdinck +has, by the employment of the naïve materials of folk-song, infused a +strong and freshly individual spirit into this charming work, which by +its fairy-tale subject became the prototype of a considerable following +of fairy operas. + +To complete the catalogue of German operatic composers who are +followers of Wagner would be to make it inclusive of every name and +work that has attained any place in the operatic repertoire of modern +times. + +In no less degree is his despotic hand felt in the realm of absolute +music. It was through the concert stage that Wagner won much of his +first recognition and it followed naturally that symphonic music must +soon have felt the influence of his genius. Anton Bruckner was an +early convert and, as a confessed disciple, attempted to demonstrate +in his symphonies how the dramatic warmth of Wagner’s style could be +confined within the symphony’s restricting line; a step which opened up +to those who did not follow Brahms and the classic romanticists a path +which has since been well trodden. + +Outside of Germany the spread of Wagner’s works and the progress +of his influence forms an interesting chapter in history. We have +seen Wagner resident in Paris at several periods of his life; on +the occasion of his first two French sojourns his acquaintance was +largely with the older men, such as Berlioz, Halévy, Auber, and +others, but during his final stay in Paris, in 1861, Wagner came into +contact with some of the younger generation, Saint-Saëns and Gounod +among others. It was perhaps natural in a France, which still looked +to Germany for its musical education, that these two youthful and +enthusiastic composers should champion the cause of Wagner and become +imbued with his influence, an influence which showed itself strongly +in their subsequent work. While neither of these men made any attempt +at remodelling the operatic form after Wagner’s ideas, their music +soon showed his influence, though denied by them as it was on several +occasions. More open in his discipleship of Wagner and a too close +imitator of his methods was Ernest Reyer, whose _Sigurd_ comes from the +same source as Wagner’s ‘Ring’--the Nibelungen myths. Bizet is often +unjustly accused of Wagnerian tendencies; though he was undoubtedly an +earnest student and admirer of Wagner’s works and has, in _Carmen_, +made some slight use of a leading motive system, his music, in its +strongly national flavor, has remained peculiarly free from Wagner’s +influence. Massenet, on the other hand, with his less vital style, +has in several instances succumbed to Wagner’s influence, and in +_Esclarmonde_ there occurs a motive so like one of the _Meistersinger_ +motives that on the production of the work Massenet was called by a +critic ‘Mlle. Wagner.’ Stronger still becomes the Wagner vein in French +music as we come down to our own day. Charpentier’s ‘Louise,’ despite +its distinctive color and feeling, leans very heavily on Wagner in its +harmonic and orchestral treatment. As a reactionary influence against +this encroaching tide of Wagnerism was the quiet rise of the new +nationalistic French school which César Franck was evolving through his +sober post-Beethoven classicism. That Franck himself was an admirer of +Wagner we learn from Vincent d’Indy,[115] who tells us that it was the +habit of his master to place himself in the mood for composition by +starting his working hours in playing with great enthusiasm the prelude +of _Die Meistersinger_. César Franck numbered among his pupils a great +many of those who to-day form the circle of representative French +composers. These writers all show the forming hand of their master +and faithfully follow in his efforts to preserve a noble, national +art. There has, however, crept into many of their pages the haunting +and unmistakable voice of the Bayreuth master. Vincent d’Indy, one of +the early champions of Wagner and one who, with the two conductors, +Lamoureux and Colonne, did much to win a place for Wagner’s music in +both opera house and concert room of Paris, is strongly Wagnerian in +many of his moments and the failure of his dramatic work is generally +attributed to his over-zealous following of Wagner. The strongest check +to Wagnerism in France and elsewhere is the new France that asserts +itself in the voice of him whom many claim to be the first original +thinker in music since Wagner--Claude Debussy. The founder of French +impressionism, himself at one time an ardent Wagnerite, tells us that +his awakening appreciation of the charm of Russian music turned him +from following in Wagner’s step. Whatever may have been its source +the distinctive and insinuatingly contagious style of Debussy has +undoubtedly been the first potent influence toward a reaction against +Wagnerism. + +A brief word may be added as to the Wagner influence as we find it +in the other European nations. Of conspicuous names those of Grieg +and Tschaikowsky fall easily into our list of Wagner followers. +Undeniably national and individual as both have been, each had his +Wagner enthusiasm. Into the works of the former there crept so much of +Wagner that Hanslick wittily called him ‘Wagner in sealskins,’ while +Tschaikowsky, continually sounding his anti-Wagnerian sentiments, +is at times an unconscious imitator. From England there has come in +recent years in the work of one whom Strauss called ‘the first English +progressive,’ Edward Elgar, a voice which in its most eloquent moments +echoes that of Wagner. But perhaps the most significant proof of the +far-reaching influence of Wagner’s art is the readiness with which it +was welcomed by Italy. As early as 1869 Wagner found his first Italian +champion in Boïto and to him was due the early production of Wagner’s +works at Bologna. Wagner’s influence on Italian composers has been +largely in the respect of dramatic reform rather than actual musical +expression; the accusations of Wagnerism which greeted the appearance +of Verdi’s _Aïda_ were as groundless as the same cry against _Carmen_. +In _Aïda_ Verdi forsook the superficial form of opera text that had +been that of his earlier works and adopted a form more sincerely +dramatic. This was, of course, under the direct influence of Wagner’s +reform as was the more serious vein of the musical setting to this and +Verdi’s two last operas, ‘Othello’ and ‘Falstaff’; but in musical idiom +Verdi remained distinctively free from Wagner’s influence. + +With this brief survey in mind the deduction as to the lasting value +of Wagner’s theories and practices may be easily drawn. Wagner, the +composer, has set his indelible mark upon the dramatic music of his +age and that of a succeeding age, and, becoming a classic, he remains +the inevitable model of modern musical thought. Wagner as dramatist +constitutes a somewhat less forceful influence. Despite the inestimable +value of his dramatic reform and its widespread influence on operatic +art Wagner’s music dramas must remain the unique work of their author +and so peculiarly the product of his universal genius that general +imitation of them is at once prohibited by the fact that the world will +not soon again see a man thus generously endowed. + +Added proof of the enormous interest which has attached itself to +Wagner and his works is found in the large and constantly increasing +mass of Wagner literature, more voluminous than that heretofore +devoted to any musician. The ten volumes which comprise Wagner’s own +collected writings,[116] contain much of vital interest, as well as a +mass of unimportant items. Besides the poems of the operas, beginning +with _Rienzi_, we find all of those essays to which reference has +been already made, in which he advances his æsthetic and philosophic +principles. There is besides these a quantity of exceedingly +interesting autobiographical and reminiscent articles and many valuable +pages of hints as to the interpretation of his own and of other +works. Of greater interest to the general reader is the two-volume +autobiography.[117] This work covers Wagner’s life from childhood to +the year 1864, the year in which he met King Ludwig. Dictated to his +wife and left in trust to her for publication at a stated time after +his death, the book was eagerly awaited and attracted wide attention +on its appearance in 1911. In its intense subjectivity, it gives us +a vivid and intimate picture of Wagner’s artistic life, and in its +narration of external events several episodes of his life, which +had before been matters of more or less mystery, are explained. The +publication of this autobiography was the signal for a last and faint +raising of the voice of detraction against Wagner’s character in its +egotistical isolation. The unrelenting attitude of aggressiveness that +he adopted was only the natural attendant upon his genius and its +forceful expression. To him who reads aright this record of Wagner’s +life must come the realization that self-protection often forced +upon him these external attitudes of a selfish nature, and that his +supreme confidence in his own power to accomplish his great ideals +warranted him in overcoming in any way all obstacles which retarded the +accomplishment. + + B. L. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[107] ‘My Life,’ Vol. I. + +[108] Kietz, the painter, E. G. Anders and Lehrs, philologists, were +the most intimate of these friends. + +[109] The pamphlet which Wagner wrote and caused to be circulated +publicly in explanation of the symphony is found in Vol. VIII of his +collected works (English edition). + +[110] ‘Prose Writings,’ Vol. I. + +[111] _Ibid._, Vol. II. + +[112] _Ibid._, Vol. III. + +[113] _Die Musik seit Richard Wagner_, Berlin, 1914. + +[114] Eduard Hanslick, celebrated critic, Brahms champion and +anti-Wagnerite, b. Prague, 1825; d. Vienna, 1904. + +[115] ‘César Franck,’ Paris, 1912. + +[116] ‘The Prose Writings of Richard Wagner’ (8 vols.), translated by +W. Ashton Ellis, London, 1899. + +[117] _Mein Leben_, 1913 (Eng. tr.: ‘My Life,’ 1913). + + + + + CHAPTER XII + NEO-ROMANTICISM: JOHANNES BRAHMS AND CÉSAR FRANCK + + The antecedents of Brahms--The life and personality of Brahms--The + idiosyncrasies of his music in rhythm, melody, and harmony as + expressions of his character--His works for pianoforte, for voice, + and for orchestra; the historical position of Brahms--Franck’s + place in the romantic movement--His life, personality, and the + characteristics of his style; his works as the expression of + religious mysticism. + + + I + +In the lifetime of Beethoven tendencies became evident in music which +during the nineteenth century developed extraordinarily both rapidly +and far, and brought about new forms and an almost wholly new art of +orchestration. Music underwent transformations parallel to those which +altered the face of all the arts and even of philosophy, and which +were closely dependent on the general political, social, and æsthetic +forces set loose throughout Europe by the French Revolution. In the +music of Beethoven himself many of these alterations are suggested, +foreshadowed, actually anticipated. The last pianoforte sonatas, the +Mass in D, the Ninth Symphony and the last string quartets were all +colored by an intense subjectivity. The form was free and strange. +They were and are to-day incomprehensible without deep study, they +are not objectively evident. They are dim and trackless realms of +music, hinting at infinite discoveries and possibilities. They were +not models, not types for his successors to imitate, but gospels of +freedom and messages from remote valleys and mountains. They cast a +light over distances yet to be attained. At the same time they were the +expression of his own soul, profoundly personal and mystical. We need +not, however, look here for traces of the French Revolution nor signs +of the times. This is not proud and conscious glorification of the +individual, nor the confident expression of a mood, at once relaxed and +self-assertive. This is the music of a man who was first cut off from +the world, who was forced within himself, so to speak, by illness, by +loneliness, by complete deafness, whose heart and soul were imprisoned +in an aloofness, who could find inspiration but in the mystery and +power of his own being. What he brought forth from such heights and +depths was to be infinitely suggestive to musicians of a later age. + +During the last half dozen years of Beethoven’s life, two younger +men, strongly affected by the new era of freedom, were molding and +coloring music in other ways. Schubert, fired by the poetry of the +German romanticists, was pouring out songs full of freshness and the +new spirit, expressing in music the wildness of storm and night, +the gruesome forest-rider, the fairy whisperings of the brook, the +still sadness of frosty winter. Under his hands the symphony became +fanciful, soft, and poetical. He filled it with enchanting melody, +with the warm-blooded life of folk-songs and native rhythm, veiled +it in shifting harmonies. Beside him reckless Weber, full of German +fairy tales, of legends of chivalry, sensitive to tone-color, was +writing operas dear to the people, part-songs for men loyal to Germany, +adorning legend and ballad with splendid colors of sound. Schubert +had little grasp of form, which is order in music; Weber had hardly +to concern himself with it, since his music was, so to speak, the +draperies of a form, of the drama. For each, poetry and legend was the +inspiration, romantic poetry and wild legend, essentially Teutonic; +for each, rapture and color was the ideal. So it was at the death of +Beethoven. Weber was already dead, Schubert had but a year to live. On +the one hand, Beethoven the mystic, unfathomed, infinitely suggestive; +on the other, Schubert and Weber, the inspired rhapsodist, the genial +colorist, prototypes of much to come. On every hand were imminent +needs, unexplored possibilities. + +In the amazingly short space of twenty-five years there grew up from +these seeds a new music, most firmly rooted in Schubert and Weber, +at times fed by the spirit of Beethoven. The rhapsodist gloried in +his mood, the colorist painted gorgeous panoramas; there were poets +in music, on the one hand, and painters in music, on the other. The +question of form and design, the most vital for music if not for all +the arts, has been met in many ways. The poets have limited themselves, +or at any rate have found their best and most characteristic +expression, in small forms. They publish long cycles made up of short +pieces. Often, as in the case of Schumann’s _Papillons_, _Carnaval_, +or _Kreisleriana_, the short pieces are more or less closely held +together in their relationship to one fanciful central idea. They +are scenes at a dress ball, comments and impressions of two or three +individualities at a fête, various expressions in music of different +aspects of a man’s character. Or they may have no unity as in the case +of Chopin’s preludes, studies, sets of mazurkas, or Mendelssohn’s +‘Songs Without Words,’ or Schumann’s _Bunte Blätter_. The painters in +music have devised new forms. They prefer to paint pictures of action, +they become narrative painters in music. The mighty Berlioz paints +progressive scenes from a man’s life; Liszt gives us the battle between +Paganism and Christianity in a series of pictures, the whole of life in +its progress toward death, the dreams, the torture and the ultimate +triumph of Mazeppa, of Tasso. They have acquired overpowering skill +with the brush and palette, they write for tremendous orchestras, their +scores are brilliant, often blinding. Their narratives move on with +great rush. We are familiar with the story, follow it in the music. +We know the guise in music of the characters which enact it, they +are constantly before us, moving on, rarely reminiscent. The bands +of strict form break before the armies of characters, of ideas, of +events, and we need no balance, for the story holds us and we are not +upset. But these painters, and we in their suite, are less thrilled by +the freedom of their poem and by the stride of their narrative than +bewitched and fired by the gorgeousness of the colors which they employ +with bold and masterly hand. + +We shall look relatively in vain for such colors in the music of the +‘poets.’ They are lyricists, they express moods in music and each +little piece partakes of the color of the mood which it enfolds--is in +general delicate and monochrome. The poets are essentially composers +for the pianoforte. They have chosen the instrument suitable for +the home and for intimate surroundings, and their choice bars the +brilliancy of color from their now exquisite now passionate and +profoundly moving art. They are musicians of the spirit and the mood, +meditative, genuine, passionate, tearful and gay by turn. The others +are musicians of the senses and the act, dramatists, tawdry charlatans +or magnificently glorious spokesmen, leaders, challengers, who speak +with the resonance of trumpets and seduce with the honey of soft music. + +Now the poets are descended from Schubert and the painters from Weber. +Both are unwavering in their allegiance to Beethoven, but the spirit of +Beethoven has touched them little. The poets more than the painters are +akin to him, but they lack his breadth and power. The painters have +something of his daring strength, but they stand over against him, are +not in line with him. Such is the condition of music only twenty-five +years after the death of him whom all, save Chopin, who worshipped +Mozart, hailed as supreme master. + +In September, 1853, Brahms came to Schumann, then conductor at +Düsseldorf on the Rhine, provided with a letter of introduction from +Joseph Joachim, the renowned violinist, but two years his senior. +Brahms was at that time just over twenty years of age. He brought +with him manuscripts of his own composing and played for Schumann. A +short while before he had played the same things for Liszt at Weimar. +Of his three weeks’ stay as Liszt’s guest very bitter accounts have +been written. If Brahms was tired and fell asleep while Liszt was +playing to him, if Liszt was merely seeking to impose himself upon +the young musician when he played that young man’s scherzo at sight +from manuscript, and altered it, well and good. Brahms was, at any +rate--thanks in this case, too, to Joachim--received in the throne-room +of the painters in music, and nothing came of it. He departed the +richer by an elegant cigar-case, gift from his host; and in later years +still spoke of Liszt’s unique, incomparable and inimitable playing. But +in the throne-room of the poets he was hailed with unbounded rejoicing. +Schumann took again in his gifted hand the pen so long idle and wrote +the article for the _New Journal of Music_, which proclaimed the advent +of the true successor of Beethoven. It was a daring prophecy and it +had a tremendous effect upon Brahms and upon his career; for it was a +gage thrown to him he could not neglect and though it at once created +an opposition, vehement and longstanding, it screwed his best and most +genuine efforts to the sticking place. Never through the rest of his +life did he relax the self-imposed struggle to make himself worthy of +Schumann’s confidence and hope. + +Meanwhile, among the painters, directly in the line from Weber, another +man had come to the fore, a colossal genius such as perhaps the world +had never seen before nor is like to see again. Richard Wagner, at +that time just twice the age of Brahms, was in exile at Zürich. He had +written _Rienzi_, ‘The Flying Dutchman,’ _Tannhäuser_, and _Lohengrin_. +All had been performed. The libretto of the Ring was done and the music +to _Rheingold_ composed and orchestrated. Schumann disapproved. It is +hard to understand why he, so recklessly generous, so willing to see +the best in the music of all the younger school, the ardent supporter +of Berlioz, should have turned away from Wagner. One must suspect a +touch of personal aversion. He was not alone. No man ever had fiercer +battle to wage than Wagner, nor did any man ever bring to battle a +more indomitable courage and will. Liszt was his staunch supporter; +and to Liszt, too, both Schumann and his wife had aversion, easier to +understand than their aversion to Wagner. For Liszt, the virtuoso, was +made of gold and tinsel. Liszt, the composer, was made so in part. +But Wagner, the musician, was incomparably great, that is to say, his +powers were colossal and unlike those of any other, and therefore not +to be compared. That Schumann failed to recognize this comes with +something of a shock to those who have been amazed at the keenness of +his perception, and yet more to those who have rejoiced to find in the +musician the nobility and generosity of a great-hearted man. It is +obvious that the divergence between poets and painters had by this time +become too wide for his unselfish, sympathetic nature to bridge; and +thus when Brahms, a young man of twenty, was launched into the world +of music he found musicians divided into two camps between which the +hostility was to grow ever more bitter. Liszt at Weimar, Schumann at +Düsseldorf, were the rallying points for the opposing sides, but within +a year Schumann’s mind failed. The standard was forced upon Brahms, and +Liszt gave himself up to Wagner. + +It was almost inevitable that the great part of the world of music +should be won over by Wagner. One by one the poets seceded, gave way +to the influence of Wagner’s marvellous power, an influence which +Clara Schumann never ceased to deplore. The result was that Brahms was +regarded, outside the circle of a few powerful friends, as reactionary. +He led, so to speak, a negative existence in music. He was cried down +for what he was not, not for what he was. There is no reason to suppose +that Brahms suffered thereby. The sale of his compositions constantly +increased and after the first few probationary years he never lacked a +good income from them. Still, perhaps the majority of musicians were +blinded by the controversy to the positive, assertive, progressive +elements in Brahms’ music. On the other hand, the adherents of Brahms, +the ‘Brahmins,’ as they have been not inaptly called, retaliated by +more or less shameful attacks upon Wagner, which later quite justly +fell back upon their own heads, to their merited humiliation. They +failed to see in him anything but a smasher of tradition, they closed +their eyes to his mighty power of construction. In the course of +time Wagner’s triumph was overwhelming. He remained the successful +innovator, and Brahms the follower of ancient tradition. + + + II + +The life of Brahms offers little that is striking or unusual. He was +born in Hamburg, the northern city by the sea, on the 7th of May, +1833, of relatively humble parents. His father was a double-bass +player in a theatre orchestra. His mother, many years older than his +father, and more or less a cripple, seems to have had a deep love for +reading and a remarkable memory to retain what she had read. In his +earliest childhood Brahms commenced to acquire a knowledge of poetry +from his mother, which showed all through his later life in the choice +of poems he made for his songs. His ability to play the piano was so +evident that his father hoped to send him as a child wonder to tour +the United States, from which fate, however, he was saved by the +firmness of one of his teachers. Twice in November, 1847, he appeared +with others in public, playing conventional show pieces of the facture +of Thalberg; but in the next year he gave a recital of his own at +which he played Bach, a point of which Kalbeck[118] makes a trifle +too much. The income of the father was very small, and Brahms was not +an overwhelming success as a concert pianist. To earn a little money, +therefore, he used to play for dancing in taverns along the waterfront; +forgetful, we are told, of the rollicking sailors, absorbed in books +upon the desk of the piano before him. His early life was not an easy +one. It helped to mold him, however, and brought out his enormous +perseverance and strength of will. These early days of hardship were +never forgotten. He believed they had helped rather than hindered him, +a belief which, it must be admitted, is refreshingly manly in contrast +to the wail of despised genius so often ringing in the ears of one who +reads the lives of the great musicians as they have been penned by +their later worshippers. Not long before he died, being occupied with +the question of his will and the disposal of his money, he asked his +friend, the Swiss writer J. V. Widmann for advice. Widmann suggested +that he establish a fund for the support and aid of struggling young +musicians; to which Brahms replied that the genius of such, if it were +worth anything, would find its own support and be the stronger for the +struggle. The attitude is very characteristic. + +Occasional visitors to Hamburg had a strong influence upon the youth. +Such were Joachim and Robert and Clara Schumann, though he did not +then meet the latter. At the age of nineteen, having already composed +the E-flat minor scherzo, the F-sharp minor and C-major sonatas and +numerous songs, he went forth on a concert tour with the Bohemian +violinist Remenyi. On this tour he again came in touch with Joachim, +who furnished him with letters to Liszt at Weimar and the Schumanns at +Düsseldorf. Of his stay at Weimar mention has already been made. At +Düsseldorf he was received at once into the heart of the family. In +striking contrast with the gruffness of later years is the description +given by Albert Dietrich of the young man come out of the north to the +home of the Schumanns. ‘The appearance, as original as interesting, +of the youthful almost boyish-looking musician, with his high-pitched +voice and long fair hair, made a most attractive impression upon me. I +was particularly struck by the characteristic energy of the mouth and +serious depths in his blue eyes....’ One evening Brahms was asked to +play. He played a Toccata of Bach and his own scherzo in E-flat minor +‘with wonderful power and mastery; bending his head down over the keys, +and, as was his wont in his excitement, humming the melody aloud as he +played. He modestly deprecated the torrent of praise with which his +performance was greeted. Everyone marvelled at his remarkable talent, +and, above all, we young musicians were unanimous in our enthusiastic +admiration of the supremely artistic qualities of his playing, at times +so powerful or, when occasion demanded it, so exquisitely tender, but +always full of character. Soon after there was an excursion to the +Grafenberg. Brahms was of the party, and showed himself here in all +the amiable freshness and innocence of youth.... The young artist was +of vigorous physique; even the severest mental work hardly seeming an +exertion to him. He could sleep soundly at any hour of the day if he +wished to do so. In intercourse with his fellows he was lively, often +even exuberant in spirits, occasionally blunt and full of wild freaks. +With the boisterousness of youth he would run up the stairs, knock at +my door with both fists, and, without awaiting a reply, burst into the +room. He tried to lower his strikingly high-pitched voice by speaking +hoarsely, which gave it an unpleasant sound.’ + +All accounts of the young Brahms lay emphasis on his lovableness, +his exuberant good spirits, his shining good health and his physical +vitality. Clara Schumann wrote in her diary: ‘I found a nice stanza in +a poem of Bodenstedt’s which is just the motto for Johannes: + + ’“In winter I sing as my glass I drain, + For joy that the spring is drawing near; + And when spring comes, I drink again, + For joy that at last it is really here.”' + +Clara, too, admired his playing, and she was competent to judge. ‘I +always listen to him with fresh admiration,’ she wrote. ‘I like to +watch him while he plays. His face has a noble expression always, but +when he plays it becomes even more exalted. And at the same time he +always plays quietly, i. e. his movements are always beautiful, not +like Liszt’s and others’.’ He was always devoted to Schubert and she +remarked that he played Schubert wonderfully. Later in life his playing +became careless and loud. + +Not half a year after Brahms was received at Düsseldorf Schumann’s mind +gave way. In February, 1854, he attempted suicide, and immediately +after it became necessary to send him to a private sanatorium at +Endenich. For two years longer he lived. They were years of anguish +for his wife, during which Brahms was her unfailing refuge and support. +She wrote in her diary that her children might read in after years +what now is made known to the world. ‘Then came Johannes Brahms. Your +father loved and admired him as he did no man except Joachim. He came, +like a true comrade, to share all my sorrow; he strengthened the heart +that threatened to break, he uplifted my mind, he cheered my spirits +whenever and wherever he could, in short, he was in the fullest sense +of the word my friend.’ + +Brahms was profoundly affected by the suffering he witnessed and by +the personal grief at the loss of a friend who had meant so much to +him. The hearty, boisterous gaiety such as he poured into parts of +his youthful compositions, into the scherzo of the F-minor sonata, +for instance, and into the finale of the C-major, never again found +unqualified expression in his music. His character was set and +hardened. From then on he locked his emotions within himself. Little +by little he became harsh, rejected, often roughly, kindness and +praise--made himself a coat of iron and shut his nature from the +world. Ruthlessly outspoken and direct, seemingly heedless of the +sensibilities of those who loved him dearly and whom he dearly loved, +he presents only a proud, fierce defiance to grief, to misfortune, +even to life itself. What such self-discipline cost him only his music +expresses. Three of his gloomiest and most austere works came first +into his mind during the horror of Schumann’s illness; the D-minor +concerto for the piano, the first movement of the C-minor quartet, and +the first movement of the C-minor symphony. + +Meanwhile he was earning a precarious living by giving concerts here +and there, not always with success; and he had begun a relentlessly +severe course of self-training in his art. Here Joachim and he were +mutually helpful to each other. Every week each would send to the +other exercises in music, fragments of compositions, expecting in +return frank and merciless criticism. In the fall of 1859 he accepted +a position at Detmold as pianist and leader of the chorus. A small +orchestra was at his service, which offered him opportunity to study +instrumental effects, especially wind instruments, and for which he +wrote the two serenades in A and in D major. Likewise he profited by +his association with the chorus, and laid at Detmold the foundation +for his technique in writing for voices, which has very rarely been +equalled. Duties in this new position occupied him only during the +musical season, from September to December. At other times he played in +concert or went back to his home in Hamburg. At one concert in Leipzig +in 1859 he was actually hissed, either because his own concerto which +he played or his manner of playing it was offensive. The critics were +viciously hostile. Brahms took the defeat manfully, evidently ranked +it as he did his days of playing for the Hamburg sailors, among the +experiences which were in the long run stimulating. At Hamburg