BERLIOZ AND LISZT. PROGRAMME MUSIC
There is no doubt that Hector Berlioz (1803-1869), however varied the
appeal of his music to different temperaments, is an artistic
personality to be reckoned with; one not to be ticketed and laid on
the shelf. Although a century and more has elapsed since his birth the
permanent value of his music is still debated, often amusingly enough,
by those who seem unaware that, whatever the theoretical rights of the
case, in practice his principles are the reigning ones in modern
music. As Berlioz stands as the foremost representative of program
music and never wrote anything without a title, it is certain that
before his music or influence can be appreciated, the mind must be
cleared of prejudice and we must recognize that modern program music
is a condition--an artistic fact, not a theory--and that the tendency
towards specific, subjective expression (whether manifested in song,
opera or symphonic poem) is a dominant one among present day
composers. It is true that all music is the expression in tones of the
imagination of the composer; true, also, that music must fulfil
certain conditions of its own being. But imaginations differ. That of
Berlioz, for example, was quite a new phenomenon; and as for the
working principles of musical composition, they are as much subject to
modification as any other form of human experimentation. Berlioz,
himself, says that he never intended to subvert the laws of music,
only to make a new and individual use of them. As he was no abstract
maker of music, his autobiography--one of the most fascinating in the
history of art, only to be compared with that of Benvenuto
Cellini--should be familiar to all who would penetrate the secrets of
his style. Berlioz's compositions, in fact, are more specifically
autobiographic than those of any other notable musician. Both in his
music and his literary works are the same notes of passionate
insistence on his own point of view, of radical dislike for accepting
conditions as they were (he says of himself that he loved to make the
barriers crack) and of fondness for brilliant outward effect. In
considering Berlioz, one is always reminded of Matthew Arnold's lines
on Byron, who resembles Berlioz so closely.
"He taught us little; but our soul
Had felt him, like the thunder's roll.
With shivering heart the strife we saw
Of passion with eternal law;
And yet with reverential awe
We watch'd the fount of fiery life
Which served for that Titanic strife."
Only realize that Berlioz's _Fantastic Symphony_ was composed but
twenty-one years after Haydn's death, and compare the simple,
self-centered Haydn with the restless, wide-visioned Berlioz, of a
mentality positively omnivorous; who, in addition to his musical
achievements, was a brilliant critic and _litterateur_, a man of
travel and wide acquaintance with the world. Then indeed you will
appreciate what an enormous change had come over music. A mere mention
of the authors from whom Berlioz drew his subjects: Shakespeare,
Goethe, Byron, Scott, Virgil, Hugo, shows the wide range of his
reading and the difference in output which would inevitably result.
The previous impersonal attitude towards music is shown by the very
names of compositions which, broadly speaking (till the beginning of
the 19th century) were seldom more than Symphony, Sonata, or Quartet,
No. so and so; while the movements, in an equally mechanical way, were
known by the designations of tempo: allegro, adagio, andante,
etc.--those "senseless terms," as Beethoven himself says. Beginning
pre-eminently with Berlioz, composers have had more highly cultivated
imaginations, much more to say; and the wider range of emotion
resulting therefrom has necessitated differences of form and
treatment. A frequent misconception on the part of the layman is that
worthy music should be so constructed that the hearer be spared all
mental exertion. As long as it was certain that a composer would
present just so many themes in a prescribed order and treated in the
routine fashion, listening to music was a comparatively easy task.
Since Berlioz, music has made ever greater demands on the hearer; who
only when his receptivity is of an equal degree of cultivation with
the creative power of the composer, can grasp the full meaning of the
music. The first step, therefore, toward an appreciation of Berlioz is
to recognize the peculiar, picturesque power of his imagination,
which was of an entirely new order, and may be called musico-poetic in
distinction from purely musical activity. This form of double
consciousness is equally necessary on the part of the hearer. As
Debussy, the modern French composer, so well says, people often do not
understand or enjoy new music because it differs from "une musique"
_i.e._, from a conventional and unvarying type which they have in
their mind. The real effect of Berlioz's "_Carnaval Romain_" Overture,
to take a simple example, is to complement and intensify the mental
picture which any well-read person--or better still, any one who has
actually visited Rome--will have of this characteristic incident in
Italian life. If the work be considered merely as abstract music,
notwithstanding the stimulation and delight caused by the rhythmic
vitality and by the orchestral effects, the real poetic purpose of the
composer remains unfulfilled. This peculiar quality of Berlioz was
partly the result of his fiery excitable temperament and partly the
reactive effect of the environment in which he found himself. What an
amazing group in Paris (beginning about 1830) was that with which he
was associated! De Musset, de Vigny, Liszt, Rossini, Meyerbeer,
Balzac, Dumas, Chopin, Heine, Delacroix, Gericault: young men
representing every art and several nationalities, all under the lead
of Hugo, that prince of Romanticists; their object being--revolt from
conventional standards and a complete expression of their own
personalities. Hugo, as he says in the famous preface to Cromwell, was
tearing down the plaster which hides the facade of the fair temple of
art; Dumas had just demolished Racine; Gericault and Delacroix, by
their daring conceptions, were founding our modern school of painting.
Into this maelstrom of revolution, Berlioz--he of the flaming locks,
"that hairy Romantic" as Thackeray calls him--flung himself with
temperamental ardor; for he was a born fighter and always in
opposition to someone. The audacity and dramatic energy of his
compositions are but the natural result of the tendencies of the
period. Berlioz's early career is of extreme interest to us
English-speaking people, because the first strong stimulus to his
imagination came from his acquaintance with the dramas of Shakespeare.
