THE

SYMPHONY

SINCE

BEETHOVEN

THE SYMPHONY

SINCE BEETHOVEN

BY

FELIX WEINGARTNER

(CONDUCTOR OF THE ROYAL SYMPHONY CONCERTS,

THE KAI

MUNICH)

BERLIN, AND OF THE KAIM ORCHESTRA,

Translated from the second German edition

{with the author's permission)

BY

MAUDE BARROWS DUTTON

BOSTON

OLIVER DITSON COMPANY

New York Chicago^

Philadelphia

C. H. DiTSON " Co, Lyon " Hhaly J. E. Ditson " Co.

Copyright, MCMIV, by Oliver Ditson Company

H"^ \ lo %U

W4o

LTHE symphony since BEETHOVENJ

f

TRANSLATION

OF THE

AUTOGRAPH LETTER

London, April 19, 1904.

Miss Maude Barrows Dutton.

Your translation of *" The Symphony Since Bee-thoven

*' has been very highly praised by one of my

friends who is familiar with English, and I am

glad to give you my permission to publish it.

Yours most respectfully,

FELIX WEINGARTNER.

[6]

(Reproduction of Weingartner's Autograph Letter.)

0^

//^IOm^A^^^Wiin^ J/u./^

[7]

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION

The necessity of getting out a second edition

of this book two years after the pubHcation of the

first is a gratifyingproof to me that the thoughts

expressedtherein did not fall upon unfruitful soil,

although nothing was done for their dissemination.

The present edition differs from the first,primarilyin being more carefully finished in style,and

furthermore in a greater precision, to obtain

which some wordy passages have been struck out

and some supplementary ones have been added.

No reader of this edition will suffer under the

false impression that I consider the further devel-opment

of the symphony impossible and speak a

good word for programme music only. It is in-comprehensible

to me how any one could have

read this idea into the first edition.

There have been complaints, also, that I have

overlooked composers. Especiallyin Paris, where

the little book has become known through the

translation made by Madame Chevillard, has this

criticism been raised against me. Although more

names are spoken of here than before, stillthere

are of course many deserving artists who are not

mentioned. My book is not a catalogue,and no

one should expect to find in it just^what he would

in the latter.

Finally,the question is often put to me with no

[9]

Preface to the Second Edition

littlewit,why I, after writingthis book, should

have composed two symphonies,and what was

my aim in doingthis. I will take the trouble here

to answer this query with correspondingwit. Aim

had I none. Both symphonieswere written simplybecause theycame to me.

Felix Weingartner.

Munich, December, 1900.

[10]

THE

SYMPHONY SINCE BEETHOVEN

If in wandering through some Alpine valley,while we were standing awestruck before a colossal

mountain, whose snow-crowned peak rose shim-mering

in the distance, and we were perhaps deem-ing

that man happy whose courage and strength

were great enough to carry him over this peak to

enjoy the view beyond, when suddenly our medi-tations

were interrupted by a voice at our side

saying in all seriousness, 'T am going to climb

over that mountain into the blue clouds beyond,"

we would have little doubt but that we were con-fronted

either by a foolhardy dreamer or a mad-man.

We would scarcely ridicule the man, but

rather look upon his simple faith with eyes of pity.Such a feeling of pity can also seize upon us,

when we come into the full consciousness of Bee-thoven's

greatness, when our whole being becomes

filled with the infinitelydeep significanceof his

compositions, and then meet so many young com-posers

who are striving under the title of sym-phony

to win for themselves money or reputation.

Compared with the inexhaustible wealth of emo-tion

and thought that Beethoven gave us throughhis music, compared with his expression of that

world of feelingswhich embraces the most pow-

y^

The Symphony since Beethoven

erful passionsand the tenderest feelingsof love,the deepest humor and metaphysicaltransporta-tions,

it must at first seem like a foolhardyif not

an insane undertaking," like the drearrf of the

man who would climb the impassablemountain," where works to-day are written in the same

form as Beethoven's symphonies. Richard Wag-ner,not only the greatest musician but also the

greatest musical critic of the last half-century,pours out his bitterest satire on the symphony-writers since Beethoven. He is astonished that

composers saw in Beethoven's creations only the

finished form and gaily went on writingmore

symphonies without observingthat the ''last"

symphony, Beethoven's Ninth, had been given to

the world; without observingthat in this sym-

^ phony lay the extreme emanation of music as a

separate art, as a direct transition to collective art," by which he means works which are freed from

all vagueness by their artistic finish," and that

with its birth the rightof existence of all other

symphonies had in itself to fail. Wagner con-sidered,

at the same time,the "Ninth Symphony"as a precursor of his own lifework,and character-ized

Beethoven's great tone-poem as working a

reform in his mind. Although I have referred

to Wagner's broader treatment of this subjectin

"Opera and Drama," I wish to state clearly,hereat the beginningof this treatise,that on this pointI am not agreed with Wagner. A nature like his,that with such incredible energy sought to reach

its highestgoal,and did reach it,as he was able to

do, must finallylook at all else in the lightof this

Beethoven

goal,and lose to a certain extent that objectivitywhich distinguishesother great men, who are not

in this sense revolutionary,as for instance Goethe.

The questionnext arises: What indeed can be

said of a form which stands there completein

itself,which in relation to its own parts, even in

case of a changeof key, seems almost immovablyplacedunder rule;of a form which after a mas-ter

had filledit with such wonderful content that

it provedtoo small,so that he in the end, after he

had expressedthe vastness of his soul in it,broke

its fetters forever,as Beethoven did in the last

movement of his "Ninth Symphony," as well as in

his last sonatas and quartets? We may questionfurther if it is not the love of experimentation,and

no longerthe art impulse,which leads a composer

to gatherup the debris of form which Beethoven's

geniussnapped asunder and seek to bringthem

togetheragain into a perfectwhole. In fact,we

may justlyask if such composers are capableof

conceivingBeethoven's immortal greatness. In

oppositionto this,it must be emphaticallyassertedthat Beethoven, after he had once deserted the

usual form, did not alwayscontinue to do so. He

in no wise wished his act to be interpretedas the

layingdown of a deliberate principle.The sonata.

Opus loi, which is like a free fantasia,is followed

by the monumental Opus io6,which in its four

giganticmovements is perfectlyrounded off as to

form; the sonatas in E-major and A-fiat major,even freer in their form, are followed by the last

one in C-minor, which, if one overlooks the omis-sion

of the customary quick-movingfinale,is so

[X3]

The Symphony since Beethoven

completein form that Biilow could justlypointitout as a model of its kind. The two quartets in

B-flat major and C-sharp minor stand between

the two in E-flat major and A-minor, which in

form do not deviate in the least from earlier quar-tets.At any rate, it is clear that Beethoven left

the accustomed form only when the arrangementof the entire work requiredit," as, for example,guidedby his inspiration,he introduced the choral

part, with Schiller'swords, into his ''Ninth Sym-phony,"" and that he in no wise treated the form

as -obsolete,althoughat times he steppedbeyondits bounds. Face to face with these examples we

can justlyconjecture,althoughwe can never know,whether Beethoven if he had lived would have

written another symphony in the old form. Wag-nerby his hypothesisof the last symphony seems

to consider it improbable. We can more easilyanswer the question,whether in the present daywhen we see a composer heap up an immense pileof abnormal instrumental and perhapsvocal music

in order to produce tone-picturessurpassingtheold form, if it here also was reallythe deliberate

intention and not perchance onlythe mass of aver-age

work which wore out the form, and if that mass

of average work did not correspondto the crea-tive

power which produced the compositions.If

so, no Phoenix will flyforth from the ashes of the

coolingdebris of form, but, on the contrary, a

thick,strange liquorwill ooze forth from the broken

vessel and fall heavilyto the ground. On the

other hand, in case of a trulysignificantwork, a

trulyinspiredwork which has withstood victori-

Beethoven

ouslythe duly assignedstrugglewith contempo-rary

shortsightedness,one will recognizein its

form and instrumentation,if they do not deviate

too greatlyfrom the customary, onlythe necessary

means for the embodiment of the composer'sin-spiration.

We will no longer measure such a

work by the old laws,but will seek to deduce new \

laws from it.

No musical form has developedfrom its origin

to its incontestable zenith within such a remark-ably

short time as the symphony. The song, for

example,althoughit found its first great master

earlyin this century, is stilldiscoveringthroughthe blendingof words and music, which have

each in their own way adaptedthemselves to the

melodious character of the song, new outlets for ]

itself,so that many a song written since Schubert's

death may fear nothing from a comparisonwith

those of this immortal singer.For the musical

drama, through Richard Wagner's reformatory

deed, innumerable ways now stand open which

depend onlyupon the choice and the poeticalelab-oration

of the subject.And now we must remem-ber

that Haydn- wrote his first symphony about

the year 1760, and that in 1823,onlysixty-three

years later,those harmless,playfullyjoyousere-^

ations had gloriouslydevelopedinto the grandestof tragedies,and Beethoven's '' Ninth Symphony "

had come into being. More than three-quartersof a century have passedbetween the appearanceof that wonderful creation and to-day,and still

in the realm of symphoniesit wears, undisputed,the crown. But as in all spheresof life we ob-

[^5]

The Symphony since Beethoven

serve that a temporary retrogression,often a com-plete

decline,follows the highestdevelopment,soI believe that Nature here,after she had producedHaydn, Mozart, and Beethoven,men of immortal

greatness, needed a period of comparative rest

after the overpoweringstrain. Productive powerhas turned towards the opera, the musical drama,and borne its ripestfruit thus far in Richard

Wagner. But who can therefore conclude that^' music is goingover into the collective arts,"and

consequentlythat the symphony, as well as music

in general,is losingits rightof existence as a sepa-rate

art ? All further developmentdependssolelyon the birth of the rulinggenius,which can neither

be foreseen nor predicted,and when it does come

will cast all calculations to the winds. And if we

cannot know w^ith what contents a future com-poser

will fillthe symphonicform, so is it equallywrong to lay the blame of the degenerationof

symphonic productionssince Beethoven to the

forms beingobsolete. Wagner himself seems to

take back, partiallyat least,what he pronouncedso harshlyin ''Opera and Drama," in that in his

treatise "Upon the Applicationof Music to the

Drama " (VolumeX. of his collected works) he ac-knowledges,

under certain conditions,the possi-bilityof a symphony being written about which

''somethingtoo might be said."

In order to reach a comprehensiveview of this

heretofore only suggestedpossibility,we will wish

to run through, here briefly,there more exten-sively,

the chief works which have been producedin the line of symphonies.

[i6]

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The Symphony since Beethoven

called to celebrate his deeds in a great tone-poem,and " as Athene once sprang from the head of

Zeus " the "Eroica Symphony" burst from the

soul of Beethoven. No other artist ever took such

a giganticstride as Beethoven did between his

second and third symphony. He feltin the depthof his great beingthat the ideal life,freed from

the dross of humanity,I might say the true lifeof

a hero,the fruits of his labors,and the full appre-ciationof his worth, comes only after his death.

So Beethoven shows us, only in the first move-ment,

the hero himself,in his wrestlingsand strug-gles,and in the full gloryof victory.As earlyas

the second movement, sounds forth the majesticlament for his death. In the third,that remark-ably

short scherzo,is givena pictureof the human

race, busy one day as another with itself,hurryingby all that is sublime with jestingor indifference,or at most commemorating the hero's deeds with

a resoundingfanfare. In the last movement the

peoplescome togetherfrom the ends of the earth,

bringingbuilding-stonesfor a worthy monument

to the now fullyrecognizedhero," a monument

which cannot be more beautiful than is the love

paid to his memory. This movement surpassesthe first two in its boldness of conceptionandin its polyphonicworking-out,and makes the so

greatlyadmired fugue-finalein Mozart's ''JupiterSymphony

"

seem like a child's toy. When at last

the veil fallsfrom the monument, when the strains

of the consecration music arise,and all eyes filled

w^ith tears look up at the image of the deified hero,then ringupon our ears the sounds that tell us

[x8]

Schubert

that with this symphony, music has learned to

speak a languagefor which it hitherto seemed to

possess no organ.How Beethoven strode further from one won-derful

work to another and finallycrowned all his

efforts with the ''Ninth Symphony," " who does

not lingergladlythere! But I will not speak to

you of Beethoven himself,but of those who came

after him. Perhaps I have alreadydivergedtoofar from my real theme; but, as in wanderingthrough the mountains, " to hold to the simile in

the beginningof this treatise," when we know

that the majesticsnow peak,upon which we have

gazed spellbound,will vanish at the next turn in

the path,it is a temptationto lingerthere and en-joy

itssplendorto the very last,so here I felt that

I must needs say a few words about one of Bee-thoven's

works before he fades from our horizon

to be visiblelater onlyin the far distance.

Turning now completelyaway from our gigan-ticpeak to the surroundingneighborhood,we find

many a pleasantrange of hills,and many a ro-mantic

cliff,that can fascinate and charm us to no

small degree. Such is the case also with the sym-phonieswritten since Beethoven, as far as it is a

questionof the customary symphonic form. We

will find in them beauty and worth, but to appre-ciatethem we must turn completelyaway from

Beethoven.

Close to Beethoven, rather his^ contemporarythan his successor, there appears a wonderful

musician, Franz Schubert. Probably no other

[^9]

^^

The Symphony since Beethoven

musician was ever giftedwith such a wealth of

pure melodic imagination,with such an abundance

of musical invention,combined with the deepestand tenderest sincerityof soul. If we find when-ever

we are allowed to look into the workshops of

Beethoven's mind, a powerfulwrestling,a working,conscious of its goal,for the final musical expres-sion

of his genius,so we see Schubert's fancies

springingand bubblingforth from an inexhaust-ible

fountain. The great number of his works in

comparisonwith the years of his life astounds us.

