THE CLASSICAL ROMANTICISTS.
The representatives of classical romanticism are Raff, Rubinstein,
Goldmark, Brahms, Bruch, Rheinberger. The influence that Raff and
Brahms had upon orchestration requires especial consideration.
Rubinstein will be referred to again in connection with Russian
composers. And a brief analysis will be sufficient to discover the
respective characteristics that distinguish Goldmark's highly colored
orchestration, that of Bruch in accompaniment to noble choral works,
and Rheinberger's conservative yet finished instrumentation for
sacred composition.
I.
RAFF (1822-1882). To begin with Raff, it is by no means easy
to determine the precise value of his compositions. Masterpieces
must be arraigned side by side with works of decided inferiority. He
adapted Beethoven's calorific polyphony together with the charmingly
picturesque style of Weber, but did not approach his eminent
contemporary, Brahms, either in depth of thought or in originality
of ideas. He was, however, superior to Brahms as an orchestral
colorist. Encouraged by the sympathy and practical help of such men
as Mendelssohn, Liszt, von Bülow, he became in his younger days a
sturdy advocate of the modern German tendencies, and even wrote a
pamphlet entitled "Die Wagnerfrage"; but in spite of his affiliation
with the Weimar coterie, Raff eventually developed into a composer
more especially of chamber music and symphonies. "Im Walde" and
"Lenore" are the best known of the orchestral works,--indeed, the
first named is without doubt his most important production. Raff
was essentially a romanticist; what is more, he went so far as to
write descriptive program music. Nevertheless, his style bears but
little relation to that of Wagner or Liszt; it displays, in fact, a
decided reserve in that he employed traditional forms and Beethoven's
symphonic orchestra. Notwithstanding Raff's descriptive faculties,
his works betray unquestionable lyric tendencies. Occasional approach
to the _salon_ style is also in evidence, nor do the larger works
reveal that breadth of style and invariable loftiness of purpose that
signalize those of Beethoven and Brahms. He possessed great facility,
but this very attribute endangered the quality of his conceptions
and was conducive to carelessness and loss of fine feeling.
Striking insignia of absolutely original scoring are not conspicuous,
although the entire character of the orchestration gives evidence
of fertile imagination and sound judgment. Some of Wagner's full
and rich effects found their way also into Raff's symphonic pages.
The latter was particularly happy in the use of horns, wrote almost
exclusively for valve-horns and valve-trumpets, and established a
precedent by selecting those in F for regular practice.
In view of the fact that Raff's style is a compound of classicism
and romanticism, together with yet more advanced tendencies so far
as the "program" element is concerned, his title as pioneer of the
classical-romanticists has been applied with good judgment. The
succeeding luminaries of this school revealed similar tendencies.
Rubinstein, Goldmark and Bruch are all to a more or less degree
exponents of the programmatic idea. Even so conservative a composer
as Rheinberger, whom some are tempted to call even a reactionist,
was at times subjugated by its fascination. This is borne out by
his "Wallenstein" symphony. Brahms stands forth in his solitary
grandeur as the one exception to the rule. Towering above his fellow
classical-romanticists, he attained the exaltation of his fame by a
path they could not tread. It is to him that we now must turn.
II.
BRAHMS (1833-1897). In the April number, 1895, of the
magazine entitled "Music" are to be found the following remarkable
assertions in an otherwise admirable article by Mr. W.S.B.
Matthews:--"Händel is antiquated; Bach still lives, but we can enjoy
his works only as exceptions to our current diet; Haydn symphonies
sound like string quartets played a trifle large and seasoned with
a few notes of trumpets and wood-wind. Mozart in feminine phrase is
'too sweet for any use,' and Mendelssohn has departed to the place
where good boys go. We have left to us the over-worked immortal nine
of Beethoven (now rather shrunk to five) and two of Schubert; we
tolerate Schumann for the sake of his ideas. We hear Tschaikowsky
because he is a master in his way. But the greatest of tone-poets now
living, and the greatest since Beethoven, appears to be Brahms."
These broad assertions may be looked upon as revealing in all good
faith the convictions of the author himself; again, Mr. Matthews may
have aimed to be facetious; or else these assertions were intended
merely to expose the tenets of the ultra-enthusiasts for one of the
latest phases of art. It would appear to the present writer that,
irrespective of motives, _such_ comparisons are entirely superfluous.
