SCHUMANN AND MENDELSSOHN
In distinction from pioneers like Schubert, slightly tinged with
Romanticism, and Weber who, though versatile, was somewhat lacking in
creative vigor, Schumann (1810-1856) stands forth as the definite,
conscious spokesman of the Romantic movement in German art just as
Berlioz was for art in France. He was endowed with literary gifts of a
high order, had a keen critical and historical sense and wrote freely
and convincingly in support of his own views and in generous
recognition of the ideals of his contemporaries. Many of his swans, to
be sure, proved later to be geese, and it is debatable how much good
was done by his rhapsodic praise to young Brahms; whether in fact he
did not set before the youngster a chimerical ideal impossible of
attainment. Schumann early came under the influence of Jean Paul
Richter, that incarnation of German Romanticism, whom he placed on the
same high plane as Shakespeare and Beethoven. An intimate appreciation
of much that is fantastic and whimsical in Schumann is possible only
through acquaintance with the work of this Jean Paul. Schumann's first
compositions were for the pianoforte--in fact his original
ambition[190] was to be a pianoforte virtuoso--and to-day his
permanent significance depends on the spontaneity in conception and
the freedom of form manifested in these pianoforte works and in his
romantic songs. Here we have the "ipsissimus Schumann," as von Buelow
so well remarks. Schumann's pianoforte style is compounded of two
factors: first, his intensely subjective and varied imagination which,
nourished by the love of Romantic literature, craved an individual
mode of expression; second, a power of concentration and of organic
structure which was largely derived from a study of Bach and of the
later works of Beethoven. Schumann saw that the regularity of abstract
form, found in the purely classical writers, was not suited to the
full expression of his moods and so he worked out a style of his own,
although in many cases this was simply a logical amplification or
modification of former practice. In his pianoforte compositions, then,
we find a striking freedom in the choice of subject, which is
generally indicated by some poetically descriptive title, _e.g._,
_Waldscenen_, _Nachtstuecke_, _Fantasiestuecke_, _Novelletten_,
_Kreisleriana_, _Humoreske_, etc. The danger in this form of subject
matter is that it often degenerates into sentimentality coupled with a
corresponding spinelessness of structure. This danger Schumann avoids
by a style noticeable for terseness and structural solidity. His
effort was to give significance to every note; all verbiage,
meaningless scale passages and monotonous arpeggios were swept away,
while the imagination was aroused by the bold use of dissonances and
by the variety of tone-color. A thoroughly novel feature was the
flexibility of the rhythm, which breaks from the old "sing-song"
metres and abounds in syncopations, in contrasted accents, and in
subtle combinations of metrical groups; every effort being made to
avoid the tyranny of the bar-line.
[Footnote 190: Because of an unfortunate accident to one of his
fingers this ambition, however, had to be abandoned. The world thereby
gained a great composer.]
Schumann's career was peculiar in that, beginning as a pianoforte
composer, he tried successively every other form as well--the song,
chamber music, works for orchestra, and for orchestra with solo voices
and chorus--and won distinction to a greater or less degree in every
field save that of the opera. Notwithstanding the beauty of poetic
inspiration enshrined in the four symphonies, a grave defect is the
quality of orchestral tone which greets the ear, especially the modern
ear accustomed to the many-hued sonority of Wagner, Tchaikowsky,
Debussy and others. These symphonies have been called "huge pieces for
four hands" which were afterwards orchestrated, and the allegation is
not without truth, as real orchestral glow and brilliancy is so often
lacking. Each one, however, has notable features, _e.g._, the sublime
Adagio of the 2d, and the touching Romanza of the 4th, and each is
worthy of study; for Schumann in certain aspects furnishes the best
avenue of approach to the modern school. In the Fourth Symphony he
obliterates the pauses between the movements and fuses them all
together; calling it a Symphony "in einem Satze" and anticipating the
very same procedure that Schoenberg follows in his String Quartet which
has had recent vogue. Schumann's chief contribution to the development
of the German Song lay in the pianoforte part, which with Schubert and
Mendelssohn might properly be called an accompaniment, however rich
and varied. But in Schumann the pianoforte attains to a real
independence of style, intensifying in the most subtle and delicate
way every shade of poetic feeling in the text. In fact, it is often
used to reveal some deep meaning beyond the expressive power of words.