he +organized a chorus of women’s voices for which many of his loveliest +works were then and subsequently composed. In the chorus was a young +Viennese lady from whom, according to Kalbeck, he first heard Viennese +folk-music. With Vienna henceforth in mind he continued in his work at +Detmold until 1862, when he broke away from North Germany and went to +establish himself in the land of his desire. He came before the public +first as a pianist, later as a composer. For a year he was conductor of +the _Singakademie_. Afterward he never held an office except during the +three years 1872-1875, when he was conductor of the _Gesellschaft der +Musikfreunde_. + +The death of his mother in 1867 aggravated his tendency to forbidding +self-discipline. The result in music was the ‘German Requiem,’ which +even those who cannot sympathize with his music in general have +willingly granted to be one of the great masterpieces of music. As it +was first performed at a concert of the _Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde_ +in Vienna in April, 1867, it consisted of only three numbers. To these +he later added four, and in this form it was performed on Good Friday, +April 10, 1868, in Bremen. Clara Schumann, who was present, wrote in +her diary that she had been more moved by it than by any other sacred +music she had ever heard. It established Brahms’ reputation as a +composer, a reputation which steadily grew among conservatives. A group +of distinguished critics, musicians, and men of unusual intellectual +gifts gathered about him in Vienna. Among them were Dr. Theodor +Billroth, the famous surgeon, probably his most intimate friend; Eduard +Hanslick and Max Kalbeck among the critics, K. Goldmark and Johann +Strauss among the musicians. Joachim was a lifelong friend, Von Bülow +and Fritz Simrock, the publisher, were staunch admirers, and in Dvořák +he later took a deep interest. Journeys to Italy and to Switzerland +took him from Vienna for some time every year, and he often spent a +part of the summer with Clara Schumann at various German watering +places. + +A few works were inspired by unusual events, such as the ‘Song of +Triumph’ to celebrate the victory of the German armies in the war +against France, and the ‘Academic Festival Overture,’ composed in +gratitude to the university at Breslau which conferred upon him the +degree of Doctor of Philosophy. A similar degree was offered by the +University of Cambridge, which Brahms was forced to refuse because he +was unwilling to undertake the voyage to England. + +He was an omnivorous reader and an enthusiastic amateur of art. Regular +in his habits, a stubborn and untiring worker, he composed almost +unceasingly to the time of his last illness and death in April, 1897. +The great works for the orchestra comprise ‘Variations on a Theme of +Haydn’s,’ the ‘Academic Festival Overture,’ and the ‘Tragic Overture,’ +four great symphonies, the second concerto for piano and orchestra, +the concerto for violin and orchestra, and a concerto for violin and +violoncello. The great choral works are the ‘Requiem,’ ‘The Song of +Triumph,’ and ‘The Song of Destiny,’ a cantata, ‘Rinaldo,’ and a great +number of songs. Besides these there are many sets of works for the +piano, all in short forms, generally called caprices or intermezzi, and +several sets of variations, one on a theme of Paganini, one on a theme +of Handel; sonatas for piano and violin, and piano and violoncello; +the magnificent quintet in F-minor for piano and strings, sonatas for +clarinet and piano, string quartets, piano quartets, and trios. + + + III + +Brahms is to be ranked among the romantic composers in that all his +work is distinctly a reflection of his own personality, in that every +emotion, mood, dream, or whatever may be the cause and inspiration +of his music is invariably tinged with the nature through which it +passed. The lovable, boisterous frankness which was characteristic of +him as a young man was little by little curbed, subdued, levelled, +so to speak. He cultivated an austere intellectual grasp of himself, +tending to crush all sentimentality and often all sentiment. We may not +hesitate to believe his own word that Clara Schumann was dearer to him +than anyone else upon the earth, nor yet can we fail to read in her +diary that she suffered more than anyone else from his uncompromising +intellectuality. If she attempted to praise or encourage him she met +with a heartless intellectual rebuke. Not long after Schumann died, he +wrote a letter to reprimand her for taking his own cause too much to +heart. ‘You demand too rapid and enthusiastic recognition of talent +which you happen to like. Art is a republic. You should take that as a +motto. You are far too aristocratic.... Do not place one artist in a +higher rank and expect the others to regard him as their superior, as +dictator. His gifts will make him a beloved and respected citizen of +this republic, but will not make him consul or emperor.’ To which she +replied: ‘It is true that I am often greatly struck by the richness +of your genius, that you always seem to me one on whom heaven has +poured out its best gifts, that I love and honor you for the sake of +many glorious works. All this has fastened its roots deep down in my +heart, so, dearest Johannes, do not trouble to kill it all by your +cold philosophizing.’ Clara exerted herself to bring his compositions +before the public. A short extract from her diary will show how Brahms +rewarded her efforts. ‘I was in agonies of nervousness but I played +them [variations on a theme of Schumann’s] well all the same, and +they were much applauded. Johannes, however, hurt me very much by his +indifference. He declared that he could no longer bear to hear the +variations, it was altogether dreadful to him to listen to anything +of his own and to have to sit by and do nothing. Although I can well +understand this feeling I cannot help finding it hard when one has +devoted all one’s powers to a work, and the composer himself has not a +kind word for it.’ The tenderness which would have meant much to her +he failed to show. He made himself rough and harsh, stern and severe. +That a man could write of him as ‘a steadfast, strong, manly nature, +self-contained and independent, striving ever for the highest, an +uncompromisingly true and unbending artistic conscience, strict even +to harshness, rigidly exacting,’ wins the adherent, wins loyalty and +admiration, hides but does not fill the lack. + +Undoubtedly, as a son of a gloomy northern land, the tendency to +self-restraint was a racial heritage. Outward facts of his life show +that he was himself conscious of it and that he tried in a measure to +escape from it. His love of gay Vienna, his journeys into Switzerland, +his oft-repeated search for color and spontaneous emotion in Italy, are +all signs of a man trying to be free from his own nature. ‘But that, in +spite of Vienna,’ writes Walter Niemann, ‘he remained a true son of the +sea-girt province, we know from all accounts of his life. Melancholy, +deep, powerful and earnest feeling, uncommunicativeness, a noble +restraint of emotion, meditativeness, even morbidness, the inclination +to be alone with himself, the inability both as man and as artist to +get away from himself, are characteristics which must be ever assigned +to him.’[119] + +There is something heroic in this, a grim strength, the chill of +northern forests and northern seas, loneliness and the power to endure +suffering in silence. It is an old ideal. The thane, were he wanderer +or seafarer, never forgot it was his duty to lock his sorrow within his +breast. That it might lead and has led to morbidness, to taciturnity, +on the one hand, is no less evident than that, on the other, it may +lead to splendid fortitude and nobility. This old ideal has found its +first full expression in music through Brahms. We come upon a paradox, +the man who would express nothing, who has in music expressed all. + +It is striking how the man reveals himself in his music. The rigorous +self-discipline and restraint find their counterpart in the absolute +perfection of the structure, the polyphonic skill, the intellectual +poise and certainty. There is a resultant lack of obvious color, a +deliberate suppression of sensuousness, so marked that Rubinstein could +call him, with Joachim, the high-priest of virtue, a remark which +carries the antidote to its own sting, if one will be serious. And the +music of Brahms is essentially serious. In general it lacks appealing +charm and humor. Its beauties yield only to thoughtful study, but the +harvest is rich, though often sombre. He belongs to the poets, not the +painters, in that his short pieces are saturated with mood, even and +rather monochrome. The mood, too, is prevailingly dark, not light. That +he could at times rise out of it and give way to light-heartedness +and frank humor no one can deny who will recall, for instance, the +‘Academic Festival Overture,’ where the mood is boisterous and full of +fun, student fun. The Passacaglia in the Fourth Symphony hints at it +as well, and some of the songs, and the last movement of the violin +concerto. But these are in strong contrast to the general spirit of +his music. His happier moods are ever touched with wistfulness or +with sadness. In such vein he is often at his best, as, for example, +in the allegretto of the first and of the second symphonies. Such a +mischievous humor as Beethoven expressed in the scherzo of the Eroica +Symphony, such peasant joviality as rollicks through the scherzo of +the Pastoral, such wit as glances through the eighth symphony, were, +if he had them at all within him, too oppressed to find utterance and +excite laughter or even smiles. As a boy, it will be remembered, he was +often overbrimming with good spirits, full of freakish sport. The first +three sonatas reflect this. Then came the illness of Schumann, his +adored friend, and, knowing what grief and suffering were, he fortified +himself against them. He took a wound to heart and never after was off +his guard. + +It cannot be said that his music is wholly lacking in humor. Reckless, +‘unbuttoned’ humor is indeed rarely if ever evident; but the broader +humor, the sense of balance and proportion, strengthens his works +almost without exception. If it can be said that he was never able to +free himself from a mood of twilight and the northern sea, it cannot be +said that he was so sunk in this mood as to lose himself in unhealthy +morbidness, to lose perspective and the power of wide vision. Above +all else his music is broadly planned. It is wide and spacious, not to +say vast. There is enormous force in it, vigor of mind and of spirit, +too. Surcharged it may not be with heat and color, but great winds blow +through it, it is expansive, it lifts the listener to towering heights, +never drags him to ecstatic torture in the fiery lake of distressed +passion and hysterical grief. For this reason Liszt could say of some +of it that it was ‘sanitary,’ and here again we must be serious not to +smart with the sting. + +No musician ever devoted himself more wholeheartedly to the study of +folk-music, but he failed to imbue his works with the spirit of it. One +has but to contrast him with Haydn or with Schubert to be convinced. +The _Liebeslieder_ waltzes, and the set of waltzes arranged for four +hands, charming as they are, lack the true folk-spirit of spontaneity +and warmth. For all their seeming simplicity they hold back something; +they are veiled and therefore suggestive, not immediate. They breathe +of the ever-changing sea, not of the warm and stable earth. His +admiration for Johann Strauss is well known. That he himself could not +write waltzes of the same mad, irresistible swing was to him a source +of conscious regret. Yet the accompaniments which he wrote for series +of German folk-songs are ineffably beautiful. In them, he interprets +the spirit of the northern races to which by birth and character +he belonged. That which would have made him the interpreter of all +mankind, that quick emotion which is the essence of the human race, +the current of warm blood which flows through us all and makes us all +as one, he bound and concealed within himself. He cannot speak the +common idiom. + +Hence his music will impress the listener upon the first hearing as +intellectual, and, as a rule, study and familiarity alone reveal the +depth of genuine emotional feeling from which it sprang. Therefore it +is true of him in the same measure as it is true of Bach and Beethoven +that the beauty of his music grows ever richer with repeated hearings, +and does not fade nor become stale. It is not, however, intellectual +in the sense that it is always deliberately contrived, but only in so +far as it reflects the austere control of mind over emotion which was +characteristic of him as a man. One is conscious always of control and +a consequent power to sustain. In rhythm, in melody and in harmony this +control has left its mark. It is to be doubted if the music of any +other composer is so full of idiosyncrasies of expression. Strangely +enough these are not limitations. They are not mannerisms in the sense +that they are habits, mere formulas of expression, unconsciously +affected and riding the composer to death. They are subtly connected +with and suitable to the quality of emotion which they serve to +express, that emotion which, as we have seen, is always under control. +They are signs of strength, not of weakness. + +His rhythm is varied by devices of syncopation which are not to be +found used to such an extent in the works of any other of the great +composers. Especially frequent is the alteration of two beats of +three values into three beats of two, an alteration practised by the +early polyphonic writers and called the _hemiola_. Brahms employed +it not only with various beats of the measure but with the measures +themselves. Thus two measures of 3/4 time often become in value three +measures of 2/4 time. Notice, for instance in the sonata for piano in +F-minor the part for the left hand in measures seven to sixteen of +the first movement. In this passage the left hand is clearly playing +in 2/4 time, the right in 3/4; yet the sum of rhythmical values for +each at the end of the passage is the same. It is to be noted that, +whereas Schumann frequently lost himself in syncopation, or, in other +words, overstepped the mark so that the original beat was wholly lost +and with it the effect of syncopation, at any rate to the listener, +Brahms always contrived that the original beat should be suggested if +not emphasized, and his employment of syncopation, therefore, is always +effective as such. He acquired extraordinary skill in the combination +of different rhythms at the same time, and in the modification of tempo +by modification of the actual value of the notes. The variety and +complexity of the rhythm of his music are rarely lost on a listener, +though often they serve only to bewilder him until the secret becomes +clear. Within the somewhat rigid bounds of form and counterpoint his +music is made wonderfully flexible, while by syncopation he actually +makes the natural beat more relentless. Mystery, rebellion, divergence, +the world-old struggle between law and chaos he could express either in +fine suggestions or in strong contradictions by his power over rhythm +in music. In the broader rhythm of structure, too, he was free. Phrases +of five bars are constantly met with in his music. + +His melodies are indescribably large. They have the poise of great and +far-reaching thought and yet rarely lack spontaneity. Indeed, as a +song writer he is unexcelled. In his instrumental music there is often +a predominance of lyricism. Though he was eminently skillful in the +treatment of