Brahms occupies an isolated and lofty pinnacle by himself. Calm and
self-contained in the midst of the restless and feverish impetuosity
that characterizes the "Sturm und Drang" period, he preferred the
seclusion and intellectuality of a reflective student's life, and
moulded his creations in accordance therewith. The only comparison
that would appear at all relevant is the unshaken faith in an ideal
that he shared with Wagner. Beyond this their views diverged when it
came to the question of what this ideal should be or how it should
be attained. Brahms was a strenuous opponent of the "New German
School." The intellectual and tragic aspect of modern absolute music
was _his_ ideal. The leading theme was the germ for synthetical
treatment. Orchestral coloring or dramatic effect was of secondary
consideration. Brahms accepted as his model Bach's austerely
noble methods and strict logical process of thematic development,
whereas the exterior forms of Beethoven and Schumann were virtually
sufficient for his needs. Nevertheless, it cannot be said that
his conservative formal structure was but a slavish imitation of
theirs. Many of his works, such as the Rhapsodies and Klavierstücke,
are certainly not in strict sonata form, nor are they lacking in
distinctive individuality. Brahms is the ideal exponent of purity,
strength, profundity, nobility, greatness of expression and novelty
of treatment. His aims differed from those of the earlier classicists
in that his subject-matter embodies beauty of thought rather than
external beauty in music. The prevalence in many of his works of a
certain heaviness of spirit and the reflex even of asceticism have
been pointed out by more than one of his biographers.
It is not surprising to find that in the terms in which Rheinberger
once expressed himself to the present writer, the background
of Brahms' orchestral canvas is of a grayish hue. Nor can his
scoring be cited as a model for felicitous instrumentation or
glowing orchestral colors. In listening to his symphonies, one is
occasionally disturbed by a certain heaviness or what can be better
expressed as "muddiness." This defect is primarily due to the low
distribution of parts for violas as well as for basses. Vagueness of
detail in melodic delineation of inner voices is the more conspicuous
since Brahms attached great importance to the functions of the
viola, in addition to which he frequently divided them. Certain
conventionalities in writing for the wood-wind are also apparent.
Passages in thirds and sixths are analogous to those in Beethoven's
earlier works; other passages recall certain ones of Schubert. But we
can verily afford to overlook such minor details. Let us rather turn
to a consideration of those essentials of Brahms' symphonic and other
orchestral writings that have caused him to be justly regarded as the
worthy apostle of Beethoven and direct successor to Schumann.
The most striking feature of his symphonies is their colossal
structure. They are evolved without apparent effort. There is no
retrogression, no episodic mediocrity. Brahms had no theories to
promulgate, no gorgeous tableaux to portray. Nevertheless, his
orchestration, though conservative, bears the impress of distinctive
individuality, is replete with variety and characteristic tone-color,
and abounds in peculiar and interesting combinations. A few examples,
drawn from four distinctive types of composition, will be sufficient
to illustrate the fertility of his imagination. Prout calls special
attention in one of his articles on the orchestra to the second
Serenade in A, the Symphony in D, and the "Deutsches Requiem."
We will add to these the "Variations on a theme by Haydn." The
Serenade, opus 16, is one of the earlier works. It is scored for
the usual wood-wind in pairs, besides horns and strings, but there
are no violins throughout the entire piece. It presents a phase
of instrumentation foreign to the usually heavy style of Brahms,
and abounds in variated shades of coloring. The symphony embodies
the highest attainment of orchestral development and "solid"
instrumentation. The nine variations suggest novel aspects in the
field of independent orchestral music. But on the whole, perhaps the
finest orchestral effects are to be found in the "Deutsches Requiem,"
and it is possible that some of the tonal tints employed therein were
suggested by Cherubini's Requiem in C minor. The reader may recall
the citation on page 60 of Cherubini's choice of instruments for the
purpose of accompanying the opening chorus. There the required sombre
tone-color is obtained by employing divided violas and violoncellos
with double-basses, bassoons, horns, and muffled kettle-drums. The
solemn and appropriate color that pervades the opening chorus of
the German Requiem--"Blessed are they that mourn"--is due to the
expressive powers of the string band without violins. The violas and
violoncellos are again divided, and the general subdued effect is
further enhanced by means of sustained notes for the horns. It is not
intended to convey the idea that these two requiems could in any way
be suggestive one of the other beyond a certain similarity of tonal
color in the opening choruses of both. In all other respects they are
radically different. The treatment of musical subject-matter proper
as well as the exposition of sacred words show diametrically opposed
points of view. The funeral march which ushers in the following
chorus "For all flesh is as grass" affords another proof of Brahms'
versatility when searching for further religious effects that shall
nevertheless embody sufficient contrast so as to avoid monotony
in two consecutive movements. The violins and violas are not only
divided into six parts, but are muted as well. The string parts are
redoubled by the wood-wind, while the kettle-drums lend distinctive
character to the passage by means of a prominent though subdued
rhythmic figure.