This is seen in the closing measures of "Moonlight" where the voice
ceases in suspense, and the instrument completes the eloquence of the
message. Schumann's great achievement as a literary man was his
founding, in 1834, of the _Neue Zeitschrift fuer Musik_, to which he
himself contributed many stimulating and suggestive essays, opposing
with might and main the Philistinism which so pervaded the music of
his time. He even established an imaginary club, called the
Davidsbund, to storm the citadel of Philistia.
The best eulogy of Schumann is the recognition that many of the
tendencies in modern music, which we now take for granted, date from
him: the exaltation of freedom and fancy over mere formal
presentation, the union of broad culture with musical technique, and
the recognition of music as the art closest in touch with the
aspirations of humanity. He was an idealist with such perseverance and
clearness of aim that his more characteristic work can never die.
DES ABENDS.
The _Fantasiestuecke_[191], op. 12, of which this piece is the first,
amply justify their title, for they abound in soaring thoughts, in
fantastic, whimsical imaginings and in novel modes of utterance and
structure. Every number of the set is a gem, _In der Nacht_ being
perhaps the most poetic of Schumann's short pieces for the pianoforte.
They are thoroughly pianistic and evoke from the instrument all its
possibilities of sonority and color. In point of texture they
illustrate that happy combination, which Schumann worked out, of lyric
melodies on a firmly knit polyphonic basis. They are also
programmistic in so far as Schumann believed in music of that type.
There is no attempt to tell a detailed story or to have the music
correspond literally to definite incidents. The titles merely afford a
verbal clue to the general import and atmosphere of the music. Thus in
regard to the piece under consideration, the mere mention of eventide
is supposed to be enough to stimulate thought in any one with a
sensitive imagination, and the music is a suggestive expression of
Schumann's own intimate reveries. The piece is in extended two-part
form--each part repeated--and rounded out with an eloquent Coda. The
rhythmic scheme is of particular significance for it illustrates not
only the composer's fondness for inventing new combinations, but, as
well, suggests most delicately the mood of the piece. It would
evidently be false art to write a piece, entitled Evening, in a
vigorous, arousing rhythm, such as might be associated with a noon-day
sun, when we often see the heat-waves dancing over the fields. On the
other hand Schumann, by a subtle blending of triple time in the main
upper melody and duple time in the lower, suggests that hazy
indefiniteness appropriate to the time of day when the life of Nature
seems momentarily subsiding and everything sinking to rest, _e.g._
[Music]
In many measures of the second part (_i.e._, 21-24) the accent is so
disguised that it seems as if we were in a twilight revery, quite
apart from matters of time and space.
[Footnote 191: As the music is readily procurable the student should
make himself familiar with the entire set.]
WARUM?
This piece is a happy illustration of the intensity of meaning and the
conciseness of structure which Schumann gained by the application of
polyphonic imitation. It is difficult to say exactly what _Warum_
signifies. It was characteristic of the Romantic unrest of the German
mind to question everything--especially "Why am I not more happy in
love?" The motto may be considered a Carlyle-like "everlasting why."
At any rate the composition is an example of music speaking more
plainly than words; for no one can fail to recognize the haunting
appeal in the theme with its long-drawn out final note after the
upward leap. It is a real musical question, _e.g._
[Music]
_Grillen_, the next piece in the set, deserves careful study. It is
too long to present as a whole, but we cite the middle part (See
Supplement No. 52) as it is such a convincing example of syncopated
effect (_i.e._, the persistent placing of the accent on weak beats),
and of elasticity in the metric scheme.
_Novellette in E major._
This piece illustrates the vigor and massiveness of Schumann's
pianoforte style. Note the sonority gained by the use of widely spaced
chords. For the brilliant effect demanded, there should be a liberal
use of the damper pedal.[192] We likewise find, beginning with the
third brace, some characteristic polyphonic imitations which give to
the movement a remarkable concentration. In the middle contrasting
portion it seems as if Schumann had taken a leaf out of Chopin's
book--a beautiful, lyric melody floating on an undercurrent of
sonorous, arpeggio chords. The theme is presented in dialogue form,
first in the upper voice, next in an inner voice and finally in the
bass. (See Supplement No. 53.)
[Footnote 192: A beautiful contrast may be made by playing the section
in F major with the "una corda" pedal throughout.]
SONG, _Mondnacht_.