melodic motifs, of small sections of melody, though his +mastery of polyphonic writing is second to none, except Bach, parts of +the symphonies seem to be carried by broad, flowing melodies, which in +their largeness and sweep have the power to take the listener soaring +into vast expanses. To cite but one instance, the melodies of the first +movement of the D-major symphony are truly lyrical. In them alone there +is wonderful beauty, wonderful power. They are not meaningless. Of that +movement it is not to be said what a marvellous structure has Brahms +been able to build out of motives in themselves meaningless, in the +hands of another insignificant. The beauty of the movement is largely +in the materials out of which it is built. Of the melodies of Beethoven +it may be said they have infinite depth, of those of Schubert that they +have perennial freshness, of those of Schumann romance and tenderness, +but of Brahms that they have power, the power of the eagle to soar. +They are frequently composed of the tones of a chord, sometimes of the +simple tonic triad. Notice in this regard the first melodies of all the +symphonies, the songs ‘Sapphic Ode,’ _Die Mainacht_, _Wiegenlied_, and +countless others. + +His harmonies are, as would be expected from one to whom softness was +a stranger, for the most part diatonic. They are virile, almost never +sensuous. Sharp dissonances are frequent, augmented intervals rare, and +often his harmonies are made ‘thick’ by doubling the third even in very +low registers. There is at times a strong suggestion of the old modal +harmony, especially in works written for chorus without accompaniment. +Major and minor alternate unexpectedly, the two modes seeming in his +music interchangeable. He is fond of extremely wide intervals, very low +and very high tones at once, and the empty places without sound between +call forth the spirit of barren moorland, the mystery of dreary places, +of the deserted sea. + +In all Brahms’ music, whether for piano, for voices, combinations of +instruments, or for orchestra, these idiosyncrasies are present. They +are easily recognized, easily seized upon by the critic; but taken +together they do not constitute the sum of Brahms’ genius. They are +expressive of his broad intellectual grasp; but the essence of his +genius consists far rather in a powerful, deep, and genuine emotional +feeling which is seldom lacking in all that he composed. It is hard to +get at, hard for the player, the singer, and the leader to reveal, but +the fact none the less remains that Brahms is one of the very great +composers, one who truly had something to say. One may feel at times +that he set himself deliberately to say it in a manner new and strange; +but it is none the less evident to one who has given thought to the +interpretation of what lies behind his music, that the form of his +utterance, though at first seemingly awkward and willful, is perfectly +and marvellously fitting. + + + IV + +Brahms’ pianoforte works are with comparatively few exceptions in +small forms. There are rhapsodies and ballades and many intermezzi and +capriccios. Unlike Schumann he never gives these pieces a poetic title +to suggest the mood in which they are steeped, though sometimes, rarely +indeed, he prefixes a motto, a stanza from a poem, as in the andante of +the F-minor sonata, or the title of a poem, as in the ballade that is +called ‘Edward,’ or the intermezzo in E-flat major, both suggested by +Scotch poems. The pieces are almost without exception difficult. The +ordinary technique of the pianist is hardly serviceable, for common +formulas of accompaniment he seldom uses, but rather unusual and wide +groupings of notes which call for the greatest and most rapid freedom +of the arm and a largeness of hand. Mixed rhythms abound, and difficult +cross-accents. For one even who has mastered the technical difficulties +of Chopin and Liszt new difficulties appear. He seems to stand out of +the beaten path of virtuosity. His aversion to display has carefully +stripped all his music of conventional flourish and adornment, and his +pianoforte music is seldom brilliant never showy, but rather sombre. +What it lacks in brilliance, on the other hand, it makes up in richness +and sonority; and when mastered will prove, though ungrateful for the +hand, adapted to the most intimate spirit of the instrument. The two +sets of variations on a theme of Paganini make the utmost demands upon +hand and head of the player. It may be questioned if any music for +the piano is technically more difficult. One has only to compare them +with the Liszt-Paganini studies to realize how extraordinarily new +Brahms’ attitude toward the piano was. In Liszt transcendent, blinding +virtuosity; in Brahms inexhaustible richness. + +The songs, too, are not less difficult and not more brilliant. The +breadth of phrases and melodies require of the singer a tremendous +power to sustain, and yet they are so essentially lyrical that the +finest shading is necessary fully to bring out the depth of the feeling +in them. The accompaniments are complicated by the same idiosyncrasies +of rhythm and spacing which are met with in the piano music, yet they +are so contrived that the melodies are not taken and woven into them as +in so many of the exquisite songs of Schumann, but that the melodies +are set off by them. In writing for choruses or for groups of voices, +he manifested a skill well-nigh equal to that of Bach and Handel. +He seems often to have gone back to the part-songs of the sixteenth +century for his models. + +Compared with the scores of Wagner his orchestral works are sombre and +gray. The comparison has led many to the conclusion that Brahms had +no command of orchestral color. This is hardly true. Vivid coloring +is for the most part lacking, but such coloring would be wholly out +of place in the expression of the emotion which gives his symphonies +their grandeur. His art of orchestration, like his art of writing for +the pianoforte, is peculiarly his own, and again is the most fitting +imaginable to the quality of his inspiration. It is often striking. +The introduction to the last movement of the first symphony, the +coda of the first movement of the second symphony, the adagio of the +fourth symphony are all points of color which as color cannot be +forgotten; and in all his works for orchestra this is what Hugo Riemann +calls a ‘gothic’ interweaving of parts, which, if it be not a subtle +coloration, is at any rate most beautiful shading. On the whole, it is +inconceivable that Brahms should have scored his symphonies otherwise +than he has scored them. As they stand they are representative of the +nature of the man, to whom brilliance and sensuousness were perhaps too +often to be distrusted. Much has been made of the well-known fact that +not a few of his works, and among them one of his greatest, the quintet +in F minor for pianoforte and strings, were slow to take their final +color in his mind. The D minor concerto for piano and orchestra was +at one time to have been a symphony, the great quintet was originally +a sonata for two pianos, the orchestral variations on a theme of +Haydn, too, were first thought of for two pianos, and the waltzes +for pianoforte, four hands, were partially scored for orchestra. But +this may be as well accounted for by his evident and self-confessed +hesitation in approaching the orchestra as by insensitiveness to tone +color. The concerto in D minor is opus 15, the quintet opus 34, the +Haydn variations opus 56. The first symphony, on the other hand, is +opus 68. After this all doubt of color seems to have disappeared. + +Analysis of the great works is reserved for later volumes. The +‘Requiem,’ the quintet for piano and strings, the ‘Song of Destiny,’ +the overwhelmingly beautiful concerto for violin and orchestra, +the songs, the songs for women’s voices with horn and harp, the +‘Academic Festival Overture,’ and the ‘Tragic Overture,’ the works for +pianoforte, the trios, quartets and quintets for various instruments, +the four mighty symphonies--all bear the stamp of the man and of his +genius in ways which have been hinted at. No matter how small the form, +there is suggestion of poise and of great breadth of opinion. It is +this spirit of expanse that will ever make his music akin to that of +Bach and Beethoven. Schumann’s prophecy was bold. Some believe that it +has been fulfilled, that Brahms is in truth the successor of Beethoven. +Whether or not Brahms will stand with Bach and Beethoven as one of the +three greatest composers it is far too early to say. The limitations +of his character and of his temperament are obvious and his music has +not escaped them. On the other hand, the depth and grandeur, the heroic +strength, the power over rhythm, over melody, and over harmony belong +only to the highest in music. He was of the line of poets descended +from Schubert through Schumann, but he had a firmer grasp than they. +His music is more strongly built, is both deeper and higher. Its +sombreness has been unjustly aggravated by comparison with Wagner, but +the time has come when the two men are no longer judged in relation +to each other, when they are found to be of stuff too different to +be compared any more than fire and water can be compared. They are +sprung of radically different stock. It might almost be said that they +are made up of different elements. If with any composers, he can only +be compared with Bach and Beethoven. His perfect workmanship nearly +matches that of the former; but Bach, for all the huge proportions of +his great works, is a subtle composer, and Brahms is not subtle. The +harmonies of Bach are chromatic, those of Brahms, as we have seen, +are diatonic. His forms are near those of Beethoven, and his rugged +spirit as well. His symphonies, in spite of the lyrical side of his +genius which is evident in them, can stand beside those of the master +of Bonn and lose none of their stature. But he lacks the comic spirit +which sparkles ever and again irrepressibly in the music of Beethoven. +He is indubitably a product of the movement which, for lack of a more +definite name, we must call romantic; and, though it has been said with +truth that some of the music of Beethoven and much of Bach is romantic, +it cannot be denied that the romantic movement brought to music +qualities which are not evident in the works of the earlier masters. +The romanticists in every art took themselves extremely seriously as +individuals. From their relationship to life as a whole, to the state, +and to man they often rebelled, even when making a great show of +patriotism. A reaction was inevitable, tending to realism, cynicism, +even pessimism. Brahms stood upon the outer edge of romanticism, on +the threshold of the movement to come. He took himself seriously, not +however with enjoyment in individual liberty, with conscious indulgence +in mood and reverie, but with grim determination to shape himself +and his music to an ideal, which, were it only that of perfect law, +was fixed above the attainment of the race. If, as it has been often +written, Beethoven’s music expresses the triumph of man over destiny, +Brahms may well speak of a triumph in spite of destiny. That over which +Beethoven triumphed was the destiny which touches man; that in spite +of which and amid which the music of Brahms stands firm and secure is +the destiny of the universe, of the stars and planets whirling through +the soundless, unfathomable night of space, not man’s soul exultant but +man’s reason unafraid, unshaken by the cry of the heart which finds no +consolation. + + + V + +The drift of romanticism toward realism is easy to trace in all the +arts. There were, however, artists of all kinds who were caught up, so +to speak, from the current into a life of the spirit, who championed +neither the glory of the senses, as Wagner, nor the indomitable power +of reason, as Brahms, but preserved a serenity and calm, a sort of +confident, nearly ascetic rapture, elevated above the turmoil of the +world, standing not with nor against, but floating above. Such an +artist in music was César Franck, growing up almost unnoticed between +Wagner and Brahms, now to be ranked as one of the greatest composers of +the second half of the century. He is as different from them as they +are from each other. Liszt, the omniscient, knew of him, had heard him +play the organ in the church of Ste. Clotilde, where in almost monastic +seclusion the greater part of his life flowed on, had likened him to +the great Sebastian Bach, had gone away marvelling; but only a small +band of pupils knew him intimately and the depth of his genius as a +composer. + +His life was retired. He was indifferent to lack of appreciation. When, +through the efforts of his devoted disciples, his works were at rare +intervals brought to public performance, he was quite forgetful of +the cold, often hostile, audience, intent only to compare the sound +of his music as he heard it with the thought he had had in his soul, +happy if the sound were what he had conceived it would be. Of envy, +meanness, jealousy, of all the darker side of life, in fact, he seems +to have taken no account. Nor by imagination could he picture it, nor +express it in his music, which is unfailingly luminous and exalted. +Most striking in his nature was a gentle, unwavering, confident candor, +and in his music there is scarcely a hint of doubt, of inquiring, or +of struggle. It suggests inevitably the cathedral, the joyous calm of +religious faith, spiritual exaltation, even radiance. + +His life, though not free in early years from hardship, was relatively +calm and uneventful. He was born in Liège in December, 1822, eleven +years after Wagner, eleven years before Brahms, and from the start was +directed to music by his father. In the course of his early training at +Liège he acquired remarkable skill as a virtuoso, and his father had +hopes of exploiting his gifts in wide concert tours. In 1835 he moved +with his family to Paris and remained there seven years; at the end of +which, having amazed his instructors and judges at the Conservatoire, +among whom, be it noted, the venerable Cherubini, and won a special +prize, he was called from further study by the dictates of his father +and went back to Liège to take up his career as a concert pianist. For +some reason this project was abandoned at the end of two years, and he +returned to Paris, there to pass the remainder of his life. + +At first he was organist at the church of Notre Dame de Lorette, later +at Ste. Clotilde, and in 1872 he was appointed professor of the organ +at the Conservatoire. To the end of his life he gave lessons in organ +and pianoforte playing, here and there, and in composition to a few +chosen pupils. He was elected member of the Legion of Honor in 1885; +not, however, in recognition of his gifts as a composer, but only of +his work as professor of organ at the Conservatoire. He died on the 8th +of November, 1890. At the time of his marriage, in 1848, he resolved +to save from the pressure of work to gain a livelihood an hour or two +of every day for composition--time, as he himself expressed it, to +think. The hours chosen were preferably in the early morning and to the +custom, never broken in his lifetime, we owe his great compositions, +penned in those few moments of rest from a busy life. He wrote in +all forms, operas, oratorios, cantatas, works for piano, for string +quartet, concertos, sonatas, and symphonies. + +With the exception of a few early pieces for piano all his work +bears the stamp of his personality. Like Brahms, he has pronounced +idiosyncrasies, among which his fondness for shifting harmonies is +the most constantly obvious. The ceaseless alteration of chords, the +almost unbroken gliding by half-steps, the lithe sinuousness of all the +inner voices seem to wrap his music in a veil, to render it intangible +and mystical. Diatonic passages are rare, all is chromatic. Parallel +to this is his use of short phrases, which alone are capable of being +treated in this shifting manner. His melodies are almost invariably +dissected, they seldom are built up in broad design. They are resolved +into their finest motifs and as such are woven and twisted into the +close iridescent harmonic fabric with bewildering skill. All is in +subtle movement. Yet there is a complete absence of sensuousness, +even, for the most part, of dramatic fire. The overpowering climaxes +to which he builds are never a frenzy of emotion, they are superbly +calm and exalted. The structure of his music is strangely inorganic. +His material does not develop. He adds phrase upon phrase, detail +upon detail with astonishing power to knit and weave closely what +comes with what went before. His extraordinary polyphonic skill seems +inborn, native to the man. Arthur Coquard said of him that he thought +the most complicated things in music quite naturally. Imitation, +canon, augmentation, and diminution, the most complex problems of the +science of music, he solves without effort. The perfect canon in the +last movement of the violin sonata sounds simple and spontaneous. The +shifting, intangible harmonies, the minute melodies, the fine fabric as +of a goldsmith’s carving, are all the work of a mystic, indescribably +pure and radiant. Agitating, complex rhythms are rare. The second +movement of the violin sonata and the last movement of the ‘Prelude, +Aria, and Finale’ are exceptional. The heat of passion is seldom +felt. Faith and serene light prevail, a music, it has been said, at +once the sister of prayer and of poetry. His music, in short, wrote +Gustave Derepas, ‘leads us from egoism to love, by the path of the true +mysticism of Christianity; from the world to the soul, from the soul to +God.’ + +His form, as has been said, is not organic, but he gives to all his +music a unity and compactness by using the same thematic material +throughout the movements of a given composition. For example, in the +first movement of the ‘Prelude, Chorale, and Fugue’ for piano, the +theme of the fugue which constitutes the last movement is plainly +suggested, and the climax of the last movement is built up out of this +fugue theme woven with the great movement of the chorale. In the first +movement of the ‘Prelude, Aria, and Finale,’ likewise for piano, the +theme of the Finale is used as counterpoint; in the Aria again the same +use is made of it; in the Finale the Aria theme is reintroduced, and +the coda at the end is built up of the principal theme of the Prelude +and a theme taken from the closing section of the Aria. The four +movements of the violin sonata are most closely related thematically; +the symphony, too, is dominated by one theme, and the theme which opens +the string quartet closes it as well. This uniting of the several +movements of a work on a large scale by employing throughout the same +material was more consistently cultivated by Franck than by any other +composer. The concerto for piano and orchestra in E-flat by Liszt is +constructed on the same principle; the D minor symphony of Schumann +also, and it is suggested in the first symphony of Brahms, but these +are exceptions. Germs of such a relationship between movements in the +cyclic forms were in the last works of Beethoven. In Franck they +developed to great proportion. + +The fugue in the ‘Prelude, Chorale and Fugue’ and the canon in the last +movement of the violin sonata are superbly built, and his restoration +of strict forms to works in several movements finds a precedent only +in Beethoven and once in Mozart. The treatment of the variation form +in the _Variations Symphoniques_ for piano and orchestra is no less +masterly than his treatment of fugue and canon, but it can hardly be +said that he excelled either Schumann or Brahms in this branch of +composition. + +Franck was a great organist and all his work is as clearly influenced +by organ technique as the works of Sebastian Bach were before him. +‘His orchestra,’ Julien Tiersot wrote in an article published in +_Le Ménéstrel_ for October 23, 1904, ‘is sonorous and compact, the +orchestra of an organist. He employs especially the two contrasting +elements of strings (eight-foot stops) and brass (great-organ). The +wood-wind is in the background. This observation encloses a criticism, +and his method could not be given as a model; it robs the orchestra +of much variety of coloring, which is the richness of the modern art. +But we ought to consider it as characteristic of the manner of César +Franck, which alone suffices to make such use legitimate.’ Undeniably +the sensuous coloring of the Wagnerian school is lacking, though +Franck devoted himself almost passionately at one time to the study +of Wagner’s scores; yet, as in the case of Brahms, Franck’s scoring, +peculiarly his own, is fitting to the quality of his inspiration. There +is no suggestion of the warmth of the senses in any of his music. +Complete mastery of the art of vivid warm tone-coloring belongs only to +those descended from Weber, and preëminently to Wagner. + +The works for the pianoforte are thoroughly influenced by organ +technique. The movement of the rich, solid basses, and the +impracticably wide spaces call urgently for the supporting pedals of +the organ. Yet they are by no means unsuited to the instrument for +which they were written. If when played they suggest the organ to +the listener, and the Chorale in the Prelude, Chorale and Fugue is +especially suggestive, the reason is not be found in any solecism, +but in the religious spirit that breathes from all Franck’s works and +transports the listener to the shades of vast cathedral aisles. Among +his most sublime works are three Chorale Fantasias for organ, written +not long before he died. These, it may safely be assumed, are among the +few contributions to the literature for the organ which approach the +inimitable master-works of Sebastian Bach. + +There are three oratorios, to use the term loosely, ‘Ruth,’ ‘The +Redemption,’ and ‘The Beatitudes,’ belonging respectively in the three +periods in which Franck’s life and musical development naturally fall. +All were coldly received during his lifetime. ‘Ruth,’ written when +he was but twenty-four years old, is in the style of the classical +oratorios. ‘The Redemption,’ too, still partakes of the half dramatic, +half epic character of the oratorio; but in ‘The Beatitudes,’ his +masterpiece, if one must be chosen, the dramatic element is almost +wholly lacking, and he has created almost a new art-form. To set +Christ’s sermon on the mount to music was a tremendous undertaking, +and the great length of the work will always stand in the way of +its universal acceptance; but here more than anywhere else Franck’s +peculiar gift of harmony has full force in the expression of religious +rapture and the mysticism of the devout and childlike believer. + +It is curious to note the inability of Franck’s genius to express wild +and dramatic emotion. Among his works for orchestra and for orchestra +and piano are several that may take rank as symphonic poems, _Les +Éolides_, _Le Chasseur maudit_, and _Les Djinns_, the last two based +upon gruesome poems, all three failing to strike the listener cold. +The symphony with chorus, later rearranged as a suite, ‘Psyche,’ is an +exquisitely pure conception, wholly spiritual. The operas _Hulda_ and +_Grisèle_ were performed only after his death and failed to win a place +in the repertory of opera houses. + +It is this strange absence of genuinely dramatic and sensuous elements +from Franck’s music which gives it its quite peculiar stamp, the +quality which appeals to us as a sort of poetry of religion. And it +is this same lack which leads one to say that he grows up with Wagner +and Brahms and yet is not of a piece with either of them. He had an +extraordinarily refined technique of composition, but it was perhaps +more the technique of the goldsmith than that of the sculptor. His +works impress by fineness of detail, not, for all their length and +remarkable adherence of structure, by breadth of design. His is +intensely an introspective art, which weaves about the simplest subject +and through every measure most intricate garlands of chromatic harmony. +It is a music which is apart from life, spiritual and exalted. It does +not reflect the life of the body, nor that of the sovereign mind, but +the life of the spirit. By so reading it we come to understand his own +attitude in regard to it, which took no thought of how it impressed the +public, but only of how it matched in performance, in sound, his soul’s +image of it. + +With Wagner, Brahms and César Franck the romantic movement in music +comes to an end. The impulse which gave it life came to its ultimate +forms in their music and was for ever gone. It has washed on only like +a broken wave over the works of most of their successors down to the +present day. Now new impulses are already at work leading us no one +knows whither. It is safe to say that the old music has been written, +that new is in the making. An epoch is closed in music, an epoch which +was the seed time of harmony as we learned it in school, and as, +strangely enough, the future generations seem likely to learn it no +more. + +Beethoven stood back of the movement. From him sprang the two great +lines which we have characterized as the poets and painters in music, +and from him, too, the third master, César Franck. It would indeed +be hardihood to pronounce whether or not the promise for the future +contained in the last works of Beethoven has been fulfilled. + + L. H. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[118] Max Kalbeck: ‘Johannes Brahms,’ 3 vols. (1904-11). + +[119] Walter Niemann: _Die Musik seit Richard Wagner_, Berlin, 1914. + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + VERDI AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES + + Verdi’s mission in Italian opera--His early life and education--His + first operas and their political significance--His second period: the + maturing of his style--Crowning achievements of his third period--His + contemporaries. + + + I + +One can hardly imagine the art of music being what it is to-day without +Bach or Mozart or Beethoven, without Monteverdi or Gluck or Wagner. +It has been said that great men sum up an epoch and inaugurate one. +Janus-like, they look at once behind and before, with glances that +survey comprehensively all that is past and pierce prophetically +the dim mists of the future. Unmistakably they point the way to the +seekers of new paths; down through the ages rings the echo of their +guiding voice in the ears of those who follow. So much is this so +that the world has come to measure a man’s greatness by the extent of +his influence on succeeding generations. The test has been applied to +Wagner and stamps him unequivocally as one of the great; but a rigid +application of the same test would seem to exclude from the immortal +ranks the commanding figure of his distinguished contemporary, Giuseppe +Verdi. + +Yet, while it is still perhaps too early to ascertain Verdi’s ultimate +place in musical history, there are few to-day who would deny to him +the title of great. Undoubtedly he is the most prominent figure in +Italian music since Palestrina. The musical history of his country for +half a century is almost exclusively the narrative of his remarkable +individual achievement. Nevertheless, when he passed away, leaving to +an admiring world a splendid record of artistic accomplishment, there +remained on the musical soil of Italy no appreciable traces of his +passage. He founded no school; he left no disciples, no imitators. Of +all the younger Italians who aspired to inherit his honored mantle +there is not one in whom we can point to any specific signs of his +influence. Even his close friend and collaborator, Boïto, was drawn +from his side by the compelling magnetism of the creator of _Tristan_. +Some influence, of course, must inevitably have emanated from him; +but it was no greater apparently than that exercised even by mediocre +artistic personalities upon those with whom they come immediately in +contact. It is curious to note, in contrast, the influence on the +younger Italians of Ponchielli, a lesser genius, and one is inclined to +wonder why ‘the noblest Roman of them all’ inspired no one to follow in +his footsteps. + +The reason, however, is not far to seek. Verdi was no innovator, no +explorer of fresh fields. He had not the passionate desire that Wagner +had for a new and more adequate form of expression. The fierce contempt +for conventional limitations so common to genius in all ages was +unknown to him. Verdi was temperamentally the most _bourgeois_ of great +artists. He was conservative, prudent, practical, and self-contained. +The appearance of eccentricity was distasteful to him. He had a proper +respect for established traditions and no ambition to overturn them. +The art forms he inherited appeared to him quite adequate to his +purposes, and in the beginning of his career he seems to have had no +greater desire than to imitate the dramatic successes of Rossini, +Mercadante, and Bellini. His growth was perfectly natural, spontaneous, +unconscious. He towered above his predecessors because he was +altogether a bigger man--more intelligent, more intense, more sincere, +and more vital. He was not conscious of the need for a more logical +art form than the Italian opera of his time, and unquestioningly he +poured his inspiration into the conventional molds; but as time went on +his sure dramatic instinct unconsciously shaped these into a vehicle +suitable to the expression of his genius. It thus became the real +mission of Verdi to develop and synthesize into a homogeneous art form +the various contradictory musical and dramatic influences to which he +fell heir; and, having done that, his work was finished, nor was there +anything left for another to add. + +The influences which Verdi inherited were sufficiently complex. The +ideals of Gluck and Mozart were strangely diluted by Rossini with the +inanities of the concert-opera school, of which Sacchini, Paesiello, +Jommelli, and Cimarosa were leading exponents. _Il Barbiere_, it +is true, is refreshingly Mozartian and _Tell_ is infused with the +romantic spirit of Weber and Auber; but even these are not entirely +free from the vapidity of the Neapolitans. With Rossini’s followers, +Bellini, Donizetti, and Mercadante, Italian opera shows retrogression +rather than advance, though _Norma_ is obviously inspired by _Tell_ +and _La Favorita_ is not lacking in traces of Meyerbeer. The truth +is that Italian opera during the first few decades of the nineteenth +century was suffering from an epidemic of anæmia. It was not devoid of +spontaneity, of inspiration, of facile grace; but it was languid and +lackadaisical; it was like the drooping society belle of the period, +with her hothouse pallor, her tight corsets and fainting spells and +smelling salts. To save it from degenerating into imbecility there was +necessary the advent of an unsophisticated personality dowered with +robust sincerity, with full-blooded force and virility. And fortunately +just such a savior appeared in the person of Giuseppe Verdi. + +The career of Verdi is in many ways the most remarkable in musical +history. None other covers such an extended period of productive +activity; none other shows such a very gradual and constant +development; none other delayed so long its full fruition. Had Verdi +died or stopped writing at the same age as did Mozart, Beethoven, +Weber, Schubert, or Schumann--to mention