[145] Alexander Ritter (1833-1896), comp_Stories of Symphonic Music A Guide to the Meaning of Important Symphonies, Overtures, and Tone-poems from Beethoven to the Present Day

married a niece of Wagner, an actress, Franziska Wagner), met Strauss

at Meiningen in 1885, during the latter's term there as assistant

conductor under Hans von Bülow. The acquaintanceship was of vital

consequence to Strauss. "Before I knew Ritter," he himself has said,

"I had been brought up in a severely classical school. I had been

nourished exclusively on Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven; and then I

became acquainted with Mendelssohn, Chopin, Schumann, and Brahms. It

is only through Ritter that I came to understand Liszt and Wagner....

Ritter was exceptionally well-read in all the philosophers, ancient

and modern, and a man of the highest culture. His influence was in

the nature of a storm-wind. He urged me on to the development of the

poetic, the expressive, in music, as exemplified in the works of Liszt,

Wagner, and Berlioz."

[146] To comment upon this reference to a classic form of musical

structure would lead too far afield, although Strauss's suggestion as

to the form of his work is not altogether jocose.

[147] See page 12 (foot-note).

[148] See page 184 (foot-note).

[149] Friedrich Nietzsche, philosopher, poet, and mystic, was born

at Röcken, near Lützen, Germany, October 15, 1844; he died insane at

Weimar, August 28, 1900. He was, at one time, a close friend of Richard

Wagner's and a passionate adherent and champion of his cause in the

days when Wagnerism needed such devoted and effective advocacy as

his. Later he became estranged from the author of "Parsifal," and his

antagonism was as fervent as had been his partisanship. His bitter and

savage _Der Fall Wagner_ (1888) is famous. _Also sprach Zarathustra_,

written in 1883-1885, was published in 1892. Nietzsche's "Zarathustra,"

it may not be superfluous to add, has nothing whatever in common with

the Zarathustra (Zoroaster) of the Persians.

[150] "The German word is _untergehen_; literally, to go below. It

means both 'to perish' and 'to set' (as the sun sets)."--W. F. A.

[151] "In the original: '_ein Übergang und ein Untergang_'; literally,

'a going over and a going under.'"--W. F. A.

[152] "This title is in allusion to the old Northern

_Ragnarök_--_Götterdämmerung_, or 'Twilight of the Gods'--which

Wagner took for the title of the closing drama of his _Ring des

Nibelungen_."--W. F. A.

[153] The titanic orchestral proclamation with which the tone-poem

begins has been interpreted as a musical illustration of the opening

paragraphs of the preface quoted in the score, suggesting the

apparition of the rising sun on the mountain-tops, and Zarathustra's

apostrophe. The trumpet theme which is intoned at the beginning of this

passage over a _crescendo_ roar of the drums and organ has been called

both the "Zarathustra" motive and the "Nature" theme.--L. G.

[154] See page 12 (foot-note).

[155] This and the foregoing translations from Cervantes are from the

English version of Thomas Shelton.

[156] It has been held that Strauss is here autobiographic, that he

here objectifies and pillories those critics of his own works "who have

not been prudent enough to proclaim him great." For, Mr. James Huneker

declares, "there can be no doubt as to the identity of the protagonist

of this drama-symphony--it is the glorified image of Richard Strauss."

[157] See page 12 (foot-note).

[158] When the "Domestica" was first performed in London (February 25,

1905), Mr. Ernest Newman, discussing the stand-point of Strauss towards

his works and the public, relieved his mind as follows (it is well to

reproduce his comment here, since it may obviate some confusion in

the thought of the reader unacquainted with the history of Strauss's

relation to programme-music in general and his own in particular):

"It has been said very confidently that here Strauss has forsaken

programme-music and gone back to music of the absolute order; it has

also been said, with equal confidence, that he has done nothing of the

kind. Strauss himself has behaved as foolishly over it as he might

have been expected to do after his previous exploits in the same line.

He writes a work like 'Till Eulenspiegel,' that is based from start

to finish on the most definite of episodes, and then goes through the

heavy farce of 'mystifying' his hearers by telling them he prefers not

to give them the clue to the episodes, but to leave them to 'crack

the nut' as best they can. All the while he is giving clue after clue

to his personal friends, till at length sufficient information is

gathered to reconstruct the story that Strauss had worked upon; this

gradually gets into all the programme books, and then we are able to

listen to the work in the only way it can be listened to with any

comprehension--with a full knowledge of the programme. With each new

work of Strauss there is the same tomfoolery--one can use no milder

word to describe proceedings that no doubt have a rude kind of German

humor, but that strike other people as more than a trifle silly. So it

is now with the 'Symphonia Domestica.'"

[159] The direction in the published score is _träumerisch_ ("dreamy").

[160] The _oboe d'amore_, or _hautbois d'amour_, invented about 1720,

stands a minor third lower in pitch than the treble oboe. It fell into

disuse soon after the middle of the eighteenth century. Though it is no

longer part of the ordinary orchestral apparatus, it might be restored

with advantage. Its use by Strauss is exceedingly effective.

[161] In this section of the symphony occur the celebrated genealogical

references of the composer. Above a brief and emphatic ascending

figure in the clarinets and trumpet is this note in the score: "The

Aunts: 'Just like his papa!'" Oboes, horns, and trombone rejoin in an

uncompromising _descending_ phrase which is superscribed: "The Uncles:

'Just like his mamma!'"

[162] See page 184 (foot-note).

TSCHAIKOWSKY

(_Peter Iljitsch Tschaikowsky: born in Votinsk, in the government of

Viatka, Russia, May 7, 1840; died in St. Petersburg, November 6, 1893_)

"ROMEO AND JULIET," OVERTURE-FANTASIE[163]

"Romeo and Juliet" ("overture-fantasie after Shakespeare"), composed

in 1869-70, is the second of Tschaikowsky's programmatic works for

orchestra.[164] There is no note of any kind attached to the score;

but according to responsible interpreters the music is concerned with

definite aspects of Shakespeare's tragedy. At the start is presented

the figure of Friar Laurence (churchly harmonies in the clarinets

and bassoons); later, the conflict of the opposing houses, expressed

in a tumultuous passage full of strife and fury. Then follows the

love scene, introducing two themes of rich emotional suggestion. The

first of these themes--the rhapsodic and song-like phrase announced

by muted[165] violas and English horn--was used by Tschaikowsky in

the fragmentary "Duo from 'Romeo and Juliet'" found among his papers

after his death, where it voices these words sung by Romeo: _O nuit

d'extase, arrête toi, O nuit d'amour, étends ton voile noir sur nous!_

("O linger, night of ecstasy; O night of love, spread thy dark veil

over us!"). The second theme--the lovely sequence of chords scored

for muted and divided violins--forms, in the duet, the accompaniment

to the impassioned dialogue of the enamoured pair in the chamber

scene.[166] Following the love scene is a resumption of the stress

and conflict of the first part, against which the solemn warning of

Friar Laurence protests in vain. The lovers are again evoked, with

more passionate insistence than before; there is a cumulative moment

of arresting intensity; then, after a brief and portentous silence,

a dolorous reminiscence of Romeo's ecstatic song, now dirge-like and

woful (violins, 'cellos, bassoons; afterwards, declaimed with greater

breadth, in the strings, with accompaniment of wood-wind, horns, and

harp), brings the music to a close.

FANTASIA, "THE TEMPEST": Op. 18

During a visit to St. Petersburg in the winter of 1872-73, Tschaikowsky

begged his friend Vladimir Stassov to suggest to him a subject for a

symphonic fantasia--something, he preferred, Shakespearian. Stassov

responded by sending Tschaikowsky a letter proposing "The Tempest"

as a theme, and outlining, in elaborate and enthusiastic detail, the

poetic and dramatic plan which, he conceived, should underlie the

music. This scheme so appealed to Tschaikowsky that he announced his

determination "to carry out every detail"; and, to judge from his own

programme affixed to the score, he actually did so. Stassov's remarks,

therefore, serve as the best possible commentary on the significance of

Tschaikowsky's music. He wrote as follows:

"I ... rejoice in the prospect of your work, which should prove a

worthy pendant to your 'Romeo and Juliet' [see the preceding pages].

You ask whether it is necessary to introduce the tempest. Most

certainly. Undoubtedly, most undoubtedly. Without it ... the entire

programme would fall through. I have carefully weighed every incident,

with all their _pros_ and _cons_, and it would be a pity to upset

the whole business. I think the sea should be depicted twice--at

the opening and close of the work. In the introduction I pictured

it to myself as calm, until Prospero works his spell and the storm

begins. But I think this storm should be different from all others

[all other orchestral storms], in that it breaks out _at once_ in

all its fury, and does not, as generally happens, work itself up to

a climax by degrees. I suggest this original treatment because this

particular tempest is brought about by enchantment, and not, as in

most operas, oratorios, and symphonies, by natural agencies. When the

storm has abated, when its roaring, screeching, booming, and raging

have subsided, the Enchanted Island appears in all its beauty, and,

still more lovely, the maiden Miranda, who flits like a sunbeam over

the island. Her conversation with Prospero, and immediately afterwards

with Ferdinand, who fascinates her, and with whom she falls in love.

The love theme (_crescendo_) must resemble the expanding and blooming

of a flower; Shakespeare has thus depicted her at the close of the

first act, and I think this would be something well suited to your

muse. Then I would suggest the appearance of Caliban, the half-animal

slave; and then Ariel, whose motto you may find in Shakespeare's

lyric (at the end of the first act)--'Come unto these yellow sands.'

After Ariel, Ferdinand and Miranda should reappear; this time in a

phrase of glowing passion. Then the imposing figure of Prospero,

who relinquishes his magic arts and takes farewell of his past; and

finally the sea, calm and peaceful, which washes the shores of the

desert island, while the happy inhabitants are borne away in a ship to

distant Italy."

How faithfully Tschaikowsky adhered to this admirable plan is made

evident by the following programme, which, in Russian and French,

prefixes the score:

"The Sea. Ariel, spirit of the air, obedient to the will of the

magician Prospero, evokes a tempest. Wreck of the ship which carries

Ferdinand. The Enchanted Isle. First timid stirring of love between

Miranda and Ferdinand. Ariel. Caliban. The love-lorn couple abandon

themselves to the triumphant sway of passion. Prospero lays aside his

magical power and quits the isle. The Sea."