No estimate of Schumann would be fair or comprehensive without some
mention of his songs; upon which, together with his pianoforte
compositions, his immortality tends more and more to rest.
Notwithstanding the many poetic and dramatic touches in Schubert's
accompaniments, those of Schumann are on the whole more finely
wrought; for he had the advantage of Schubert in being, himself, a
pianist of high attainment, thoroughly versed in pianistic effects.
His imagination was also more sensitive to subtle shades of meaning in
the text and he was inspired by the wonderful lyrics of Heine,
Eichendorff and Chamisso who in Schubert's day had written very
little. Special features of Schumann's songs are the instrumental
preludes and postludes, the prelude establishing just the right
setting for the import of the words and the postlude commenting on the
beautiful message which the voice has just delivered. In _Mondnacht_,
for example, (as previously mentioned), note how the voice stops in
suspense and in what an eloquent revery the accompaniment completes
the picture. (See Supplement No. 54.)
OVERTURE TO _Manfred_.
This Overture, the first of a set of incidental numbers which Schumann
composed to illustrate Byron's dramatic poem, represents some of his
most typical inspiration, and so is well worthy of our study. The
music is labored at times, especially in the Development, and the
orchestration is often dry and stereotyped. But the conception was a
powerful one, and there is a genuine correspondence between the nature
of the music and the spirit of the poem. It is evident that the
subject made a deep impression on Schumann, whose own imagination,
addicted to mysterious and even morbid broodings, was strongly akin to
that of Byron's fictitious character. The composition is program music
of the subjective order, comparable to Beethoven's _Coriolanus_,
_i.e._, the themes are dramatic characterizations: the first typifying
the stormy nature of Manfred; the second, with its note of pleading,
the mysterious influence over the recluse of the spirit of Astarte. As
in all works of this kind the music cannot be readily appreciated
without a knowledge of the poem which it illustrates.[193] As for the
structure, Schumann clings too closely to the Sonata-form. The music
is eloquent just in proportion as he gives his fancy free rein; where
he tries to force the themes into an arbitrary mould, the result is
unsatisfactory--especially the development, which is neither very
dramatic nor interesting from a purely musical point of view. The work
opens with three spasmodic syncopated[194] chords, and then follow
twenty-four measures (lento and at first pianissimo) of a preludial
nature with suggestions of the Manfred theme. The movement becomes
gradually faster and more impassioned until, in measure 26, we reach
the presentation of the first theme (allegro agitato) which, with its
frequent syncopations, is characteristic of Manfred's restless
nature. The transition begins in measure 39; at first with a
repetition of the main theme, which soon modulates to F-sharp minor,
in which key the second theme enters, in measure 51. This theme--in
three portions--seems to embody different aspects of the feminine
influence of Astarte. The first portion, measures 51-61, with its
undulating, chromatic outline, may be said to typify the haunting
apparition so real to Manfred's imagination and yet so intangible; the
second, 62-67, contains a note of impassioned protest, and the third,
68-77, is a love message of tender consolation. If this interpretation
seem too subjective, a careful reading of the drama where Astarte
appears (pp. 284-285 in the Everyman's Edition) will, we believe,
corroborate it. The rest of the Exposition consists in a treatment of
the Astarte motive, primarily of a musical nature; though there is a
real dramatic intensity in measures 96-103, which are an expansion of
the love message with its characteristic "appoggiatura." The
Development, beginning in measure 132, is a striking example of how
difficult it was--even for an exponent of freedom in musical
expression like Schumann--to break loose from the shackles of
arbitrary form. The musical thought is kept in motion, to be sure, but
that is about all; for the treatment is often very labored, and
nothing is added to the dramatic picture. The world had to await the
work of Tchaikowsky, and Strauss for a satisfactory adjustment[195]
between the demands of dramatic fitness and the needs of musical
structure. In the Coda, beginning measure 258, Schumann--now that he
is free from considerations of structure--gains a dramatic effect of
truly impressive power. The horns, supported by trumpets and
trombones, intone a funeral dirge of touching solemnity (evidently
suggested by the closing death scene of the drama) while, above, hover
portions of the Astarte motive, as if even in his death her influence
was paramount in Manfred's imagination, _e.g._
[Music]
Notwithstanding certain blemishes, this Overture at the time of its
composition was a landmark in the development of program music, and if
to our modern tastes it seems a bit antiquated, this is largely
because of the great progress which has since been made.[196]
[Footnote 193: The poem is easily procured in a volume of Everyman's
Library.]