only a few--his name would be +to us merely that of a delightful melodist whose genius reached its +fullest expression in _Rigoletto_ and the _Traviata_. He would rank +perhaps with Rossini and Donizetti--certainly not higher. But at an age +which is usually considered beyond the limit of actual achievement he +gave to the world the crowning masterpieces which as far surpass the +creations of his prime as _Tristan_ and _Die Meistersinger_ surpass +_Das Liebesverbot_ and _Rienzi_. + + + II + +Giuseppe Fortunino Verdi was born on October 10, 1813, in the little +village of Le Roncole, about three miles from Busseto. His parents were +Carlo Verdi and Luigia Utini, peasants and innkeepers of Le Roncole. + +Happily, the narrative of Verdi’s early years is comparatively free +from the wealth of strange and wonderful legends that cluster like +barnacles around the childhood of nearly every genius. There was +something exceptional, however, in the sympathetic readiness with +which the untutored innkeeper encouraged his son’s taste for music by +the gift of a spinet and in the eager assiduity with which the child +devoted himself to the instrument. In encouraging his son’s taste for +music it was the far-fetched dream of Carlo Verdi that the boy might +some day become organist of the church of Le Roncole. At the age of +eleven Verdi justified his father’s hopes. Meantime he went to school +at Busseto and subsequently became an office boy in the wholesale +grocery house of one Antonio Barezzi. + +Barezzi was a cultivated man. He played with skill upon the flute, +clarinet, French horn, and ophicleide, and he was president of the +local Philharmonic Society, which held its meetings and rehearsals +at his house. There Verdi’s talent was recognized by the conductor +Provesi, who after a few years put the young man in his place as +conductor of the Philharmonic Society and frequently used him as his +substitute at the organ of the cathedral. + +Eventually, however, Verdi exhausted the musical possibilities of +Busseto, and his loyal friends, Barezzi and Provesi, decided that he +should go to Milan. Through the influence of Barezzi he was awarded one +of the bursaries of the _Monte di Pietà_,[120] and, as this was not +sufficient to cover all his expenses, the good Barezzi advanced him +money out of his own pocket. + +Verdi arrived in Milan in June, 1832, and at once made application in +writing for admission as a paying pupil at the Conservatory. He also +went through what he afterward called ‘a sort of examination.’ One +learns without surprise that he was not admitted. The reason for his +rejection is one of those profound academic secrets about which the +world is perfectly unconcerned. He was simply advised by Provesi’s +friend, Rolla, a master at the Conservatory, to choose a teacher in the +town, and accordingly he chose Vincenzo Lavigna. With him Verdi made +rapid progress and gained a valuable practical familiarity with the +technique of dramatic composition. From this period date many forgotten +compositions, including pianoforte pieces, marches, overtures, +serenades, cantatas, a _Stabat Mater_ and other efforts. Some of these +were written for the Philharmonic Society of Busseto and some were +performed at La Scala at the benefit concerts for the _Pio Istituto +Teatrale_. Several of them were utilized by Verdi in the scores of his +earlier operas. + +From 1833-36 Verdi was _maestro di musica_ of Busseto. During that +time he wrote a large amount of church music, besides marches for +the _banda_ (town band) and overtures for the orchestra of the +Philharmonic. Except as preparatory exercises, none of these has any +particular value. The most important event of those three years was +Verdi’s marriage to Margarita Barezzi, daughter of the enlightened +grocer who so ably deputized Providence in shaping the great composer’s +career. This marriage seems to have kindled a new ambition in Verdi, +and as soon as the conditions of his contract with the municipality of +Busseto were fulfilled he returned to Milan, taking with him his wife, +two young children and the completed score of a musical melodrama, +entitled _Oberto, Conte di San Bonifacio_, of which he had copied all +the parts, both vocal and instrumental, with his own hand. + +Verdi returned to Milan under most promising auspices, having already +attracted the favorable notice of some of the leading social and +artistic factors of that musical city. A few years before, when +he was studying in Milan, there existed a society of rich musical +_dilettanti_, called the _Società Filodrammatica_, which included +such exalted personages as Count Renato Borromeo, the Duke Visconti, +and Count Pompeo Belgiojoso, and was directed by a _maestro_ named +Masini. The society held weekly artistic meetings in the hall of the +Teatro Filodrammatico, which it owned, and, at the time we speak of, +was engaged in preparing Haydn’s ‘Creation’ for performance. Verdi +distinguished himself by conducting the performance of that work, +in place of the absent _maestri_. Soon afterward Count Borromeo +commissioned Verdi to write the music for a cantata for voice and +orchestra on the occasion of the marriage of some member of his family, +and this commission was followed by an invitation to write an opera for +the Philodramatic Theatre. The libretto furnished by Masini was altered +by Temistocle Solera--a very remarkable young poet, with whom Verdi had +cultivated a close friendship--and became _Oberto di San Bonifacio_. + + + III + +This was the opera with which Verdi landed in Milan in 1838. Masini, +unfortunately, was no longer director of the Philodramatic Theatre, but +he promised to obtain for _Oberto_ a representation at La Scala. In +this he was assured the support of Count Borromeo and other influential +members of the Philodramatic, but, beyond a few commonplace words of +recommendation--as Verdi afterward remarked--the noble gentlemen did +not exert themselves. Masini, however, succeeded in making arrangements +to have _Oberto_ produced in the spring of 1839. The illness of one of +the principal singers set all his plans awry; but Bartolomeo Merelli, +who was then _impresario_ of La Scala, was so much impressed with the +possibilities of the opera that he decided to put it on at his own +expense, agreeing to divide with Verdi whatever price the latter might +realize from the sale of the score.[121] _Oberto_ was produced on the +seventeenth of November, 1839, and met with a modest success. Merelli +then commissioned Verdi to write within two years three operas which +were to be produced at La Scala or at the Imperial Theatre of Vienna. +None of the librettos supplied by Merelli appealed to Verdi; but +finally he chose what appeared to him the best of a bad lot. This was +a work in the comic vein, called _Il Finto Stanislao_ and renamed by +Verdi _Un Giorno di Regno_. + +It was the supreme irony of fate that set Verdi just then to the +composition of a comic opera. Poverty, sickness, and death in rapid +succession darkened that period of his life. Between April and June, +1840, he lost, one after the other, his baby boy, his little girl, +and his beloved wife. And he was supposed to write a comic opera! _Un +Giorno di Regno_ naturally did not succeed, and, feeling thoroughly +disheartened by his successive misfortunes, Verdi resolved to abandon a +musical career. From this slough of despond he was finally drawn some +months later by the attraction of a libretto, written by his friend +Solera, which Merelli had succeeded in inducing him to read. It was +_Nabucco_.[122] + +The opera _Nabucco_ was finished in the fall of 1841 and was produced +at La Scala on March 9, 1842. Its success was unprecedented. The first +performance was attended by scenes of the wildest and most fervent +enthusiasm. So unusually vociferous was the demonstration, even for +an Italian theatre, that Verdi at first thought the audience was +making fun of him. _Nabucco_, however, was a real sensation. It had a +dramatic fire and energy, a massiveness of treatment, a richness of +orchestral and choral color that were new to the Italians. The chorus +of the Scala had to be specially augmented to achieve its magnificent +effects. Somewhat crude it was, no doubt, but it possessed life and +force--qualities of which the Italian stage was then sorely in need. +One is amused at this date to read the complaints of an eminent English +critic--Henry Fothergill Chorley of the _Athenæeum_, to wit--touching +its noisiness, its ‘immoderate employment of brass instruments,’ and +its lack of melody. Familiar charges! To the Italians _Nabucco_ was +the ideal of what a tragic music drama should be, and certainly it +approached that ideal more nearly than any opera that had appeared in +years.[123] + +The great success of _Nabucco_ placed Verdi at once on an equal footing +with Donizetti, Mercadante, Pacini, Ricci, and the other musical idols +of contemporary Italy. The management of La Scala commissioned him to +write the _opera d’obbligo_[124] for the grand season of the Carnival, +and Merelli gave him a blank contract to sign upon his own terms. +Verdi’s demands were sufficiently moderate, and within eleven months he +had handed to the management of La Scala the completed score of a new +opera, _I Lombardi alla Prima Crociata_. + +With _I Lombardi_ began Verdi’s long and troublesome experience with +the Austrian censorship. The time was almost ripe for the political +awakening of Lombardo-Venetia, and some of the patriotic feeling which +Verdi, consciously or unconsciously, expressed in _Nabucco_ had touched +an answering chord in the spirit of the Milanese which was partly +responsible for the enthusiasm with which the opera was received. Such +demonstrations were little to the taste of the Austrians, and when _I +Lombardi_ was announced they were prepared to edit it into complete +political innocuousness. Accordingly, in response to an ill-tempered +letter from Cardinal Gaisruk, Archbishop of Milan, drawing attention +to the supposed presence in _I Lombardi_ of several objectionable and +sacrilegious incidents, the director of police, Torresani, notified +the management of La Scala that the opera could not be produced without +important changes. After much discussion Torresani finally announced +that, as he was ‘never a person to cut the wings of a young artist,’ +the opera might go on provided the words _Salve Maria_ were substituted +for _Ave Maria_.[125] + +_I Lombardi_ was produced in February, 1843, and met with a reception +rivalling that which greeted _Nabucco_. As in the case of the latter +opera a certain amount of this excitement was political--the audiences +reading into many of the passages a patriotic meaning which may or +may not have been intended. The chorus, _O Signore, dal tetto natio_, +was the signal for a tremendous demonstration similar to that which +had been aroused by the words, _O, mia patria, si bella e perduta_ in +_Nabucco_. Additional political significance was lent to the occasion +by the interference of the police to prevent the repetition of the +quintet. In truth, Verdi owed much of his extraordinary success of his +early operas to his lucky coincidence with the awakening patriotic and +revolutionary sentiment of the Italian people. He put into fervent, +blood-stirring music the thoughts and aspirations which they dared not +as yet express in words and deeds. We cannot believe that he did this +altogether unconsciously, for he was much too near the soil and the +hearts of the people of Italy not to feel with them and in a measure +express them. Indeed, as he himself acknowledged, it was among the +common people that his work first met with sympathy and understanding. + +After the success of _I Lombardi_ Verdi was beset with requests for +a new work from all the leading opera houses in Italy. He finally +made a contract with the Fenice in Venice and chose for his subject +Victor Hugo’s drama _Ernani_, from which a mediocre libretto was +arranged at his request by a mediocre poet named Francesco Maria +Piave. The subject appealed strongly to Verdi and resulted in a score +that was a decided advance on _Nabucco_ and _I Lombardi_. It brought +Verdi again into collision with the Austrian police, who insisted on +certain modifications; but, in spite of careful censorship, it still +furnished an opportunity for patriotic demonstrations on the part of +the Venetians, who read a political significance into the chorus, _Si +ridesti il Leon di Castiglia_. Under the circumstances one cannot say +to what extent, if any, the artistic appeal of _Ernani_ was responsible +for the enthusiasm which greeted its _première_ at La Fenice on March +9, 1844. Some of the other Italian cities--notably Florence--received +it coolly enough; but, on the whole it was very successful in Italy. +Abroad the impression it produced was less favorable. It was the first +Verdi opera to be given in London, where Lumley opened the season of +1845 with it at Her Majesty’s Theatre. The manner of its reception may +be described in the words of a contemporary wag, who declared after +the performance: ‘Well, the “I don’t knows” have it.’ In Paris it was +presented at the Théâtre Italien, in January, 1846, but, owing to the +excusably strenuous objections of Victor Hugo, its name was changed to +_Il Proscritto_ and the name of its characters were also altered. Hugo +did not admire Piave’s version of his drama; neither did it succeed +with the Parisian public. + +Verdi’s next effort was _I due Foscari_, a long-winded melodrama +constructed by Piave, which was produced in 1844, and received without +enthusiasm. Its merit is far below that of its three immediate +predecessors; nor was its successor, _Giovanna d’Arco_, of much more +value, though it had the advantage of a good poem written by Solera. +_Giovanna d’Arco_ was followed, respectively, by _Alzira_ and _Attila_, +neither of which attained or deserved much success. Great enthusiasm, +it is true, marked the reception of _Attila_ in Italy, but it is +attributable almost solely to the susceptible patriotic fervor of the +people, who were aroused to almost frantic demonstrations by such +lines as _Avrai tu l’universo, resti l’Italia me_. In London _Attila_ +attracted to the box-office the magnificent sum of forty dollars, +though in Paris a fragment of the work produced what was described +as ‘a startling effect,’ through the medium of the statuesque Sophie +Cruvelli.