This woman could meet the most enthusiastic admirer of Beethoven or
Wagner on his own ground. But when she heard "Ein Heldenleben" under
Emil Paur's baton at a concert of the New York Philharmonic Society,
she heard what she had been waiting twenty years for--something new in
music that also was something great; something that was not merely an
imitation of what she had heard a hundred times before, but something
which pointed the way to untraveled paths. It always is woman who
throws the first rose at the feet of genius.
Not a Juggler with the Orchestra.
One first looks at Richard Strauss in mere amazement at the size of
what he has produced. "Thus Spake Zarathustra" lasts thirty-three
minutes, "A Hero's Life" forty-five--considerable lengths for
orchestral works. This initial sense of "bigness," as such, having
worn off, one becomes aware of marvellous tone combinations and
orchestral effects. Listening again, one discovers that these daring
instrumental combinations have not been entered into merely for the
sake of juggling with the orchestra, but because the composer, being a
modern of moderns, has the most modern message in music to deliver,
and, in order to deliver it, has developed the modern orchestra to a
state of efficiency and versatility of tonal expression beyond any of
his predecessors. Richard Strauss scores, in the most casual manner,
an octave higher than Beethoven dared go with the violins. Except in
the "Egmont" overture, Beethoven did not carry the violins higher than
F above the staff. What should have been higher he wrote an octave
lower. All the strings in the Richard Strauss orchestra are scored
correspondingly high. But this is not done as a mere fad. What
Richard Strauss accomplishes with the strings is not merely queer or
bizarre. What he seeks and obtains is genuine original musical
effects. Often the highest register is used by him in a few of the
strings only, because, for certain polyphonic effects--the weaving and
interweaving of various themes--he divides and subdivides all the
strings into numerous groups. For the same reason, he has regularly
added four or five hitherto rarely used instruments to the woodwind
and scores, regularly, for eight horns, besides employing from four to
five trumpets.
While he has increased the technical difficulties of every instrument,
what he requires of them is not impossible. He does, indeed, call for
first-rate artists in his orchestra; but so did Wagner as compared
with Beethoven. He knows every instrument thoroughly, for he has taken
lessons on all; and, therefore, when he is striving for new
instrumental effects he is not putting problems which cannot be
legitimately solved. His "Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks" makes,
possibly, the greatest demand of all his works on an orchestra. But,
if properly played, it is one of the most bizarre and amusing scherzos
in the repertoire. In his "Don Quixote," he has gone outside the list
of orchestral instruments; and in the scene where _Don Quixote_ has
his tilt with the windmill, he has introduced a regular theatrical
wind-machine. And why not? The effect to be produced justifies the
means. There is an _a capella_ chorus by Strauss for sixteen voices.
These are not divided into two double quartets, or into four quartets,
but the composition actually is scored in sixteen parts. He shrinks
from no musical problem.
Not Mere Bulk and Noise.
When "A Hero's Life" was produced in New York it was given at a public
rehearsal and concert of the Philharmonic. It made such a profound
impression--it was recognized as music, not as mere bulk and
noise--that it had to be repeated at a following public rehearsal and
concert, thus having the honor of four consecutive performances by the
same society in one season. Previous performances of Strauss's works,
mainly by the Chicago Orchestra, under Thomas, and the Boston Symphony
Orchestra, had begun to direct public attention to this composer. But
the "Heldenleben" performances by the Philharmonic created something
of a sensation. They made the "hit" to which the public unconsciously
had been working up for several seasons. Large as are the dimensions
of "A Hero's Life," Richard Strauss had chosen a subject that made a
very direct appeal. Despite its wealth of polyphony and theme
combination, the score told, without a word of synopsis, a clear
intelligible story of a hero's material victory, followed by a greater
moral one. It placed the public on a human, familiar footing with a
composer whom previously they had regarded with more awe than
interest. Here was music interesting as mere music, but all the more
interesting because it had an intellectual message to convey.
Life and Truth.
What is the difference between classical and modern music? Write a
chapter or a book on it, and the difference still remains just this:
Classical music is the expression of beauty; modern music the
expression of life and truth. Modern music seems entering upon a new
era with Strauss, which does not necessarily exclude beauty. It is
beginning to illustrate itself, so to speak, like the author-artist
who can both write and draw. To-day, music not only expresses truth,
but represents it pictorially. How long will the time be in coming
when a composer will wave his baton, the orchestra strike a chord--and
we be not only listeners but also beholders, hearing the chord, and
seeing at the same time its image floating above the orchestra?