He died at thirty-one,but he has written much

more than the other masters. His entire beingwas saturated with music. He went on and on

composing,writingdown his fancies without sift-ing

or polishing.Thus he was of a lovable,se-rene

disposition,a thoroughlygenialViennese who

easilysurmounted embarrassments. The miser-able

condition of his poverty-strickenlifecould not

silence the godlikevoice in his soul. ^

^ I mav here relate an anecdote of Schubert which was told me

in the year 1886, by Franz Lachner of Munich, who was a friend of

Schubert in his early years. One fine day Lachner had asked Schu-bert

to make an excursion with him into the country. Schubert

wanted very much to go, but was unable, as he had not a cent in his

pocket. As Lachner was not much better off, the embarrassment

was all the greater. So Schubert gave Lachner a book of songs in

manuscript,asking him to take it to his publisher and to ask for the

fee on it. He said he did not dare go himself, for he had been refused

so often. The publishers (Lachner named Diabelli) proved very

much averse to taking "anything more by that Schubert," sayingthere was no call for his songs. At last,however, he consented, and

gave the magnificentsum of five florins for the manuscript. The two

friends went on their excursion, happy as kings; and findinga spinetin a country inn, Schubert at once played several songs to Lachner,

which had occurred to him on the wav. L^nfortunatelv, Lachner could

not remember exactlywhich they were, but he assured me there was one

of them which is now among the most celebrated of Schubert's songs.

Schubert

This fabulous productivityof Schubert's had of

course this disadvantage,that often insignificantand superficialmusic, which would not be worthyof preservation,came from his pen. Indeed, one

must count half his compositionsas such,but those

of his works that far exceed mediocrityplacehimfor all time in the ranks of the great masters.

I read recentlyin a work on one of the newer com-posers,

that this musician could not reallybe called

a geniusbecause he had not enriched music with

any new forms. How httle of a geniusSchubertmust then have been who, in truth,presenteduswith no new forms, but instead filled the old ones

with extremelyrich and individual contents!

Schubert was the lyricsinger,the Ko.r Hoxnv.

What he wrote, the most joyous as well as the

most tragic,seems to have been imbued alwayswith that gentle,melodious element that causes his

figureto appear, as itwere, throughtears of gentleemotion. A happy warmth floods his music.

Think of the great symphony in C-major. Schu-bert

himself probablynever heard it,and we must

realize with horror that it would have remained

unknown if Robert Schumann had not discovered

it in Vienna, not long after Schubert's death.

How grand it stands before us in its four gloriousmovements ! " the first swellingwith life and

strength,the second a gipsy romance with the

wonderful secret horn motive (theheavenlyguest,as Schumann so beautifullyexpressedit),the

splendidscherzo,and the finale filledwith gigantichumor. No worked-up harmonic effects,no poly-phonic

combinations,awaken our interest,and yet

The Symphony since Beethoven

this work, lastingin performance over an hour

without break, " which is quite unusual for a

symphony, " is able to fascinate us and carry us

along with it. It is quiteincomprehensibleto me

how, in the presence of such a direct expressionof

trulydivine power, there are always those peoplewho find this symphony too long and desire to

shorten it. I do not belong to this class,and con-fess

that whenever I hear this work well conducted,

or conduct it myself,I alwaysexperiencethe most

joyous sensations and become fairlyintoxicated

with the music. Free flyingabout through a

clear and shining ether might perhaps arouse

similar feelings.Nature has denied us this de-light,

but great works of art can giveit.

What shall I say concerningthe two movements

which have been preservedfor us in the B -minor

symphony ? Generallyspeaking,itis a misfortune

if an author is not able to completehis work, but I

might almost call it fortunate that this symphonyhas remained unfinished. The first movement is

of a tragicgreatness that,with the exceptionof

Beethoven, no symphony-writerand Schubert

himself only in some of his songs has attained.

I consider the second theme, given out by the

violoncellos,as one of the most majesticinspira-tions

that was ever permitteda musician to express.

That which thrilled us in the firstmovement as a

mental strife sounds forth in the second mild and

cleared up, as if the composer had alreadysoared

to the eternal realms. According to my opinion,this finale is so satisfyingthat I never have any

desire to hear a continuation of the work after the

Mendelssohn

firsttwo movements. We mightbeheve that Schu-bert,

Hke Beethoven in his piano sonatas, Opus109 and III, wished to close with the slower move-ment,

if we were not led to infer that a continua-tion

was planned,since the second movement is

written in a different key from the beginning.Intruth,there exists an instrumental introduction and

a sketch of a scherzo belongingto the B-minor

symphony which,if one may judgefrom what ex-ists

of it,would not have reached the significanceof the firstmovements. In greatnessand strengthof feelingcombined with the tender lyricalele-ment

that runs like a scarlet thread throughhis

works, Schubert appears like a noble and, as it

were, womanly complement to Beethoven. His

two symphoniesin which his significantpersonal-ityfullyexpresseditself,as well as the stringquar-tetsin D-minor and G-major,and the C-major

quintet,stand in the above sense worthilybesideBeethoven's creations.

The second great contemporary of Beethoven,the composer of ''Der Freischiitz," has producedremarkable w^orks in the field of the piano sonata,but not in that of the symphony. Thus wt turn

from Schubert to the real symphony-writerssince

Beethoven, and firstof all to the clever and ele-gant

Felix Alendelssohn. It may be said of him

that he givesthe lie to the German proverb,'Nomaster fallsfrom heaven." He who at the age of

seventeen, when most of us are merely steppingout of childhood,composed the ".Overture to the

Midsummer Night'sDream," is indeed a master

fallen from heaven. When we think of the elves

[=3]

The Symphony since Beethoven

which Weber showed us in "Oberon," we must

agree with Wagner, who, in reference to the ''Mid-summer

Night'sDream Overture," said that those

were not elves but midgets. But the formal per-fectionand conscious certaintyof invention and

workmanship which the composer showed in this

overture, as well as in the string-octetwritten even

earlier," which is a perfectmasterpiece in the

melodious treatment of stringinstruments," elicit

our astonished admiration,and have been attained

at such an earlyage only by Mozart. ]\lendels-

sohn, after he had written this piece,had noth-ing

more to learn about form. What he would

have had to possess to create works equal to those

of his predecessors,he could not acquire. For

Mendelssohn's peculiargenius demanded that it

should have been born in him, and it was not. An

aristocratic and yet lovable nature, full of poetryand of intellectuality,speaks to us from his music

and letters. Deep passionand subjectivityhe did

not possess. Not until four years before his death,that is seventeen years after he composed the over-ture,

did he write the rest of the music to the

"Midsummer Night's Dream." Almost all of

Mendelssohn's works were composed between these

two dates,and yet it seems to have been written

without a break, so littledifference is to be distin-guished

in the compositions.In contrast, compare

the works of the other great masters between the

writingof which a great lengthof time elapsed.Compare ''The Flying Dutchman" with "Tris-tan;"

Beethoven's firstsymphony with his seventh;Mozart's "Idomeneo" with "The Magic Flute."

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The Symphony since Beethoven

stand especiallythe abilityto express perfectlyand continuouslyone's own individualityin some

particularart,to which power belongs,as a very

vital addition,pure technical skill,but this can

and will be attained if the first-mentioned abilityis there. Lying at the bottom of mastery, and ex-pressing

itselfeffectivelyin every importantwork

of art,is a truthfulness which does not attempt to

givemore than it can. This sincerityMendels-sohn

possessedin a high degree;therefore,evenif we do not look upon him as one of the great

men, we must stillconsider him as a very giftedand skilful musician. Hence his compositions,al-though

they lack strong passion,possess a sym-pathetic

perfectionwhich quiteobliterates in the

consideration of his artistic personalitythe ques-tion

of how it w^as done, and leaves onlyto be con-sidered

what it reallyis. His immediate follow-ers

cannot claim a similar mastery of form.

With Mendelssohn began a new epoch in music,

generallyknown as the new-classical. Its repre-sentatives

remain true to the traditions.

in form of

the old masters, but bringinto music a sentimental,

mysticalvagueness that,contrary to the naive, ob-jective

method of their predecessors,calls for a

subjectiveexplanation.Knightlylegendsand the

fairytales of the Middle Ages springagain into

life;the w^orld of elves and spiritsdraws over the

classical ideal of beauty a sort of ghostlikemist.

The periodof ''Hineingeheimnis^en"(hidingse-crets

in a work) sets in. Analogous with an al-most

contemporaneous periodin German poetry,this new-classical epoch has been called the ro-

[26]

Schumann

mantic epoch. Mendelssohn has alwaysbeen the

perfectexamplein his littlesphere. He has al-ways

been the objectiveartist. Before all other

musicians,in relation to the old masters, he de-serves

the predicate''new-classical."The first and the most peculiarlysubjectiveof

the romanticists,if we turn now from the objective,classical romanticist Weber, is Robert Schumann.

His individualitywas diametricallyopposed to

Mendelssohn. Highlygiftedas Mendelssohn was

in mastery of form, was Schumann in inspiration.The former was a perfectartist,even in his early

years; the latter pressedimpetuouslyforward,ceaselesslystrugglingfor somethingnew and more

perfectthan his last endeavor, until gloomy fate

fettered the power of his spirit.In the firstperiodof his works w^e meet Schumann onlyas a piano-forte

composer. Poetical picturesgiverise to his

compositions:he intwines the name of his youth-fullove in a theme and writes variations on it; the

motleyscenes of the carnival givehim the inspira-tionfor one of the most spiritedpianofortepieces

that we possess; Hoffmann's imaginativetales

cause him to write " Kreisleriane " and the signifi-cantsonata in F-sharp minor; he represents"the

two souls that dwell within his breast" by two per-sonalities,

"Florestan" and "Eusebius," and as-cribes

his works now to the one, now to the other.

Violentlyabused by the criticsand musicians who

belongedto a guild,he formed, with friends shar-ing

his opinions,the " Davidsbiindler league,"and dances roughlyabout on the toes of the Phil-istines.

I may as well say at once that Schumann

[^7]

The Symphony since Beethoven

achieved his greatestsignificanceas a pianoforte

composer, as the poet of the pianoforte,one mightalmost say. Here he possessedthe sincerityof

the great masters; here he is justwhat he is,v^ith

no pretence of being more. New, daringconcep-tions

speak to us from these works, and we meet,

even to-day,the offeringsof his rich imaginationwith unabated dehght. His treatment of the

pianoforteis also originaland thoroughlyadaptedto the nature of the instrument as well as to the

musical thought,while, on the other hand, his

management of the orchestra leaves,as we shall

see later,almost everythingto be desired.

At the age of thirty-onehe firstturns his atten-tion

to the greater forms of music, among others

to the symphony. Mendelssohn's brilliant figure

moving with playfulease through all the domains

of music was the shiningideal in Schumann's

earlylife and works, " much to the latter's dis-advantage.

In the attempt to imitate Mendels-sohn,

to attain the same finish," in the endeavor,

as I might say, to be classical," his own origi-nalitysuffered severelywithout his beingable to

reach his model. Throughout his lifethe spiritof

romance and fantasy forced its way into his

works, but no longeras it did in his youth. A

strange and to a certain extent ingraftedelement," that very Mendelssohnian polishwhich he

struggledin vain to acquire," robs his later

works of that spontaneitywhich charmed us so in

his firstcompositions.His talent,which bore in

smaller forms such preciousfruit,became, without

growing richer,pulledin this way and that into

[.8]

Schu mann

greaterdimensions,and therefore thinner and more

thread-Hke; he was requiredto yieldmore than

he possessed.His productivityand versatiHtywere nevertheless astonishinglygreat, even in the

second periodof his creative work, for there is

hardlya musical form which he did not attempt.Since he, apparentlyin consequence of his beinga free-thinker,was averse to writingoratorios with

biblical text,he accordinglychose secular poems,

even fragments from Goethe's ''

Faust," for his

compositionswhich are sort of half-waybetween

operas and oratorios. Besides numerous songs,

many of which are among our very best,Schumann

wrote concertos,chamber music of all kinds,melo-dramas,

one opera, and, as is to be expectedfromsuch a versatile artist,also symphonies. I sup-pose

many of you will now look upon me as a

heretic when I openlyacknowledgethat I count

Schumann's symphoniesas in no wise among his

most importantworks.In his pianofortepiecesthe invention of little,

but very expressive,themes, which he knew how

to vary and use in an ingeniousmanner, is verycharacteristic. In his great symphonies he does

not succeed with these themes and themelets,how-ever

warm and beautiful the feelingmay have

been from which they sprang. If you examine

his orchestral piecesclosely,you will find that he

was often forced to repeat singlebars or groupsof bars in order to spinout the thread further,be-cause

the theme in itselfis too small for such con-tinuation.

Sometimes even the theme itself is

formed through the repetitionof this and that

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The Symphony since Beethoven

phrase. On account of these copioustonic and

consequentlyrhythmicalrepetitions,his greater

piecesfor the orchestra become naturallymonoto-nous.