_La Tempête_ was begun early in August, 1873, and finished three months

later. It is dedicated to Stassov. The work was produced at a concert

of the Moscow Musical Society, December 19, 1873. In November of the

following year it was performed in St. Petersburg. Stassov attended a

rehearsal, and wrote frankly to Tschaikowsky concerning the music of

which he was at least part creator:

"I have just come from the rehearsal for Saturday's concert. Your

'Tempest' was played for the first time. Rimsky-Korsakoff and I sat

alone in the empty hall and overflowed with delight.

"Your 'Tempest' is fascinating! Unlike any other work! The tempest

itself is not remarkable or new; Prospero, too, is nothing out of the

way, and at the close you have made a very common-place cadenza, such

as one might find in the finale of an Italian opera--these are three

blemishes. But all the rest is a marvel of marvels! Caliban, Ariel,

the love scene--all belong to the highest creations of art. In both

love scenes, what passion, what languor, what beauty! I know nothing

to compare with it. The wild, uncouth Caliban, the wonderful flights

of Ariel--these are creations of the first order. In this scene the

orchestration is enchanting.

"Rimsky and I send you our homage and heartiest congratulations upon

the completion of such a fine piece of workmanship."[167]

FANTASIA, "FRANCESCA DA RIMINI": Op. 32

Tschaikowsky visited Paris in the summer of 1876, and while there

sketched the plan of a symphonic poem after Dante--"Francesca da

Rimini." He had intended to write an opera based on this theme, and had

considered a libretto on the subject prepared by one Zvantsieff. But

the project was abandoned. In July of that year he wrote from Paris to

his brother Modeste: "Early this morning I read through the fifth canto

of the 'Inferno,' and was beset by the wish to compose a symphonic

poem, 'Francesca da Rimini.' On October 26th he wrote from Moscow:

"I have just finished a new work, the symphonic fantasia 'Francesca

da Rimini.' I have worked on it _con amore_, and I believe that my

love has brought with it success.... However, a just estimate of this

work is impossible so long as it is not orchestrated and has not been

played."

The fantasia was completed in November, 1876.

Prefaced to the score is this introduction:

"Dante arrives in the second circle of hell. He sees that here the

incontinent are punished, and their punishment is to be tormented

continually by the crudest winds under a gloomy air. Among these

tortured ones he recognizes Francesca da Rimini, who tells her story."

Then follows a quotation from the fifth canto of the "Inferno,"

beginning with Francesca's words:

"... _Nessun maggior dolore,

Che ricordasi del tempo felice

Nella miseria;_"

("... There is no greater pain

Than to recall a happier time

In misery;")

and ending with the concluding line of the canto--that is to say,

twenty-one lines out of the hundred and forty comprised in the canto.

Since it is, perhaps, well to recall the entire story as Dante relates

it, in order that the scope and significance of Tschaikowsky's music

may be understood, I quote the canto from beginning to end, in the

extraordinarily careful and felicitous translation of Dr. John A.

Carlyle:

"Thus I descended from the first circle down to the second,[168]

which encompasses less space, and so much greater pain, that it

stings to wailing. There Minos sits horrific, and grins; examines

the crimes upon the entrance; judges, and sends according as he

girds himself. I say that when the ill-born spirit comes before him

it confesses all; and that sin-discerner sees what place in hell is

for it, and with his tail makes as many circles round himself as the

degrees [the number of grades or circles] he will have to descend.

Always before him stands a crowd of them. They go each in its turn to

judgment; they tell and hear and then are whirled down.

"'O thou who comest to the abode of pain!' said Minos to me, leaving

the act of that great office when he saw me; 'look how thou enterest,

and in whom thou trustest. Let not the wideness of the entrance

deceive thee.'

"And my guide to him: 'Why criest thou? Hinder not his fated going.

Thus it is willed there where what is willed can be done; and ask no

more.'

"Now begin the doleful notes to reach me; now am I come where much

lamenting strikes me. I am come into a part void of all light, which

bellows like the sea in tempest when it is combated by warring winds.

The hellish storm, which never rests, leads the spirits with its

sweep; whirling and smiting, it vexes them. When they arrive before

the ruin, there the shrieks, the moanings, and the lamentation; there

they blaspheme the divine power.

"I learned that to such torment were doomed the carnal sinners who

subject reason to lust. And as their wings bear along the starlings,

at the cold season, in large and crowded troop, so that blast, the

evil spirits. Hither, thither, down, up, it leads them. No hope ever

comforts them, not of rest but even of less pain. And as the cranes

go chanting their lays, making a long streak of themselves in the

air, so I saw the shadows come, uttering wails, borne by that strife

of winds. Whereat I said: 'Master, who are those people whom the

black air thus lashes?'

"'The first of these concerning whom thou seekest to know,' he then

replied, 'was Empress of many tongues. With the vice of luxury she

was so broken that she made lust and law alike in her decree, to

take away the blame she had incurred. She is Semiramis, of whom we

read that she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse. She held the land

which the Soldan rules. That other is she [Dido] who slew herself in

love and broke faith to the ashes of Sichæus. Next comes luxurious

Cleopatra.'

"Helena I saw, for whom so long a time of ill revolved; and I saw the

great Achilles, who fought at last with love. I saw Paris, Tristan.

And more than a thousand shades he showed to me, and with his finger

named them, whom love had parted from our life. After I had heard my

teacher name the olden dames and cavaliers, pity conquered me, and I

was as if bewildered.

"I began: 'Poet, willingly would I speak with these two that go

together, and seem so light upon the wind.'

"And he to me: 'Thou shalt see when they are nearer to us; and do

thou then entreat them by that love which leads them, and they will

come.'

"Soon as the wind bends them to us I raise my voice: 'O wearied

souls! come to speak with us, if none denies it.'

"As doves, called by desire, with open and steady wings fly through

the air to their loved nest, borne by their will, so those spirits

issued from the band where Dido is, coming to us through the

malignant air. Such was the force of my affectuous cry.

[Francesca speaks] "'O living creature, gracious and benign! that

goest through the black air, visiting us who stained the earth with

blood. If the King of the Universe were our friend, we would pray him

for thy peace, seeing that thou hast pity of our perverse misfortune.

Of that which it pleases thee to hear and to speak, we will hear and

speak with you, whilst the wind, as now, is silent.

"'The town[169] where I was born sits on the shore where Po descends

to rest with his attendant streams. Love, which is quickly caught in

gentle heart, took him with the fair body of which I was bereft; and

the manner still afflicts me. Love, which to no loved one permits

excuse from loving, took me so strongly with delight in him that,

as thou seest, even now it leaves me not. Love led us to one death.

Caïna [the place in the lowest circle of hell occupied by Cain and

other fratricides] waits for him who quenched our life.' These words

from them were offered to us.

"After I had heard those wounded souls, I bowed my face and held it

low until the Poet said to me: 'What art thou thinking of?'

"When I answered, I began: 'Ah me! what sweet thoughts, what longing

led them to the woful pass!'

"Then I turned again to them; and I spoke, and began: 'Francesca,

thy torments make me weep with grief and pity. But tell me: in the

time of the sweet sighs, by what and how love granted you to know the

dubious desires?'

"And she to me: 'No greater pain than to recall a happy time in

wretchedness; and this thy teacher knows. But, if thou hast such

desire to learn the first root of our love, I will do like one who

weeps and tells.[170]

"'One day, for pastime, we read of Lancelot,[171] how love

constrained him. We were alone and without all suspicion. Several

times that reading urged our eyes to meet and changed the color of

our faces. But one moment alone it was that overcame us. When we read

how the fond smile was kissed by such a lover, he who shall never be

divided from me kissed my mouth all trembling.

The book, and he who wrote it, was a Galeotto. That day we read in it

no further.'[172]

"Whilst the one spirit thus spake, the other wept so, that I fainted

with pity, as if I had been dying; and fell, as a dead body falls."

The opening section (_Andante lugubre_) of Tschaikowsky's fantasia

evokes the sinister and dreadful scene which greeted Dante and Virgil

as they entered the region of the second circle--the tempestuous

winds, the wailing of the damned, the appalling gloom and horror of

the place. "Pale, tormented, shadowy figures approach; they increase

in number; orchestral spasm follow spasm; and then there is rest,

there is awful silence." There follows a lull in the whirlwind, and

a theme heard at the beginning (horns, cornet, trombones) "announces

solemnly the approach of Francesca and Paolo. The wood-wind takes the

theme, and a recitative leads to the second section of the fantasia,

_Andante cantabile non troppo_." In this section the apparition of

the two lovers is brought before us. "This middle part is especially

beautiful," observes a German annotator, "on account of the original

and vaporous accompaniment by three flutes of the chief theme. The

... motive of the first section enters ('cello) as the thought of

remorse, but a delightful melody of the English horn and delicate

harp-chords dispel the gloomy thoughts; and the picture of the two,

happy in their all-absorbing, passionate, but disastrous love, is

maintained. ["We seem," says Mrs. Rosa Newmarch of this passage, "to

hear the spirit-voice of Francesca herself, from which all the horrors

of hell have not taken the sweetness of human love and poignant

memory."] Then the "lamenting ghosts" re-enter (_largamente_, wind

instruments, then in the strings). "The lovers vanish in an orchestral

storm." Saint-Saëns, in his lively _Portraits et Souvenirs_, makes

some interesting comments on the music: "The gentlest and kindest of

men," he writes, "has let loose a whirlwind in this work, and shows as

little pity for his interpreters and hearers as Satan for sinners [here

speaks the invincible classicist!].... A long, melodic phrase, the love

song of Paolo and Francesca, soars above this tempest, this _bufera

infernale_, which attracted Liszt before Tschaikowsky, and engendered

his Dante Symphony [see pages 164-173]. Liszt's Francesca is more

touching and more Italian in character than that of the great Slavonic

composer; the whole work is so typical that we seem to see the profile

of Dante projected in it. Tschaikowsky's art is more subtle, the

outlines clearer, the material more attractive; from a purely musical

point of view the work is better. Liszt's version is perhaps more to

the taste of the poet or painter. On the whole, they can fitly stand

side by side; either of them is worthy of Dante."