In 1827, some of the dramas, (such as Hamlet, and Romeo and Juliet)
were played in Paris by an English company, and their effect upon
Berlioz was overwhelming. He would wander about the streets raving of
Shakespeare; he promptly fell in love with the most beautiful actress
in the troupe--Henrietta Smithson, whom he later married[226]--and
then began the frenzied period of composing and concert giving, which
came to a climax in the _Fantastic Symphony_ first performed in 1830.
Berlioz's courage and perseverance are shown by his winning the Prix
de Rome, after four failures! His two years in Italy (his picture may
still be seen at the Villa Medici), replete with amusing and thrilling
incidents, were, on the whole the happiest period of his stormy life.
[Footnote 226: For a convincing account of this tragic marriage see
the volume of _Recollections_ by Ernest Legouve.]
But we must pass to some brief comments upon the characteristics, pro
and con, of his style. In the first place it was extremely original;
showed little or no connection with former composers; has had no
imitators, and cannot be parodied. Berlioz likewise possessed great
range of emotion--though he rarely touched the sublime; a power of
laying out works on a vast scale, and, in general, of achieving with
unerring certainty the effects desired. The poet Heine said that much
of Berlioz's music reminded him of "primeval monsters and fabulous
empires." And what a master he was of rhythm!--one of the greatest in
music! Prior to his work, and that of Schumann among the Germans, the
classic rhythms were becoming rather stereotyped; and the vigorous
elasticity introduced by these two composers has widened incalculably
the range of dramatic effect. But his indisputable claim to lasting
recognition is his genius in the treatment of the orchestra. Berlioz
had an inborn instinct for sensuous tonal effect for its own sake, and
not as the clothing of an abstract idea. With him the art of making
that composite instrument, the orchestra, give forth the greatest
beauty and variety of sound became an end in itself; and from his
ingenious and innovating effects has been evolved the orchestra as we
hear it to-day. Berlioz thought, so to speak, in terms of orchestral
color. In his melodies we do not feel that the drawing, the contour of
the pure line, is the chief thing; but that the assignment of the
melody to just the right instrument, and the color-effect thereby
produced, are integral parts of the conception. Notwithstanding the
fact that some of his effects are extravagant or at times bizarre, he
must be credited with revealing possibilities in orchestral shading
and color which, still further developed by Wagner, Strauss and
Tchaikowsky, have become conventional means of expression. Some of his
most celebrated and satisfying works, in addition to those mentioned,
are the _Harold in Italy_ Symphony, with its personification by a solo
viola of the chief character; the _Romeo and Juliet_ Symphony, for
both vocal and instrumental forces (of which the ball-scene with its
wondrous love-melody and the _Queen Mab_ Scherzo--unequalled for
daintiness--represent his highest attainments as a tone-poet) and,
most popular of all, the _Damnation of Faust_ based on scenes from
Goethe's poem. The bewitching incidental pieces for orchestra alone,
such as the _Ballet of Sylphs_ and the _Rakoczy March_, are often
played at symphony concerts, and are familiar to everyone. Certain
blemishes in Berlioz's music are obvious and need not be
over-emphasized. There is often more style and outward effect than
real substance. His works excite, but how seldom do they exalt! For he
was frequently deficient in depth of emotion and in latent
warmth--qualities quite different from the hectic glow and the
feverish passion which his French admirers, Tiersot and Boschot, claim
to be genuine attributes of musical inspiration, of power to compel
universal attention. We of other nations can only firmly dissent.
Without question his work has never succeeded in calling forth the
spontaneous love of a large body of admirers.[227] In an eloquent
passage the conductor and critic Weingartner sums up the case:
"Berlioz will always represent a milestone in the development of
music, for he is the real founder of the modern school. He did not
approach that ethical depth, that ideal purity which surround
Beethoven's name with such unspeakable glory, but no composer since
Beethoven, except Wagner, has enriched music with so many new means of
expression as this great Frenchman. Berlioz, Liszt and Wagner are the
heroes of the last half of the 19th century, just as Haydn, Mozart,
Beethoven, Weber and Schubert were of the first."
[Footnote 227: It is understood that this is merely a personal opinion
of the writer and might well have been prefaced by the Socratic "it
seems to me." Too much criticism reminds us of wine-tasting--Mr.
So-and-So likes port, Mr. So-and-So sherry. The object of fair-minded
appreciation is to understand clearly just what each composer set out
to do, _i.e._, what was the natural tendency of his individual genius;
then the only question is: did or did he not do this well? It is
futile to blame him because he was not someone else or did not achieve
what he never set out to do.]
As Berlioz is, if possible, even more idiomatic for the orchestra than
Chopin for the pianoforte, no conception of the real quality of his
message can be gained from transcriptions, however good. His
works[228] must be studied at first hand in the orchestral score and
then heard in performance by an excellent orchestra. Some preliminary
acquaintance and appreciation, however, of characteristic features in
his style is possible from arrangements and so we select for comment
the following works and movements: The _Fantastic Symphony_, the
_Carnaval Romain_ Overture, the _Ballet des Sylphes_ and the _Feux
Follets_ from the _Damnation of Faust_, the _Pilgrim's March_ from the
_Childe Harold_ Symphony and the Slow Movement from the _Romeo and
Juliet_ Symphony.[229] There is much valuable and stimulating
reading[230] about Berlioz and his influence; for, as Theophile
Gautier acutely remarks, "S'il fut un grand genie, on peut le discuter
encore, le monde est livre aux controverses; mais nul ne penserait a
nier qu'il fut un grand caractere." The _Symphonie_[231]
_fantastique_, op. 14, _episode de la vie d'un artiste_, in five
movements is significant for being the first manifestation of
Berlioz's conviction that music should be yet more specifically
expressive, since it is founded on a characteristic theme, called
l'idee fixe which typifies the heroine, _e.g._
[Music]
[Footnote 228: The best edition is the complete one, beautifully
engraved and with critical comments, by Malherbe and Weingartner. This
is expensive, but should be found in any large library.]