[126] + +Yet during all this time Verdi was advancing, as it were, under cover. +His failures were not the result of any decline in his powers. They +showed no loss of the vigor and vitality that gave life to _Nabucco_, +_I Lombardi_, and _Ernani_. Simply, they were less felicitous, but no +less the crude and forceful efforts of a strong man not yet trained +to the effective use of his own strength. Some of their defects, +too, were no doubt due to the poverty of the libretti, for Verdi was +essentially a dramatic genius, dependent for inspiration largely upon +the situations with which he was supplied. Certainly the quality of +his works seems to vary precisely with the quality of their libretti. +Thus, _Macbeth_, an adaptation of Shakespeare’s tragedy, made by Piave, +proved a distinct advance on its immediate predecessor, _Attila_--even +though Piave did not improve on Shakespeare. It was produced at La +Pergola, Florence, on March 14, 1847, with complete success. Like so +many other Verdi operas, ‘Macbeth’ provided an excuse for patriotic +demonstrations, and in Venice the Austrian soldiery had to be summoned +to quell the riotous and seditious excitement aroused by Palma’s +singing of the verse: + + _La patria tradita + Piangendo c’invita + Fratelli, gli oppressi + Corriamo a salvar._ + +‘Macbeth’ was followed by _I Masnadieri_, which was written for the +stage of Her Majesty’s Theatre, London. It was originally intended that +Verdi should write an opera for the English stage on the subject of +King Lear, and it is to be regretted that circumstances prevented him +from carrying out his project, for he seems to have found a special +inspiration in the Shakespearean drama. The libretto of _I Masnadieri_ +was written by Andrea Maffei, but that excellent poet had the bad +judgment to single out for treatment _Die Räuber_ of Schiller, which +had already been shamefully mauled and mangled by other librettists. It +was a complete failure in London, where Verdi himself conducted it; it +also was a complete failure everywhere else. + +Notwithstanding this Verdi was offered the post of _chef d’orchestre_ +at Her Majesty’s Theatre, but had to refuse because of contract +engagements. His next two operas were mere hack work--_Il Corsaro_ +and _La Battaglia di Legnano_. The latter, being a deliberate attempt +to dramatize a revolution rather than to express the feelings that +underlie revolutions, was an artistic failure. + + + IV + +With _Luisa Miller_ begins what is usually known as Verdi’s second +period--the period in which he shook himself free from the grandiose +bombast, from which none of his earlier works is entirely free. In this +so-called second period he becomes more restrained, more coherent, +more _net_; he leans somewhat more to the suave _cantabile_ of +Bellini and Donizetti, a little more--if the truth be told--to the +trite and mawkish. Cammarano fashioned the libretto of _Luisa Miller_ +from Schiller’s immature _Kabale und Liebe_. It was a moderately good +libretto and moderately good, perhaps, sufficiently describes the music +which Verdi wrote to it. _Stiffelio_, a work of little merit, with a +poem by Piave, was the next product of Verdi’s second manner. It was +given without success at the Grand Theatre, Trieste, in November, 1850. + +After _Stiffelio_, however, there came in rapid succession from Verdi’s +pen three works whose enormous success consummated his fame and whose +melodiousness has since reëchoed continuously from every opera stage +and street organ in the universe. When _Stiffelio_ was produced he was +under contract with the _impresario_ Lasina to write an opera for the +Fenice of Venice. At his request Piave again made free with Victor +Hugo, choosing this time the unsavory melodrama, _Le roi s’amuse_, +which he adopted under the title of _La Maledizione_. When the Italian +police got wind of the project, however, there was serious trouble. +_Le roi s’amuse_ contains some implied animadversions on the morals +of royalty, and the censorship absolutely forbade the appearance in +Italy of such an iniquitous trifling with a sacrosanct subject. Verdi, +who possessed a generous share of obstinacy, refused to write an opera +on any other subject, to the despair of the Fenice management who had +promised the Venetians a new opera by the illustrious _maestro_. A +way out of the _impasse_ was finally found by a commissary of police +named Martello, who advised some substitution in the names of the +characters--such as the duke of Mantua for the king--and also suggested +the title _Rigoletto, Buffone di Corte_. These suggestions proved +acceptable to Verdi and within forty days the score of _Rigoletto_ was +written and orchestrated from first note to last. Its _première_, on +March 11, 1851, was an unqualified success. The too famous _canzone_, +‘_La donna e mobile_,’ caused a sensation which was so accurately +foreseen by the composer that he would not put it to paper until a few +hours before the performance. _Rigoletto_ was presented at the Italian +Opera, Covent Garden, London, in the season of 1853 and at the Théâtre +Italien, Paris, on January 17, 1857. Its London reception was very +cordial. + +Certainly _Rigoletto_ marks a decided advance on its predecessors. +It is simpler in design, more economical of material, more logically +developed and dramatically more legitimate--notwithstanding such +puerilities as Gilda’s eccentric and irrelevant aria in the garden +scene. There are present also signs which seem to indicate the +influence of Meyerbeer; but it is difficult to trace specific +influences in the work of a man of such absorbing individuality as +Verdi. + +After _Rigoletto_ came _Il Trovatore_, which was produced at the +Apollo Theatre, Rome, on January 19, 1853, and was received with +extraordinary enthusiasm. From Rome it spread like wildfire throughout +Italy, everywhere achieving an overwhelming success. In Naples three +houses gave the opera at about the same time. Soon all the capitals +in Europe were humming its ingratiating melodies. Paris saw it at the +Théâtre Italien in December, 1854; London at Covent Garden in May, +1855--even Germany extended to it a warm and smiling welcome. Truly, +_Il Trovatore_ is, to an extent, unique in operatic annals. It probably +enjoys the distinction of being the most popular and least intelligible +opera ever written. The rambling and inchoate libretto was made by +Cammarano from _El Trovador_ of the Spanish dramatist, Antonio Garcia +Gultierez, and nobody has ever lived who could give a succinct and +lucid exposition of its story. For that reason probably the work as a +whole is such as to deserve the name of ‘a concert in costume,’ which +someone has aptly applied to it. Verdi could not possibly have woven a +dramatic score of consistent texture round such a literary nightmare. +What he did do was to write a number of very pleasing solos, duets, +and trios, together with some theatrical and ingratiating orchestral +music. Anyone inclined to question the theatricalism of the score may +be interested in comparing the ‘Anvil Chorus’ of _Il Trovatore_ with +the ‘Forging of the Sword’ episode in _Siegfried_. Still, one cannot +deny distinct merit to a work which has held a place in the affections +of millions of people for more than half a century. Its amazing +popularity when it first spread contagiously over Europe aroused a +storm of critical comment which reads amusingly at this day. In the +eyes of Verdi’s enthusiastic protagonists _Il Trovatore_ naturally +marked the zenith of operatic achievement, while his antagonists placed +it unequivocally at the nadir of uninspired and commonplace triviality. + +_La Traviata_ sounds like a feminine counterpart of _Il Trovatore_, +which it followed and with which it has been so often associated on +operatic bills. The two works, however, are drawn from widely different +sources and are about as dissimilar in every way as any other two +operas of Verdi which might be mentioned. Piave made the libretto of +_La Traviata_ from _La Dame aux Camélias_ of Alexandre Dumas, _fils_. +The subject does not appear to be an ideal one for musical treatment; +but it is of a style which seems to have a peculiar appeal to +composers, as witness _Bohème_, _Sappho_, _Manon_, and many others. One +is inclined to award to the _Traviata_ a very high place among Verdi’s +works. It stands alone among them, absolutely different in style and +manner from anything else he has done. There is in it a simplicity, a +sparkle, a grace, a feminine daintiness, an enticing languor, a spirit +quite thoroughly Gallic, suggesting, as Barevi has observed, the +style of the _opéra comique_ (_cf._ Chap. I). _La Traviata_, produced +at Venice in 1853, was a flat failure, partly owing to the general +incapacity of the cast; about a year later, with some changes, it was +reproduced in Venice and proved a brilliant success. + +Two years of silence followed _La Traviata_. During that time Verdi +was engaged on a work which the management of the Paris Opera--passing +over Auber, Berlioz, and Halévy--had commissioned him to write for +the Universal Exhibition of 1855. The libretto was made by Scribe and +Duveyrier and dealt with the sanguinary episode of the French-Italian +war of 1282, known as the Sicilian Vespers--a peculiar subject to +select under the circumstances. After an amount of delay, caused by +the eccentric disappearance of the beautiful Sophie Cruvelli, idol +of contemporary Paris, _Les Vêpres Siciliennes_ was produced at the +Opéra in 1855. It was received with great enthusiasm, but did not +outlive the popularity of its first prima donna. It was followed by +_Simon Boccanegra_, composed to a poem adapted by Piave from Schiller’s +_Fieschi_, which, produced at the Fenice, Venice, in 1857, with little +success, was later revised by that excellent poet, Arrigo Boïto, and, +with the music recast by Verdi, was received at La Scala, Milan, in +1881 with distinct favor. + +Verdi’s next opera, _Un Ballo in Maschera_, has a peculiar history, +turning on the curious interaction of art and politics which is such +a feature of Verdi’s career. It was adapted from the ‘Gustave III’ of +Scribe, which Auber had already set to music for the Paris Opera, and +was at first entitled _La Vendetta in Domino_. Written for the San +Carlo Theatre, Naples, it was about to be put into rehearsal when word +arrived of the attempted assassination of Napoleon III by Orsini. The +Italian police, morbidly sensitive in such matters, at once forbade the +representation of _Un Ballo in Maschera_ without radical modifications, +and Verdi, with his customary obstinacy, emphatically refused to +make any alteration whatsoever. Even when the San Carlo management +instituted a civil action against him for two hundred thousand francs +Verdi declined to budge. He was openly supported in his attitude by the +entire population of Naples, which greeted his appearance everywhere +with enthusiastic shouts of _Viva Verdi!_. Eventually, feeling that the +affair would create a revolution on its own account, the authorities +requested Verdi to take himself and his opera out of Naples. The opera +was then secured by Jacovacci, the famous _impresario_ of the Apollo +Theatre in Rome, who swore he would present it in that city at any +cost. ‘I shall arrange with the censure, with the cardinal-governor, +with St. Peter if necessary,’ he said. ‘Within a week, my dear +_maestro_, you shall have the libretto, with all the _visas_ and all +the _buon per la scena_ possible.’ Nevertheless the papal government +did not prove so tractable, and, before _Un Ballo in Maschera_ could +appear in Rome the scene of the action had to be shifted from Sweden +to America and the character of Gustave III transmogrified into the +Earl of Warwick, Governor of Boston! Indifferent to historic accuracy, +however, Rome received the opera with enthusiasm, when it was produced +in February, 1859. Upon the occasion of its presentation at the +Théâtre Italien, Paris, on January 13, 1861, the scene was shifted to +the kingdom of Naples--where it still remains--because Mario refused +to wear the costume of a New England Puritan at the beginning of the +eighteenth century. _Un Ballo in Maschera_ was given in London in 1861 +and was received very cordially. + +It is, in effect, one of the most mature works of Verdi’s second +manner. Still more mature and suggestive of what was to come is _La +Forza del Destino_, which was written for the Imperial Theatre of St. +Petersburg, and was produced there on November 10, 1862, encountering +merely a _succès d’estime_. Repellantly gloomy and gruesome is the +story of _La Forza del Destino_, adapted by Piave from _Don Alvar_, +a tragedy in the exaggerated French romantic vein by Don Angel de +Saavedra. The oppressive libretto perhaps accounted in large measure +for the lack of success which attended the opera, not only in St. +Petersburg, but in Milan, where it was produced at La Scala in 1869, +and in Paris where the Théâtre Italien staged it in 1876. Yet _La +Forza del Destino_ contains some of the most powerful, passionate +and poignant music that Verdi ever wrote, and one can see in it more +clearly than in any of his other works suggestions of that complete +maturity of genius which was to blossom forth in _Aïda_, _Otello_, and +_Falstaff_.[127] + +Notwithstanding the indifferent reception accorded _Les Vêpres +Siciliennes_ in Paris, the management of the opera again approached +Verdi when a new gala piece was needed for the Universal Exhibition of +1866. The opera management was singularly unfortunate in its experience +with Verdi. For this occasion the composer was supplied by Méry and +Camille du Locle with an indifferent libretto called _Don Carlos_, and +he was unable to rise above its level. + + + V + +_Don Carlos_, however, was but the darkness before the dawn of a +new period more brilliant and glorious than was dreamed of even by +those of Verdi’s admirers who did him highest reverence. At that time +Wagner had not yet come into his own, and, in the eyes of the world +at large Verdi stood absolutely without peer among living composers. +Consequently, when Ismaïl Pasha, Khedive of Egypt, wished to add lustre +to the beautiful opera houses he had built in Cairo he could think +of nothing more desirable for the purpose than a new work from the +pen of the great Italian. That nothing might be wanting to make such +an event a memorable triumph, Mariette Bey, the distinguished French +Egyptologist, sketched out, as a subject for the proposed work, a +stirring, colorful story, recalling vividly the picturesque glories of +ancient Egypt. This story set fire to Verdi’s imagination. Under his +direction a libretto in French prose was made from Mariette’s sketch +by Camille du Locle and done into Italian verse by A. Ghislanzoni. +So ardently did Verdi become enamoured of the work that within a few +months he had handed to Ismaïl Pasha the completed score of _Aïda_. +The opera was to be performed at the end of 1870, but owing to a +number of causes--including the imprisonment of the scenery within +the walls of Paris by the besieging Germans--its performance was +delayed for a year. It was finally given on December 24, 1871, before +a brilliant cosmopolitan audience and amid scenes of the most intense +enthusiasm.