[Footnote 194: These chords are an amusing example of a "paper
effect," for unless you watch the conductor's beat, it is impossible
to feel the syncopation. There being no first beat proper, the chords
are syncopated against the air!]
[Footnote 195: For pertinent comments on this point see Newman's essay
on Program Music, pp. 134-135, in his _Musical Studies_.]
[Footnote 196: In studying this work consult, if possible, the
orchestral score. For those who need a condensed two-hand arrangement,
the Litolff edition is to be recommended.]
SYMPHONY IN D MINOR.
This Symphony is selected from Schumann's four, both for the peculiar
romantic beauty of its themes and because the form in which it is cast
makes it an important connecting link between the freedom of
structure, instituted by Beethoven, and the Symphonic Poem of Liszt
and other modern composers. All of Schumann's symphonies contain
genuine beauties and should be familiar to the cultivated musician.
Perhaps the first in B-flat major is the most sustained, and it has a
freshness and buoyancy summed up in its title, the _Spring_, by which
it is popularly known. The exuberance of the Finale is pure Schumann
and is expressed with an orchestral eloquence in which he was
frequently lacking.[197] The Second Symphony is notable for its
sublime Adagio, Schumann's love-song--comparable to the slow movement
of Beethoven's Fourth. At some future day, conductors will have the
courage to play this movement by itself like a magnificent Torso, for
indubitably the other movements have aged beyond recall. The Third
Symphony, known as the _Rhenish_ (composed when Schumann was living at
Duesseldorf on the Rhine) is significant for its incorporation of
popular melodies from the Rhineland, and for the movement, scored
chiefly for trombones and other brass instruments, which gives a
picture of some ceremonial occasion in the Cologne Cathedral.
[Footnote 197: It is more than a matter of mere chronology to realise
that the D minor Symphony was composed in the same year as the B-flat
major. It was afterwards revised and published as No. 4, but the
vitality and spontaneity of its themes come from the first gush of
Schumann's inspiration.]
The Fourth Symphony is an uneven work, for there are many places where
Schumann's constructive power was unequal to his ideal conceptions. We
often can see the joints, and the structure--in places--resembles a
rag-carpet rather than the organic texture of an oriental rug. But the
spontaneous outpouring of melody touches our emotions and well-nigh
disarms criticism. Schumann had constantly been striving for a closer
relationship[198] between the conventional movements of the symphony;
and his purpose, in the structural treatment adopted, is indicated by
the statement published in the full score--"Introduction, Allegro,
Romanze, Scherzo und Finale _in einem Satze_" _i.e._, the work is to
be considered as a _continuous whole_ and not broken up into arbitrary
movements with rigid pauses between. The long drawn-out
Introduction,[199] with its mysterious harmonies, leads us into the
land of romance, and a portion of this introduction is happily carried
over and repeated in the Romanze. The First movement proper, from
_Lebhaft_, seems at first as if it were to be in the customary
Sonata-form; the Exposition beginning with two themes in the normal
relationship of minor and relative major, though to be sure the second
theme is more of a supplementary expansion of the first than one which
provides a strong contrast. But after the double bar and repeat, this
first theme is developed in a free preludial manner as if it were
continually leading up to a climax. We are finally rewarded by a new
theme of great warmth which amply makes up for any lack of
individuality in the second theme proper, _e.g._
[Music]
[Footnote 198: We find traces of this tendency in the First Symphony,
where the Slow Movement and the Scherzo are linked together, likewise
in the Second, where the motto of the first movement is repeated at
the end of the Scherzo.]
[Footnote 199: The analysis is based, as usual, on the orchestral
score; for class-room study there are excellent editions for two and
four hands.]