[Footnote 229: The only citations possible in the Supplement are the
Overture and portions of a few of the others.]
[Footnote 230: Particularly to be recommended are the following: the
essay in _Musical Studies_ by Newman; that by R. Rolland in _Musiciens
d'aujourd'hui_ (in French and in English); _Berlioz et la societe de
son temps_ by J. Tiersot; the essay in _Studies in Modern Music_ by
Hadow; Berlioz's own _Memoires_ (in French and in English) and his
entertaining essays, _A Travers Chants_, _Grotesques de la Musique_
and _Soirees d'Orchestre_; the excellent resume of Berlioz's writings
in the _Amateur Series_ by W.F. Apthorp; the _Symphony since
Beethoven_ by Weingartner; and, above all, the monumental work by
Boschot in three parts--_La Jeunesse d'un Romantique_, _Un Romantique
sous Louis Philippe_, _Le Crepuscule d'un Romantique_. There is an
amusing but far from convincing assault against Berlioz as a programme
composer and, to a certain extent, against Romanticism in general, in
the _New Laocoon_ by Professor Irving Babbitt.]
[Footnote 231: On the title page of the autograph copy of the full
score is inscribed the following quotation from King Lear: "As flies
to wanton boys are we to the Gods; they kill us for their sport."]
This theme, with modifications appropriate to the changes in the
character and the environment, is repeated in each movement. As for
the theme itself, frankly it does not amount to much; it certainly
fails to take our emotions by storm or sing itself into our hearts.
Berlioz's harmonization is very bald, and as to his attempts at
development,[232] the less said the better. Of course whatever Berlioz
writes for the orchestra _sounds_ well; of that there is no doubt. But
this is not enough; any more than we are convinced by a person's
statements or arguments merely because he happens to have a beautiful
speaking voice. This dramatization of a musical theme was, after all,
nothing iconoclastically new and Berlioz is perfectly right in
claiming that he was merely extending the possibilities of that same
type of theme as is found in Beethoven himself, _e.g._, in the
_Coriolanus_ Overture and to a certain extent in the Fifth Symphony.
If, furthermore, we look back from the dramatic and highly personified
use made of themes in modern music, in the works of Strauss,
Tchaikowsky, Franck and even Brahms (_e.g._, his First Symphony with
its motto-theme) we can see that this symphony of Berlioz is an
important link in a perfectly logical chain of development. This
melody, then, l'idee fixe, appears in each of the five movements;
undergoing, however, but slight purely thematic development, being
introduced and modified primarily for dramatic purposes. In the second
movement,[233] _Un Bal_, two phrases drawn from it are sung _pp_ by
the clarinet as an indication that, amid the gaieties of the dance,
the vision of the beloved one is ever present. In the _Scene aux
Champs_ it is modified and eloquently declaimed by the flute and oboe,
_e.g._
[Music]
[Footnote 232: Dannreuther, in his essay in the Sixth Volume of the
_Oxford History of Music_, speaks of the peculiar process of
"rabbeting" which serves Berlioz in the place of counterpoint, and the
criticism, though caustic, holds much truth.]
[Footnote 233: This movement is also of interest as an early example
of the Waltz among the conventional symphonic moods. The example has
been followed by Tchaikowsky in the third movement of his Fifth
Symphony.]
At the close of the movement occurs one of Berlioz's most novel and
realistic effects--the imitation of the rumbles of distant thunder
produced by four kettle-drums tuned in a very peculiar way (see page
75 of the orchestral score, Breitkopf and Haertel edition). In the
fourth movement, _Marche au Supplice_, four measures of l'idee fixe
are introduced just at the moment when the head of the hero is to be
chopped off. This is done for purely theatric purposes and certainly
makes our flesh creep--as Berlioz no doubt intended. The most
spectacular effect, however, is in the last movement, _Songe d'une
Nuit du Sabbat_, where the theme is parodied to typify the degraded
appearance which the beloved one takes in the distorted dreams of her
lover, _e.g._
[Music]
The impression made by the Symphony depends largely upon the attitude
of the hearer. In this work we are not to look for the sublimity and
emotional depth of a Bach or Beethoven any more than we expect a
whimsical comedy of Aristophanes to resemble an epic poem of Milton.
But for daring imagination, for rhythmic vitality and certainty of
orchestral effect, it was and remains a work[234] of genius.
[Footnote 234: For further comments on this Symphony see Mr. Mason's
essay in the _Romantic Composers_, an essay which, while thoughtful,
strikes the writer as somewhat biased.]
THE CARNAVAL ROMAIN OVERTURE
(SEE SUPPLEMENT NO. 57)
This work is one of Berlioz's most brilliant pieces, with an
orchestral life and color all its own. The material is taken from his
opera _Benvenuto Cellini_;[235] the checquered career of this artist
having made an irresistible appeal to Berlioz's love of the unusual
and the spectacular. The body of the work is based on the Italian
national dance, the Saltarello; and with this rhythm as a steadying
background Berlioz achieves a continuity sometimes lacking in his
work. The mere thought of the sights, sounds and colors of that
important event in the life of Rome would be enough to inflame his
susceptible imagination, and so here we have Berlioz at his very best.