In his "Melomaniacs," the most remarkable collection of musical
stories I have read, Mr. Huneker has a tale called "A Piper of
Dreams," the most advanced piece of musical fiction I know of. This
piper of dreams produces music which is _seen_. "Do you know why you
like it?" Mr. Huneker asked me, when I told him how intensely I
admired the story. "Because," he continued, "the hero of the story is
a Richard Strauss."
Of course, this brilliantly written story was a daring incursion into
a seemingly impossible future. Yet it points a tendency. When shall we
have music that can be seen? Considering how closely related are the
laws of acoustics and optics, is a "Piper of Dreams" so visionary? Who
knows but that the music of the future may be visible sound--the work
of a piper of dreams? Sometimes, when listening to Strauss, I think
Mr. Huneker's _Piper_ is tuning up.
Richard Strauss's tone poems are large in plan. In fact they are
colossal. They show him to be a man of great intellectual activity, as
well as an inspired composer. The latter, of course, is the test by
which a musical work stands or falls. No matter how intellectually it
is planned, if it is inadequate musically it fails. But if it is
musically inspired, it gains vastly in effect when it rests on a brain
basis.
Literally Tone Dramas.
That Richard Strauss is the most significant figure in the musical
world to-day seems to me too patent to admit of discussion. The only
question to be considered is, how has he become so? The question is
best answered by showing what a Richard Strauss tone poem is. Take
"Thus Spake Zarathustra" and "A Hero's Life." Without going into an
elaborate discussion I must insist that, to consider Richard Strauss
as in any way a development from Berlioz or Liszt, shows a deplorable
unfamiliarity with his works. Berlioz wrote program music. Liszt wrote
program music. Richard Strauss writes program music. But this point of
resemblance is wholly superficial. Berlioz admittedly strove to adhere
to the orthodox symphonic form. Liszt aptly named his own productions
"symphonic poems." They are much freer in form than Berlioz's, and
possibly pointed the way to the Richard Strauss tone poem. But when we
examine the musical kernel, the difference at once is apparent.
Polyphony, that is, the simultaneous interweaving of many themes, was
foreign to Berlioz and Liszt. Their style is mainly homophonic.
Richard Strauss is a polyphonic composer second not even to Wagner,
whose system of leading motives in his music-dramas made his scores
such marvellous polyphonic structures. Such, too, are the scores of
Richard Strauss's tone poems. None but a master of polyphony could
have attempted to express in music what Richard Strauss has expressed.
For are not his tone poems literally tone dramas?
It was like a man of great intellectual activity, such as Richard
Strauss is, to select for musical illustration the Faust of modern
literature--Nietzsche's "Zarathustra." The composer became interested
in Nietzsche's works in 1892, when he was writing his music-drama,
"Guntram." The full fruition of his study of this philosopher's works
is "Thus Spake Zarathustra." But this is not an attempt to set
Nietzsche to music, not an effort to express a system of philosophy
through sound. It is rather the musical portrayal of a quest--a being
longing to solve the problems of life, finding at the end of his
varied pilgrimage that which he had left at the beginning, Nature deep
and inscrutable.
Musically, the great _fortissimo_ outburst in C major, which, at the
beginning of the work, greets the seeker on the mountain-top with the
glories of the sunrise, is the symbol of Nature. The seeker descends
the mountain. He pursues the quest amid many surroundings, among all
sorts and conditions of men. He experiences joy, passion, remorse. In
wisdom, perchance, lies the final solution of the problem of life. But
the emptiness of "wisdom" is depicted by the composer with the
keenest satire in a learned, yet dry, five-part fugue. The seeker's
varied experiences form as many divisions of the tone poem. There is
even a waltz theme. Unending joy! Therein he may reach the end of his
quest.
But hark! a sombre strophe, followed twelve times by the even fainter
stroke of a bell! Then a theme winging its flight on the highest
register of modern instrumentation, until it seems to rise over the
orchestra and vanish into thin air. It is the soul of the seeker, his
earthly quest ended; while the theme which greeted him at sunrise on
the mountain-top resounds in the orchestral depths, the symbol of
Nature, still mysterious, still inscrutable.
An Intellectual Force in Music.
Even this brief synopsis suggests that "Zarathustra" is planned on a
large scale. It presupposes an intellectual grasp of the subject on
the composer's part. In its choice, in the selection and rejection of
details and in outlining his scheme, Richard Strauss shows that he has
thoroughly assimilated Nietzsche. But, at a certain point, the
musician in Richard Strauss asserts himself above the litterateur.