One can retaliate that the theme of the

firstmovement of Beethoven's C-minor symphonyis much smaller than Schumann's themes. Here

is the real difference between the two: in Bee-thoven's

work, after the firstentrance of the theme,

consistingof four notes, a simplemelody, which

makes use of the originaltheme onlyfor rhythmicalframework and not reallyfor its own spinning

out, arises over the pause of the firstviolins and

the repetitionof the theme in A-flat " F, and

evolves from itselfup to the second subject(en-tranceof the horns in E-flat major). But in

Schumann's works the melodious flow of the com-position

is preservedonly by the repetitionof

themes as such, and the takingrefugein phraseswhich do not grow out of the subject.This weak-ness

of Schumann's is most apparent in the first

movements, and in the finales,of his symphonies,which " with the exceptionof the finale of the

B-flat major symphony, which is gracefulin its

principaltheme, but not impcn*tant" are conven-tional

and noisy. Involuntarilywe ask ourselves

why we must alwaysrejoiceat the end of this sym-phony,

while in Beethoven's works in a similar case

the thouojhtnever arises? The reason is because

in the latter'sworks the rejoicingfollows with psy-chological

necessityfrom the conqueredgrief,as in

the C-minor or the ninth,or is alreadycontainedin the elementaryground voice of the entire work,as in the seventh symphony. In placeof the great,

[30]

Schu mann

broad adagioof the Beethoven symphony appear

in Schumann's pleasing,melodious, lyricalinter-mezzi,

which are much better suited to the piano-fortethan to the orchestra. In the main, a Schu-mann

symphony is more effective played as a

pianoforteduet than in a concert hall. The reason

lies in a circumstance which the most uncondi-tional

admirers of Schumann can scarcelyavoid

recognizing," namely,he did not know how to

handle the orchestra,either as director or com-poser.

He worked almost always with the full

material,but did not take the pains to elaborate

the parts accordingto the character of the sepa-rate

instruments. With almost childlike stupidityhe expected to obtain fulness and strengthbydoublingthe instruments. Therefore, the instru-mentation

is heavy and inflexible,the color gray

againstgray, the most importantthemes, if playedaccording to his directions,sometimes cannot be

heard, and a true forteis about as impossibleas a

true piano. Whenever I see the playersworkingwith all their might,and compare, as a conductor,the labor of the rehearsals and the performancewith the final effect,there comes over me a feelingsimilar to that I have towards a person in whom

I expectedto find mutual friendshipand was dis-appointed.

No sign of life gleams in this apa-thetic

orchestra,which, if given even a simpleMen-

delssohnian pieceto play,seems quitetransformed.Schumann's symphonies are composed for the

pianoforte,and arranged" unhappily,not well at

that " for the orchestra. To be sure, in these

works there are flashes of genius,beautifullydeep

The Symphony since Beethoven

and moving passages that recall the earliest periodof the composer'swork, as for examplethe intro-duction

to theB-flat major symphony,which prom-ises

great power. The middle movements up to

the first trio of the scherzo,which is quitemean-ingless

and makes Schumann's weakness most

frightfullyapparent, are more importantthan the

first. In my opinion,the adagioespressivoof the

C-major symphony, with the ideal ascendingand

descendingfigurefor the violins,is the best move-ment

in all of his four symphonies.Schumann, as an orchestral composer, appears

quitedifferent when he conceives some poeticalin-spiration

that is congenialto him, as for instance

Byron's "Manfred." Then he loses his desire to

be classical;he dares to be what he is,the imagi-nativeromanticist leaningtowards the supernat-ural

and the mysterious.In this mood, wdiich

was closelyakin to his nature, he succeeded in

writinga pieceof music that can with all justicebe called classical. That wonderfullyplannedand unusuallyloftyoverture to "Manfred," in

which piecehe was also more fortunate in his or-chestration,

is his only pieceof orchestral music

which can be compared with that he wrote for the

- pianoforte.From the rest of the " Manfred " score',

we can see that,under certain circumstances,even

an artisticabsurdity,hke the melodrama, may be

of overwhelming effect if a great spiritwanderswithin its precinct.I am thinkinghere above all

of "The Conjurationof Astarte." This scene, if

well performedby actor and orchestra,leaves in

its overpoweringeffect no wish unsatisfied,least

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The Symphony since Beethoven

whose gloryhe should have participated,turnedfrom him first indifferentlyand then hostilely.Those who love Schumann should try to erase

from their memories his small grumblings over

'' Tannhauser." He turned from Wagner to herald

a young musician,justcoming into publicnotice

through his pianofortesonatas, with the spiritedcry that here was the future Messiah of music.

This young musician was Johannes Brahms.

The destinyof this artist was prefiguredinSchumann's prophecy. He was to be held up as

a counterweightby the enemies of the bold opera

reformer,he was to be the advocate of so-called

''absolute" music in oppositionto poeticalmusic,

programme music, and the music of the future.

In truth,Brahms owed, I do not say his signifi-cance,but a great deal of his reputation,which

came to him very early,in comparison with other

composers, to the unceasingefforts of a band of

antagoniststo the Bayreuth master who lost no

opportunityof playingBrahms off againstWag-ner.There was no sense in this sort of rivalry,

for,in the firstplace,in spiteof Wagner's detailed

treatise on the subject,the dift'erence between ab-solute

music which is ascribed to the symphony-writer in oppositionto the composer of dramas,and other music, is not of such weighty impor-tance

as it isgenerallybelieved to-dayto be. Mu-sic

that one can call "absolute,"in a certain sense,

that is,music which is fabricated without any in-stigation,

formal conglomerationsof notes and tri-fling

with phrases,flows often from the pen of a

Philistine to art,but is not worthyof consideration

[34]

Brah ms

on account of its tediousness ; and itis therefore a

matter of indifference whether a work in question

coquetteswith the new-classical school,the mod-ern,

or both. All other kinds of music,even with-out

song or programme, betraythe spiritualin-fluence

of the composer. In this sense none of

our great masters were absolute musicians,"

Beethoven least of all. Then there is somethingelse that is much too often overlooked by those

who use the power of position,or of influence,orof the pen, in order to be able,throughthe degra-dation,

slander,or belittlement of one figure,toraise another one better suited for their purposes

upon the shoulders of the party runners " yes, is

too often overlooked by those who out of blind

fanaticism,or from other reasons than the real

esteem of what is offered them, are friends or foes

of those who wish to mould public recogni-tionaccording to their opinion: " namely, the

slow but surelyconqueringstrengthof the truth. ^

Manufactured, ungenuine success is like a rush-ing

whirlpoolcaused by a heavy rain. It rushes

suddenly over the spot where usuallyno water

flows,bearingwith it all that comes in its way.After a short time no trace of it is to be seen.

True, genuine success is like the springhiddendeep in the earth. First it flows for a longwhileunnoticed,a thin thread of water, then becomes

a brook, then a river,then a flood,and finds its

last outlet in the sea of eternity.One may try to

^ I do not direct these remarks, and the following,againstBrahmshimself. One had only to know the plain,straightforwardartist,tobe certain that he held himself quitealoof from intrigueand flattery.

[35]

The Symphony since Beethoven

uproot the springor dam itup, but italwaysgushesforth anew.

Fortunately,it is an established fact to-daythatthe zeal of the "Brahmsians" could not take one

tittlefrom Wagner's greatness,and it underlies all

doubt that Brahms also,in spiteof the all too

zealous attacks directed toward him by certain re-venging

Wagnerians,will receive his befittingplacein the historyof music. Time is the severest

judge. She devours what belongsto her. Onlywhat stands above her she cannot touch. Justhow far Brahms belongsto the immortals we to-day

cannot with any certaintydecide. Unques-tionably

many who are not his blind worshipperswould feel more sympathy for him if it were not

for two reasons: first,the above-mentioned fact

of his being playedoff successfullyas a counter-weight

to Wagner's greatness," which is no longerdone to-day; second, the linkingof the three" B's,"" Bach, Beethoven,and Brahms. This last

was a witticism of Billow's which, though it origi-natedfor a personalmotive,has found perhapsall

the more favor on that account ; for," let me

speak it out now again after so many others have

done so, " Billow never would have made it for

Brahms' s propagandabut for his breach with W^ag-

ner, so painfulto himself and so lamentable for

all future encouragement to art. In this instance

a great,and, in the depth of his soul,a noble man

fellinto the error, so often committed by small and

malicious natures, of making sport of one artist's

fame in order to stiflethe fame of another. If

one reads Billow's letters,and compares them with

[36]

Brahms

what he said and effected in the latter years of his

hfe, it is impossiblenot to lament that such a

character and spiritas his stood off from Wagner'swork, and hence from the new developmentofmusic in general,justat the time when he was

especiallyneeded there. If,in the case of other

great artists,the strugglewith which theywere

forced to piercetheir way throughthe misunder-standing

and stupidityof their contemporaries,causes a holylightto enshroud their figures,onewill remember unwillinglyin the case of Brahms

" be itgrantedthat he took no active part in this

game " that he was on the one side supportedby a party, and on the other by a famous con-ductor,

whose slightestwhims brought about a

thousand adherents,and that both of these en-deavored

to raise him up in oppositionto an artist

far greater than he. In the followingI will tryto picturethe impressionwhich his compositionsalone have made upon me.^

When Brahms presentedhis first symphony,there went forth the cry from the camp of his

friends, ''This is the tenth symphony." Of

course Beethoven's tenth was meant by that. Al-lowing

for all exaggeration,there stillremains for

me in Brahms's C-minor symphony a masterly

^ I expresslywish to state that I am no longer fullyagreed with

the followingcriticism of Brahms. The weaker works which could

be affected by it are by far in the minority. I look up to most of

the others in love and admiration. If I now, in spiteof this fact,leave the followingremarks for the present unchanged, so I consider

It only honorable openly and franklyto confess my error. " F. W.

Translator's Note. " This note does not appear in either

the German edition of 1898 or 1901. It was sent me by the author

with the request that it be inserted in my translation. " M. B. D.

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The Symphony since Beethoven

worked-out pieceof music of inflexible,austere

character,which correspondsmuch more with my

idea of a symphony than Schumann's and also is

much more skilfullyorchestrated. I esteem chieflythe adagio,and above all the beautiful,slow intro-duction

to the last movement; the horn, that after

the gloomy minor sounds throughthe tremolo of

the stringsin C-major bringsout a very intense

eftect,justlike the sun gleaming throughthe ris-ing

morning mist. Brahms drew back from the

often vague romanticism of Schumann, and soughtto approachthe energeticand plasticmode of ut-terance

of the old masters; above all,of Beethoven.

He succeeds in attaininga certain resemblance in

the firstand last movements of his C-major sym-phony,

a resemblance similar at any rate to that

which a concave mirror givesof our face. The

second symphony in D-major I placehigh above

the first. In none of his other works does Brahms's

springof invention flow so freshlyand spontane-ously

as in this one; never before or afterwards

did he handle the orchestra so sonorously. The

first movement is,from its beginningto its end,

a masterpiece.The second,a slower movement,

can be satisfactorilycomprehendedonlyafter fre-quent

hearing. It is difficultfor it to disclose

itselfto the musical mind, but itdoes itthoroughlyin the end. If I may be allowed the comparison,I should like to suggest a Dutch landscapeat sun-set.

The eye at first sees nothing but the skyover the wide, wide plain;heedlesslyand almost

wearilyit lets the glancepass over it. Graduallya feelingarises,quietly,from afar,and speaksto

[38]

Brahms

us. The intermezzo, in the form of a minuet, is

a gracefultriflealmost too insignificantfor the

other three movements. The finale givesa pow-erfulclose to this work, which I esteem above all

four of Schumann's symphonies," in fact even

count among the best symphonieswhich have been

written since Beethoven in the new-classical school.

As in the case of Schumann, I consider Brahms's

last two symphoniesinferior to his firstones. In

these works reappears, accordingto my opinion,asubtle element,arisingmore from reflection than-

from real artistic feeling,which is peculiartoBrahms, and from which he could never quitefreehimself. I would like to speak more in detail of

this. I will remark righthere that I prizecertainother works of Brahms in the same degreeas the

second symphony," as, for instance,the " German

Requiem," several songs, the ''Songof Destiny,"and portionsof his chamber music," but I must

add that these works are free,at least more than

the others,from that ponderingelement which

clingsto Brahms's creations and which soon be-came

a mannerism with him. By this specialman-nerism

of Brahms, I understand certain means

which occur again and again in the construction

of his compositions.A favorite device with

Brahms is syncopation: that is,displacingthe bass

againstthe rhythmof the upper parts,or vice versa, ,

so that the one hobbles,as it were,- after the other. ^^This syncopationis a peculiarthing. Think of a v-

simplemelody,consistingof crotchets,with a har-monic

accompaniment,and then let the bass notes

not come exactlywith the correspondingnotes of

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The Symphony since Beethoven

the melody, but always a quaver behind; then

the whole will assume a very strange and learned

aspect, without gainingin intrinsic value. It is

justas if some one were to make a most solemn

face to say the most simple thing in the world.

^ '^Furthermore,Brahms loved to combine a rhythm--^ of two beats with one of three beats,thus pro-

m*^ ducing a form which, if used on a long stretch or

' often,causes a feelingof disagreeablevacillation.Another of his mannerisms is to let the upper voice,

""^^ or oftener the middle parts or the bass,be dccom-

^ panied by thirds,or stilloftener by sixths,and^^ then again to mix up the parts with artificialsyn-^^ copation.Entire sections of his works are built

^^ ^

up in this way. There are certain tone-combina-

c^*^ tions,and indeed actual themes, made from the

fifth of the common chord,togetherwith the third

above," alwaysavoidingthe keynote," which we

come across so frequentlythat a clever causeur

recentlypointedout the phrase

"-

as the "Brahms leit-motif." If you look for these

mannerisms in Brahms' s various kinds of compo-sitions,

you will find my statements confirmed,even

though many of you will not agree with my de-ductions.

Indeed, I believe that the complicatedcharacter of the harmony, rhythm, and melody,(which,by the way, is called by his partisans'

' depthof meaning") resultingfrom these mannerisms, "

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The Symphony since Beethoven

nations of unequal rhythms,and by those curious

additions of thirds and sixths,and then here and

there comes in that artificial simplicity,one re-ceives

the impressionthat the composer wished to

stop the flightof his own genius,and, fearingthe

betrayalof his innermost feelings,preferredtoclothe himself in silence and rather let the listener

divine what he wanted to say, than actuallysay it.