The overture begins, allegro assai con fuoco, with a partial
announcement of the saltarello theme by the violins and violas, freely
imitated by the wood-wind instruments, _e.g._
[Music]
[Footnote 235: For an entertaining account of the subject matter of
the opera see Chapter VII of Boschot's _Un Romantique sous Louis
Philippe_.]
After a sudden prolonged silence and some crescendo trills the first
periodic melody is introduced, sung by the English horn--the tune
taken from an aria of Benvenuto in the first act. The melody is soon
repeated in the dominant key by the violas and then, treated
canonically, by the 'cellos and violins. The canon really tells and
shows that Berlioz, as is often alleged, was not _altogether_ lacking
in polyphonic skill. The rhythm is now gradually quickened and leads
to the main body of the work, in 6/8 time, based on the Italian
folk-dance--the Saltarello which, as its name implies, is of a
"skipping" nature. The music is freely developed from the two
following themes; there is no second theme proper, _e.g._
[Music: (_a_)]
[Music: (_b_)]
Toward the close there is a return to the introductory melody which is
treated contrapuntally by the bassoons and other wind-instruments. The
saltarello resumes its sway and is worked up to a fiery ending;
especially brilliant are the closing chords scored for full brass with
trills on the cornets.
Two of Berlioz's most poetically conceived descriptive pieces are the
_Menuet des Feux-Follets_ and the _Ballet des Sylphes_, incidental
orchestral numbers from the _Damnation of Faust_; for they illustrate
convincingly what one means by the claim that Berlioz thought in terms
of orchestral color and suggestion. To give a musical picture of such
airy and fantastic imaginings by the mere repetition of conventional
formulae would obviously be of no avail. Berlioz's genius is equal to
the situation; and as we listen to the music we can really see the
flickering of the Will o' the Wisps and feel the graceful swaying of
the Sylphs as they hover about the sleeping Faust. To suggest the
Feux-Follets Berlioz ingeniously gives the theme to two piccolos in
thirds, which are supported by a rich but subdued mass of wind
instruments, horns and trumpets, _e.g._
[Music]
With equal felicity does he create the picture of the delicate,
graceful Sylphs. Any boisterous rhythmic activity would be quite out
of place; and so, above a sustained ground tone on muted 'cellos and
basses (which continues through the piece), and the slightest
suspicion of motion on the second violins and violas, there floats in
the first violins one of the most perfectly rounded and exquisite
melodies in existence, _e.g._
[Music]
In the closing measures there is a charming shadowy dialogue between
kettle-drums (struck with sponge-headed sticks) and harps, in
harmonics, carrying out Berlioz's stage directions--"Les esprits de
l'air se balancent quelque temps autour de Faust endormi et
disparaissent peu a peu." The piece ends with a chord barely whispered
on the clarinets, _pppp_, which, as Hadow aptly suggests, reminds us
of vanishing soap bubbles.
Berlioz's most sustained and perfect work, both in content and
treatment, is universally acknowledged to be the _Harold en Italie_
Symphony[236] in four movements for full orchestra and solo viola.
There is little actual correspondence between the scenes of Byron's
poem and the musical portrayal; and in fact, as Liszt says, "The title
clearly shows that the composer wished to render the impression which
the magnificent nature of Italy could not fail to make on a soul such
as that of Harold languishing in sorrow." The significant features of
the work are the melody for solo viola, recurring[237] in each
movement, which typifies Harold--that "melancholy dreamer," _e.g._,
[Music]
and the dazzling sensationalism of the Finale (Orgy of Brigands)
which, when it was once played "con amore" by a fine orchestra, called
forth from Berlioz the following eulogy,--"Sublime! I thank you,
gentlemen, and I wonder at you; you are perfect brigands." The finale
is also notable in that the opening portion is a reminiscence, a
passing in review, of the chief themes of the preceding movements.
Berlioz, we may surmise, was following the precedent established by
Beethoven in the finale of the _Ninth Symphony_, and, although his
treatment is rather mechanical and lacking in any such dramatic logic
as justified Beethoven, a certain organic connection between the
movements is undoubtedly secured. A portion of the second movement,
_March of Pilgrims_ singing the evening prayer, is cited in the
Supplement (See No. 58) chiefly because it is one of Berlioz's noblest
inspirations, giving an eloquent picture of a procession approaching,
passing by and losing itself in the distance--a long crescendo and
diminuendo. At every eighth measure the March melody is interrupted by
the muffled chant of the pilgrims, very effectively scored for brass
instruments, pianissimo. In the middle of the piece a contrast is
gained by the introduction of a religious chant. The closing measures
of this movement are of haunting beauty--a mysterious effect being
produced by an intentional mixture of tonalities (the sustained B in
the flute and oboe being answered by a C on the horns and harp, while
beneath are heard fragments of the March theme in the main key on the
pizzicato double basses).[238] Berlioz's most pretentious orchestral
composition is that called in the full title "Romeo and Juliet,
dramatic symphony, with choruses, vocal solos, and a prologue in
choral recitative, composed after Shakespeare's tragedy."
Notwithstanding many touches of genius, it is a very uneven work and
is too much a conglomerate of styles--narrative, lyrical, dramatic,
theatric and symphonic--for the constructive ability of the author to
weld into a living whole. There are several portions which, however
noble and glorious may have been Berlioz's conception,[239] and
however inspired by Shakespeare's genius, do not "come off." Two of
the numbers, on the other hand, are worthy of the highest praise--the
_Love Scene_ and the _Queen Mab Scherzo_. Of the latter Saint-Saens
writes--"The famous Scherzo is worth even more than its reputation. It
is a miracle of lightness and gracefulness. Beside such delicacies and
transparencies the _finesses_ of Mendelssohn in the _Midsummer Night's
Dream_ seem heavy." The main theme is fascinating in its daintiness
and sparkle, _e.g._
[Music]
Berlioz considered the _Love Scene_ his finest inspiration and there
are few pieces comparable with it for passionate utterance. The
orchestration is wonderful for richness and variety.[240]
[Footnote 236: For an extended analysis of the work and also for an
account of the alleged connection of the virtuoso Paganini with its
composition, see the essay in Niecks' _Program Music_. There are, in
addition, interesting comments in _Stories of Symphonic Music_ by
Lawrence Gilman.]