SYMPHONY No. 4, IN F MINOR: Op. 36

1. _Andante sostenuto_ _Moderato con anima in movimento

di valse_

2. _Andantino in modo di canzona_

3. _Scherzo, "Pizzicato ostinato": Allegro_

4. _Finale: Allegro con fuoco_

Tschaikowsky began this symphony in 1876, and completed it in the

winter of 1877-78. The score bears the dedication: "To my Best

Friend"; and behind the phrase lies a singular history, too long to

be told here in full. The "best friend" was Nadeshda Filaretowna

von Meck,[173] a widow living in Moscow. Exceedingly wealthy, she

deeply admired the music of Tschaikowsky. She inquired concerning his

pecuniary circumstances, and, learning that his means were straitened

and that he was in debt, she sent him, in the summer of 1877, the

sum of three thousand rubles. A correspondence had meanwhile begun

between them (the first letter, from Mrs. von Meck, is dated December

30, 1876); she had given Tschaikowsky certain small commissions to do

for her--transcriptions for violin and piano of certain of his works

which she wished made--and for these she paid him generous fees. In the

autumn of 1877 she asked him, with many apologies, to permit her to

settle upon him an annual allowance of 6000 rubles (about $3000), that

he might compose undisturbed by material cares. "If I wanted something

from you," she wrote, "of course you would give it me--is it not so?

Very well, then, we cry quits. Do not interfere with my management

of your domestic economy, Peter Iljitsch." She desired and insisted

that they should never meet or personally know each other; "the more

you fascinate me, the more I shrink from knowing you," she wrote.

Tschaikowsky accepted the settlement, and respected her wish concerning

their intercourse. "I can only serve you," wrote the composer, "by

means of my music. Nadeshda Filaretowna, every note which comes from

my pen in future is dedicated to you!" They corresponded frequently,

at length, and with the deepest intellectual and spiritual intimacy;

but they never met. "When they accidentally came face to face," writes

Tschaikowsky's brother Modeste, "they passed as total strangers. To the

end of their days they never exchanged a word...."

Their correspondence, which extended over thirteen years, was abruptly

and lamentably ended. In December, 1890, Tschaikowsky received a letter

from his patroness informing him that she was on the brink of ruin,

and that she would be obliged to discontinue his allowance; this,

despite the fact that she had more than once declared to him that,

no matter what occurred, his annuity was assured to him for life. As

it happened, this curtailment of his income did not greatly affect

Tschaikowsky's pecuniary situation, for he had come to know prosperity

with his increasing fame; but he suffered keen anxiety on his friend's

account. Not long after, it turned out that Mrs. von Meck's fortune

was not seriously affected, after all--a turn of events which,

however, brought misery to the hyper-sensitive soul of Tschaikowsky.

He persuaded himself that Mrs. von Meck's announcement had been merely

"an excuse to get rid of him on the first opportunity"; that he had

been mistaken in idealizing his relations with his "best friend"; that

his allowance had long since ceased to be the outcome of a generous

impulse. "Such were my relations with her," he wrote at this time to

a friend, "that I never felt oppressed by her generous gifts; but

now they weigh upon me in retrospect. My pride is hurt; my faith in

her unfailing readiness to help me, and to make any sacrifice for my

sake, is betrayed." He thought of returning to her in full the money

she had settled upon him, but feared to mortify her. He endeavored,

both frankly and diplomatically, to renew their intercourse; but to

no avail. She made no response whatever to his attempts to continue

their relationship, either through letters or in response to overtures

made by Tschaikowsky through mutual friends. He learned that she was

ill--ill of "a terrible nervous disease, which changed her relations

not only to him, but to others." Yet no illness, no misfortune, it

seemed to him, could, as he wrote, "change the sentiments which were

expressed in [her] letters."... "I would sooner," he declared, "have

believed that the earth could fail beneath me than that our relations

could suffer change. But the inconceivable has happened, and all my

ideas of human nature, all my faith in the best of mankind, have been

turned upside-down. My peace is broken, and the share of happiness

fate has allotted me is embittered and spoiled." Two years later, on

his death-bed, her name was constantly and feverishly on his lips, "in

an indignant or reproachful tone," says Modeste. "... In the broken

phrases of his last delirium these words alone were intelligible to

those around him."[174] Nadeshda von Meck survived him by only two

months. She died January 25, 1894.

The Fourth Symphony is closely bound up with this singular experience.

Not only is it dedicated to Tschaikowsky's devoted benefactress, but

he speaks of it repeatedly in his correspondence with her as "our"

symphony. "May this music, which is so intimately associated with the

thought of you," he wrote to her in November, 1877, "speak to you and

tell you that I love you with all my heart and soul. O my best and

incomparable friend!" That the symphony has a well-defined programme we

know on the authority of the composer himself, though the score bears

no descriptive title or prefatory note of any kind. Writing to Mrs. von

Meck from Florence in March, 1878, Tschaikowsky sent this exposition of

his music, which he accompanied with thematic illustrations:

"You ask if in composing this symphony I had a special programme in

view.... For _our_ symphony there is a programme. That is to say, it

is possible to express its contents in words, and I will tell you,

and you alone, the meaning of the entire work and of its separate

movements. Naturally, I can do so only as regards its general

features.

"[I. _Andante sostenuto; Moderato con anima in movimento di valse_]

"The Introduction is the kernel, the quintessence, the chief thought

of the whole symphony. [Tschaikowsky quotes the stern and threatening

opening theme, announced by horns and bassoons, _Andante_.] This is

Fate, the fatal power which hinders one in the pursuit of happiness

from gaining the goal, which jealously provides that peace and

comfort do not prevail, that the sky is not free from clouds--a

might that swings, like the sword of Damocles, constantly over the

head, that poisons continually the soul. This might is overpowering

and invincible. There is nothing to do but to submit and vainly to

complain. [Tschaikowsky quotes here the expressive theme for strings,

_Moderato con anima_.] The feeling of despondency and despair

grows ever stronger and more passionate. It is better to turn from

the realities and to lull one's self in dreams. [Clarinet solo,

accompanied by strings.] O joy! What a lovely and gentle dream! A

radiant being, promising happiness, floats before me and beckons me

on. The importunate first theme of the allegro is now heard afar off,

and now the soul is wholly enwrapped with dreams. There is no thought

of gloom and cheerlessness. Happiness! Happiness! Happiness!... No,

they are only dreams, and Fate dispels them. The whole of life is only

a constant alternation between dismal reality and flattering dreams of

happiness. There is no port: you will be tossed hither and thither

by the waves, until the sea swallows you. This, approximately, is the

programme of the first movement.

"[II. _Andantino, in modo di canzona_]

"The second movement shows suffering in another stage. It is a feeling

of melancholy such as fills one when one sits alone at home, exhausted

by work; the book has slipped out of one's hand; a swarm of memories

arise in one's mind. How sad that so much has been and is gone, and

yet it is pleasant to think of the days of one's youth. We regret the

past and have neither the courage nor the desire to begin a new life.

We are weary of life. We wish refreshment, retrospection. We think

of happy hours when our young blood still sparkled and effervesced

and life brought satisfaction. We think of moments of sadness and

irrepressible losses. But these things are far away, so far away! It

is sad, yet sweet, to pore over the past.

"[III. _Scherzo, "Pizzicato ostinato": Allegro_]

"No definite feelings find expression in the third movement. These

are capricious arabesques, intangible figures which flit through the

fancy as if one had drunk wine and become slightly intoxicated. The

mood is neither merry nor sad. We think of nothing, but give free

rein to the fancy which humors itself in drafting the most singular

lines. Suddenly there arises the memory of a drunken peasant and

a ribald song.... Military music passes by in the distance. Such

are the disconnected images which flit through the brain as one

sinks into slumber. They have nothing to do with reality; they are

incomprehensible, bizarre, fragmentary.

"[IV. _Finale: Allegro con fuoco_]

"Fourth movement. If you find no pleasure in yourself, look about you.

Go to the folk. See how it understands to be jolly, how it surrenders

itself to gaiety. The picture of a folk-holiday. Scarcely have you

forgotten yourself, scarcely have you had time to be absorbed in

the happiness of others, before untiring Fate again announces its

approach. The other children of men are not concerned with you. They

neither see nor feel that you are lonely and sad. How they enjoy

themselves, how happy they are! And will you maintain that everything

in the world is sad and gloomy? There is still happiness--simple,

native happiness. Rejoice in the happiness of others--and you can

still live.

"This is all that I can tell you, my dear friend, about the

symphony...."

"MANFRED," SYMPHONY IN FOUR TABLEAUX: Op. 58

1. _Lento lugubre; andante_

2. _Scherzo: Vivace con spirito_

3. _Pastorale: Andante con moto_

4. _Finale: Allegro con fuoco_

This symphony is frankly programme-music. It is not listed among

Tschaikowsky's symphonies--where, in order of composition and opus

number, it would stand between the Fourth (Op. 36, 1876-78) and the

Fifth (Op. 64, 1888). "Manfred, Symphony in Four Tableaux, after the

Dramatic Poem by Byron," was composed in 1885. The score contains the

following preface, printed in French and Russian:

"I. Manfred wanders in the Alps. Tortured by the fatal anguish

of doubt, racked by remorse and despair, his soul is a prey to

sufferings without a name. Neither the occult science, whose

mysteries he has probed to the bottom, and by means of which the

gloomy powers of hell are subject to him, nor anything in the world

can give him the forgetfulness to which alone he aspires. The memory

of the fair Astarte, whom he has loved and lost, eats his heart.

Nothing can dispel the curse which weighs on Manfred's soul; and

without cessation, without truce, he is abandoned to the tortures of

the most atrocious despair.

"II. The Fairy of the Alps appears to Manfred beneath the rainbow of

the waterfall.

"III. Pastorale. Simple, free, and peaceful life of the mountaineers.