"Thus Spake Zarathustra" was not intended for a preachment, save
indirectly. From what occurs during that vain quest, from the last
deep mysterious chord of the Nature theme, let the listener draw his
own conclusion. In the last analysis, "Thus Spake Zarathustra" is not
a philosophical treatise, but a tone poem. In the last analysis,
Richard Strauss is not a philosopher, but a musician.
"A Hero's Life" is another work of large plan. Like "Zarathustra," it
derives its importance as an art-work from its eloquence as a musical
composition. With a musical work, no matter how intellectual or
dramatic its foundation, its test ever will be its value as pure
music. Richard Wagner's theories would have fallen like a house of
cards, had not his music been eloquent and beautiful. But as his music
gained wonderfully in added eloquence and beauty by induction from its
intellectual content, so does Strauss's. The fact is, music is music,
while philosophies come and go. Yesterday it was Schopenhauer; to-day
it is Nietzsche; to-morrow it will be another. Doubtless, Wagner
thought his "Ring" was Schopenhauer's "Negation of the Will to Live"
set to music. Possibly, Richard Strauss thought Nietzsche looked out
between the bars of "Thus Spake Zarathustra." In point of fact,
neither Wagner nor Richard Strauss incorporated their favorite
philosophers in their music. Wagner may have derived his inspiration
from his reading of Schopenhauer, and Richard Strauss from Nietzsche,
for one mind inspires another. But the real result, both in Wagner and
Strauss, was great music.
This is made clear by Strauss's "A Hero's Life." Like "Zarathustra,"
it would be effective as music without a line of programmatic
explanation. The latter simply adds to its effectiveness by giving it
the further interest of "fiction" and ethical import. In "A Hero's
Life" we hear (and _see_, if you like) the hero himself, his jealous
adversaries, the woman whose love consoles him, the battle in which he
wins his greatest worldly triumph, his mission of peace, the world's
indifference and the final flight of his soul toward the empyrean. All
this is depicted musically with the greatest eloquence. The
battlefield scene is a stupendous massing of orchestral forces. On the
other hand, the amorous episode, entitled "The Hero's Helpmate," is
impassioned and charming.
In the world's indifference to the hero's mission of peace, there is
little doubt that Strauss was indulging in a retrospect of his own
struggles for recognition. For here are heard numerous reminiscences
of his earlier works--his tone poems, "Don Juan," "Death and
Transfiguration," "Macbeth," "Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks," "Thus
Spake Zarathustra," "Don Quixote"; his music-drama, "Guntram"; and his
song, "Dream During Twilight." These reminiscences give "A Hero's
Life" the same autobiographical interest as attaches to Wagner's
"Meistersinger."
Tribute to Wagner.
Strauss pays a tribute to Wagner in the one-act opera, "Feuersnot" ("Fire
Famine"). According to the old legend on which this _Sing-gedicht_
(song-poem) is founded, a young maiden has offended her lover. But the
lover being a magician, casts a spell over the town, causing the
extinction of all fire, bringing cold and darkness upon the entire
place, until the maiden relents and smiles again upon him, when the
spell is lifted and the fires once more burn brightly. The young
lover, _Kunrad_, in rebuking the people of the city, says:
"In this house which to-day I destroy,
Once lodged Richard the Master.
Disgracefully did ye expel him
In envy and baseness," etc., etc.
Accompanying these lines, Strauss introduces themes from Wagner's
"Ring of the Nibelung." Undoubtedly "Richard the Master," in the above
lines, is Richard Wagner.
While Mr. Paur was not the first orchestral leader who has played
Strauss's music in this country, he may justly be regarded as
Strauss's prophet in New York at least. Not only do we owe to him the
performances of "A Hero's Life," which definitely "created" Strauss
here, but it was he who brought forward "Thus Spake Zarathustra," when
he was conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. As long ago as
1889, when Mr. Paur was conductor at Mannheim, he invited Strauss to
direct his symphony in F minor there. Strauss accepted and also
brought with him his just completed "Macbeth," asking to be allowed to
try it over with the orchestra, as he wanted to hear it--a request
which was readily granted. Afterward, at Mr. Paur's house, Strauss's
piano quartet was played, with the composer himself at the piano and
Mr. Paur at the violin. It is not surprising that when Mr. Paur came
over here as the conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, he
championed Richard Strauss's work, continued to do so after he became
conductor of the New York Philharmonic Society, and probably still
does as conductor of the Pittsburg Orchestra.