[Footnote 237: An early example of the modern principle of
transformation and transference by theme.]
[Footnote 238: A striking illustration of "association of ideas" may
be gained from a comparison of the end of this movement with the
closing measures of Strauss's _Thus Spake Zarathustra_; it seems
incredible that Strauss did not have Berlioz's effect in his mind.]
[Footnote 239: See the _Memoires_ for a rhapsodic account of his state
of mind at this time--"basking in the warm rays of Shakespeare's
imagination and believing it in his power to arrive at the marvellous
island where rises the temple of pure Art."]
[Footnote 240: For extended comments and a long citation of the actual
music see the Sixth Volume of the _Oxford History of Music_.]
After a careful study of the foregoing examples the reader, we hope,
is in a position to make a fair estimate of Berlioz's power and to
realize his great significance. It should be understood that this
music is intensely subjective and so requires a sympathetic and
cultivated attitude on the part of the listener. To the writer at
least, there remains one vital lack in Berlioz's music,--that of the
_dissonant element_. It often seems as if his conceptions could not be
fully realized for want of sheer musical equipment, largely due to
insufficient early training. For what is music without dissonance?
Surely "flat, stale and unprofitable" even if, in Berlioz's case, this
deficiency is offset by great rhythmic vitality and gorgeous color.
Yet in his best works[241] there is such a strong note of
individuality, indeed such real character, that they are deserving of
sincere respect and admiration, although by everybody they may not be
deeply loved. We should, furthermore, always remember that, if
Berlioz's poverty of harmonic effect is sometimes annoying, he never
falls into the humdrum ruts of those who have had a stereotyped
academic training. His genius was unhampered by any conventional
harmonic vocabulary, and hence it could always express itself freely.
That he was a real genius no one can fairly doubt.
[Footnote 241: For valuable analytical comments on Berlioz's
orchestral style see Vol. VIII, Chapter X, of the _Art of Music_
(Cesar Saerchinger, N.Y.), and for biographical details and matters of
general import, Vol. II, Chap. IX.]
All the qualities which have been enumerated as typical of the
romantic temperament: warmth of sentiment, broad culture, love of
color and the sensuous side of music, freedom of form, and stress laid
on the orchestra as the most eloquent means of expression, reach their
climax in Franz Liszt (1811-1886). Born near Vienna of a Hungarian
father and a German mother, but chiefly associated with Paris, Weimar,
Budapest and Rome, he is certainly the most picturesque and versatile
figure in the music of the 19th century; for he worked and won fame as
a pianoforte virtuoso--probably the greatest the world has known--as a
prolific composer for pianoforte, orchestra and voice, as a teacher,
conductor and man of letters, and withal spent a large part of his
time, strength and fortune in helping young artists and in producing
works which otherwise might never have seen the light. His life is of
constant and varied interest, so spectacular at times that it seems
like a fairy tale.[242] As a mere boy he began to receive adulation
for his precocity; at the height of his career he was loaded with
honors and wealth; in his old age he was a favorite with everyone of
distinction and influence in France, Germany, England and Italy.
Nevertheless he preserved, throughout, the integrity of his character
and the nobility of his disposition. Whatever may be the final
estimate of his powers as a creative artist, as a man he has earned
nothing but eulogy;[243] for seldom has any one been freer from the
faults of vanity, petty jealousy and envy which so often mar the
artistic temperament. Liszt's generous encouragement and financial
support of Wagner in the struggling days of his unpopularity have
never been surpassed in the brotherhood of art.
[Footnote 242: The best biographies in English are the one by Huneker
and that in Vol. 2 of Grove's Dictionary.]
[Footnote 243: For a lively description of his influence as a
pianoforte teacher see _Music Study in Germany_ by Amy Fay.]