"IV. The underground palace of Arimanes. Manfred appears in the midst

of a bacchanal. Invocation of the ghost of Astarte. She foretells him

the end of his earthly woes. Manfred's death."[175]

(_Lento lugubre; andante_)

Manfred's despair and anguish, his inextinguishable longing and

remorse, his fruitless quest after forgetfulness, form the emotional

and dramatic burden of this movement. Manfred's theme is heard at the

beginning--a sombre and tragic motive for bassoons and bass clarinet.

There are also musical symbols for his passionate appeal for oblivion,

for his occult powers, and for the thought of Astarte. "The movement

should not be considered as panoramic in any sense. There is no attempt

to depict any special scene, to translate into music any particular

soliloquy. It is the soul of Manfred that the composer wishes to

portray."

(_Scherzo: Vivace con spirito_)

This movement was suggested by the second scene of act two of Byron's

drama, in which Manfred, beside the cataract, evokes the Witch of

the Alps, tells her of Astarte and of his own remorse and longing,

and--although she intimates that she may help him--rejects her aid;

for he is not willing to swear obedience to her will. "As the scene in

the poem may be regarded as a picturesque episode--for the incantation

is fruitless and only one of many--so the music is a relief after

the tumultuous passion and raging despair of the first movement.

The vision of the dashing, glistening cataract continues until,

with note of triangle and chord of harp, the rainbow is revealed."

To the accompaniment of mysterious and ethereal harp tones Manfred

conjures up the witch, "who rises beneath the arch of the sunbow of

the torrent." Her song is suggested (violins and harps). There is a

poignant reminiscence of Manfred's despair. "The glory of the cataract

is once more seen. It pales as the theme of despair is heard again."

III

(_Pastorale: Andante con moto_)

This scene is general in its suggestiveness; it has no definite

connection with any particular scene in Byron's poem. The opening

is idyllic, but the mood of the music is soon altered. Again we are

reminded of Manfred's unalterable woe. Perhaps Tschaikowsky had

in mind here a tense passage in the scene between Manfred and the

Chamois-Hunter (Act II., Scene I.):

"MANFRED. Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?

It doth; but actions are our epochs: mine

Have made my days and nights imperishable,

Endless, and all alike, as sands on the shore,

Innumerable atoms; and one desert,

Barren and cold, on which the wild waves break,

But nothing rests, save carcasses and wrecks,

Rocks, and the salt-surf weeds of bitterness.

"CHAMOIS-HUNTER. Alas! he's mad--but yet I must not leave him.

"MANFRED. I would I were--for then the things I see

Would be but a distempered dream.

"CHAMOIS-HUNTER. What is it?

That thou dost see, or think thou look'st upon?

"MANFRED. Myself, and thee--a peasant of the Alps--

Thy humble virtues, hospitable home,

And spirit patient, pious, proud, and free;

Thy self-respect, ingrained on innocent thoughts;

* * * * *

"This do I see--and then I look within--

It matters not--my soul was scorch'd already!"

(_Finale: Allegro con fuoco_)

This bacchanal in the underground palace of Arimanes is Tschaikowsky's

own invention; there is no bacchanal, or suggestion of one, in the

corresponding scene in Byron's poem, where Arimanes, seated on

his throne of fire, is surrounded by spirits, who praise him in a

worshipful hymn.

At the climax of the music's wild revelling the motive of despair is

recalled; the music becomes uncanny, mysterious; we hear the theme of

Manfred. Nemesis, who has entered the hall together with the Destinies,

invokes the wraith of Astarte:

"MANFRED. Can this be death? there's bloom upon her cheek;

But now I see it is no living hue,

But a strange hectic--like the unnatural red

Which Autumn plants upon the perish'd leaf.

It is the same! O God! that I should dread

To look upon the same--Astarte!--No,

I cannot speak to her--but bid her speak--

Forgive me or condemn me.

* * * * *

"PHANTOM OF ASTARTE. Manfred!

"MANFRED. Say on, say on--

I live but in the sound--it is thy voice!

"PHANTOM. Manfred! To-morrow ends thine earthly ills. Farewell!

"MANFRED. Yet one word more--am I forgiven?

"PHANTOM. Farewell!

"MANFRED. Say, shall we meet again?

"PHANTOM. Farewell!

"MANFRED. One word for mercy! Say thou lovest me.

"PHANTOM. Manfred!"

[_The Spirit of_ ASTARTE _disappears._]

"NEMESIS. She's gone, and will not be recall'd;

Her words will be fulfill'd. Return to the earth.

"A SPIRIT. He is convulsed.--This is to be a mortal, And seek the

things beyond mortality."

The music rises to a momentous and tragic climax. Manfred's death

scene is brought before us. We are in the tower of his castle. Night

approaches. The importunate demons have disappeared. Manfred and the

Abbot are alone (Act III., Scene IV.):

"THE ABBOT. Alas! how pale thou art--thy lips are white--

And thy breast heaves--and in thy gasping throat

The accents rattle. Give thy prayers to Heaven--

Pray--albeit but in thought--but die not thus.

"MANFRED. 'Tis over--my dull eyes can fix thee not;

But all things swim around me, and the earth

Heaves as it were beneath me. Fare thee well--

Give me thy hand.

"ABBOT. Cold--cold--even to the heart;

But yet one prayer. Alas! how fares it with thee?

"MANFRED. Old man! 'tis not so difficult to die."

[MANFRED _expires._]

"ABBOT. He's gone--his soul hath ta'en his earthless flight.

Whither? I dread to think; but he is gone."

SYMPHONY No. 6, "PATHETIC": Op. 74

1. _Adagio; Allegro non troppo_

2. _Allegro con grazia_

3. _Allegro, molto vivace_

4. _Finale: Adagio lamentoso_

Tschaikowsky wrote to Vladimir Davidoff on February 23, 1893:

"Just as I was starting on my journey [the visit to Paris in December,

1892] the idea came to me for a new symphony. This time with a

programme; but a programme which should be a riddle to all--let them

guess it who can! The work will be entitled 'A Programme Symphony' (No.

6). This programme is penetrated by subjective sentiment. During my

journey, while composing it in my mind, I have often wept bitterly. Now

that I am home again I have settled down to sketch out the work, and I

work at it with such ardor that in less than four days I have finished

the first movement, while the other movements are clearly outlined in

my mind. There will be much, as regards the form, that will be novel in

this work. For instance, the Finale will not be a boisterous Allegro,

but, on the contrary, an extended Adagio." Six months later he wrote

to Davidoff that the symphony was progressing, and that he considered

it the best--especially "the most open-hearted"--of all his works. "I

love it as I have never loved any of my musical offspring before." On

August 24th he informed his publisher, Jurgenson, that he had finished

orchestrating the symphony; nor did his opinion of it change. "It is

indescribably beautiful," he wrote, in a fervor of enthusiasm, to his

brother Modeste; and to the Grand-Duke Constantine he wrote, on October

3d: "Without exaggeration I have put my whole soul into this work." It

was the last score but one upon which he was to work. Five weeks later

he was dead.[176]

The symphony was produced at St. Petersburg on October 28th, when it

made little impression; it was said that its inspiration "stood far

below Tschaikowsky's other symphonies." It did not then bear the title

"Pathetic." How it came to be so named is thus related by Modeste

Tschaikowsky:

"The morning after the concert I found my brother sitting at the

breakfast-table with the score of the symphony before him. He had

agreed to send the score to Jurgenson [his publisher] that very day,

but could not decide upon a title. He did not care to designate it

merely by a number, and he had abandoned his original intention of

entitling it 'A Programme Symphony.' 'What would _Programme Symphony_

mean,' he said, 'if I will not give the programme?' I suggested

'Tragic' Symphony as an appropriate title, but that did not please

him. I left the room while he was still undecided. Suddenly 'Pathetic'

occurred to me, and I went back to the room and suggested it. I

remember, as though it were yesterday, how he exclaimed: 'Bravo, Modi,

splendid! _Pathetic!_' And then and there he added to the score, in my

presence, the title that will always remain."

What, precisely, was in Tschaikowsky's mind when he composed this

"Programme Symphony"? According to Tschaikowsky's intimate friend

Nicholas Kashkin, "if the composer had disclosed it to the public, the

world would not have regarded the symphony as a kind of legacy from one

filled with a presentiment of his own approaching end." To him it seems

more reasonable "to interpret the overwhelming energy of the third

movement and the abysmal sorrow of the Finale in the broader light of

a national or historical significance, rather than to narrow them to

the expression of an individual experience. If the last movement is

intended to be predictive, it is surely of things vaster and issues

more fatal than are contained in a mere personal apprehension of death.

It speaks rather of a _lamentation large et souffrance inconnue_,

and seems to set the seal of finality on all human hopes. Even if we

eliminate the purely subjective interest, this autumnal inspiration of

Tschaikowsky, in which we hear 'the ground whirl of the perished leaves

of hope,' still remains the most profoundly stirring of his works."

No one has speculated with finer tact and sympathy concerning

this extraordinary human document than has Mr. Philip Hale, whose

meditations may well serve as a comment upon the character of the music:

"Each hearer has his own thoughts when he is 'reminded by the

instruments.' To some this symphony is as the life of man. The story

is to them of man's illusions, desires, loves, struggles, victories,

and end. In the first movement they find, with the despair of old age

and the dread of death, the recollection of early years, with the

transports and illusions of love, the remembrance of youth and all

that is contained in that word.

"The second movement might bear as a motto the words of the Third

Kalandar in the _Thousand Nights and a Night_: 'And we sat down to

drink, and some sang songs and others played the lute and psaltery

and recorders and other instruments, and the bowl went merrily round.

Hereupon such gladness possessed me that I forgot the sorrows of the

world one and all, and said: "This is indeed life O sad that 'tis

fleeting!'" The trio[177] is as the sound of the clock that in Poe's

wild tale compelled even the musicians of the orchestra to pause

momentarily in their performance, to hearken to the sound; 'and thus

the waltzers perforce ceased their evolutions, and there was a brief

disconcert of the whole gay company; and, while the chimes of the

clock yet rang, it was observed that the giddiest grew pale, and the

more aged and sedate passed their hands over their brows as if in

confused revery or meditation.' In this trio Death beats the drum.