The question may well be asked why Brahms should not be regarded
as the seventh of the great classicists rather than as a
classical-romanticist. The answer is not hard to find. His treatment
of form and instrumentation is distinctly classic. His method of
harmonization contains modern characteristics. The complex rhythms
that are conspicuous in many of his earlier works together with their
rather obtrusive syncopations and cross accents are suggestive of
Schumann; but whereas Schumann adhered to some marked rhythm that
was consistently carried out in order to acquire variety and to
knit together the organic structure as a whole, Brahms gradually
branched out into broader fields, so that eventually the relegation
of rhythm to a comparatively subordinate relationship to the general
architectural scheme reverts once more to Beethoven's methods of
procedure. Thus Brahms displayed a progressive spirit when employing
doctrines of the classic school, which was tempered withal by extreme
caution in the acceptance of modern tendencies. The amalgamation is
felicitous to a high degree, and has had a most salutary effect upon
the ever increasing inclination of the ultra-modern school to enslave
music in the throes of what has been called "a thrice-intensified
_Weltschmerz_." Even as Wagner stands supreme as the representative
dramatic and orchestral writer of the nineteenth century, so Brahms
may be regarded as a peer without rival in the art of thematic
development, as the noblest exponent since Beethoven of large
proportions and great breadth, and as the most prominent symphonic
writer since Schumann, whose superior he was in the technics of
orchestration.
III.
The fact that GOLDMARK (1830) was born in Hungary does not
entitle him to recognition as a composer of decisively indigenous
characteristics,--indeed, the scenes of three of his most important
works are all laid in the Far East. Neither can it be said that
his strength lies in spontaneity of musical thought or freedom of
thematic treatment. He owes his reputation primarily to his gifts
as an orchestral writer. Like Berlioz, he lacks the geniality of
musical inspiration, but atones for this by vivid orchestral color
and mastery of material effects. The fortunes of divers Oriental
queens have evidently aroused Goldmark's most lively sympathy! But
this peculiar circumstance is felicitous to a high degree, for what
a wealth of glowing color surrounds his dramatization of the queen
of Sheba, how picturesque is the presentation of the Amazon queen in
the overture "Penthesilea," what power of imagination is revealed in
the unfolding of Kalidasa's poetic love story! Goldmark could have
found no finer opportunity for rare contrasts and telling effects
than in this portrayal of Dushyanta, the Rajah--chivalrous, though
unfaithful, of ['S]akuntalá--tender and guileless, yet queenly.
Goldmark succeeded admirably, and this world-renowned overture is, by
virtue of its orchestration, a faithful interpretation of Dushyanta's
wooing, the secret marriage, his forgetfulness of ['S]akuntalá
and her womanly fortitude during the years of unrecognition, her
solicitous watchfulness over the welfare of Sarva-Damana, their
child, and the final touching reunion and retribution. Although "Die
Königin von Saba" has won wide-spread popularity, Goldmark is, on
the whole, at his best in purely instrumental forms. The opening up
of his career is largely due to "['S]akuntalá" and to a Scherzo for
orchestra, opus 19, both of which precede the above-named opera.
His pleasing symphony "Die ländliche Hochzeit" may not embody the
warmth and passion that characterize the Oriental subjects, but
it is orchestrated with rare skill, contains some daring harmonic
progressions, and reveals sentient appreciation for rich and
glowing colors. But this symphony and that in E flat again prove
that Goldmark holds the attention of his audience not so much by
originality of themes and elaborate development as by the sterling
qualities of his instrumentation.
IV.