It is a bad sign when a composer can be con-victed

of a mannerism. Who could do this with

the great masters? How similar Haydn's com-positions

are, and yet how different;what a gulfliesbetween ''The Marriage of Figaro" and "The

Magic Flute!" Who could speak seriouslyof a

Beethoven or a Wagner mannerism? Let any

one who does not believe this,attempt to parodythe great masters; that is,to present to us in an

exaggeratedway whatever their mannerism is sup-posed

to be. He would either not succeed,or else

only very clumsily,as do those who, for example,work Wagner themes into quadrillesor marches

" which is blasphemy,but not parody. But it is

very easy to write a parody on Brahms, and it has

alreadybeen done very brilliantlyby Moritz Mosz-

kowsky. The same may be said of actual imita-tion.

When we hear modern chamber music,written in Brahms's style,oftentimes,if we did not

know the composer's name, we would accept it

in good faith for a pieceby Brahms himself ; while

I believe that no one hearing under similar cir-cumstances

a pieceout of an opera of one of our

*'New German" composers would confuse it with

one of Was^ner's."o'

Brahms

I have not contented myselfafter the custom of

many Wagnerians,to stop my ears and sneer, in

imitation of respectiveplacesin Wagner's col-lected

works, whenever I am confronted by the

artisticpersonalityof Brahms. I have gone over

and studied deeplythe greaterpart of his works.

When I dissected this kind of music my intellect

alwaysgrew. I admired the work and the con-struction,

and found therein the same joy that a

physicianperhaps feels when he lays bare the

muscles of a beautifullydevelopeddead body.If I let itwork upon me as a whole, I experience,except by the works alreadymentioned, that sick-ening

faintness that must come over the same phy-sicianwhen he dares to w^ish to bringto lifeagain

the corpse which he has but justdissected.Brahms is always a master of form. His works

appear^ in faultless technical perfection.But

warm, pulsatinglife I have discovered only in a

few of them, but these are, indeed,the more valu-able

because in them beautiful thoughtsare united

with perfectform, and one feels at once that it was

permittedthe author to pour forth in a happyhour a free utterance of his individual nature.

What was it that hindered him so often from ex-pressing

himself in this way? This seems to me

to be the answer : he beheved himself to be what

Schumann had prophesiedand what his later parti-sansconstantlyclaimed him to be, " ''the Mes-siah

of absolute music," the ''successor of Bee-thoven."

Incidentally,while speakingof his first

symphony, I have alreadypointedto an exterior

resemblance to Beethoven. We see also many a

[43]

The Symphony since Beethoven

time how he strove, without falhnginto reminis-cence,

to imitate the pecuHaritiesof styleof the

last periodof the master's works, those bold,se-

^^verelyharmonic transitions,those manifold rhyth-V^ifnc combinations (which became in the case of

Brahms his typicalsyncopation),and those often

apparentlyscattered melodious steps. But it was

never permittedhim to attain to Beethoven's pro-foundness,

which the artist must possess within his

own nature. Brahms could onlyassume the mask.

Thus in his works, in spiteof the outward simi-larity,

we find only abstract idea,while in Bee-thoven's

is revealed the real essence of music.

Brahms's music as a whole " if I may be allowed

the expression" is scientific music, a playingwith tone forms and phrases,but not that most

expressiveand comprehensibleworld-languagewhich our great masters could and had to speak,that languagewhich arouses us and strikes to our

very souls,because we recognizein it our own

selves with our own joysand our own sorrows,

our own strugglesand our own victories. Their

music is artistic. Brahms's is artificial. It is not

akin to Beethoven's,but lies at the oppositepole," isjustwhat Beethoven's music is not. Its char-acter

is,therefore,reallymore abstract,repellingthose who would approach,and stimulatingthe in-tellect

more than the feelings.It is a character-istic

experienceof mine that those works of Brahms

which attract my attention as beinghis most re-markable

productionsare by no means considered

as the best by strong ''Brahmsians." They pointout among others the ''Triumph-lied,"the fourth

[44l

Bruckner

sympKony,the clarinet quintet,which are to my

mind bare tone-scaffolding.And justthis cool

styleof composing,oftentimes showing a marked

tendencyfor a feelingno longerfree,but reflective

and mannered, as well as the fact that Brahms

went out of his way to avoid any purelysensuous -

charm of sound, either in melody or instrumen-tation,

that gave him the reputationof having

escaped the erroneous ways of the modern com-posers.

He is probablythe last great artist who will

deserve this reputation.New thoughtsabout mu-sic

have come from another side,new inventions

have broken paths through for themselves,new

composers have taken up the strugglewith the

guardiansof the classic ideals of form. We may

say to-daythat these last were in the end the vic-tors.

Before we turn our attention to the so-

called "modern school,"I must mention several

isolated artists who were certainlyinfluenced bythat school but who did not belongto it,and stand,

therefore,as connecting-linksbetween the two

schools.

During the last ten years many a time there has

been mentioned the name of a powerfulrival in

connection with Brahms, " a rival who arose in

Brahms's second home-city,Vienna, which seems

destined to be the cityof symphony-writers.An-ton

Bruckner, althoughhe was much older than

Brahms, came into publicrecognitionmuch later.

His reputationwas by no means general,but rather

confined itself to a specialparty. What attracts

us in this composer is his wealth of invention,the

[45]

The Symphony since Beethoven

pregnancy of his themes,and the astonishinglong-windedness of his melodies. He was a richlytalented musician. One would almost be temptedto compare him to his great compatriotSchubertin this respectif he had onlyproduced some work

which kept on a uniform level of excellence so as

to be trulycalled a masterpiece. This is not the

case, for,unfortunately,his abilityto utilize his in-spirations,

to bind them one to another,and so

build up the compositionorganically,did not keeppace with his inventive powers. I cannot share

the opinionof his pupilsand admirers,that he was

a greatmaster of counterpoint.He may have been

so as a teacher;but in his compositionsthe purelytechnical part is often aw^kward,the polyphonictexture of the parts often doubtful and lackinginclearness,and the organicstructure alwaysinter-broken. His wonderful themes are more like

pearlsstrung on a stringthan organicallyconnected.This is why Bruckner's power usuallydeserts him

in the finales of his symphonies, which should

contain the climax,and causes the last movement

to be inferior to the others,which is not favorable

to his success. This also explainsthe breakingdown, fragmentarymanner of his compositions,"a manner which does not admit of pure enjoy-ment.

One is almost inclined to wish that he had

had fewer inspirations,but that the structure of his

creations had been more logical,uniform,and car-ried

out with a more definite aim in view. Often

the noblest thoughtsflutteraway into an ineffective

nothingnessbecause they come into beingbut are

not worked out. This is the more irritatingsince

[46]

Bruckner

his themes resemble Wagner's dramaticallysym-bolic

motives. Could they but have been worked

out psychologicallyby a masterlyhand, Bruckner

would have stood before us a shininglightand

led us on to make comparisons. Bruckner also

lapsesinto mannerisms. Endings over an oft re-peated

bass passage, " in imitation of the close

of the firstmovement of the " Ninth Symphony," "

certain peculiarlyempty-soundingpassages (hisadmirers call them passages soaringfar from the

world)in his slower movements, thematic figures,w^ith a simultaneous sounding of these same fig-ures

in the counter-movement as if they had worn

themselves out playing,and, finally,those unbear-able

generalpauses and breathingpauses which

for the most part givethe impressionthat he has

lost his w^ay, are mannerisms found in all of his

works with which I am acquainted.What elicitsour sympathy for Bruckner both as

man and artist,and also what had a great deal to

do with his future reputation,was his largeideal-ism,

a characteristic altogethertoo rare in our

day. Think of this schoolmaster and organist,risen from the poorest surroundingsand totally

lackingin education,but steadfastlycomposingsymphonies of dimensions hitherto unheard of,crowded with difiicultiesand solecisms of allkinds,which were the horrors of conductors,performers,listeners,and critics,because theyinterfered sadlywith their comfort. Think of him thus goingun-swervingly

alonghis way toward the goalhe had

set himself,in the most absolute certaintyof not

beingnoticed,and of attainingnothingbut failure

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The Symphony since Beethoven

" and then compare him with our fashionable

composers, borne on by dailysuccess and adver-tisement,

who puzzleout their trifleswith the ut-most

raffinerie; and then bow in homage to this

man, great and patheticin his naivete and his

honesty. I confess that scarcelyanythingin the

new symphonic music can weave itselfabout me

with such wonderful magic as can a singlethemeor a few measures from Bruckner. I am think-ing,

for example,of the beginningof the " Romantic

Symphony." To be sure, this magic diminishes in

the course of the work, and vanishes more and

more as one studies the piece,for greatand beauti-ful

sentiments continue to satisfyus only when

theyare presentedin artisticallyperfectform. In

the strife between the Brahms and Bruckner fac-tions

in Vienna I was once asked my opinionofthe two men. I repliedthat I wished that nature

had givenus one master in whom the character-istics

of both composers were united," the mon-strous

imaginationof Bruckner with the eminent

possibilitiesof Brahms. That would have givenonce more a great artist.

Here honorable mention must also be made of

an artist quiteworthy of celebration,who was re-lated

to Bruckner in his high idealism,and who,

accordingto my opinion,stands higheras a writer

of one-act operas than as a dramatic or symphonic

composer. I refer to Alexander Ritter,the friend

and nephew of Wagner.Of other German composers I mention next the

most prolificwriter,Joachim Raff,whose principalworks are his poeticsymphony "Im Walde" and

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The Symphony since Beethoven

composer, Alexander Borodin, is of a genuinena-tional

character,a masterpieceof its kind,and the

most significantwork of the new Russian school

that I know. This pieceis so pregnant and char-acteristic

that I alwaysfeel as if one merely from

hearing this music must get a pictureof Russia

and her people,even if one had never visited that

land. As far as regardspublicrecognition,the

French composers, Cesar Frank and Camille

Saint-Saens,have fared much better. The former

has created in his D-minor symphony a signifi-cantwork; the latter has acquittedhimself hap-pily

and successfullyin the line of symphoniesand

symphonic poems. At a somewhat earlier date

Vincent d'Indy,who was influenced by modern

German art,producedsome noteworthythingsin

France. The compositionsof the young Russian,Alexander Glazonnow, offer much that is interest-ing.

A talented maiden-attemptin the symphonyhas come from the hand of Joseph Suk. Carl

Goldmark's "Landliche Hochzeit " (a country

wedding) has found considerable circulation.

Those are not peasants that we see in this com-position,

but spoilttownfolk who have conceived

the idea of celebratingthe wedding of a bridal

pairof their acquaintancein the country. Often

we perceivethe perfume of the drawing-room in

those sounds which are supposedto be pastoral.Aside from this,Goldmark's work is a brilliant,

interestingpieceof music,worthy of performanceand of universal applause.Let me also notice A.

Rubinstein's honest endeavor to awaken the classic

symphony to new life. Only once, however,in some

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Tschaikowsky

of the movements of his " Ocean Symphony,"has he succeeded in risingabove the dull string-ing

togetherof musical phrases. With immense

success the Peter Tschaikowsky's "SymphonicPathetique"has made its way throughthe con-cert

halls of Germany duringthe last four years,

callingattention also to the earlier works of this

composer. It resembles an effective drama, rich

in excitingand fascinatingsituations,and its effect

upon the publicnever fails. It is said that Tschai-kowsky

himself feared that it never would be con-sidered

as a symphony. It is true that it departsfrom the usual form, both in the arrangementand the construction of the separate movements.

In the firstmovement the form may be traced,butthe construction is free. The middle movements

are quiteconcise,w^hile the last is free again.Moreover, this comes from the adagio,which,as a

rule,stands in the middle of a symphony; but the

fundamental idea demanded a close which should

lose itselfin gloomy darkness. It is said that the

forebodingof death guided the composer'spen as

he wrote this work; he therefore departedfrom

the usual form for the sake of a poeticalidea.It may serve for a definite purpose in the sec-ond

part of this book to turn our attention to a

consideration of the so-called modern school,andwriters of programme music.

" """""""

About the time of Beethoven's death there

arose among our Western neighborsin France a

remarkable artist,whose greatness and far-spread-ingsignificancein music have been recognizedonly

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for a comparativelyshort time," namely,HectorBerlioz. The most remarkable of his earlypieces,the ''Symphonic Fantastique"(Opus 14a),is so

originalthat we are not surprised,consideringthe

common tendencyarisingeverywhereto denounce

the new, rather than prove its worth by careful

investigation,that such a work was looked upon

as a monstrosityby such eminent men as Cheru-

bini,and was absolutelyincomprehensibleto the

generalpublic,upon whom it rather made the im-pression

of a violent fright.Berlioz,during his

lifetime,obtained much the same effect with his

later works, although Liszt's untiringefforts at

lengthwon some consideration for them in Ger-many.

It was not until long after his death,

throughrepeatedand excellent performances,first

by Billow and later by others,that the high worth

of his compositionsbecame felt and understood,in spiteof the many external peculiarities.At last

the sweet kernel has been found within the roughshell.

If we ask ourselves,with Berlioz's intimate

friends,how it was possiblefor such inspiredworks, which are now so universallyadmired, to

have been looked upon for decades as the pro-ductionsof a half-diseased mind, we find three

possibleexplanations.At firstacquaintanceBer-lioz's

musical invention appears reserved and un-approachable.