Liszt is akin to Berlioz in many respects; we feel the same natural
tendency to derive musical inspiration from external sources, poetic,
pictorial or from the realm of Nature. Purely as a musician, however,
Liszt was far greater, with a wider vocabulary and more power in
thematic development. His work also is somewhat uneven; moments of
real beauty alternating with passages which are trivial, bombastic or
mere lifeless padding. When we bear in mind Liszt's unparalleled
versatility, his output in quantity and variety is so amazing--there
being well over 1,000 works of about every kind--that it is unfair to
expect the style to be as finely wrought as the original conception is
noble. A serious and unbiased study of his best compositions will
convince one that Liszt is entitled to high rank as a musician of
genuine poetic inspiration. The average music-lover is prone to dwell
upon him as the composer of _Les Preludes_, the _Hungarian
Rhapsodies_, and as the somewhat flashy transcriber of operatic
potpourris, such as the _Rigoletto Fantasie_. But _Les Preludes_,
notwithstanding a certain charm and the clever manner in which the
music (without becoming minutely descriptive) supplements the poem of
Lamartine, is yet barred from the first rank by its mawkishness of
sentiment and by its cloying harmonies. The most significant among the
symphonic poems are _Orpheus_ with its characteristic crescendos and
diminuendos; _Tasso_ of great nobility and pathos, and _Mazeppa_, a
veritable tour de force of descriptive writing. To hear any one of
these masterpieces can not fail to alter the opinion of those who may
have considered Liszt as exclusively given over to sensational
effects. As for the _Hungarian Rhapsodies_, which Liszt intended as a
kind of national ballade and so, for the basic themes and rhythms,
drew largely on Hungarian Folk music, here again the public, with its
fondness for being dazzled, has laid exclusive stress on the flashy
ones to the detriment of those containing much that is noble and of
enduring worth. In his transcriptions of standard songs Liszt did as
valuable a public service as any popularizer, and has thereby made
familiar the melodies of Schubert and Schumann to hundreds who
otherwise would know nothing of them. In considering Liszt's
pianoforte works we must remember that he was a born virtuoso with a
natural fondness for exploiting the possibilities of his instrument,
and with an amazing technique as a performer. When the sincerity of a
composer is in question there is a great difference as to what should
be the standard of judgment, whether the work be for orchestra or for
pianoforte. In writing for orchestra the composer naturally centres
himself on the pure ideas and their treatment, as the execution is
something entirely external to himself. In works for pianoforte,
however, the composer who is also a virtuoso will often, and quite
justifiably, introduce passages of purely pianistic effect which in
other circumstances would amount to a confession of deficient
imagination. That Liszt at times abused his facility in decoration
need not be gainsaid, and yet how poetic and eloquent are his best
pianoforte compositions!--the _Etudes_, the _Waldesrauschen_, the
_Ballade_ and, above all, the _Sonata in B minor_.[244] Much unjust
criticism has been expended upon Liszt for treating the pianoforte
like an orchestra. As a matter of fact he widened, in a perfectly
legitimate way, the possibilities of the instrument as to sonority,
wealth and variety of color-effect. According to the testimony of
contemporary colleagues, Rubinstein, Taussig and von Buelow who, had
they not been convinced of his supremacy, might well have been
jealous, Liszt was incontestably the greatest interpreter of Bach,
Beethoven and Chopin; and his power as a Beethoven scholar is attested
by the poetically annotated edition of the Sonatas. It is often
asserted that Liszt lacked spontaneous melodic invention. This is a
hard saying unless taken in a relative sense. We may grant that Liszt
was neither a Schubert nor a Mozart, and yet recognize in his works
some extremely haunting melodies. His creative power was acknowledged
by Wagner and in a very practical manner. In fact, after a comparative
study of their works, one is amazed at the number of melodies which
Wagner borrowed from Liszt and at the generous complaisance of the
latter. The reactive influence of Liszt and Wagner, each upon the
other, is an interesting chapter in the development of modern art.
Liszt was undoubtedly encouraged in his revolutionary aims by Wagner's
fiery courage. Wagner, on his side, owed much to Liszt's unselfish
generosity; and with his more powerful constructive gifts worked up
into enduring form motives which, internal evidence clearly shows,
came from Liszt himself.
[Footnote 244: For a most entertaining description of this work see
the Huneker Biography, pp. 64-70.]
Just a few closing words as to Liszt's specific contributions to the
expansion of musical structure. He was an advanced leader in the
"program school," being endowed with considerably more constructive
power than Berlioz, who often fell between two stools: in that while
his subject demanded the freest treatment, he lacked the vigor to
break away from the formal routine of his classic models. In Liszt's
orchestral works, however, the term "Symphonic Poem"--one of his own
invention--is fully justified, _i.e._, they are _symphonic_ in that
they have organic unity, although this is not attained by preserving
the classic number and arrangement of themes; and they are also
_poetic_, being not a presentation of abstract tone patterns, but
illustrative of some external idea which shapes the course of the
music entirely to its own needs.[245] The distinguishing quality of
the Symphonic Poem is its unbroken continuity. Although objective
points are reached, and while there are broad lines of demarcation
with reference to the varied moods of the poem to be illustrated,
there are _no rigid stops_--everything is fused together into a
continuous whole. Liszt was an advocate of persistent development,
_i.e._, the music going out into space like a straight line instead of
returning on itself. Inner evidence shows, however, that although he
avoided many needless and conventional repetitions, he could not
entirely throw overboard the cyclical law of restatement; for there is
not one of his _Symphonic Poems_ which does not repeat, at the end,
thematic material already heard. Liszt carried the principle of theme
transformation still further than Berlioz; and, as a German, tended to
lay stress rather on the psychological aspects of character than on
those outward theatric events which appeal to French taste. The
difference is well shown by a comparison of the _Damnation of Faust_
with Liszt's _Faust_ Symphony, considered his most inspired orchestral
work. Liszt must not be forgotten as a song-writer, especially for his
settings to Goethe's poems; which, as Huneker says, are masterpieces
and contain, in essence, all the dramatic lyricism of modern writers,
Strauss included. In these songs the instrumental part is of special
import; Liszt in pianistic treatment anticipating Hugo Wolf with his
"Songs for Voice and Pianoforte," _i.e._, the voice and the instrument
are treated as coequal factors.
[Footnote 245: For stimulating comments see _The Symphony since
Beethoven_ by Weingartner, pp. 71-86.]
The works of Liszt selected for analytical comment are the Symphonic
Poem _Orpheus_, the _Faust_ Symphony and the Pianoforte Etude,
_Waldesrauschen_. The student, however, should become familiar with
several others[246] of the Symphonic Poems, notably _Tasso_, _Les
Preludes_ and _Mazeppa_; with the Pianoforte Sonata in B minor in one
movement, in which Liszt works on the same plan as Schumann in the
Fourth Symphony; with the descriptive pianoforte pieces and etudes;
and with the songs, of which _Kennst du das Land_, _Die Lorelei_ and
_Du bist wie eine Blume_ are beautiful examples.