[128] The success of _Aïda_ was overwhelming; nor was it +due, as in the case of so many other Verdi operas, to causes extraneous +to the work itself. Milan, which heard _Aïda_ on February 7, 1872, +received it with an applause which rivalled in spontaneous fervor the +enthusiasm of Cairo, and the verdict of Milan has been emphatically +endorsed by every important opera house in the world. Within three +years, beginning on April 22, 1876, the Théâtre Italien presented +it sixty-eight times to appreciative Parisian audiences, and later, +at the Opéra, its reception was still enthusiastic. England, hitherto +characteristically somewhat cold to Verdi, greeted _Aïda_ warmly when +it was given at Covent Garden in 1876, and bestowed upon the work the +full measure of its critical approval. + + [Illustration: Giuseppe Verdi] + +_Aïda_ was the storm centre around which raged the first controversy +touching the alleged influence of Wagner on Verdi. In _Aïda_, +apparently, we find all the identifying features of the modern +music-drama as modelled by Wagner. There is the broad declamation, the +dramatic realism and coherence, the solid, powerful instrumentation, +the deposition of the voice from its commanding position as the +all-important vehicle, the employment of the orchestra as the principal +exponent of color, character, expression--putting the statue in the +orchestra and leaving the pedestal on the stage, as Grétry said of +Mozart. Yet, in spite of all this, in spite of much specious critical +reasoning to the contrary, _Aïda_ is altogether Verdi, and there is in +it of Wagner not a jot, not a tittle! It is, of course, impossible to +suppose that Verdi was unacquainted with Wagner’s works, and equally +impossible to suppose that he remained unimpressed by them. But Verdi’s +was emphatically not the type of mind to borrow from any other. He was +an exceptionally introspective, self-centred and self-sufficient man. +Besides, he was concerned with the development of the Italian lyric +drama purely according to Italian taste, and in directions which he +himself had followed more or less strictly from the beginning of his +career. From the propaganda of Wagner he must inevitably have absorbed +some pregnant suggestions as to musical dramatics, particularly as +Wagner was in that respect the voice of the _zeitgeist_; but of +specific Wagnerian influence in his music there is absolutely no trace. +Anyone who follows the development of Verdi’s genius from _Nabucco_ +can see in _Aïda_ its logical maturing. No elements appear in the +latter opera which are not appreciable in embryo in the former--between +them lies simply thirty years of study, knowledge and experiment. + +During a period of enforced leisure in 1873 Verdi wrote a string +quartet, the only chamber music work that ever came from his fertile +pen. His friend, the noble and illustrious Manzoni, passed away in +the same year, and Verdi proposed to honor his memory by composing +a _requiem_ to be performed on the first anniversary of his death. +The municipality of Milan entered into the project to the extent of +planning an elaborate public presentation of the work at the expense of +the city. Verdi had already composed a _Libera me_ for a mass which, +in accordance with a suggestion made by him to Tito Ricordi, was to be +written in honor of Rossini by the leading composers of Italy. For some +undiscovered reason or reasons this mass was never given. The _Libera +me_ which Verdi wrote for it, however, served as a foundation for the +new mass in memory of Manzoni. On May 22, 1874, the Manzoni _Requiem_ +was given at the church of San Marco, Milan, in the presence of +musicians and _dilettanti_ from all over Europe. Later it was presented +to enthusiastic audiences at La Scala, at one of the _Matinées +Spirituelles_ of the Salle Favart, Paris, and at the Royal Albert Hall, +London. + +Hans von Bülow, with Teutonic emphasis, has characterized the _Requiem_ +as a ‘monstrosity.’ While the description is perhaps extreme, it +is, from one point of view, not altogether unjustified. Certainly a +German critic, having in mind the magnificent classic structures of +Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven, could hardly look with tolerance upon +this colorful expression of southern genius. The Manzoni _Requiem_ +is, in fact, a complete contradiction of itself, and as such can +hardly be termed a successful artistic achievement. The odor of the +_coulisses_ rather than that of the sanctuary hangs heavily about it. +But, if one can forget that it is a mass and listen to it simply as a +piece of music, then the _Requiem_ stands revealed for what it is--a +touching, noble, and profound expression of love and sorrow for a +friend departed. This is Verdi’s only important essay in sacred music, +though mention may be made of his colorful and dramatic _Stabat Mater_, +written in 1898. + +A five-act opera entitled _Montezuma_ which Verdi wrote in 1878 may +be passed over with the remark that it was produced in that year at +La Scala, Milan. Then for nearly ten years Verdi was silent. The +world was content to believe that his silence was permanent, that +the marvellously productive career of the great master had come to a +glorious and fitting close in _Aïda_ and the _Requiem_. Nobody then +could have believed that _Aïda_, far from making the culmination of +Verdi’s achievement, was but the beginning of a new period in which +his genius rose to heights that dwarfed even the loftiest eminence +of his heyday. There is nothing in the history of art that can +parallel the final flight of this man, at an age when the wings of +creative inspiration have usually withered into impotence, or crumbled +into dust. Under the circumstances one can, of course, very easily +overestimate the æsthetic value of the last works of Verdi, surrounded +as they are in one’s imagination with the halo which the venerable +age of their creator has inevitably lent to them. As a matter of +fact, the ultimate place of Verdi’s last works in musical history it +is not within our power to determine. The mighty weapon of popular +approval--which bestows the final accolade or delivers the last +damning thrust, according to one’s point of view--has as yet missed +both _Otello_ and _Falstaff_. Critics differ, as critics will and ever +did. Musically, dramatically, formally, and technically _Otello_ and +_Falstaff_ are the most finished examples of operatic composition +that Italy has ever given to the world; and even outside Italy--if +one excepts the masterpieces of Wagner--it is doubtful if they can be +paralleled. Whether, also, they possess the divine spark which alone +gives immortality is a moot point. We cannot say. + +The goddess of fortune, who on the whole kept ever close to Verdi’s +side, secured for him in his culminating efforts the collaboration of +Arrigo Boïto, a poet and musician of exceptional gifts. Undoubtedly +Boïto made very free with Shakespeare in his libretto of _Otello_, +but, compared with previous attempts to adapt Shakespeare for operatic +purposes, his version is an absolute masterpiece. Even more remarkable, +and much more faithful to the original, is his version of _Falstaff_, +which, taken by and large, is probably the only perfect opera libretto +ever written. _Otello_ is a story which might be expected to find +perfect understanding and sympathy in the mind and temperament of an +Italian, and consequently the faithful preservation of the original +spirit is not so remarkable; but that an Italian should succeed in +retaining through the change of language the thoroughly English flavor +of _Falstaff_ is truly extraordinary. + +_Otello_ was produced on February 5, 1887, at La Scala, Milan. That it +was a brilliant success is not artistically very significant. Verdi to +the Milanese was something less than a god and more than a composer. +Its first performance at the Lyceum Theatre, London, in July, 1889, and +at the Paris Opéra on October 12, 1894, were both gala occasions, and +the enthusiasm which greeted it may safely be interpreted in part as +a personal tribute to the venerable composer. Outside of such special +occasions, and in the absence of the leather-lunged Tamagno, _Otello_ +has always been received with curiosity, with interest, with respect, +with admiration, but without enthusiasm and, generally speaking, +without appreciation. A certain few there are whose appreciative love +of the work is fervent and sincere; but the attitude of the public at +large toward _Otello_ is not sympathetic. + +Much the same may be said of the public attitude toward +_Falstaff_--though the public, for some reason difficult to fathom, is +provided with comparatively few opportunities of becoming familiar with +this greatest of all Verdi’s creations. Excepting _Die Meistersinger_ +and _Le Nozze di Figaro_ there is nothing in the literature of +comic opera that can compare with _Falstaff_, and in its dazzling, +dancing exuberance of youth and wit and gaiety it stands quite alone. +‘_Falstaff_,’ says Richard Strauss, ‘is the greatest masterpiece +of modern Italian music. It is a work in which Verdi attained real +artistic perfection.’ ‘The action in _Falstaff_,’ James Huneker writes, +‘is almost as rapid as if the text were spoken; and the orchestra--the +wittiest and most sparkling _riant_ orchestra I ever heard--comments +upon the monologue and dialogue of the book. When the speech becomes +rhetorical so does the orchestra. It is heightened speech and instead +of melody of the antique, formal pattern we hear the endless melody +which Wagner employs. But Verdi’s speech is his own and does not +savor of Wagner. If the ideas are not developed and do not assume +vaster proportions it is because of their character. They could not +be so treated without doing violence to the sense of proportion. +Classic purity in expression, Latin exuberance, joyfulness, and an +inexpressibly delightful atmosphere of irresponsible youthfulness +and gaiety are all in this charming score....’ Nowhere in _Falstaff_ +do we find the slightest suggestion of Wagner. Its spirit is much +more that of Mozart. Naturally it invites comparison both with _Die +Meistersinger_ and with _Figaro_, but the comparison in either case is +futile. In form and content _Falstaff_ is absolutely _sui generis_. + +La Scala, which witnessed the first Verdi triumph, also witnessed +his last. _Falstaff_ had its _première_ there on February 9, 1893, +in the presence of ‘the best elements in music, art, politics and +society,’ to quote a contemporary correspondent of the London _Daily +Graphic_. The audience, so we are informed, grew wildly riotous in its +enthusiasm. Even the ‘best elements’ so far forgot themselves as to wax +demonstrative; while that part of the population of Milan which was +not included in the audience held a demonstration of its own after the +performance in front of Verdi’s hotel, forcing the aged composer to +spend most of the night walking back and forth between his apartment +and the balcony that he might listen to reiterated appreciations of +an opera which the majority of the demonstrators had not heard. Paris +heard _Falstaff_ at the Opéra Comique in April, 1894, and London at +Covent Garden in the following month. _Falstaff_ was the crowning +effort of a distinguished genius, of a composer who had shed great +lustre on the fame of Italian music, of a man venerable in age and +character and achievement. It was Verdi’s swan-song. He died in Milan +on January 27, 1901.[129] + +Verdi’s extended career brings practically every nineteenth-century +Italian composer of note within the category of his chronological +contemporaries; but of contemporaries in the philosophical sense he +had practically none worthy of mention. Rossini, Bellini, Donizetti, +Mercadante, Frederico and Luigi Ricci all outlived the beginning of +Verdi’s artistic career. _I Puritani_ first appeared in 1834, _Don +Pasquale_ in 1843, the _Crispino e la Comare_ of the Ricci brothers in +1850. + +Rossini died only three years and Mercadante only one year before +_Aïda_ was produced, though both had long ceased to compose. But all +of these men belong artistically to a period prior to Verdi. Many of +the younger Italians, including Mascagni, Leoncavallo, and Puccini, +had already attracted attention when _Falstaff_ appeared; but they +again belong to a later period. Boïto[130] is hard to classify. He +is the Berlioz of Italian music, on a smaller scale--a polygonal +figure which does not seem to fit into any well-defined niche. His +_Mefistofele_ was produced as early as 1868, yet he seems to belong +musically and dramatically to the post-Wagnerian epoch. Apart from +those who were just beginning or just ending their artistic careers +Italy was almost barren of meritorious composers during most of Verdi’s +life. It would appear as if that one gigantic tree absorbed all the +nourishment from the musical soil of Italy, leaving not enough to give +strength to lesser growths. Of the leading Italian composers chosen to +collaborate on the mass in honor of Rossini, not one, except Frederico +Ricci and Verdi himself, is now remembered.[131] There remains +Amilcare Ponchielli (1834-86) who is important as the founder of the +Italian realistic school which has given to the world _I Pagliacci_, +_Cavalleria Rusticana_, _Le Gioje della Madonna_, and other essays in +blood-letting brutality. His operas include _I Promessi Sposi_ (1856), +_La Savojarda_ (1861), _Roderica_ (1864), _La Stella del Monte_ (1867), +_Le Due Generale_ (1873), _La Gioconda_ (1876), _Il Figliuol Prodigio_ +(1880), and _Marion Delorme_ (1885). Of these only _La Gioconda_, which +still enjoys an equivocal popularity, has succeeded in establishing +itself. Ponchielli wrote an amount of other music, sacred and secular, +but none of it calls for special notice, except the _Garibaldi Hymn_ +(1882), which is likely to live after all his more pretentious efforts +have been forgotten. + +There is nothing more to be said of Verdi’s contemporaries. The history +of his career is practically the history of Italian music during the +same time. He reigned alone in unquestionable supremacy, and, whatever +the future may have in store for Italy, it has not yet disclosed a +worthy successor to his vacant throne. + + W. D. D. + + + FOOTNOTES: + +[120] The _Monte di Pietà e d’Abbondanza di Busseto_ is an institution +founded primarily for the relief of the poor and secondarily to help +poor children of promise to develop their talent for the sciences or +fine arts. + +[121] This does not sound like extravagant generosity on Merelli’s +part, but it must be remembered that in those days it was customary for +an unknown composer to bear the expense of having his operas produced. +The score of _Oberto_ was purchased by Giovanni Ricordi, founder of the +publishing house of that name, for two thousand Austrian _liri_ (about +three hundred and fifty dollars). + +[122] _Nabucco_ is a common Italian abbreviation of Nabucodonosor. + +[123] The part of Abigail in _Nabucco_ was taken by Giuseppina +Strepponi, one of the finest lyric _tragédiennes_ of her day, who +afterward became Verdi’s wife. + +[124] The _opera d’obbligo_ is the new work which an _impresario_ is +pledged to produce each season by virtue of his agreement with the +municipality as lessee of a theatre. + +[125] This ludicrous concession to archiepiscopal scruples recalls +the production of _Nabucco_ in London, where the title was changed +to _Nino, Rè d’Assyria_, in deference to public sentiment--because, +forsooth, Nabucco was a Biblical personage. One can fancy how the +British public of that day would have received Salomé! + +[126] _Attila_ in its entirety was never given in Paris. + +[127] For the sake of completeness we may mention here as the +chronologically appropriate place Verdi’s _L’Inno delle Nazione_, +written for the London International Exhibition of 1862 as part of +an international musical patch-work in which Auber, Meyerbeer, and +Sterndale Bennett also participated. _L’Inno delle Nazione_ may be +forgotten without damage to Verdi’s reputation. + +[128] Contrary to a widespread impression _Aïda_ was not written for +the opening of the Khedival Opera House, that event having taken +place in 1869. It may also be observed that the story of _Aïda_ has +no historical foundation, though it was written with an expert eye to +historical and archæological verisimilitude. + +[129] Space does not permit us to speak of Verdi’s personality, his +private life, or the many honors and distinctions which came to him. +The reader is referred to ‘Verdi: Man and Musician,’ by F. J. Crowest, +New York, 1897, and ‘Verdi: An Anecdotic History,’ by Arthur Pougin, +London, 1887. + +[130] Arrigo Boïto, b. Padua, 1842, composer and poet, studied at the +Milan Conservatory. See Vol. III. + +[131] Besides Verdi and Ricci the list included Buzzola, Bazzini, +Pedrotti, Cagnoni, Nini, Boucheron, Coccia, Jaspari, Platania, +Petrella, and Mabellini. Mercadante was omitted because his age and +feeble health rendered it impossible for him to collaborate in the +work. Jaspari is still in some repute as a musical historiographer. + + +Transcriber's note: + +Obvious punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected. + +The book cover has been modified by the Transcriber and is included in +the public domain. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ART OF MUSIC, VOLUME TWO (OF +14)*** + + +******* This file should be named 65865-0.txt or 65865-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/5/8/6/65865 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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