None of his melodious phrasesbear a character like,e.g., the celebrated clarinet

melody in the "Freischiitz Overture," or like

Schubert's themes which irresistiblybewitch the

ear and heart of the listener. We imagine at first

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Berlioz

that we find a coolness and even a harshness in

those very strains which are seeking to express

passionand consuming fire. Berlioz's music re-minds

one of those rare human physiognomieswhich appear unsympatheticuntil,after closer ob-servation,

we discern the mental storms and strug-gles

of which those angularfeatures,those deep,scarred furrows,and those sad, weird eyes give

testimony. Any one who has studied a good pic-tureof Berlioz will understand my meaning. An-other

reason why he remained for so long a time

misunderstood is his abnormal and grotesque bold-ness

in instrumentation. Not onlydoes he bringinto play a largernumber of orchestral means

than usual,but his manner of usingthese means,

the great demands that he makes upon the tech-nical

skillof the musicians,his extraordinarydeh-

cate sense for the combinations of tone color,his

full appreciationof clearness in design,all these

giveto his treatment of the orchestra that pecul-iar

coloringwhich did not exist before him and

has not been imitated since. This, likewise,has

induced ignorantor ill-willedcritics to say that

Berlioz first invented the instrumental effect and

then adaptedthe music to it. And yet his instru-mentation

does not show that sensuous element

which seems to carry us along on the waves of

sound, as in Weber's orchestra,which was also

built up with wonderful boldness^ as regardsthe

various utihzation of the instruments, and as it

finallyappears in the hitherto most perfectorches-tra,

that of Wagner. We are dazzled by Berlioz's

orchestration,but not intoxicated;itis brightsun-

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The Symphony since Beethoven

shine upon lightgreen leaves around which a clear^

pure air is playing; the deep fragranceof the spicyshade in the pine wood is lacking. The third

cause which renders the understandingof Berlioz

difficultlies in the materials and poeticalsubjectswhich he chose for his works, as also in the rela-tion

in which his music stands to those subjects,and the way in which it illustrates them.

Let us first consider the ''SymphonicFantas-

tique." Berlioz has headed it with a programmewhich describes each of the movements separately.This is an indication of the poeticaltenor that the

listener is to bear in mind the while the symphonyis beingplayed. This proceedingwas in no wise

extraordinary.It would be very gratifyingif some

musical historian would establish the fact once for

all that what is lightlycalled ''programmemusic,"

nowadays,is by no means an invention of modern

composers. The endeavor to express definite

thoughts,yes, even events,by music is,apparently,as old as music itself. We find compositionsbearing titles and explanationsamong the old

Dutch and Italian composers just as frequentlyas with the German masters before Bach. Thayer,in his excellent biographyof Beethoven, mentions

a number of'

long-forgottencompositions,datingfrom the beginningof the century, which either

bore titles for the whole piece,or had specialnames for the separatemovements, " for example,

generaltitle,"The Naval Battle;"firstmovement,the beatingof the drums; second movement, war-like

music and marches; third movement, motion

of the ship; fourth movement, cruisingover the

[54]

Berlioz

waves ; fifthmovement, firingof the cannon ; sixth

movement, cries of the wounded; seventh move-ment,

victorious shouts of the triumphantfleet.Great battles and events of politicalimportancehave always excited the imaginationof contem-porary

musicians. Beethoven himself did not dis-dain

to compose a piecein honor of Wellington'svictory,and in Wagner's "Kaiser March" we hear

the artistic echo of the successful war. Espe-ciallyimportantappears to us the followingpro-gramme

quotedby Thayer: "The delightfullifeof a shepherd,broken in upon by a thunder-storm,which, however, passes over, and then the naive

joy on that account." Who does not here recog-nizethe suggestionfor a pastoralsymphony?

Thayer adds the very fittingcomment, which is

also very significantin regardto the so-called pro-gressiveartists of to-day,that it was not so much

Beethoven's ambition to find new forms for musi-cal

presentationas it was to have his compositionsexcel in those forms which had alreadybeen de-veloped.

Every good opera overture has its pro-gramme,

namely,the text-book of the opera which

is to follow;and Spohr has not hesitated in his

overture to "Faust" to add, besides that,a de-tailed

descriptionof the subjectshe wishes a lis-tener

to imagine while he hears it. In the course

of this book it'will be clearlyexpressedthat the

programme is no wise a reflection on the compo-sitionfor which it is supplied,unless,as in some

cases, the music placesitselfin a false relation to

the programme, so that it seems to revolt againstits own nature and resolves into non-music.

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The Symphony since Beethoven

Berlioz's ''SymphonicFantastique"is said to

representthe feverish dream of a young artistwho,

in despairat having been refused by his beloved,

has poisonedhimself with opium. The dose, too

smah to killhim, producesin his mind firstpleas-antand then later horrible images. The sepa-rate

movements, explainedmore in detail throughthe programme, are named, " "Dreams and Pas-sions,"

''A Ball,"''Scene in the Country,""March

to the Scaffold,""Witches' Sabbath." Later Ber-lioz

added a second part,"Lelio," a melodrama,

incomparablein worth to the symphony. In this

he lets the artistawaken from his sleepand speak,and turningagain to his occupationsfind release

from the griefof love. Imagine how baffled a

publicof that day must have been at the bold at-tempt

to express in music so unheard-of a subject.And yet how grandlyBerlioz has succeeded in do-ing

the apparentlyimpossiblewithout in the least

violatingthe form of the symphony or fallinginto

empty tone-painting.All five movements are per-fect

piecesof music,ingeniousand powerfulin in-vention,

construction,and instrumentation,and

needing no further explanationfor their rightof

existence. When Berlioz became more certain of

the purelymusical perfectionof his work, he said

that the programme might be omitted, for the

work must be comprehensiblewithout it; he asked

only that the names of the separate movements

might remain. A listener,endowed with a little

imaginationand knowing that the third move-ment

was called a "Scene in the Country,"would

easilydiscover at the close,where the cantilena

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The Symphony since Beethoven

movements, would be able to discover the internal

relation between the first three and the last two.

The programme, which explainsthat the whole

work is only intended to be the picturingof an

ecstatic dream, may be freelyused at performances,because the thoroughlymusical character of the

symphony guardsthe listener againstinartistic in-terpretations,

and onlyexcites his fancy,which in

realityis the true objectof the title.^

If we examine more closelythe musical contents

of this work, we will find that one theme runs

through all five movements, " a decided devia-tion

from earlier symphonies. In his dreams,

representedmusicallyin the symphony, the figureof his beloved one incessantlypursues the youngartist in varied forms and surroundings. It as-sumes

the character of a melody called by Berlioz

an idee fixe; and this melody while retainingits

structure, as concerns the mutual relation of in-tervals,

is changed in rhythm and expressiontosuit the situation about to be represented.Theidee 'fixeappears in noble simplicityin the first

movement (score,page 8^). In the second move-ment,

entided "A Ball,"itis representedin waltz-

time,yet without losingits stateliness (score,page

^ Liszt, in his pianofortearrangement of the "Symphonie Fan-

tastique,"has changed the programme, statingthat the first move-ments

represent actual events, and only the last two are dreams. I

do not think this alteration a good one, as it unnecessarilydivides

the work into two parts. The keen appreciatorof this piece will

explainthe character of the last two movements as the climactic de-velopment

of the underlying mood of the entire composition,rather

than something new brought in from outside.^ These references are to the score as publishedby Breitkoph and

Hartel, Leipzig.

[58]

Berlioz

2,S).Adapted to the character of the ^' Scene in

the Country,"it is changed into a pastoralmelody

given out by the wood wind-instruments (score,

page 57). In the fourth movement itappears only

as a fleetingthoughtto the man as he is led to the

scaffold (score,page 84), and finally,in the

''Witches' Sabbath," it becomes a distorted and

grotesque dance-time. The beloved one has

turned into a she-devil,who joinsin the spectral

uproar of witches and other mysticbeings(score,

pages 91 and 92). Berlioz did not, as some crit-ics

will always claim, build this symphony upon

one theme from lack of musical invention,but the

different forms of this theme are woven into all

the movements which otherwise are quite inde-pendent.

The changing and transformingof a theme is

nothing new. We know that the old masters,

above all Beethoven and Schubert,created many

of their works in the form of variations. We

know also that,in our day, Brahms attained a

great perfectionin the mastery of this form. But

the variation of a theme arisingfrom a perceptiblereason " I might say the dramatic-psychologicalvariation " was first used by Berlioz in this sym-phony,

and is absolutelyhis own creation. It is

the same kind of variation which Liszt expandsand perfectsin his symphonic poems, and which

Wagner at last uses as an intense means of ex-pression

in his dramas. These Wagnerian themes,

varied psychologicallyin the service of the drama,have received the name of "leadingmotives"

(Leitmotiven).

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The Symphony since Beethoven

This is the placeto say that the name is justasunsuitable and out of taste as are most of the

names of the so-called leadingmotives themselves.

A motive that should guideus, as it were, throughmusical labyrinths(assuch,Wagner's scores were

at firstconsidered),and which is to keep us from

losingthe thread,should, indeed, never change,but always be clearlyrecognizableto us. But

Wagner's themes change continually,and enter

into the most varied relations with each other,

justas the emotions of the will do within our own

mental life. In their Protean nature they would

be but littleadapted to serve as guidesfor the

ignorantthrough dark pathways. But by their

variations and by their combinations,which are

only possiblein polyphonicmusic, they become

the true images of the dramatis personae, and it

is through this kind of thematic work that Wag-ner'sdrama obtains itsimpressiveforce and clear-ness.

The ''leadingmotives,"with their strange

names and their consequent guide-books(leit-

faden),have brought about more confusion than

instruction concerningWagner's art. We often

find peoplewho think theyhave studied Wagner'swork sufficientlywhen they have discovered the

largestpossiblenumber of leadingmotives. Theytake the same delightin his dramas that children

do in tryingto find the hidden face in a puzzlepicture.Others think all that is needed to com-prehend

a musical compositionis to learn by heart

the themes enumerated in the guide-books.They

spend their time in useless memory-work,and gain

no deeperinsightinto the music. Nevertheless,

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Berlioz

these guide-booksmay have furnished the means

of study for intelhgentreaders who know how to

go farther. Nowadays, however, this leading-mo-tive

system is appliedto all kinds of music, even

to classic symphonies,and the latest productionsof

this kind are the ''programme-books,"which are

distributed in some cities at every orchestral con-cert.

The intellectualharm they do the hstener

is even greater than the material gain they bringto the publisher.Nothing could be said againstthose written by a musician and containingmusic

examples,particularlyin case of a new work, pro-vided

we could induce the publicto read them

before the performance. At home there is hardlyan opportunity.The time before the beginningof the concert and the pauses are filled,as a rule,with conversation. Therefore the readingbeginsafter the performanceof the music has alreadycommenced. Observe now a group of listeners

suppliedwith programme-books. For economy's

sake,naturallytwo or three always look over the

same book. Is it not ludicrous to see how the

heads come togetherand how the fingerspointto

the music example printedin the book when that

particularpassage is being played! Immediatelyafterwards the continuation of the text is read, as

quicklyas possible,so that the entry of the next

music example may not be missed. What value

can there be in such distracted listeningand in-sufficient

reading? ' ' The programme-booksmakeit so easy,"is the reply. This "making it easy"will eventuallybring it about that the conductor

will need onlyto "bring out" as pointedlyas pos-

[6i]

The Symphony since Beethoven

sible the passages quotedin the programme-booksin order to be sure of beingpraisedfor '' clearness

in elaboratingthe performanceof the orchestra;"and the listener will need onlyknow these passages

in order to be able to talk about and criticisethe

work, to have always a quotationfrom it on hand,

and in fact to assume the character of a connoisseur.

Moreover, to spare expense the programme-booksare gotten up hurriedlyand superficially,so that

theyare of no use either to dilettantes or musicians.

I lose no opportunityto pointout the harm that

the reading of these analysesdoes,and to urge

such as believe that they cannot dispensewith

these programme-books,to read them at home in

connection with the study of a good pianoforte

score, but not in the concert duringthe music.

There is stillanother bad habit resultingfrom

the "leadingmotives,"namely,reminiscence hunt-ing,

which has become in our days so ostenta-tiously

obtrusive. Now that itis the custom, since

programme and guide-booksare so prevalent,not

to look at a pieceas a whole,but onlyin fragments,few listeners endeavor,in hearingof a new work,

to gain an impressionof the entire pieceand then

turn to the details,which can onlybe intelligiblein their relation to the whole. The themes or

''leadingmotives,"from which the pieceis said to

be built,are firstsoughtout; then when these are

found, or after they have been neatlyextracted

by some guide-book(likeeyes from the head of a

carp),they are compared with themes already

known, " that is,with those printedas examplesin other programme-books,-" firstof all with those

M

Berlioz

of Wagner, because he is nearest us in point of

time, and is the most powerfulfigureof the re-cent

past; and the younger composers must, there-fore,

become his disciplesbefore they dare be

followers of other masters. Woe to them if there

occurs some slightsimilarityof notes, say C, G,for instance,in some phrasewhere there is also a

C, G, in a Wagner theme! W^oe if an upwardchromatic progressioncan be discovered! The

new theme is then immediatelyfrom Tristan and

Isolde's ''longinglove motive;" two.

consecutive

fourths become at once Beckmesser's "thrilling,

thrashingmotive,"and a dotted rhythm in 6-8 time

is Alberich's "furious forgingmotive;" finally,thewhole w^ork is "woven from sacred W^agner." It

is astonishingwith what speeda new work can be

disposedof in this way before one has had any

opportunity to become acquainted with it. If

nothingor littlecould be found in Wagner's works

to render the victim suspected,then a search is

made among the compositionsof the little" father-

in-law (schwieger-vaterchen)Liszt,or of Berlioz or

of older masters, " yes, even among those of ]\Iey-erbeer,or in operettas or street ditties. It would

be a fine task for some experiencedmusician to

gathertogetherand criticiseall the nonsense which

has been found in these "researches." ^ The rem-

^ Some ingenious person, for instance, claims that the theme to

which, in the closingscene of "Gotterdammerung," Briinnhilde singsthe words, " Fiihl meine Brust auch, wie sie entbrennt," has been

taken from the vulgar ditty,"Du hast ya die schonsten Augen."There is,indeed, a similarityof notes, but how long the ear of the

happy discoverer must have been! On the other hand, a short trem-olo

of the stringson A, E, or D, A, has sufficed to connect Brahms'

"Tragic Overture" with Beethoven's "Ninth Symphony."