Strauss has become such an important figure in the world of music
that it is interesting to note what has been done to bring his work
before the American public. Theodore Thomas, with the artistic
liberality which he has always displayed toward every serious effort
in music, produced Strauss's symphony in F minor, which bears date
1883, as early as December 13, 1884, with the New York Philharmonic
Society. It was the first performance of this work anywhere.
Strauss was not, however, heard again at the concerts of this
organization until January, 1892, when Seidl brought out "Death
and Transfiguration."
After he became conductor of the Chicago Orchestra, Thomas gave many
performances of Richard Strauss's works--in 1895, the prelude to
"Guntram," "Death and Transfiguration" and "Till Eulenspiegel's Merry
Pranks"; in 1897, "Don Juan" and "Thus Spake Zarathustra"; in 1899,
"Don Quixote" and the symphonic fantasia, "Italy"; in 1900, "A Hero's
Life" (the first performance in this country) and the "Serenade" for
wind instruments; in 1902, "Macbeth" (first performance in this
country) and the "Feuersnot" fragment. Several of these works, besides
those noted, had their first performance in this country by the
Chicago Orchestra, and several have had repeated performances.
The Boston Symphony Orchestra also has a fine record as regards the
performance of Richard Strauss's works. Nikisch, Paur, and Gericke are
the conductors under whom these performances have been given. Several
of the works have been played repeatedly not only in Boston, but in
other cities where this famous orchestra gives concerts.
Richard Straussiana.
As data regarding Strauss's life, at the disposal of English readers,
are both scant and scattered, it may not be amiss to tell here
something of his career. He was born on June 11, 1864, in Munich,
where his father, Franz Strauss, played the French-horn in the Royal
Orchestra, and was noted for his remarkable proficiency on the
instrument. The elder Strauss lived long enough to watch with pride
his son's growing fame. Richard began to play the piano when he was
four years old. At the age of six he heard some children singing
around a Christmas tree. "I can compose something like that," he said,
and he produced unaided a three-part song. When he went to school, his
mother by chance put covers of music paper on his books. As a result,
he occupied much of his time composing on this paper, and during a
French lesson sketched out the scherzo of a string quartet which has
been published as his Opus 2. While he was still at school, he
composed a symphony in D minor. This was played by the Royal Orchestra
under Levi. When, in response to calls for the composer, Richard came
out, some one in the audience asked: "What has that boy to do with the
symphony?" "Oh, he's only the composer," was the reply. The year
before (1880), the Royal Opera prima donna, Meysenheim, had publicly
sung three of his songs.
During his advanced school years, his piano lessons continued, he
received lessons in the violin, and went through a severe course in
composition with the Royal Kapellmeister, Meyer. In 1882, he attended
the University of Munich. His "Serenade" for wind instruments,
composed at this time, attracted the attention of Hans von Buelow,
under whom he studied for a while at Raff's conservatory in Frankfort.
Buelow invited him to Meiningen as co-director of the orchestra, and
when in November, 1885, Buelow resigned as conductor, Strauss became
his successor, remaining there, however, only till April, 1886. His
symphonic fantasia, "Italy," had its origin through a trip to Rome and
Naples during this year. In August, 1886, he was appointed assistant
conductor to Levi and Fischer at the Munich Opera, where he remained
until July, 1889, when he became conductor at Weimar. In 1892, he
almost died from an attack of pneumonia, and on his recovery took a
long trip through Greece, Egypt and Sicily. It was on this tour that
he wrote and composed "Guntram," which was brought out at Weimar in
May, 1894. After the first performance, he announced his engagement to
the singer of _Freihild_ in "Guntram," Pauline de Ahna, the daughter
of a Bavarian general. The same year he returned to Munich as
conductor, remaining there until 1899, when he became one of the
conductors at the Berlin Opera, which position he still holds. He is
one of the "star" conductors of Europe, receiving invitations to
conduct concerts in many cities, including Brussels, Moscow,
Amsterdam, Barcelona, Madrid, London and Paris; and his American tour
was a memorable one. He is a man of untiring industry. It is said that
he worked no less than half a year on "Thus Spake Zarathustra," and
that the writing of his scores is a model of beauty.
Strauss occupies a commanding position in the world of music. He has
achieved it through a remarkable combination of musical technique and
inspiration coupled with rare industry. His ideals are of the highest.
His intellectual activity is great. He seems a man of calm and noble
poise, of broad horizon. It would be presumption to speak of
"expectations" as to one who has accomplished so much. For the great
achievements already to his credit, and among these "Salome" surely
must be included, are the best promise for the future.