With Tschaikowsky, here, as in the 'Manfred' symphony, the drum is

the most tragic of instruments. The persistent drum-beat in this trio

is poignant in despair not untouched with irony. Man says: 'Come now,

I'll be gay'; and he tries to sing and to dance and to forget. His

very gaiety is labored, forced, constrained, in an unnatural rhythm.

And then the drum is heard, and there is wailing, there is angry

protest, there is the conviction that the struggle against Fate is

vain. Again there is the deliberate effort to be gay, but the drum

once heard beats in the ears forever.

"The third movement--the march-scherzo--is the excuse, the pretext,

for the final lamentation. The man triumphs; he knows all that there

is in earthly fame. Success is hideous, as Victor Hugo said. The blare

of trumpets, the shouts of the mob, may drown the sneers of envy; but

at Pompey passing Roman streets, at Tasso with the laurel wreath, at

coronation of czar or inauguration of president, Death grins, for he

knows the emptiness, the vulgarity, of what this world calls success.

"This battle-drunk, delirious movement must perforce precede the

mighty wail--

"'The glories of our blood and state

Are shadows, not substantial things;

There is no armor against fate;

Death lays his icy hands on kings.'"

The last movement--the prodigious _Adagio lamentoso_--moved Mr. Vernon

Blackburn to a comparison with Shelley's "Adonais": "The precise

emotions," he wrote, "down to a certain and extreme point, which

inspired Shelley in his wonderful expression of grief and despair, also

inspired the greatest of modern musicians since Wagner in his 'Swan

Song'--his last musical utterance on earth. The first movement is the

exact counterpart of those lines--

"'He will awake no more, oh, never more!--

Within the twilight chamber spreads apace

The shadow of white Death....'

"As the musician strays into the darkness and into the miserable

oblivion of death, ... Tschaikowsky reaches the full despair of those

other lines--

"'We decay

Like corpses in a charnel; fear and grief

Convulse us and consume us day by day,

And cold hopes swarm like worms within our living clay.'

"With that mysterious and desperate hopelessness the Russian comes

to an end of his faith and anticipation.... For as ['life'], writes

Shelley, 'like a many-colored dome of glass, stains the white radiance

of eternity,' even so Tschaikowsky in this symphony has stained

eternity's radiance: he has captured the years and bound them into a

momentary emotional pang."

"THE VOYVODE,"[178] ORCHESTRAL BALLAD (Posthumous): Op. 78

Tschaikowsky composed _Le Voyvode_ at Tiflis in 1890, under the

inspiration of a poem by the Polish poet Adam Mickiewicz (1798-1855).

It is said that after the first performance of the work at Moscow in

November, 1891, Tschaikowsky, disheartened over the cool reception of

his music by the audience, and by the adverse criticism of his friends,

"tore his score in pieces, exclaiming, 'Such rubbish should never have

been written!'"[179] The orchestral parts are alleged to have been

preserved, and the score restored from them. At all events, the work

was published in 1897, four years after Tschaikowsky's death.

Mickiewicz's poem, in French and Russian, prefaces the score. It has

been translated into English prose as follows:[180]

"The voyvode comes back from the war late at night. He orders

silence, rushes toward the nuptial bed, draws aside the curtains.

'Tis, then, true! No one; the bed is empty.

"Darker than black night, he lowers his eyes shot with rage, twists

his grizzling mustache; then, throwing back his long sleeves, he

leaves, and bolts the door. 'Hallo, there,' he cries, 'Devil's food!'

"'Why do I not see at the gate bolts or watch dogs? Race of Ham!

Quick, my gun; bring a sack, a cord, and take the carbine hanging on

the wall. Follow me. I shall make known my vengeance on this woman!'

"The master and the young servant spy along the wall. They go into

the garden and see through the bushes the young woman, all in white,

seated near the fountain with a young man at her feet.

"He was saying: 'And so nothing is left to me of those former

delights, of that which I so dearly loved! The sighs of your white

breast, the pressure of your soft hand--these the voyvode has bought!

"'How many years did I sigh after you, how many years did I seek you,

and you have renounced me! The voyvode did not seek you, he did not

sigh for you--he made his money jingle and you gave yourself to him!

"'I have passed through the darkness of the night to see the eyes

of my well-beloved, to press her soft hand, to wish her in her new

dwelling many prosperous years, much joy, and then to leave her

forever.'...

"The fair one wept and mourned; the young man embraced her knees; and

the other two watched them through the bushes. They laid their guns

on the ground; they took cartridges from their belts; they bit them

and rammed them home.

"Then they crept up gently. 'Master, I cannot aim,' said the

poor servant; 'is it the wind? But there are tears in my eyes--I

tremble--my arms are growing weak; there is no priming powder in the

pan'--

"'Be silent, slave; I'll teach you to whimper! Fill the pan--now

aim--aim at the forehead of the false woman--more to the

left--higher--I'll take care of the lover--hush--my turn first--wait!'

"The carbine-shot rang through the garden. The young servant could

not wait. The voyvode screamed; the voyvode staggered. The servant's

aim, it seems, was poor: the ball pierced the voyvode's forehead."

FOOTNOTES:

[163] Without opus number.

[164] The first of Tschaikowsky's programmatic orchestral works is the

virtually unknown _Fatum_ ("Destiny"), to which are attached lines from

a poem by Batioushkov. This work was composed in 1868, and produced

at Moscow in March of the following year. Tschaikowsky destroyed the

score "during the seventies"; but the orchestral parts were preserved,

and the score was reconstructed from them and published in 1896.

Batioushkov's lines were affixed to the score after its completion, on

the eve of the concert at which the work was produced.

[165] See page 12 (foot-note).

[166] It is known that Tschaikowsky thought seriously of composing an

opera based on the subject of "Romeo and Juliet." "The operas of Gounod

and Bellini," he wrote in 1870, "do not frighten me"--Shakespeare, he

truly observed, "is not to be found in them."

[167] This and the foregoing excerpt from Tschaikowsky's correspondence

are from the translation by Mrs. Rosa Newmarch.

[168] This is Carlyle's concise epitome of the experience related by

Dante in the fifth canto:

"The Second Circle, or proper commencement of Hell; and Minos, the

Infernal Judge, at its entrance. It contains the Souls of Carnal

Sinners; and their punishment consists in being driven about

incessantly, in total darkness, by fierce winds. First among them comes

Semiramis, the Babylonian queen. Dido, Cleopatra, Helena, Achilles,

Paris, and a great multitude of others pass in succession. Dante is

overcome and bewildered with pity at the sight of them, when his

attention is suddenly attracted to two spirits that keep together and

seem strangely light upon the wind. He is unable to speak for some

time, after finding that it is Francesca da Rimini, with her lover

Paolo; and falls to the ground, as if dead, after he has heard their

painful story."

[169] Ravenna: "on the coast of that sea to which the Po, with all his

streams from Alps to Apennines, descends to rest therein."

[170] Francesca was the daughter of Guido Vecchio da Polenta, lord

of Ravenna. She was given in marriage to Giovanni (or Gianciotto)

Malatesta, the eldest son of Malatesta Vecchio, tyrant of Rimini.

Giovanni was called "_Lo Sciancato_"--"the lame," or "hipshot." Not

only was he a cripple, but he was much older than Francesca, and of

stern and forbidding temper. Some say that he secured Francesca for

wife by trickery, she being led to suppose that Paolo ("_Il Bello_"),

the young brother of Giovanni, "a handsome man, very pleasant and

of courteous breeding," was her future husband; that she therefore

permitted herself to love him, and did not learn of the deception until

"the morning ensuing the marriage." Giovanni surprised his wife and

his brother together, and killed them both--between the years 1287

and 1289, says Hieronymus Rubeus in the first edition of his _Hist.

Ravennat._ (Venice, 1572); in a later edition (1603) the date is given

as early in 1289. The lovers were buried in the same grave. Guido

Novello, with whom Dante lived at Ravenna, was the son of Francesca's

brother, Ostagio da Polenta, and from him, it is believed, Dante heard

the tragic story.--L. G.

[171] "Lancelot of the Lake, in the old Romances of the Round Table,

is described as the greatest knight of all the world; and his love for

Queen Guenever, or Ginevra, is infinite. Galeotto, Gallehaut, or Sir

Galahad, is he who gives such a detailed declaration of Lancelot's

love to the queen; and is to them, in the romance, what the book and

its author are here [in Dante's poem] to Francesca and Paolo."--J. A.

CARLYLE.

[172] This is the culmination of the scene described by Francesca as it

occurs in Mr. Stephen Phillip's drama, "Paolo and Francesca":

"FRANCESCA [_Reading_]. 'And Guenevere,

Turning, beheld him suddenly whom she

Loved in her thought, and even from that hour

When first she saw him; for by day, by night,

Though lying by her husband's side, did she

Weary for Launcelot, and knew full well

How ill that love, and yet that love how deep

I cannot see--the page is dim; read you.

"PAOLO [_Reading_]. 'Now they two were alone, yet could not speak;

But heard the beating of each other's hearts.

He knew himself a traitor but to stay,

Yet could not stir; she pale and yet more pale

Grew till she could no more, but smiled on him.

Then when he saw that wished smile, he came

Near to her and still near, and trembled; then

Her lips all trembling kissed.'

"FRANCESCA [_Drooping towards him_]. Ah, Launcelot!

[_He kisses her on the lips._]"

[173] Nadeshda Filaretowna von Meck was born in the village of

Znamensk, in the government of Smolensk, February 10, 1831. She was

thus nine years older than Tschaikowsky. When her husband, an engineer,

died, in 1876, she was left with eleven children and a very large

fortune, although they had not always been rich. Modeste Tschaikowsky

described her as "a proud and energetic woman, of strong convictions,

with the mental balance and business capacity of a man; ... a woman

who despised all that was petty, common-place, and conventional; ...

absolutely free from sentimentality in her relations with others, yet

capable of deep feeling, and of being completely carried away by what

was lofty and beautiful."

[174] The passages quoted from Tschaikowsky's letters are given in Mrs.