63

The Symphony since Beethoven

iniscence hunters forget,in their half childish,half malicious joyat having found some such sim-ilarity

of notes, to examine the character of the

theme itself,the positionit occupies,the manner

of its elaboration;finallythe aspect,the quality,the physiognomy of the entire work. They hear

with their eyes and not with their ears. Theyalso forgetthat the same sequence of tones is not

a reminiscence ; theyforgetthat many items must

enter in,such as time, kind of tones, expression,

arrangement of the whole, and forget,above all,

the recognizableand similar inner cause that calls

for justthis and no other sequence of tones, and

proves the composer'scapabilityfor findingthe

rightexpression,and the necessityfor holdingto

it.^ ^loreover,theyforgeton the other hand, that

the whole mood of a givenpassage may recah an-other

without there being discernible the slightest

similarityin the succession of notes. These mood

reminiscences are noticeablyoverlooked,and yet

they are the only ones worthy of consideration,

because they go much farther towards provinga

composer'swant of originalitythan do these acci-dental

note similarities. Similaritiesappear every-where

and quite frequentlyin the masterpiecesfrom Bach to Wagner; they have never before

had any influence in estimatinga work, and un-til

to-dayit never occurred to any one to want to

use them thus.

^ Incidentallylet it be said that one finds with especialgleerem-iniscences

whenever one is determined to find them, but, on the

other hand, is silent concerningthe obvious harmonies which one

prefersnot to hear.

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fetched,and distorted conglomerationsof sound,with their superficialprofoundnessand superfinebanalities,which we meet to-dayin the song as well

as in the symphony and opera, and which expectfo attain success if onlythey are cleverlyand art-fully

done. Hence the morbid and nervous music-

lovers of our time who need the strongeststimu-lants

to awaken them for a few moments from

their dreamy languor,and who close their glassy

eyes immediately afterwards in slothful slumber.

Indeed, I believe I am quiterightwhen I pointout this fear of not being thoughtoriginalas the

evil spiritwhich robs many of our young com-posers

of their sense and feelingof what ishealthy,

strong, and true. Therefore I do not in the least

fear the reproachof encouragingplagiarismwhenI freelyand openlyexclaim, ''Rather an honest

reminiscence than contrarietyto nature!" How-ever,

it is a comfortingthought that this remi-niscence-hunting

is only a fashionable ailment,which will vanish with time,althoughin the mean-while

it attacks many a wise head and although

many a creative artist of the present day may die

of this disease,for not every one has the strengthto resist itsdoubtless unpleasanteffects; not every

one has the presence of mind to offer his brow

courageouslyto this demon, "Fear of lack of origi-nality;"not everyone has the sound self-confi-dence

to meet this foolish degenerationof sound

judgment with at least a shrug of the shoulder,if it does not seem necessary to him to pause and

say a few strong words on the subject.But to return to our theme. The prizefor be-

[66]

Berlioz

ing the real discoverer of these dramatic-psycho-logicalvariations that have had a magnificentpos-itive

effect,but, as we have seen, also some nega-tive

ones, belongs without question,to Hector

Berlioz. Thus he can in all justificationbe called

the predecessorof Wagner.Besides his pioneerwork, the "Symphonic Fan-

tastique,"Berlioz wrote another symphony, in

four movements, entitled"Harold in Italy."This

symphony hardlyattains the level of his firstone.

Of his other works, apart from his im.portantovertures, "Le Corsaire,""King Lear," "Benve-

nuto Cellini,"and "Carnaval Romain," we have

stillto consider the dramatic symphony, "Romeo

and Juliet,"and the legend,"La Damnation de

Faust," which almost belongsto the domain of

opera. In both these works Berlioz shows him-self

as the ingeniousmusician rather than the artist.

Apparentlyhis inner beingdrew him towards the

opera, but the bold symphony writer and master

of orchestration was not capableof making that

greatstride,which was reserved for Richard Wag-ner," namely,to let the music of his drama grow

out of the spiritof the text without troublinghim-self

about the opera form. Berlioz selected,and

composed for himself,opera texts accordingto the

old models, and then adorned them with charm-ing

and spiritedpiecesof music, which are amongthe very best operaticmusic that we possess, after

the classical masterpieces.He also took hold of

great existingoperas, such as Shakespeare's"Ro-meo

and Juliet,"and Goethe's "Faust," and ar-ranged

them so as to serve his own purpose. This

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The Symphony since Beethoven

purpose was to open up new ways of expressionfor his energeticmusical soul," to create music

and music, the most beautiful,most ingeniousmusic of which he was capable. He did not con-sider

whether the form he chose was artisticallyjustified.As a matter of fact,I cannot justifyitfrom a purelyaesthetic standpointany more than

I can Schumann's ''Paradise und Peri." It is

but a style-lessmixture of different forms; not

quite oratorio,not quite opera, not quite sym-phony

" fragmentsof all three,and nothingper-fect.

In ''Romeo and Juliet"a fugatopicturesthe strife between the two hostile houses, a longrecitative for the orchestra,the meeting,interfer-ence

and threats of the prince. Little choruses

and solos tell of the unhappy lot of the lovers,of

the power of love,of Queen Mab; great orches-tral

piecesdepictthe ball at Capulet'shouse, the

love scene, and again Queen Mab. Thus this

little episode,so unimportant in the drama, is

brought in twice,while the tragicconflict,on the

contrary,is entirelyomitted. A chorus pieceil-lustrates

the lament of the w^omen over Juliet'ssupposed death; an orchestral piece,without a

vocal part, paintsthe awakening and tragicend

of the lovers;finally,a thoroughlyoperaticfinaledescribes the gatheringof the crowd. Father Law-rence's

sermon, and the reconciliation of the rival

houses. Berlioz chooses the situations,which

seem to him best suited for musical composition,without any regard for the organicconnection of

the whole. In "La Damnation de Faust,"he laysthe opening scene in Hungary. Why? During

[68]

Berlioz

a tripthroughAustria he had heard the "Rakoczi

March;" he had scored it brilhantly,and was

lookingfor an opportunityto utilize it in a largerwork. This opportunity he found, curiouslyenough, in ''Faust,"and, in order to find some

justificationfor the ''

March," changed the scene to

Hungary. He confesses this very willinglyin the

prefaceto his work. In order to be able to com-pose

a ''ride to hell,"a real "Pandemonium," he

had Faust perishin that place,quiteat variance

with Goethe's drama, to which he otherwise,forthe most part, adheres,and in which Faust is

saved. But this "ride to hell" is such an ingen-iouspieceof music that we can scarcelyregretthe

violence Berlioz has done to Goethe's poem. The

excrescence " if I may so call it " in "Romeo

and Juliet,"the episodeof Queen Mab, has givenus a wonderfullyfantastic orchestral scherzo,ab-solutely

uniqueof its kind. In both these works,the other symphonic pieces,with the exceptionofone about which I will speak later on, are also

marvels of ingeniousand remarkable music. I

may mention the feast at Capulet'shouse, the

miagnificentand passionatelove scene, and the

dance of the will-o'-the-wispsand of sylphsin "La

Damnation de Faust." On the whole, I consider

this work, apart from the " Symphonic Fantas-

tique,"as his most significantcreation. The

dramatic-psychologicalvariation of a theme is

used in none of his other works, not even in the

"Harold" symphony, with such a brilliant effect

as in this symphony. Berlioz had a great idea,but he himself did not bring it to its greatest

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The Symphony since Beethoven

perfection.That was left for his successors to

do.

His collected works, even if the last-mentioned

ones seem lackingin perfectionof style,have ex-erted

a weightyinfluence upon musical art. He

stands as the real originatorand founder of the

modern school,which is the leadingone to-day,and whose advocates are striving,often with im-petuous

haste,to attain new aims and the highestpossiblesuccess. Berlioz will alwaysrepresent a

milestone in the developmentof music, however

that school may grow. He did not approach,by

any means, that ethical depth,that ideal perfec-tionand purity,which surround Beethoven's name

with such unspeakableglory;but no composer

since Beethoven " except Wagner " has enriched

music with so many new means of expression;has pointed to so many new paths,as did this

great Frenchman whose sheer inexhaustible fan-tasy

onlyappears the more powerfuland rich the

more we try,through lovingstudy,to appreciatehis compositions.

Berlioz,like Schumann, opposed Wagner. In

both cases we see the aversion of one great man to

recognizea greaterone, by no means a rare occur-rence,

but which causes us to remember that

beneath highlytalented natures lie human weak-ness

and error; and the stingat the sightof for-eign

superioritytorments also enlightenedminds.If any artist be troubled by such feelings,let him

look to one sublime example,to a man towering

highabove all other modern composers in this re-spect,

" to the venerable figureof Franz Liszt.

-

[70]

Liszt

How this man, who was himself so great, was al-ways

advancing other artists of a kindred nature.,

and tryingto spread abroad the fame of their

works; how he took young geniusand talent bythe hand, supportingthem with word and deed,

and always without the smallest advantage to

himself; how often he absolutelyneglectedhis

own creations for the sake of others," all this is

a matter of history. And I believe no one, even

those w4io take exceptionto his compositions,will

wish to rob him of the shiningcrown which un-selfishness

and noblest love have placed,for all

times, upon his head. As a man, Liszt was the

king of artists.

As a composer, he surpasses Berlioz,because in

the latter's symphonic w^ork, in spiteof all the

free fancy,the outline of the old form is clearly

visible,and his creations are polishedpieces of

music; while Liszt wanders away from this form,

and thus often stamps his work with the character

of improvisation.He starts directlyfrom the

poeticalsubject,from the programme, and takes it

alone as a guide. Sometimes he goes so far as to

express certain events, or conditions of mind, in

musical phrases,and placesthem side by side as

the programme prescribes.It is true that Ber-lioz

was his predecessorin this. I refer to the

next to the last orchestral piecein "Romeo and

Juliet,"entitled "Romeo at the Tomb of the

Capulets; Invocation,Awakening of Juliet;Frenzyof joy and the firsteffects of the poison; Anguishof death and parting of the lovers." Berlioz

soughthere to picturethe details of the dramatic

The Symphony since Beethoven

action by fragments of melody, by accents, bycombinations of chords and expressivefigura-tions,

and all with such clearness that one is able

to follow the scene almost bar by bar. But this

pieceis generallyomitted at concerts because the

impressionit makes, even with the most perfectrendering,is absolutelyconfusing,sometimes even

" my veneration for Berlioz does not prevent

my saying this " downright ludicrous. The

cause lieshere,that a task is allottedmusic which

it cannot perform. Were we not given throughthe titlean indication of the subjectof the drama,

we certainlywould not know what we were listen-ing

to. We would receive the impressiononly of

a senseless confusion of sounds. But the feelingof senselessness is not removed, even when we do

know from the titlewhat images we are to bear

in mind; indeed,we are astonished to notice how

clear and distinct the bare words of the titleare,

compared with the music, which at other times is

able to impress us much more powerfullythan

even an excellent word-poem. " We experiencesimilar feelingsalso in listeningto the orchestral

recitative at the beginningof ''Romeo and Juliet,'^which is said to represent the arrival and inter-ference

of the prince. Only the tormentingim-pression

in this case is soon over.

Here we have reached the pointwhere the true

mission of music is revealed in all its splendor.Here we see that it is an art which can never con-vey

conceptionsto us because it shows us the

deepestrealityof the world in the most subtle

pictures,and for this reason stands highabove the

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itphysicalor mental,of dramatic or philosophicalcontent, and to wish to express it throughmusic,in the exact order in which it happened," the

event, I repeat,and not, forsooth,its effect upon

us, " is,on the one hand, a foolish and senseless

undertaking,because only words, or in certain

exceptionalcases, a paintedor plasticrepresen-tation,

possess this ability.Then the artistmakes

a mistake in the selection of his medium. He low-ers

a loftyand eternallynoble art to a service far

beneath it. Music, the languageof the spiritof

the universe,is used as a means of expressingoften what is ordinaryand vulgar,and " in case

it is adoptedextensivelyfor work of such style"

givesrise to a perversityof possiblemusical feel-ing

which hinders the appreciationof true mas-terpieces.

I have too firm a faith in the constantly

increasingpower of music, to believe in the last-ing

success, especiallyin this direction,of the

newer endeavors," hence my often criticised

coolness towards a certain kind of ^'modernity."Although the orchestral pieceout of ''Romeo

and Juhet"prepares the way for Liszt's creations,

to a certain extent, stillthe latter has given psworks of incomparablygreater value than this jjpiece,for,in many of his compositions,he sue- ^ceeded in findingan artisticform which presentsthem as finished creations,and these same com-positions

are not contrary to the nature of music,

althougheach follows a definite programme. But

this form, which Liszt invented,is fitted exclu-sively

to the poeticalsubjectof each particularwork, and would be quitesenseless if used with

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another programme. Think, for example, of

''Mazeppa," one of Liszt's most famous produc-.tions. A wild movement, soaringalmost to mad-ness,

picturesthe death-ride of the hero; a short

andante his downfall; the followingmarch, in-troduced

by a fanfare of the trumpets and

increasingto highesttriumph,describes his eleva-tion

and coronation. Now think of his sympho-nic

poem "Orpheus," the form of which reallyconsists only of a great crescendo followed by a

great diminuendo. Orpheus strikes the goldenstringsof his lyre,and all nature listens with de-votion

to the wondrous sounds. With majesticstrides the god passes by us, charming the world

with his personalityand his playing. The tones

of his lyregrow weaker. Farther and farther

recedes the heavenlyfigure.At last it vanishes

entirelyfrom sight.^ The dispositionof this pieceof music,commencing with the softest pianissimo

,

growing to the most powerful volume of sound,and then graduallydying away again,is surelyquitejustifiedboth by itselfand in its connection

with the programme; but a similar piece with

the title ''Mazeppa" would be quiteimpossible.Yet I feel certain that,were we to hear " Mazeppa"and "Orpheus" without any titles,we should rec-ognize

in the former,a painfullystormy element

which breaks down and immediately afterwards

rises againvictoriously,and in the latter,a gentleand majesticbeingwho firstapproachesand then

^ The form of the composition "Orpheus" is not unhke the

overture to "Lohengrin."