The rest of the movement consists of additional improvisations, rather
too rigidly sectionalized, on the first theme and a second appearance
of the interpolated theme. This theme, with rhythmic modifications,
serves also as the basis for the brilliant Coda; for there is no
Recapitulation proper, and it is evident that the movement is an
extended prelude for what is to come--a first portion of the work as a
whole. After a dramatic pause,[200] which enhances the feeling of
expectancy (so prominent in the first movement) followed by a
sustained modulatory chord, the Romanze begins with a plaintive theme
in A minor. The mood is that of an idealized serenade, and in the
original score the accompaniment for the oboe melody was given to the
guitar[201] to secure the appropriate atmosphere. After the first
statement of the theme there is an interpolated quotation of the
characteristic passage from the introduction, which serves to bind the
movements together both in structure and in relationship of mood. The
movement is in clear-cut three-part form and the middle contrasting
section in the major mode reveals a sustained descending melody played
by the body of strings, which is delicately embellished by an obligato
variant given to a solo violin, _e.g._
[Music]
[Footnote 200: Concert-goers may well be reminded that there should be
_no_ applause between the movements of this work. One of the most
pernicious ideas of the public is that as soon as the music ceases,
handclapping should begin; whereas a complete silence is often the
very means the composer employs for intensifying what has been said
and preparing for what is to come. Let us ponder the cryptic remark
attributed to Mozart that "the rests in music are more important than
the notes."]
[Footnote 201: This was afterwards withdrawn as impracticable. What a
pity that Schumann wrote before the harp as a member of the orchestra
had come into its own. For the mood which he was trying to establish
compare the scoring of this Romanza with that in the Slow movement of
Franck's Symphony.]
At first the 'cellos, also, re-enforce this melody.
[Music]
The effect is that of an ethereal voice commenting on the beauty of
the main theme. This obligato part is of special significance, since
with rhythmic change it forms the chief theme of the Trio in the
following movement. The Romanze closes with a simple return to the
plaintive oboe melody, this time in D minor. The tonality is purposely
indefinite to accentuate the wistful feeling of the movement--the last
chords having the suspense of a dominant ending. After a short pause
we are at once whirled into the dashing Scherzo which seems to
represent the playful badinage of a Romantic lover. The Trio affords a
delightful reminiscence of the Romanze and, from a structural point of
view, is an early example of the principle of "transformation of
theme"[202] which plays so important a role in the works of Liszt,
Franck, Tchaikowsky and Dvo[vr]ak. For the melody, _e.g._,
[Music]
is a rhythmic variant of the former obligato of the solo violin, and
has this characteristic, which gives a peculiar note of surprise, that
it always begins on the third beat of the measure. Following a
repetition of the Scherzo the movement ends eloquently with a
coda-like return to the Trio which, after some modulatory changes, is
broken up into detached fragments, seeming to vanish into thin air.
There is no pause between the end of the Scherzo and the introduction,
based on the theme of the first movement, which ushers in the Finale.
This movement is in Sonata-form with a modified Recapitulation--_i.e._,
the first theme is not repeated--and with a passionate closing theme,
_e.g._,
[Music]
which atones for the intentional incompleteness with which the first
movement ends. The main theme is a compound of a vigorous march-like
motive, closely related to one of the subsidiary phrases of the first
movement, and a running figure in the bass--the derivation of which is
obvious. After a rather labored transition[203]--surely the most
mechanical passage in the whole work--we are rewarded by a melody of
great buoyancy and rhythmic life, _e.g._
[Music]
[Footnote 202: In Brahms, who was something of a conservative as to
freedom of form, there is a striking example in the connection between
the second movement and the Finale of the Third Symphony.]
[Footnote 203: Schumann was a true poet in the spontaneity of his
themes, but often an unsuccessful architect when connecting them.]
The free Fantasie begins with a contrapuntal working-out of a figure
taken from the first theme, but it suffers from a persistent emphasis
on what, after all, is an uninteresting rhythm [Music]; there is,
furthermore, a rigid grouping of the phrases in twos and fours.
Schumann's instinct was a wise one in omitting the main theme of the
Recapitulation and in leading, as soon as possible, to the repetition
of the delightful second theme--the gem of the movement--which now
makes its orthodox appearance in the tonic. After some ejaculatory
measures, which remind us of the beginning of the Development, we have
the impassioned closing theme, referred to above, which ushers in the
free and brilliant Coda, worked up contrapuntally with ever increasing
speed. The movement ends with Schumannesque syncopations. The D minor
Symphony, thus, although not a perfect work of art, is a significant
one and repays intimate study. A long life may safely be predicted for
it by reason of the fervor and charm of its melodies. An important
historical status it will always hold, for it is the honorable
ancestor of such great symphonies as Cesar Franck's in D minor and
Tchaikowsky's in E minor, in which we find the same freedom of form
and the same fusion of material attempted by Schumann's daring
spirit.[204]
[Footnote 204: For a detailed and illuminating study of this symphony
and of Schumann's style in general see the last essay in _Preludes and
Studies_ by W.J. Henderson. Another excellent essay may be found in
_Studies in Modern Music_ by W.H. Hadow.]