[Footnote 246: An enlightening and comprehensive account of each of
these may be found in Niecks's _Programme Music_ already referred to.
See also Chapter VII, pp. 141-155 in Vol. VI of the _Oxford History_
for what is perhaps a rather biased point of view. There is an
excellent tabulation of the themes from _Les Preludes_ in Mason's
_Romantic Composers_.]
SYMPHONIC POEM, ORPHEUS
In this work, as must always be the case in poetically suggestive
music, the composer trusts to the general intelligence and insight of
the listener. For a mere mention of the name Orpheus may well call up
the vision of a majestic, godlike youth proclaiming his message of joy
and peace to soften the unruly passions of men and animals.
It is said that Liszt's imagination was kindled by a beautiful
representation of Orpheus playing on the lyre, which decorates an
Etruscan vase in the Louvre. The aim of the music was thus to
intensify and supplement the visual effect. The Poem begins with soft,
sustained calls on the horns, creating a mood of expectancy,
interspersed with modulatory arpeggios on the harp serving to complete
the legendary picture. In these Symphonic Poems, we must always
observe how closely the nature of the themes and the whole import of
the music are involved with the orchestral dress. For Liszt, though
not perhaps so brilliant and sensational as Berlioz, was equally a
great master of orchestral coloring and poetic suggestion by means of
appropriate instruments; often, too, more delicate and refined. In
measure 15 begins for sustained strings the stately march which
typifies the gradual approach of Orpheus. The second phrase of the
march, beginning in measure 38, has received the compliment of being
appropriated, almost literally, by Wagner in the second act of the
_Valkyrie_ for the march motive with which Wotan is ushered in. Some
beautiful modulatory developments of the march theme, with which the
original horn calls are united, lead to the impassioned theme in E
major, sung by an English horn, which is the message of Orpheus to the
sons of men, _e.g._
[Music]
The theme is expanded by means of striking modulations until, in
measure 102, it is presented by the full orchestra. Some rather
meaningless repetitions, in detached phrases, of the Orpheus theme
bring us, in measure 130, to a return of the original march which is
finally proclaimed _ff_ with great power and sonority. It seems to
typify the triumphant justification of Orpheus's appearance. The
dissonant modulations in the following passage, beginning measure 155,
(in which the double basses take a dramatic part) have been thought by
some to represent realistically the uncouth roars of forest monsters.
These outcries finally subside and in the Coda, beginning at measure
180, we have first a beautiful reminiscence of Orpheus's message and
then a last announcement of the march theme, which is now presented in
the form of a long diminuendo, as if the God-like apparition were
slowly withdrawing from our sight. A series of shifting modulations
(adagio and pianissimo) seems to bring a cloud before our enraptured
senses, and the work closes with a long sustained chord in C major,
_ppp_, giving an elemental idea of peace and satisfaction. From the
standpoint of musical structure the work is a crescendo followed by a
diminuendo and, poetically considered, is a convincing picture in
terms of music of the effect made upon Liszt's imagination by the
legend of Orpheus. Observe that, although the composition is free in
form, it is _not_ formless.[247] The main lines are the familiar ones
of statement, contrast and restatement, _i.e._, three-part form, and
the key-relationship is clear and carefully planned.
[Footnote 247: An allegation often brought against Liszt's work by
those whose conception of "form" is that of a cast-iron mould.]
THE FAUST SYMPHONY
This work, although embodying Liszt's favorite ideas of dramatic
characterization and transformation of theme as found in the Symphonic
Poems, more nearly resembles the ordinary symphony in that it is in
three distinct movements--with pauses between--which stand,
respectively, for the three chief characters in Goethe's drama: Faust,
Gretchen and Mephistopheles. In the _Faust_ Symphony the principle of
transformation or metamorphosis of themes is of such importance that
it may be defined as their rhythmic, melodic and harmonic modification
for the purpose of changing the meaning to correspond with a
modification in the characters for which they stand. The first
movement sets before us five themes illustrative of the most prominent
traits in the complex nature of Faust; the three most important being
(_a_) typical of brooding, speculative inquiry, (_b_) the longing of
love, (_c_) the enthusiasm and chivalry of Faust, _e.g._
[Music: (_a_)]
[Music: (_b_)]
[Music: (_c_)]
The development of these themes is entirely free, the musical texture
being held together by a general application of the principle of
contrast and by a logical key-scheme. The second movement has two main
themes, _e.g._
[Music: (_a_)]
[Music: (_b_)]
which portray eloquently the sweetness and dreamy ecstacy of
Gretchen's nature. In the course of this portrayal there appear
several themes from the first movement showing, by their
transformation, the effect upon the introspective Faust of the
awakening influence of love. Thus the love theme appears as--
[Music]
and also later in this form--
[Music]
Towards the close of the movement there is a subtle reference to the
chivalrous theme, as follows--
[Music]
Much of the appeal of the music depends upon the orchestration which
throughout is of remarkable beauty.