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recedes,without needing necessarilyto think of

either Mazeppa or Orpheus. Our fancy will be

powerfullystimulated by the title,but not uncom-fortably

fettered. The chief thingwill always be

the musical feelingand not the petty interpreta-tionsof this or that passage, because,and in fact,

especiallyfor this reason, a positivelymusical

power dwells within these pieceswhich I have

mentioned, and because they owe their originto

musical feelingand inspiration,and not merely to

intellectualillustrations.

This kind of programme music I defend as en-ergetically

as I condemn the other," namely,formless extemporizationon supposedunderlying

subjects.When Liszt,for instance,in his sym-phonic

poem, ''Die Ideale,"endeavors to inter-pret

musically certain fragments of Schiller's

poem in due succession,and then tries to weld

these renderingstogetherinto one movement, "

when he even goes so far as to use for headingsthe different parts of the poem, which he wishes

the listener to imagineduring the music (sothat

only those who are providedwith the score can

know justwhat he is to imagine at any particular

moment), " the result is that the music produces

onlya lame effect,because itcannot freelydevelop

accordingto its nature, but is a prioribound to

the successive fragments of the poem, " that is,

to a series of conceptions.Compare this to the

overture of the first version of "Fidelio," the

"first"Leonora" overture (though always falselycalled the second). Its musical value does not

attain to the great one, but it is a true operatic

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overture because certain important moments of

the drama are representedin it," Florestan's im-prisonment,

Leonora's courageous endeavor to re-lease

her husband, her searchingand inquiring,her meeting and her fightwith Pizarro,her vic-tory,

a short retrospectof the horrors overcome,

with feehngsof gratitudetowards God, and finallythe exultation of the happilyreunited pair. See

how well Beethoven, with all his dramatic clear-ness,

guardedin this piecethe symphonic char-acter,

and with what musical means he knew how

to depictthe scenes. I would pointout the grandand sudden entrance of C-minor in the placewhere

the usual repeat of the firstpart in C-major is ex-pected;

it is intended to picturethe moment of

highestdanger, Leonora's meeting with Pizarro.

Notice how naturally,and without any violent

effort,the reminiscences from the opera " the

passage where Pizarro falls back before Leonora's

pistol" are introduced. I should like to select

this overture as a model to demonstrate justhow

far a certain programme is compatiblewith music

without injuringthe latter in its very nature.

Mendelssohn's "Hebrides" overture and Schu-mann's

"Manfred" overture were occasioned by

poeticalimages and events. At one time the en-deavor

to express such thingsin music led to a

coincidence of the new-classical and the modern

school; indeed, composers did^not seem at first

aware that there were two schools to be repre-sented,

as we may see from Schumann's relations

with Berhoz and Liszt. It was onlywith the ap-pearance

of the totallyabstract Brahms and the ris-

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ingof Wagner, who soared far above allothers,that

peoplebegan to feel that there were two schools.

When the consciousness of Wagner's power dawned

upon them, the new-classical school,feelingthat its

last hours were come, played the trump-card"

Brahms. The ''schools" were well defined again,and to-daythere are so many that every one feels

called upon to work for one or the other. The

man who belongsto no school naturallyarousessuspicioneverywherewith his productions,and

can scarcelyrelyupon the sane judgment of the

people,which in spiteof all misdirection,finally,though often at a late day,finds out the true.

Here I must warn against a grievous error

which I believe I stilldiscover in many modern

compositions;namely,the confusingof the dra-matic

with the symphonicstyle.Referringonce

more to Wagner's treatise "On the ApplicationofMusic to the Drama," I would add that with a

few exceptionsa characteristic mark of all sym-phonic

themes is their breadth and their specialmelodious character,while the themes of a musi-cal

drama are distinguishedby their pregnancy,and thus often by their significantbrevity.Onnone of Wagner's themes, not even the very sim-plest,

could a symphonic movement be built up;

on the other hand, the firsttheme of Beethoven's

"Eroica," for instance,consistingof twelve bars

(notof four,as many seem to think),the melodies

of Beethoven's slower movements, indeed, the

themes of any true symphony, could not be used

in opera. The dramatist's inventive giftsare ex-cited

to productionby quite other factors than

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are the symphony writer's. Persons and events

which are representedbodilyon the stage suggestto him those pregnant and plasticmotives which

reveal the significanceof the events, often like

lightning,and which are much more expressivethan words. But moods of an inward and con-templative

nature, the mental reaction after greatdeeds or events, real or fictitious,which do not re-quire

realizationby the drama, inspirethe symphonywriter to create. His work is like the living"

out of his very beingin music (einSich-Ausleben

seines Wesens in Musik); hence the breadth of

the themes and the true instrumental melody,which is rarelypossiblein the drama. If it is

admissible to designatethe orchestral part of the

musical drama as'' symphonic," " that is,as built

up in ingeniouspolyphony," then a symphony

may in turn be called ''dramatic" if the underly-ingmoods are very passionateand variable. The

whole world is a greatdrama, and music shows us

its innermost being. In this sense, music itselfis

''dramatic,"as we can recognizeto our satisfac-tion

in our great hero Beethoven, to whom we

always turn when we wish reallyto understand

what music is. But the "symphonic" quahty of

a musical drama must be taken in a concrete

sense, and the "dramatic" nature of a symphonymovement in a metaphysicalsense; and compos-ers

should keep this difference constantlyin mind,

so as to avoid the confusingof the two, which

can have no other effect than the giving rise

to pieceswhich will look more like fragmentsof

operas than symphonies,or, on the other hand,

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the airingof symphonicpiecesin operas where theydo not belong. It iswell worth noticingthat Wag-ner

pointsto the necessityof keepingstrictlytothe same key unless there is an imperativereasonfor leavingit. He explainsalso that this necessity

appliesin a higherdegree to the symphony, be-cause

daringmodulations,which in the drama are

absolutelyrequiredby the action would be unin-telligible

in the symphony. There is scarcelyan-other

principlein music which is so sinned against

to-dayas this one, which layin the natures of all

great masters, Wagner included. Most of Bruck-ner's

symphonies,for instance,suffer from inces-sant

and senseless modulations,so that often one

cannot tell why one is called ''in E-flat major"and another ''in C-minor," since only the final

bars of a movement coincide with the key of the

beginning,while all the other parts wander, with-out

rule,through all the remainingkeys. But I

do not think Wagner is rightwhen he rejectsthe varyingof a theme in the symphony," the

psychological-dramaticvariation,to use my ex-pression,

of a theme in a symphony," as a "far-fetched

effect." Is not the sudden entrance of

the minor key,to which I referred in Beethoven's

first"Leonora" overture, a variation of this kind?

If in Liszt's "Mazeppa" the terrible,increasing

speedof the death-ride is expressedthroughgrad-ual,

rhythmical" let us say almost breathless "

shorteningor condensations of the main theme,

from 6-4 time through 4-4 and 3-4 to 2-4; if at

the close of the march this theme is introduced in

a triumphantmanner, " then these variations are

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The Symphony since Beethoven

Other of Liszt's works suffer from the same

defect as does the "Ideale," which also are in-ferior

because less significantin their power of

invention,as, for example,''Hamlet," ''Prome-theus,"

and "Heroide Funebre." There is a cer-tain

extemporaneous quality,which sometimes

approachesraggedness,which is peculiarto most of

Liszt's works. I might say that,justas in Brahms

a meditative element predominates,so a rhapso-dicfeature gains the upper hand with Liszt,and

becomes a disturbingelement in his weaker works,

and, I am sorry to say, even in the "Mountain

Symphony," which is so rich in beautiful details.

Masterpiecesin which the rhapsodicelement as-cends

to its greatest and most impressivepower

are, besides "Orpheus" and "Mazeppa" already

mentioned, "Hungaria,""Festklange,""DieHun-

nenschlacht " (a fantastic piece of uncanny and

elemental power), "Les Preludes," and, above

all,the two great symphonies on "Faust" and

Dante's "Divine Comedy." The "Faust Sym-phony"is not intended to embody musically

Goethe's poem, but gives,as its titlepromises,three

character sketches," "Faust," "Gretchen," and

"Mephistopheles." The third movement shows

us with what art and imaginationLiszt has used

and developedthe dramatic-psychologicalvaria-tion

of a theme (theinventor of which I have

alreadydesignatedas Berlioz).Mephistophelesis" the spiritwho evermore denies ;

" for the princi-pleof his actions is,"for whatever has come into

life deserves to be reduced to nought again."Hence Liszt could not give him a theme of his

Liszt

own, but built up the whole movement from cari-catures

of previousthemes, particularlyfrom those

belongingto "Faust." For this reason ignorantcritics have been even more ready to reproachLiszt than they did Berlioz for lack of invention.

I ask,if our great masters have built up long move-ments

by manifold variations of themes of a few

bars,why should not a composer to-daydo the

same, if a perceptiblepoeticalthoughtis his guid-ingprinciple? Is there no invention in these char-acteristic

variations,and, forsooth,invention of

the same degree that the old masters possessed?And justthe last movement of the "Faust Sym-phony"

best reveals to us Liszt's deep insightintothe true nature of music. When the infernal,diabolical spirithas risen to its most brilliant

power, there appears, as ifsoaringin brightclouds,the main theme of the Gretchen movement in

virginbeauty. By this motive the power of the

demon is shattered,and it sinks back into noth-ingness.

The poet could let Gretchen perish,andeven become a transgressor;the musician, in ac-cordance

with the ideal,subtle nature of his art,

preserved for her the exalted,heavenly form.

Mighty trombone sounds are heard through the

discordant hell-music as it dies away; a male

chorus softlyintones Goethe's sublime words of the

''Chorus Mysticus,""

" All that is transitoryis

onlyillusion;" and in the clearlyrecognizablenotesof the Gretchen theme, continues a tenor voice,"The Ever-Feminine draweth us on

" (Das Ewig-Weibhche zieht uns hinan). One can identifythis tenor voice with Goethe's Doctor Marianus,

The Symphony since Beethoven

and imagineGretchen transfiguredinto the Mater

Gloriosa; one might also recall Faust's words

when he beholds Gretchen 's image in the vanish-ing

clouds : "

" Like a pure soul,stillfairer grows the form,

Dissolves not, but to higherrealms of air ascends,And bears with it my nobler self,my heart,away."

So in great piecesof music goldenthreads,spunfrom sunshine, are woven hghtlyand airily,be-tween

the music and the inspiringpoetry,makingboth more beautiful,but confiningneither.

Still more unified and more powerfulthan the*^ Faust Symphony," is the tone-poem to Dante's

*' Divine Comedy," with itsvivid representationof

the torments of hell and its ^'Purgatory,"^ which

graduallyrises into the higher sphere of pure

sentiment. In both these works Liszt has giventhe highestart of which he was capable. Theycan be compared only with the creations of the

great masters. They mark not only the highest

point in Liszt's work, but also,with Berlioz's

symphonies,are the ripestfruit thus far of artistic

programme music. It is gratifyingto know that

Berlioz's and Liszt's compositionsare constantlygaining ground for themselves, and becoming

more generallyappreciated,in fact, are even

awakening enthusiasm,althougha largenumber of

critical reviews of their works have taken the oc-casion

to grumbleover them or insult them with

^ Acting on the wish of the hyper-CatholicPrincess Wittgenstein,Liszt added a second close, indicatingthe triumphant church. It

is very weak, and I always recommend its omission.

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their traditional air of superiority.The pseudo-classicists break their noses, and the ultra-mod-erns

would like to treat both of these great mas-ters

as surmounted obstacles,as steps now passedover, in reachingthe state of perfectionwherethe ''new gods" now sit throned. Idle endeavor!

Time givesits potent judgment,without regardto the pigmieswhich are swellingthemselves up,and struttingabout in their narrow nothingness;and alreadyit is being seen that BerHoz and

Liszt are, with Wagner, the great stars in the new

musical epoch, the heroes of the last half of the

nineteenth century,justas Haydn, Mozart, Bee-thoven,

Weber, and Schubert were the heroes of

the first.

Apart from these two symphonies,each con-sisting

of several movements, Liszt's orchestral

works have, as a rule,but one movement, and are

entitled ''SymphonicPoems." This name is a

very happy one, and seems to me to express in

two words justthe law, perhaps the only law,which a pieceof music must obey if it is to have

a rightto exist. Let it be a poem; that is,let it

springfrom some poeticalsource, from some im-pulse

of the spiritwhich the author may conveyto the public by title and programmiC, or may

withhold; but let it also be "symphonic,"whichis here, speakingin generalterms, synonymouswith "musical." Let it have a definite form,either one taken from the old masters, or a new

one developedfrom its content and correspondingto it. Lack of form in any art is unpardonable,and in music can never be excused by a pro-

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gramme, or by what the composer" imagined/'

Liszt's symphonic works stand for a great first

step along a new path. Any writer who will gofarther on this way must take good care not to

imitate Liszt's weakness, that raggednessof con-ception

which he often displays,but to compose

pieceswhich are more than tone-illustrationsof

programmes.I trust that I have made it sufficientlyclear

what we owe the modern school which has reached

its highestdevelopmentin Berlioz and Liszt,and

what are the dangersthat we have inherited from

them. Besides the positivegain,which we enjoyin the works of these two masters, we have also

learned that there are other arts and forms of

compositionbesides those of the sonata, rondo,and variation which seem so unavoidable. It has

disclosed to the imaginationa rich though dan-gerous

field of action,where preciousfruit may

stillbe reaped. As it is customary in every great

revolutionarymovement, that some shoot beyondthe mark, so must it here also be confessed that

music,while men were strivingto increase itspower

of expression,at times was lowered from itssacred

pedestalto become the slave of words and con-ceptions.