Rosa Newmarch's translation.

[175] Translated by Mr. Philip Hale.

[176] In the October before his death Tschaikowsky was busied with the

orchestration of his third piano concerto, Op. 75, based on portions of

a symphony which he began in May, 1892, but afterwards destroyed.

[177] See page 210 (foot-note).

[178] "Voyvode": in Russian, "a military commander, general, or

governor of a province."

[179] The authorship of this story is attributed to the pianist

Alexander Siloti, a pupil of Tschaikowsky.

[180] By Mr. Philip Hale.

WAGNER

(_Richard Wagner: born in Leipsic, May 22, 1813; died in Venice,

February 13, 1883_)

"A 'FAUST' OVERTURE"[181]

Wagner, during his sojourn in Paris in 1840, wrote an orchestral piece

which, as he relates, he called an "overture to Goethe's 'Faust,' but

which was in reality intended for the first section of a grand 'Faust'

symphony." The curious and interesting history of this work may best

be told in excerpts from Wagner's correspondence with his devoted

friend and benefactor, Franz Liszt. Liszt, to whom Wagner had sent the

manuscript of the overture in 1848, wrote in 1852 (October 7th), some

months after he had produced the overture at Weimar:[182]

"The work is quite worthy of you; but, if you will allow me to make a

remark, I must confess that I should like either a second middle part

or else a quieter and more agreeably colored treatment of the present

middle part. The brass is a little too massive there, and--forgive

my opinion--the motive in F is not satisfactory: it wants grace in a

certain sense, and is a kind of hybrid thing, neither fish nor flesh,

which stands in no proper relation of contrast to what has gone before

and what follows, and in consequence impedes the interest. If instead

of this you introduced a soft, tender, melodious part, modulated _à la_

Gretchen, I think I can assure you that your work would gain very much.

Think this over, and do not be angry in case I have said something

stupid."

To this Wagner responded (November 9, 1852): "You beautifully spotted

the lie when I tried to make myself believe that I had written an

overture to 'Faust.' You have felt quite justly what is wanting: the

woman is wanting. Perhaps you would at once understand my tone-poem if

I called it 'Faust in Solitude.' At that time I intended to write an

entire 'Faust' symphony. The first movement, that which is ready, was

this 'Solitary Faust,' longing, despairing, cursing. The 'feminine'

floats around him as an object of his longing, but not in its divine

reality; and it is just this insufficient image of his longing which he

destroys in his despair. The second movement was to introduce Gretchen,

the woman. I had a theme for her, but it was only a theme. The whole

remains unfinished. I wrote my 'Flying Dutchman' instead. This is the

whole explanation. If now, from a last remnant of weakness and vanity,

I hesitate to abandon this 'Faust' work altogether, I shall certainly

have to remodel it, but only as regards instrumental modulation. The

theme which you desire I cannot introduce. This would naturally involve

an entirely new composition, for which I have no inclination. If I

publish it, I shall give it its proper title, 'Faust in Solitude,' or

'The Solitary Faust: a Tone-Poem for Orchestra.'"

He did not "abandon" it. Writing to Liszt from Zurich in January, 1855,

he congratulated him on the completion of his "Faust" symphony, and

added: "It is an absurd coincidence that just at this time I have been

taken with a desire to remodel my old 'Faust' overture. I have made

an entirely new score, have rewritten the instrumentation throughout,

have made many changes, and have given more expansion and importance to

the middle portion (second motive). I shall give it in a few days at a

concert here, under the title of 'A "Faust" Overture.' The motto will

be:

"'Der Gott, der mir im Busen wohnt,

Kann tief mein Innerstes erregen;

Der über allen meinen Kräften thront,

Er kann nach aussen nichts bewegen;

Und so ist mir das Dasein eine Last,

Der Tod erwünscht, das Leben mir verhasst!'

--but I shall not publish it in any case."

This motto, which Wagner retained, has been translated as follows:[183]

"The God who dwells within my soul

Can heave its depths at any hour;

Who holds o'er all my faculties control

Has o'er the outer world no power.

Existence lies a load upon my breast,

Life is a curse, and death a longed-for rest."

The overture, in its revised form, was produced in Zurich, January 23,

1855, at a concert of the _Allgemeine Musikgesellschaft_. Two days

later, Liszt wrote to the composer: "You were quite right in arranging

a new score of your overture. If you have succeeded in making the

middle part a little more pliable, this work, significant as it was

before, must have gained considerably. Be kind enough to have a copy

made, and send it me _as soon as possible_. There will probably be some

orchestral concerts here, and I should like to give this overture at

the end of February."

Wagner sent the score, with a letter in which he said: "Herewith,

dearest Franz, you receive my remodelled 'Faust' overture, which will

appear very insignificant to you by the side of your 'Faust' symphony.

To me the composition is interesting only on account of the time from

which it dates; this reconstruction has again endeared it to me; and,

with regard to the latter, I am childish enough to ask you to compare

it very carefully with the first version, because I should like you to

take cognizance of the effect of my experience and of the more refined

feeling I have gained. In my opinion, new versions of this kind show

most distinctly the spirit in which one has learned to work and the

coarsenesses which one has cast off. You will be better pleased with

the middle part. I was, of course, unable to introduce a new motive,

because that would have involved a remodelling of almost the whole

work; all I was able to do was to develop the sentiment a little more

broadly, in the form of a kind of enlarged cadence. Gretchen, of

course, could not be introduced, only Faust himself."[184]

"A SIEGFRIED IDYL"[185]

In the summer of 1870 (August 25th) Wagner was married at Lucerne,

Switzerland, to Cosima, daughter of Franz Liszt and the Comtesse

d'Agoult, and the divorced wife of Hans von Bülow.[186] Siegfried

Wagner, the son of Richard and Cosima, was born at Triebschen,

near Lucerne, June 6, 1869. In a letter dated June 25, 1870, two

months before his marriage to Cosima, Wagner wrote to a friend: "She

[Cosima] has defied every disapprobation and taken upon herself

every condemnation. She has borne to me a wonderfully beautiful and

vigorous boy, whom I could boldly call 'Siegfried': he is now growing,

together with my work, and gives me a new, long life [Wagner was then

fifty-seven years old], which at last has attained a meaning. Thus we

get along without the world, from which we have retired entirely....

But now listen; you will, I trust, approve of the sentiment which leads

us to postpone our visit until I can introduce to you the mother of my

son as my wedded wife."[187]

Cosima, according to Lina Ramann, was born (in Bellagio) "at

Christmas," 1837. The "Siegfried Idyl" was written by Wagner as a

birthday gift to his wife, and it was first performed December 24,

1871, as an _aubade_, on the steps of Wagner's villa at Triebschen; the

orchestra was a small group of players gathered from the neighborhood.

Hans Richter played the trumpet, and Wagner himself conducted.

The themes out of which the "Idyl" is evolved are, with a single

exception, motives from the _Nibelungen_ music-drama "Siegfried,"[188]

upon which Wagner was engaged when his son was born; the exception

is a German cradle-song, _Schlaf, Kindchen, balde, Vöglein flieg'n im

Walde_.

Wagner dedicated the work to his wife in verses which have been

translated as follows:

"Thy sacrifices have shed blessings o'er me,

And to my work have given noble aim,

And in the hour of conflict have upbore me,

Until my labor reached a sturdy frame.

Oft in the land of legends we were dreaming--

Those legends which contain the Teuton's fame,

Until a son upon our lives was beaming,

Siegfried must be our youthful hero's name.

"For him and thee I now in tones am praising;

What thanks for deeds of love could better be?

Within our souls the grateful song upraising

Which in this music I have now set free.

And in this cadence I have held, united,

Siegfried, our dearly cherished son, and thee.

Thus all the harmonies I now am bringing

But speak the thought which in my heart is ringing."

FOOTNOTES:

[181] Without opus number.

[182] The first performance of the overture in its original form was in

Dresden, July 22, 1844, at a concert in the pavilion of the _Grosser

Garten_.

[183] By Mr. Charles T. Brooks.

[184] These passages from the Wagner-Liszt correspondence are from the

English version by Francis Hueffer.

[185] Without opus number.

[186] Cosima married von Bülow in Berlin, August 18, 1857; they were

divorced in the autumn of 1869.

[187] From Finck's _Wagner and His Works_.

[188] These motives are: (1) The "Peace" motive, from the love scene in

the third act, first heard at _Brünnhilde's_ words: _Ewig wär ich, ewig

bin ich, ewig in süss sehnender Wonne--doch ewig zu deinem Heil!_ ("I

have been forever, I am forever, ever in sweet yearning rapture--but

ever to thy salvation!"); (2) a portion of the "Slumber" motive (first

heard in "Die Walküre"); (3) a theme of two descending notes taken from

_Brünnhilde's_ cry (in the love scene): _O Siegfried! Siegfried! sieh'

meine Angst!_ ("O Siegfried, Siegfried, behold my terror!"); (4) the

"Treasure of the World" motive, accompanying _Brünnhilde's_ apostrophe:

_O Siegfried, Herrlicher! Hort der Welt!_ ("O Siegfried, glorious one!

Treasure of the world!"); (5) Siegfried's "Wander" motive, first heard

in Act I., where the son of Siegmund exuberantly announces to Mime

that he is going forth into the world, never to return; (6) fragments

of the bird-call from the _Waldweben_ in the second act; and (7) the

figure which accompanies Siegfried's ecstatic words near the climax of

the love scene: _Ein herrlich Gewässer wogt vor mir_ ("a wondrous sea

surges before me").