Closely connected with Schumann, chronologically and also by certain
executive associations, _e.g._, the Leipsic Conservatory, is the
career of Mendelssohn (1809-1847). There was much in common between
the two; they both were extremely versatile, of strong literary bent
and naturally drawn to the same media of expression: pianoforte, solo
voices and orchestra. And yet, so dissimilar were the underlying
strains in their temperaments that their compositions, as an
expression of their personalities, show little in common. Schumann, as
we have seen, was fantastic, mystical, a bold, independent thinker,
the quintessence of the Romantic spirit. Mendelssohn, on the other
hand, though not lacking in poetic fancy and warmth, was cautious--a
born conservative; and his early classical training, together with the
opulent circumstances of his life, served as a natural check upon the
freedom of genius. His dazzling precocity--witness the _Midsummer
Night's Dream_ Overture, composed while he was in his seventeenth
year--and a great popular success were surely not the best stimuli to
make him delve into the depths of his imagination. Undoubtedly he did
a valuable service, in his day, in uniting the leading tendencies of
the two schools: the exuberant fancy of the Romantic, and the reserve
and finish of the Classic. He has been aptly called a "Romanticist
with a classical equipment." If any appraisement be necessary to the
detriment of one or the other, it must be conceded that Schumann was
the greater genius. A just estimate of Mendelssohn's work is
difficult, for his career was so meteoric and in his life he was so
overvalued that now, with the opposite swing of the pendulum, he is as
often underrated. He was assuredly a great artist, for what he had to
say was beautifully expressed; the question hinges on the actual worth
of the message. With perfect finish there often goes a lack of power
and objective energy; somewhat the same difference that we feel
between skillful gardening and the free vitality of Nature. Although
Mendelssohn's music delights and charms there is a prevailing lack of
that deep emotion which alone can move the soul. And yet a composer
whom Wagner called "the greatest of landscape painters" and whose best
works have stood the test of time can by no means be scorned. His
descriptive Overtures for orchestra: the _Hebrides_, the _Midsummer
Night's Dream_ and the _Fair Melusine_; his _Variations Serieuses_ for
Pianoforte and some of the _Songs without Words_[205] contain a
genuinely poetic message, flawlessly expressed. As for the pianoforte
music, when the _Songs without Words_ are called "hackneyed" we must
remember that only compositions of truly popular appeal ever have
sufficient vogue to warrant the application of this opprobrious term.
In the pianoforte _Scherzos_ and in the _Rondo Capriccioso in E major_
there is without doubt a vitality and a play of fancy easier to
criticize than to create. The prevalent mood in Mendelssohn's music is
one of sunny-hearted lightness and emotional satisfaction; and if this
be a one-sided presentation of life, it is no more so, as Pratt well
says in his _History of Music_, than the picture of gloom and sorrow
which certain other composers continually emphasize. The fact that his
descriptive Overtures, just mentioned, have been surpassed--owing to
the recent expansion in orchestral possibilities of tone-color--must
not blind us to the beauty of their content, or make us forget the
impetus they have given to modern composers. No one could possibly
find in the _Hebrides_ Overture that subtle descriptive fancy or that
wealth of orchestral coloring which exists in Debussy's marvellous
_Sea Pieces_; and yet the Mendelssohn composition is a genuine
reflection of nature in terms of music and can still be heard with
sustained attention. Wagner[206] praises highly its orchestral
effects; and a modern scholar, Cecil Forsyth,[207] considers the
tone-painting quite irresistible. A sincere tribute of admiration
should also be paid to Mendelssohn's _Concerto for Violin and
Orchestra_. Written in the most idiomatic style for the solo
instrument and containing real _violin melodies_ it is still one of
the few great works in its class. Any final critical estimate of
Mendelssohn--no matter how earnest the effort to be absolutely
fair--is inevitably involved with personal prejudices. If his music
appeals to any one, it is liked extremely and no one need be ashamed
of enjoying it, for it is sincerely felt and beautifully expressed.
Mendelssohn, himself, doubtless knew perfectly well that he was not
Bach, Beethoven or Schubert. For those whose natures crave a more
robust message, more fire and a deeper passion, there are the works of
those other composers to which they may turn.