In the final movement, entitled Mephistopheles, there are a few
independent themes which portray the malign influence of the spirit of
Evil--the movement is marked Allegro vivace ironico!--but most of the
material is a transformation of the Faust themes which are here
burlesqued, parodied; as if all the noble aspirations of Faust were
being mocked and set at naught. This treatment is a perfectly logical
result of the correspondence, for which Liszt was striving, between
the music and the spirit of the underlying drama. As for the final
impressiveness of his artistic message, the composer may well have
felt that the effect would be indefinite without the specific meaning
which words alone can give. For the style is very subjective
throughout; that is, if the hearer is in a responsive condition, an
effect is produced on his imagination--otherwise, not. To close the
work, therefore, in the most moving and dignified manner, Liszt, with
unerring instinct and following the precedent of Beethoven in the
Ninth Symphony, introduces a chorus of men's voices--marked Andante
Mistico--which intones the famous stanza "Alles Vergaengliche"[248] at
the close of the second part of Faust; while, above this chorus, a
solo tenor proclaims the motto of the redeeming love of woman, "Das
ewig Weibliche"--a sentiment so dear to the German[249] mind and one
that plays such an important part in the music dramas of Wagner. A
dramatic and musical connection between the movements is established
by using, for this solo part, the melody (intensified by augmentation)
which in the second movement typified the love and charm of Gretchen,
_e.g._
[Music: Das ewig Weibliche]
[Footnote 248: Translated as follows by Bayard Taylor:--
Chorus Misticus
All things transitory
But as symbols are sent;
Earth's insufficiency
Here grows to Event;
The Indescribable,
Here it is done:
The Woman-Soul leadeth us
Upward and on!]
[Footnote 249: The way in which the Germans in the recent war have
applied this doctrine raises, we must say, many searching questions.]
Notwithstanding the ultra sensationalism in some of Liszt's works
there is no doubt that, in the closing pages of Faust, he has produced
an effect of genuine power and of inspired musical beauty.[250]
_Faust_, in fact, may be called a great work because of the character
of its leading melodies, its freedom of structure and expression and
its wealth of appropriate orchestral color. For these merits we may
overlook certain dreary passages where it would surely seem as if the
imagination of the composer were not able to translate into tones all
the phases of Goethe's stupendous drama.[251]
[Footnote 250: That this is the verdict of the public is shown by the
fact that, whenever of late years _Faust_ has been given by the Boston
Symphony Orchestra, it has had to be repeated by popular request.]
[Footnote 251: For further comments on the work see Huneker's _Franz
Liszt_, pp. 141-146 and the third part (on Program Music) of Finck's
_R. Strauss, The Man and His Works_. Also Chap. VII passim in Vol. VI
of the Oxford History.]
In a book such as this, chiefly concerned with broad principles of
structure and style, it would be out of place to attempt a detailed
account of Liszt's numerous and varied pianoforte compositions. But
they can by no means be left out of consideration by anyone who wishes
to gain a comprehensive estimate of his influence. For although the
fundamental principles of pianoforte style, both in writing for the
instrument and in playing upon it, are derived from Chopin and
Schumann,[252] Liszt so amplified the work of these men and added so
many novel features of his own in pianistic effect and especially in
execution that he is rightly considered a genius of the instrument. He
certainly brought out of the pianoforte a sonority and wealth of color
which heretofore had been associated only with the orchestra. The
chief groups of the pianoforte works are (1) the transcriptions of
songs, notably of Schubert and Schumann, and of operas, particularly
of Wagner. In this group should also be included the remarkable
arrangement for solo-pianoforte of all the Beethoven Symphonies. (2)
The Etudes, especially the set entitled "_Etudes d'execution
transcendante_"--a description which clearly shows the idea Liszt set
before himself and indubitably attained; of this set the one in F
minor is particularly fine. (3) The world-famed _Hungarian
Rhapsodies_, fifteen in number, based on national melodies and
rhythms. In these Liszt aspired to be the poet of his nation, and they
are still among the most important manifestations of the national
spirit so prominent in our modern music. Perhaps the most eloquent and
celebrated are the 2d, the 12th and the 14th. Even if at times they
are overencrusted with effects meant primarily for display, the
rhythmic vitality and color of the melodies cannot be withstood.
[Footnote 252: Weber and Schubert had, of course, done valuable
pioneer work.]
CONCERT ETUDE, _Waldesrauschen_
(SEE SUPPLEMENT NO. 59)
This composition begins with a swaying, cantabile theme for the left
hand very characteristic of Liszt, which stands out in relief against
some beautifully placed arabesque figures in the upper register of the
instrument--the whole to be played una corda, dolce con grazia. It
really is a poetic picture, in terms of music, of the delicious murmur
of the woods. In the 15th measure the theme is transferred to the
right hand, in octaves, over sonorous, widely extended groups below.
The theme is expanded through a series of striking modulations and
then returns, in measure 30, to the left hand in a single melodic
line. This middle portion, measures 30-50, is very beautiful in its
genuine atmospheric treatment. Towards its close, however, Liszt's
fondness for sensational effect rather runs away with him and there is
a good deal, in measures 50-60 (marked martellato, strepitoso and
_fff_), which is rather difficult to reconcile with the poetic
subject. Perhaps a mighty wind is roaring through the trees! In
measure 61 the theme is once more presented in amplified form by the
right hand, piu mosso and molto appassionata, and worked up to a
brilliant climax--ending with an interlocking trill and a long,
descending passage of delightful sensuous effect. The closing
measures, una corda and dolcissimo, afford a reminiscence of the
haunting appeal of the chief melody. All in all, in spite of a certain
admixture of alloy, here is a poetic composition, a real tone-picture
of the woods and of the effects implied by the title. Certainly a
piece which, in its picturesque suggestiveness and pianistic
treatment, may fairly be called the ancestor of much that is beautiful
in such modern composers as Debussy and Ravel.
As a final estimate of Liszt and as a suggestion for the student's
attitude we cite from Niecks the following quotation, since, in our
opinion, it is true and forcibly expressed:
"Liszt's works are too full of originality and striking expressiveness
to deserve permanently the neglect that has been their lot. Be,
however, the ultimate fate of these works what it may, there will
always remain to Liszt the fame of a daring striver, a fruitful
originator and a wide-ranging quickener."