WOLF

(_Hugo Wolf: born in Windischgräz, Steiermark, Austria, March 13,

1860; died in Vienna, February 22, 1903_)

"PENTHESILEA," SYMPHONIC POEM[189]

This symphonic poem is based on the tragedy of like name by Heinrich

von Kleist.[190] The action of Von Kleist's drama is, in outline, as

follows: The Amazons, under the leadership of their queen, Penthesilea,

go forth to attack the Greeks besieging Troy, hoping that they may

celebrate at Themiscyra, with the young men whom they shall capture,

the Feast of Roses. The law of the Amazons requires that only those

whom they have overcome in conquest may celebrate with them at the

festival; therefore, when Penthesilea encounters in battle the

surpassingly beautiful Achilles, she perforce attacks him, for she

is ravished by love of him. He bests her in the fight, but she is

rescued by her sister warriors. Achilles learns that, should he permit

her to overcome him, he might possess her. He plans to engage her

single-handed, and allow her to conquer him. Penthesilea's suspicions

are aroused; she becomes convinced of his trickery. Her consuming love

is transformed into consuming and vengeful hate. She slays him, and,

together with her hounds, rends his flesh and exults lustfully in his

blood. When her frenzy--which is as the frenzy of Wilde's "Salome"--is

at last appeased, she stabs herself and sinks upon the body of her

lover.

Dr. Kuno Francke finds in the figure of the Amazon queen an image

of Kleist's own soul--"a soul," he writes in his _History of German

Literature_, "inspired with titanic daring, driven by superhuman

desire, bent on conquering Eternity. When the conviction first dawned

upon Kleist that the whole of truth is beyond human reach, all life

henceforth seemed worthless to him. When Penthesilea, instead of

vanquishing the beloved hero, is overcome by him, even his love is

hateful to her. The ideal which she cannot fully and without reserve

make hers she must destroy. The god in her having been killed, the

beast awakes. And thus, immediately after that enchanting scene where

the lovers, for the first time and the last, have been revelling

in mutual surrender and delight, she falls like a tigress upon the

unsuspecting and weaponless man; with the voluptuousness of despair,

she sends the arrow through his breast; she lets the hounds loose upon

him as he dies, and together with the hounds she tears his limbs

and drinks his blood, until, at last, brought back to her senses,

and realizing what she has done, she sinks into the arms of death--a

character so atrocious and so ravishing, so monstrous and so divine, so

miraculous and so true, as no other poet ever has created."

Although Wolf's symphonic poem is not provided with a programme, there

are in the score explanatory titles for its main (connected) divisions.

These titles have been annotated in German as follows (the translation

is that published in the programme books of the Chicago Orchestra in

April, 1904, at the time of the first American performance of the

work):[191]

"THE DEPARTURE OF THE AMAZONS FOR TROY

"Amid great tumult the fierce warriors prepare to set out on

their campaign, Penthesilea in command--as is symbolized by her

personal motive, which will be heard above the clashing of weapons

and the shrieking of war-cries. In exultation the army assembles,

the queen dashing to the front to lead in the march, which begins

with a flourish of trumpets. A contrasting intermediary section

leads to a resumption of the march movement, the latter dying away

as the Amazons, having reached their destination, go into night

encampment--as represented by the subdued rolls of the kettle-drums,

with which the movement concludes.

"II "PENTHESILEA'S DREAM OF THE FEAST OF ROSES

"As she slumbers, Penthesilea's dreams carry her beyond the battle

impending to the prize which awaits her after the victory. Over

mysterious arpeggios in the violas, the flutes, oboes, and violins

begin a melody in which one recognizes Penthesilea, transformed into

a gentle, loving woman. The dream-picture becomes more and more

vivid, until all of a sudden the sleeper awakens.

"III "COMBATS, PASSIONS, FRENZY, ANNIHILATION

"Once aroused, Penthesilea is the ferocious warrior again;

challenged by the foe, she rides forth to battle. But straightway

a conflict of the emotions is suggested by the interweaving of two

motives--one being mentioned as denoting Penthesilea's determination

to conquer, and the other as expressive of the yearnings of her

heart; their combined development--descriptive of their struggle for

supremacy--mounting presently to a full-orchestra climax, from which

the motive of 'yearning' emerges in certain wood-wind instruments

over a subdued tremolo of the violas. But the desire for conquest

soon gains the upper hand again, leading to a dramatic climax which

brings to notice the motive of annihilation in the trombones--opposed

by the violins and wood-wind with a distorted version of the

Penthesilea motive. The tumult subsides through a picturesque

_diminuendo_, beautified by an expressive viola solo and leading to

the reappearance of Penthesilea, now tranquillized and gentle. But

this mood does not last long; the orchestra, passing from animation

to agitation, shortly setting up a great shriek of anguish; following

which a chromatic flourish leads to a repetition of 'The Departure

of the Amazons.' But now Penthesilea goes not forth to any common

struggle, nor does any dream of happiness beckon her from beyond

the victory. Revenge and destruction are now her only purpose. With

redoubled ferocity the situation mounts to its tragic climax, which

culminates in a frightful screech. Then a pause; her anger spent, the

unhappy queen appears once more, her face no longer disfigured with

passion, but glowing with yearning and love. Thus, in ecstasy and

anguish, her young life goes out in a sigh."

FOOTNOTES:

[189] Without opus number.

[190] Heinrich von Kleist was born at Frankfort-on-the-Oder, October

18, 1777; he died, by his own hand, at Wannsee, near Potsdam, November

21, 1811.

[191] The programme books of the Chicago Orchestra for that year were

edited by Mr. Hubbard William Harris.

_INDEX OF WORKS AND COMPOSERS_

_"Adonais," Overture_, 51, 52.

_"Afternoon of a Faun, The," Prelude to_, 73-75.

_"Also Sprach Zarathustra," Tone-Poem_, 275-285.

_"Antar," Symphony_, 222-226.

_"Aus Italia," Fantasy_, 259-261.

Bantock, Granville, 11-18.

_"Battle of the Huns, The," Symphonic Poem_, 155-157.

Beethoven, Ludwig van, 19-30.

Berlioz, Hector, 31-41.

Bizet, Georges, 43-47.

_"Blanik," Symphonic Poem_, 253.

_"Böcklin" Symphony_, 131-136.

_"Calm Sea and Prosperous Voyage," Overture_

(see _"Becalmed at Sea and Prosperous Voyage"_), 202, 203.

_"Carnival," Overture_, 87-89.

Chadwick, George W., 49-55.

Charpentier, Gustave, 57-59.

Chausson, Ernest, 61-64.

_"Christmas Eve," Suite_, 231-234.

_"Cleopatra," Symphonic Poem_, 53-55

_"Cockaigne," Overture_, 96-98.

_"Consecration of Sound, The," Symphony_, 255-258.

Converse, Frederick S., 65-72.

_"Coriolanus," Overture to_, 24, 25.

_"Dance in the Village Tavern, The," Episode (No. II.)

from Lenau's "Faust"_, 174, 175.

_"Dance of Death," Symphonic Poem_, 237, 238.

_"Danse Macabre," Symphonic Poem_, 237, 238.

_"Dante's 'Divina Commedia,' Symphony after"_, 164-173.

_"Death and Transfiguration," Tone-Poem_, 266-269.

_"Death of Tintagiles, The," Symphonic Poem_, 177-182.

Debussy, Claude, 73-78.

_"Der Nächtliche Zug," Episode (No I.)

from Lenau's "Faust"_, 173, 174.

_"Der Tanz in der Dorfschenke," Episode (No. II.)

from Lenau's "Faust"_, 174, 175.

_"Devil's Villanelle, The," Fantasia_, 184-187.

_"Die Ideale," Symphonic Poem_, 157-161.

_"Die Sarazenen," Symphonic Fragment_, 194, 195.

_"Die Schöne Aldâ," Symphonic Fragment_, 195, 196.

_"Die Weihe der Töne," Symphony_, 255-258.

_"Djinns, The," Symphonic Poem_, 113, 114.

_"Domestic Symphony"_, 297-302.

_"Don Juan," Tone-Poem_, 261-264.

_"Don Quixote," Variations_, 285-292.

_"Dream Children," Two Pieces_, 98-100.

Dukas, Paul, 79-84.

Dvořák, Anton, 85-93.

_"Egmont," Overture to_, 27-30.

_"Eine Faust Ouvertüre"_, 339-343.

_"Eine Faust Symphonie"_, 161-164.

_"Ein Heldenleben," Tone-Poem_, 292-297.

Elgar, Edward, 95-104.

_"Enchanted Forest, The," Legend_, 137, 138.

_"Endymion's Narrative," Romance_, 67, 68.

_"Enigma" Variations_, 95-98.

_"Episodes, Two, from Lenau's 'Faust',"_ 173-175.

_"Eroica" Symphony_, 19-24.

_"Euphrosyne," Overture_, 70.

_"Euterpe," Overture_, 52, 53.

_Fantasia, "Francesca da Rimini"_, 308-316.

_Fantasia, "The Tempest"_, 305-308.

_"Fantastic" Symphony_, 34-36.

_"'Faust,' Lenau's, Two Episodes from"_, 173-175.

_"Faust Overture, A"_, 339-343.

_"Faust Symphony, A"_, 161-164.

_"Festival of Pan, The," Romance_, 65, 66.

_"Festklänge," Symphonic Poem_, 154, 155.

_"Fingal's Cave" ["The Hebrides"], Overture_, 200-202.

_"Francesca da Rimini," Fantasia_, 308-316.

Franck, César, 105-114.

_"From Bohemia's Fields and Groves," Symphonic Poem_, 253.

_"From Italy," Fantasia_, 259-261.

_"From the New World," Symphony_, 92, 93.

Glazounoff, Alexander, 115-118.

Goldmark, Karl, 119-122.

Grieg, Edvard, 123-126.

Hadley, Henry K., 127-130.

_"Hamlet"; "Ophelia," Symphonic Poem_, 198.

_"Harold in Italy," Symphony_, 36-41.

_"Hebrides, The," ["Fingal's Cave"], Overture_, 200-202.

_"Hero's Life, A," Tone-Poem_, 292-297.

Huber, Hans, 131-136.

_"Hunnenschlacht," Symphonic Poem_, 155-157.

_"Ideal, The," Symphonic Poem_, 157-161.

_"Idyl, A Siegfried"_, 343-345.

_"Impressions of Italy," Suite_, 57-59.

_"Im Walde," Symphony_, 213-216.

_"In der Natur," Overture_, 85-87.

_"Indian" Suite_, 196, 197.

d'Indy, Vincent, 137-144.

_"In the South," Overture_, 101-104.

_"In the Woods," Symphony_, 213-216.