The boundary line over which music

cannot step without becoming unmusical, is very

hard to recognize.We are in need of a largernumber of new and significantworks in order

that itmay be more clearlydrawn. If the younger

generationof our composers comes to know that

music is not a languageof conceptions,ifit recog-nizes

the demand for form in composition,and if

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it learns strictlyto separate the symphonic from

the dramatic style,then we need not giveup the

hope of hearing,in the future,symphonies about

which " to use Wagner's words " somethingmaybe said ; providedthat some one comes w^ho knows

all this without beingtold.

At all events,the modern school has been more

stimulatingand fruitful than the new-classical.

It has become the yeast in the bread of the Philis-tines,

and its fermentation is more and more ap-parentin Germany and abroad. Thus I believe

that some remarkable modern symphonies,in the

old form, and, therefore,belongingto the new-

classical school,would not have been composedexactlyas they were, if Berlioz and Liszt had not

lived. I refer among others to the symphonies of

Bindingand Borodin, which I have alreadymen-tioned.

In our days we see also desertions from

the old school to the new. Dvorak, no longera

young man, who can be considered as a pupilof

Brahms, and who has attained great success

with his symphonies,has suddenlyturned to pro-gramme

music,and iscomposingsymphonic poems." Some years ago we witnessed a similar conver-sion

in the case of Richard Strauss,who was then

a very young man. As a pupilof Hans von Bil-low,

after Billow had deserted Wagner, he swore

by Brahms, and wrote an excellent symphony of

which the model is evident. Later he went over

to the modern school,began a series of symphonicpoems by no means finished yet,and now in the

publicopinionstands as the leader of the most ex-tremely

progressiveschool. I consider ''Tod und

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Verklarung,"as one of the most worthyof these

symphonic poems, more so than ''Don Juan,"which is perhaps better known and hked. The

former is a pieceof spent passion,powerfulbothin invention and construction,and very sincere

and genuine in feeling,except the close,which

seems to m^e more pompous than glorious.A

pieceof equal value is the scherzo for orchestra,^'Till EulenspiegelslustigeStreiche,"which is

most brilliant both thematicallyand instrument-

ally,indeed trulywitty,if I may applythis word

to music. In ''Also sprachZarathustra,"Straussfalls into the same error which Liszt made before

him with the "Ideale." Liszt intended to pic-turea succession of moments during which man

rose from his every-daylife to a highersphere;and so in Strauss' s piece a series of world con-ceptions

passes before us, each of which attemptsto solve the great secret of life,representedby the

succession of notes, C, G, C. None of them suc-ceeds,

and at the end the C, G, C, stand there

as obstinatelyas in the beginning,and doubt "

the "father of truth,"accordingto Nietzsche,the

chord C, E, F-sharp,accordingto Strauss " may

go on forever assailingit. No doubt different

moods, such as religiousfeeling,passion,pleasure,and superhuman dionysiacserenity" remember

the last movement in Beethoven's A-major sym-phony" may be rendered musically;even grant-ing

that a fugue may symbolizescience,which is

barren in the solution of the final and highest

questionsof life,yet by the welding togetherofsuch widelydifferentiated moods into one move-

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tactfullyone might say (when one recalls some

of the Eulenspiegelanecdotes),avoided givingthe programme. In hearingthis piece,even if it

were performedwithout its title,we would get a

certain impressionof beingseized or preyedupon,even if we did not think of Eulenspiegel.In his

later works this is the exception.No one, for

instance,hearingthe great violin solo in ^'Hel-

denleben,"would think of a rebellious woman who

was graduallywon by the love of the hero,or,

listeningto the adventurous ''wind kakophonions"

of the second portion,would think of "the hero's

adversary,"if he did not know that this was what

he was to imagine. The fact that the author

himself considers it necessary previouslyto in-terest

the publicis evidence that the new way

which he has pretendedto break throughis only

seemingly passable,for those extensive elucida-tions

are nothing more than an open confession

that,in spiteof the polyphonicart and our aston-ishment

over the instrumentation,these creations

are senseless without intellectual explanation.On

the other hand, a real programme is not pre-sented

with these pieces,and thus the publicis to

a certain extent brought by an ambiguous way

to their comprehension,in that it must first be

instructed as to what it should think,and then

must consider it all as a direct language. The

character of incompletenesswith which, on ac-count

of this proceeding,these extravagant com-positions

seem afflicted,and w^hich presents itself

in allthe more strikinga manner since their origi-nalityin regard to spirituallyrich harmonies,

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Strauss

but in no wise in regardto originalmelodies and

themes, can be exhorted,prevents them from hav-ing

anythingto do with works of genius. The

trulyoriginalstands out free and independent,and strides boldlythrough the world. It needs

no preliminarystudies,and " no crutches.

Many aesthetic questionshave been raised over

Strauss' s compositions,among others,if a flock of

sheep (Don Quixote) could be representedinmusic. In my opinion,in this and similar cases,

it is a questionof how it is done. A mere imita-tion

of the sounds of nature, as in Strauss's piece,can call up a recognitionof the story;as, for ex-ample,

a pictureof a rubbish heap paintedin

masterly,realistic style,shows the wonderful

techniqueof the painter. In both cases we need

onlythe odors to make the illusion complete. A

trulyartisticand musical conceptionof a bleatingflock of sheep could be scarcelyless faithful than

is Strauss's,but it would have to be much more

full of sentiment,of humor, and music. May not

one suspect in many placesin Strauss's pieces,where he,apparentlyin accordance with the prin-ciple,

^'Nothingis true; everythingispermissible,"heaps up the ugly on top of the ugly,that the

composer, " so accustomed from youth up to

praiseand recognition (for one cannot helpbeing astonished at this man) that he celebrated

himself in his latest tone-poem; ''the hero strug-glingwith his adversary,"" that this composer

now riding on the high wave of prosperity,wished to see how much he could offer the publicwith serious mien, before the joke was disco v-

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ered? In truth,did he not try some ''Eulenspie-gelei" in his compositions,just as, for example,Bulow, according to my conviction,here and

there attemptedin directingconcerts ? Thus it is

not the harmonic and instrumental abnormities

of the first rank, but rather the deeper observa-tions,

which I have givenabove, that make it im-possible

for me to agree with Strauss in his works

during the last few years. Nor can his brilliant,

even phenomenal success lead me to agreeing,especiallyas the significanceof contemporary suc-cess

is but of ephemeralworth to him who directs

his glanceback away from the figuresof our dayover the historyof hundreds and thousands of

years.Here I will speak of a curious feelingwhich I

have often experienced,but which I have not

found shared by others. If I hear a piece that

reveals to me the weakness of the modern school,then there comes over me after a short time of

attentive listening,in spiteof the great external

difference,exactlythe same sensations that a weak

work of Brahms awakens in me; the same insipid,

empty, and heavy feelingof torment. Does this

similarityof effect lie in the fact that Brahms's

music appears to me as the conceptionof music,

as opposed to its essence, while in the programme

piecesconceptions" as opposed to the essence

of things" are intended to be expressed? Mayit be that the erroneous and artificialproductsofboth schools are closelyrelated after all,as is

undoubtedly the case with their great produc-tions?Perhaps, from a very high pointof view,

^ Mahler

there are not reallytwo schools,but only one.

Time alone can tell.

As I spoke before of an older and a younger

composer, I may mention two other artists in the

same purelyexternal connection. Standingunder

the direct influence of Liszt,Friederich Smetana,

a Bohemian, wrote a series of six symphonic

poems. He gave them the collective title,''Mein

Vaterland," as he had found his poeticalimpulsein Bohemian folk-lore. I mention as especiallyvaluable "Vltava," and then "Vysehrad" and

^'Aus Bohmens Hain und Flur." The firstmen-tioned

is an especiallybeautiful example of how

far a prescribedprogramme is compatiblewithmusic. An interestingfigureof our day,but far

too littleesteemed as a composer, is Gustav Mahler.

His works are of colossal dimension,and requirean unusuallylargenumber of executants, which

makes more difficulttheir performanceand repu-tation.

But if we overlook these considerations,

which, after all,are secondary,and turn to the

composer himself, we find in him deep, strong

feelingwhich has its own mode of expression,andwhich says what it has to say quiteunconcerned

about the possibilitiesof performanceand success.

Mahler's most, strikingcharacteristic is the re-markable

breadth of his themes, as well as their

thoroughlymusical nature. In many pointshe is

like his teacher,Bruckner, onlyhe understands

better how to work with his themes and how to

construct his movements. There may be bizarre

passages, there may be needles^ difficultiesin his

works; we may notice a certain prolixity,and,

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The Symphony since Beethoven

perhaps, a want of severe self-criticismin the

selection of his themes; but everythingthat

Mahler writes bears the stamp of a rich imagina-tionand of a passionateand a vivid,almost fanatic

enthusiasm,which always has awakened my sym-pathy.

I have now spoken of the modern composers

also,chieflyof Strauss and IMahler,who, standingstillin the middle of their creative work, lead our

thoughts on from the present to the future.

Whether there will come an artist,who in his

own way can carry on further the work of Berlioz,

Liszt,and Wagner, and worthilybring to a close

the ranks of our greatgeniuses,no one to-daycan

tell.

But we need not hinder our imaginationsfrom

picturinghim as he would appear in our day. I

think oi him first as independentof all parties,and not meddling with them because he is above

them. I think oi him, not narrow-mindedlyGer-man

nor yet cosmopolitanand shallow,but having

a strong,purelyhuman feeling,because music is a

universal art. I picturehim inspiredwith a glow-ingenthusiasm for what the great minds of all

times and of all nations have produced,and hav-ing

an invincible aversion to mediocrity,with which

he comes in contact onlythroughhis own kindness.

I think of him as free from en\7 because conscious

of and trustingin his own worth, far above any

mean ways of advertisinghis own works; pro-foundly

sincere,and, where needful;even indiffer-ent

" hence not a great favorite in many places.I imagine him not anxiouslyavoidingsocial in-

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Conclusion

tercourse, but with a tendencytowards seclusion

" not hatingmen in exaggeratedworld-grief,but

despisingtheir meanness and narrow-mindedness,and so choosingonly specialpersons for his dailyintercourse. I think of him as not indifferent to

success or failure,but refusingto allow either to

alter his course by a hair's breadth; very indif-ferent

to so-called publicopinion,and politicallya republicanin Beethoven's sense. I see him

wandering,as it were, in an Alpineregionwherethe clear white mountain-topsgreet us kindly,but

yet are awe-inspiring,with his gaze constantlyfixed on the highestpeak,toward which he is ah

ways advancing. Althoughhe feels himself akin

onlyto the greatestgeniuses,stillhe knows he is

only one link in the chain and that other greatmen will succeed him. So he belongs,indeed,toa school,but to one which soars over the heads

of humanity and vanishes.

If we come down to realityafter this flightof

our imagination,we recognizethat we are livingin an interregnum,in a period of transition.

Every\vherewe notice a pulsating,restless activ-ity,

an uncertain groping after dim objects,a

hankering for success and celebrityat all costs

and by any means. ^'Progress,""Neo-German-

ism," "hitherto unheard-of originality,""precur-sor,""epigone,""eclectic,""founder of a new

school," "superseded standpoint,"" these are

many of the catchwords which strike our confused

ear. Now we hear of a new tone-poem in com-parison

with which the works of Wagner, Liszt,and

Berlioz are but the productionsof pigmies;there

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The Symphony since Beethoven

the true popularvein is said to have been rediscov-ered.

As in a Fata Morgana, the new pass before

us, fade,and die away. An almost frivolous ad-miration

of the willful,the irregular,the ugly,hasmanifested itself in many places. Where for-merly

every Philistine crossed himself before every

"tritonus,"and eagerlysearched for every ''in-harmonic

relation,"nowadays theysanction everyharmonic absurdity,callingit a ''bold act," if

onlyit occurs absolutelywithout reason; and he

who has accomplishedthe most along that line is

styleda "reformer!" No doubt in the midst of

all this confusion,the great, the trulynew and

original,is silentlypreparing,but far away from

the art market. Its appearance will be a ques-tionof personalityand not of education. The

artist cannot live far from the activityof the world.

He must get his ideas,his inspirations,and the

plumb-linefor his work from life. Will our pres-ent

most intense,nervous, and strenuous exist-ence

let some soul developwithin,in the midst

of all the press and drive,that degreeof intuitive-

ness and poisefrom which alone great works of

art,stamped neither more nor less with the fad of

the day, can come ? Will " without reaction "

that loftiness without pathos,that charm without

coquetry, that strengthand sweetness of spirit,by which our great masters were characterized,return to-dayupon the basis of the modern phil-osophy

of life? In this age of invention and me-chanics

is an art possiblethat,standingas far

above all time as everythingreallygreat does,isstillthe child of its time ?

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The Symphony since Beethoven

every one of you must be "superhuman" if the

misunderstood teachingsof Zarathustra ring in

your ears and set your brain in feverish agita-tion.To onlya few is itpermittedto wander on

the highestsummits of humanity,and this ''su-perhuman"

state cannot be constructed,learned,or acquired.That endowment comes only as a

transcendent giftfrom the regionsabove. "From

which?" you eagerlyask. Well " from that re-gion

which only he would deny who has never

feltits breath wafted across to him !" Be it a httle

song or a great symphony that you compose, it

will onlybe a masterpieceif it deserves the same

motto that the great Beethoven wrote on the score

of his"Missa Solemnis:"

"Von Herzen " moge es zu Herzen gehen."

Felix Weingartner.

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