Antithetical to Goldmark's dependency upon the orchestra for effect
is the euphonious choral style of BRUCH (1838). Here are
to be found naturalness of invention, graceful and flowing melody,
simplicity, and above all beauty of harmonic structure. Bruch
exhibits extraordinary power in handling large vocal forces, and
displays, moreover, marked predilection for Greek and Scandinavian
subjects. The cantatas "Odysseus" and "Arminius," for soli, mixed
chorus and orchestra, are counted among his most important works and
embody the most favorable phase of his orchestration. "Salamis,"
a cantata for male chorus, is an inspiring song of victory, and
"Frithjof," likewise written for men's voices, is an intensely
dramatic exposition of six scenes chosen from the Frithjof Saga of
Tegner. Best known is perhaps the "Lied von der Glocke," whereas the
grave and earnest accents of the Hebraic "Kol Nidrei," together with
the tragic intensity and passionate nature of the violin concerto
in G minor, opus 26, show what Bruch could do when employing the
orchestra to throw a solo instrument into relief. His independent
orchestral works are not sufficiently spontaneous, whereas his
accompaniments embody perfect taste, genuine expression and an
abundance of energetic force. The very nature of his themes is such
as to require either vocal forces or a solo stringed instrument to
present them in the most favorable light. Bruch possesses supreme
mastery of modern orchestral resources, but is at his best in the art
of accompaniment.
V.
No composer has ever taken his art more to heart than
RHEINBERGER (1839). Composition was for him a serious,
even sacred avocation. It was not to be approached in a spirit of
levity, nor could it assume for him so humble a mission as merely
to amuse and entertain. This loftiness of purpose is visible even
in his rather infrequent efforts in lighter vein. Although he was,
to a degree, unconsciously swept along on the irresistible tidal
wave of the epoch, nevertheless his conceptions found utterance in
a but mild form of romanticism, and his works are seasoned with a
certain spice of classic severity. It may be fearlessly asserted
that Rheinberger is the greatest of all composers for the organ
after Bach and Mendelssohn. His organ works are rich in color and
of masterful effect. They combine free harmonic treatment, freely
developed counterpoint and freedom of form. These attributes are
particularly noticeable in the first organ concerto. His genius
further reveals itself in the religious fervor that pervades his
mighty series of sacred works. These two forms of composition--organ
and church music, together with part-songs of rare beauty, are the
most notable accomplishments of this versatile master. On the other
hand, neither his operas nor his orchestral works can be regarded in
the light of important contributions to musical literature. Strange,
therefore, that Rheinberger should have first won general recognition
through his "Symphonische Tongemälde Wallenstein." What is more, this
is the work for which its author was led to essay the programmatic
style of writing. Had he continued to develop his talents along
similar lines, the world might have been impoverished to the extent
of divers organ and sacred works, but Rheinberger himself must
have risen to far greater eminence. It is to be admitted that his
subsequent Florentine symphony, as also the oratorio "Christoforus"
and the opera "Thürmers Töchterlein," are none of them equal to the
Wallenstein symphony, but according to Rheinberger's own confession
he became disheartened by neglect at the time when Wagner stormed the
portals of the Munich Opera House. Thenceforth he turned for relief
to other fields of composition and became, as he grew older, more and
more conservative--one is almost obliged to say bigoted.
The instrumentation of his purely orchestral works is pointedly
restricted to Beethovian procedure and reverts even to that of Mozart
in the use of trumpets and kettle-drums. Its general effect is one of
great refinement; it is marvellously smooth and perfectly rounded in
every detail; but the essential elements of individuality and novelty
do not enter into the orchestral scheme to any appreciable extent.
Rheinberger's last years were saddened by family affliction and
embittered by physical suffering. He displayed an heroic fortitude,
but his assumed cheerfulness concealed the loneliness, the sadness,
the melancholy even to morbidness that were constantly preying upon
his soul. His life became more and more that of a recluse and an
ascetic. Meanwhile his compositions continued even to the end to
reflect unswerving faith, serenity, loyalty of heart and nobility
of mind. The greater his honor for thus excluding the "ego" from
his final offerings to the world! A certain melancholy coloring
does assert itself in his unfinished mass in A minor, but unaffected
simplicity and touching pathos were wonderfully appropriate for what
proved to be his "Schwanengesang."[50]
[Footnote 50: The present writer has developed and edited this mass
as a posthumous work, opus 147, in the hope of presenting it in a
form suitable for performance.]
It is now time to leave the peaceful haven of the
classical-romanticists, and embark upon the restless seas of advanced
thought as set forth in the next chapter.
(Summary on page 175.)