[Footnote 205: Several of these were constantly played by both
Paderewski and De Pachman, two of the greatest virtuosi of our day:
surely a convincing tribute!]
[Footnote 206: See the _Oxford History of Music_, Vol. VI, pp. 80-84.
Anyone who cares to see what Wagner owed to Mendelssohn may compare
the opening theme, and its treatment, of the _Fair Melusine_ Overture
with the music of the Rhine Maidens in the _Rheingold_.]
[Footnote 207: See his treatise on Orchestration, p. 194.]
Let us now analyze the _Midsummer Night's Dream_ Overture,[208] "his
first and highest flight" to quote Schumann. In this work we do not
find a characterization by musical means of the emotions of the
dramatis personae, as in the _Coriolanus_ Overture; and there is
little specific correspondence between the type of theme and definite
incidents, except possibly at the beginning of the Recapitulation,
where the low tones of the Bass Tuba[209] may be thought to represent
the snores of Bottom, as the fairies hover about him. Anyone familiar
with Shakespeare's play--and such a knowledge is indispensible for a
complete enjoyment of the music--will see that Mendelssohn's object
was to give a broad, general picture of the fairy world and to
intensify, by his music, the fancy and humor found in the play. The
introductory sustained chords, pianissimo, are a happy illustration of
his deftness in tone-painting; for, assigned to the ethereal flutes
and clarinets, they constitute, as Niecks ingeniously expresses it, a
"magic formula" which ushers us into the moonlit realm of fairyland.
The first theme in E minor (Allegro di molto: throughout _pp_ and
staccato), announced by the strings, is a graphic representation of
the playful antics of the nimble elves and fairies. Its course is
twice interrupted by a peculiar, prolonged chord which seems to say,
"Hush! you are listening to the activities of beings not of this
every-day, humdrum world." The first theme has a second part in E
major (beginning at measure 62) of a pompous, march-like nature, which
may be thought to represent the dignity of Duke Theseus and his train.
The Overture being in complete Sonata-form, there occurs at this
point a short transition based on the rhythm of the first theme;
followed by a lovely cantabile melody--the second theme proper--that
typifies the romantic love pervading the play. This theme also is
expanded into several sections; the first of which may portray the
clownish Athenian tradespeople, and the second, the brays of Bottom
after he has been transformed into an ass, _e.g._
[Music]
[Footnote 208: This is exceptionally effective in the four-hand
version--in fact, it was often played as a pianoforte duet by his
sister Fanny and himself--although the real poetic effect is
inseparably connected with the orchestral treatment.]
[Footnote 209: Originally these tones were played by the Ophicleide or
Serpent (now obsolete).]
The free fantasia, an improvisation on the first theme--although
containing a few perfunctory manipulations--sustains interest, as a
whole, by its modulations and by the suggestive orchestral effects.
The closing measures, where the pizzicato 'cellos and double basses
seem to imitate the light, tripping footsteps of the elves, is
genuinely realistic. The Recapitulation, which begins with the same
chords as the Introduction, is an illustration of bondage to classic
practise; for here they have no dramatic significance and are merely a
concession to routine procedure.[210] The first theme and the
transition, however, are effectively abridged so that the second
theme, by far the most appealing in the whole work, stands out in
greater prominence. Then follows a brilliant expansion of the closing
portions of the second theme, until we reach the Coda. This begins
with a reminiscence of the first theme which fades away into a
modified presentation of the Duke Theseus theme, followed by four
long-drawn out Amens.[211] These may signify the blessing which, in
the play, the elves bestow upon the Ducal house. The Introductory
chords dissolve the dream which the music has evoked, and we are back
once more in the world of reality.
[Footnote 210: This, after all, is a rather subtle point for a boy of
seventeen to be called upon to consider. Perhaps if he had been that
kind of a boy he might not have written the Overture at all!]
[Footnote 211: The ecclesiastical formula for an Amen being the
so-called Plagal cadence of subdominant and tonic chords.]
To suggest the attitude which we of to-day should take towards
Mendelssohn--he may justly be admired as a musician of great natural
gifts, of high ideals and of unusually finished technique in many
branches of composition. It is ungracious to censure him because he
lacks the gripping emotional power of a Beethoven or a Wagner. Those
who indulge in such narrow criticism condemn only themselves.