_"Istar," Symphonic Variations_, 139-141.

_"Italian" Symphony_, 208-211.

_"Jour d'été à la montagne," Tone-Poem_, 141-144.

_"King Lear," Overture to_, 31-33.

_"Kremlin, The," Symphonic Picture_, 117, 118.

_"La Bonne Chanson" ["Poem"], Tone-Poem_, 182-184.

_"La Forêt Enchantée," Legende_, 137, 138.

_"La Jeunesse d'Hercule," Symphonic Poem_, 238, 239.

_"La Mer," Three Sketches_, 77, 78.

_"La Mort de Tintagiles," Symphonic Poem_, 177-182.

_"Lancelot and Elaine," Symphonic Poem_, 191-194.

_"L'Apprenti Sorcier," Scherzo_, 79-84.

_"L'Après-Midi d'un Faune, Prelude à"_, 73-75.

_"L'Arlésienne," Suite_, 43-47.

_"La Villanelle du Diable," Fantasia_, 184-187.

_"Le Chasseur Maudit," Symphonic Poem_, 106, 107.

_"Lemminkainen's Home-Faring," Symphonic Poem_, 249, 250.

_"Lemminkainen," Symphonic Poem_, 247-250.

_"Lenau's 'Faust,' Two Episodes from"_, 173-175.

_"Lenore," Symphony_, 216-220.

_"Le Rouet d'Omphale," Symphonic Poem_, 235, 236.

_"Les Éolides," Symphonic Poem_, 105, 106.

_"Les Préludes," Symphonic Poem_, 147, 148.

_"Le Voyvode," Orchestral Ballad_, 335-337.

Liszt, Franz, 145-175.

Loeffler, Charles Martin, 177-189.

_"Lovely Aldâ, The"_, 195, 196.

_"Lovely Melusina, The," Overture_, 203-206.

_"Macbeth," Tone-Poem_, 264-266.

MacDowell, Edward, 191-198.

_"Manfred," Overture to_, 243-245.

_"Manfred," Symphony_, 323-329.

_"Mazeppa," Symphonic Poem_, 151-154.

_"Meeresstille und Glückliche Fahrt," Overture_, 202-203.

_"Melpomene," Overture_, 49-51.

_"Melusina, The Lovely," Overture_, 203-206.

Mendelssohn-Bartholdy, Felix 199-211.

_"Mephisto Waltz," Episode (No. II.)

from Lenau's "Faust"_, 174, 175.

_"Mer, La"_, 77, 78.

_"Midsummer Night's Dream, A," Overture to_, 199, 200.

_"Mlada"_ (see _"Night on Mount Triglav, A"_), 229, 230.

_"My Fatherland," Cycle of Symphonic Poems_, 251-253.

_"Mystic Trumpeter, The," Fantasy_, 70-72.

_"Nature, Life, Love," Triple Overture_, 85-91.

_"Nature" Overture_, 85-87.

_"New World, From the," Symphony_, 92, 93.

_"Night" and "Day," Two Poems_, 68-70.

_"Night on Mount Triglav, A"

(from the Opera-Ballet "Mlada")_, 229, 230.

_"Nocturnal Procession, The," Episode (No. I.)

from Lenau's "Faust"_, 173, 174.

_"Nocturnes, Three"_, 75-77.

_"October, In," Supplement to Suite No. I._, 198.

_"Omphale's Spinning-Wheel," Symphonic Poem_, 235, 236.

_"Orpheus," Symphonic Poem_, 148-150.

_"Othello," Overture_, 89-91.

_Overture, "Adonais"_, 51, 52.

_Overture, "Becalmed at Sea and Prosperous Voyage"_, 202, 203.

_Overture, "Carnival"_, 87-89.

_Overture, "Cockaigne"_, 96-98.

_Overture, "Euphrosyne"_, 70.

_Overture, "Euterpe"_, 52, 53.

_"Overture, Faust, A"_, 339-343.

_Overture, "Fingal's Cave" ["The Hebrides"]_, 200-202.

_Overture, "In the South"_, 101-104.

_Overture, "Lovely Melusina, The"_, 203-206.

_Overture, "Meeresstille und Glückliche Fahrt"_, 202-206.

_Overture, "Melpomene"_, 49-51.

_Overture, "Midsummer Night's Dream, A"_, 199, 200.

_Overture, "Nature"_, 85-87.

_Overture, "Othello"_, 89-91.

_Overture-Fantasie, "Romeo and Juliet"_, 303-305.

_Overture, "Sakuntala"_, 119, 120.

_"Overture, Triple"_, 85-91.

_Overture to "Coriolanus"_, 24, 25.

_Overture to "Egmont"_, 27-30.

_Overture to "King Lear"_, 31-33.

_Overture to "Manfred"_, 243-245.

_"Pagan Poem, A"_, 187-189.

_"Pastoral" Symphony_, 25, 27.

_"Pathetic" Symphony_, 329-335.

_"Peer Gynt," Suite_, 123-126.

_"Penthesilea," Symphonic Poem_, 347-351.

_"Phaëton," Symphonic Poem_, 236, 237.

_"Poem" ["La Bonne Chanson"]_, 182-184.

_Prelude, "Sappho"_, 15-18.

_"Preludes, The," Symphonic Poem_, 147, 148.

_Prelude to "The Afternoon of a Faun"_, 73-75.

_"Psyche," Suite_, 108-113.

Raff, Joachim, 213-220.

Rimsky-Korsakoff, Nicolas Andrejevitch, 221-234.

_"Romeo and Juliet," Overture-Fantasie_, 303-305.

_"Rustic Wedding" Symphony_, 120-122.

_"Sadko," a Musical Picture_, 221, 222.

Saint-Saëns, Camille, 235-239.

_"Sakuntala," Overture_, 119, 120.

_"Salome," Tone-Poem_, 127-130.

_"Sappho," Prelude_, 15-18.

_"Saracens, The"_, 194, 195.

_"Sárka," Symphonic Poem_, 252, 253.

_"Saugefleurie," Legend_, 138, 139.

_"Scheherazade," Suite_, 226-229.

Schumann, Robert, 241-245.

_"Scotch" Symphony_, 206-208.

_"Sea, The," Three Sketches_, 77, 78.

_"Siegfried Idyl, A"_, 343-345.

Sibelius, Jan, 247-250.

_Sinfonia Eroica_, 19-24.

Smetana, Friedrich, 251-253.

_"Song of Roland, The," Two Fragments after_, 194-196.

_"Sorcerer's Apprentice, The," Scherzo_, 79-84.

Spohr, Louis, 255-258.

_"Spring" Symphony_ [Schumann], 241-243.

_"Stenka Râzine," Symphonic Poem_, 115-117.

Strauss, Richard, 259-302.

_Suite, "Christmas Eve"_, 231-234.

_Suite, "Impressions of Italy"_, 57-59.

_Suite, "Indian"_, 196, 197.

_Suite, "L'Arlésienne"_, 43-47.

_Suite No. I. (Op. 42)_, MacDowell, 198.

_Suite, "Peer Gynt"_, 123-126.

_Suite, "Psyche"_, 108-113.

_Suite, "Scheherazade"_, 226-229.

_"Summer Day on the Mountain," Tone-Poem_, 141-144.

_"Swan of Tuonela, The," Symphonic Poem_, 248, 249.

_Symphonic Poem, "Battle of the Huns, The"_, 155-157.

_Symphonic Poem, "Blanik"_, 253.

_Symphonic Poem, "Cleopatra"_, 53-55.

_Symphonic Poem, "Dance of Death"_, 237, 238.

_Symphonic Poem, "Danse Macabre"_, 237, 238.

_Symphonic Poem, "Death of Tintagiles, The"_, 177-182.

_Symphonic Poem, "Die Ideale"_, 157-161.

_Symphonic Poem, "Djinns, The"_, 113, 114.

_Symphonic Poem, "Festklänge"_, 154, 155.

_Symphonic Poem, "From Bohemia's Fields and Groves"_, 253.

_Symphonic Poem, "Hamlet"; "Ophelia"_, 198.

_Symphonic Poem, "Hunnenschlacht"_, 155-157.

_Symphonic Poem, "Ideal, The"_, 157-161.

_Symphonic Poem, "La Jeunesse d'Hercule"_, 238, 239.

_Symphonic Poem, "La Mort de Tintagiles"_, 177-182.

_Symphonic Poem, "Lancelot and Elaine"_, 191-194.

_Symphonic Poem, "Lemminkainen"_, 247-250.

_Symphonic Poem, "Le Rouet d'Omphale"_, 235, 236.

_Symphonic Poem, "Les Éolides"_, 105, 106.

_Symphonic Poem, "Les Préludes"_, 147, 148.

_Symphonic Poem, "Mazeppa"_, 151-154.

_Symphonic Poem, "Omphale's Spinning-Wheel"_, 235, 236.

_Symphonic Poem, "Orpheus"_, 148-150.

_Symphonic Poem, "Penthesilea"_, 347-351.

_Symphonic Poem, "Phaëton"_, 236, 237.

_Symphonic Poem, "Preludes, The"_, 147, 148.

_Symphonic Poem, "Sadko"_, 221, 222.

_Symphonic Poem, "Sárka"_, 252, 253.

_Symphonic Poem, "Stenka Râzine"_, 115-117.

_Symphonic Poem, "Tabor"_, 253.

_Symphonic Poem, "Tasso"_, 145-147.

_Symphonic Poem, "Viviane"_, 61-64.

_Symphonic Poem, "Vltava"_, 252.

_Symphonic Poem, "Vysehrad"_, 251, 252.

_Symphonic Poem, "Wild Huntsman, The"_, 106, 107.

_Symphonic Poem, "Wood Dove, The"_, 91, 92.

_Symphonic Poem, "Youth of Hercules, The"_, 238, 239.

_"Symphony, A Faust"_, 161-164.

_Symphony after Dante's "Divina Commedia"_, 164-173.

_Symphony, "Antar"_, 222-226.

_Symphony ["Böcklin"]_, Huber, 131-136.

_Symphony, "Consecration of Sound, The"_, 255-258.

_Symphony, "Die Weihe der Töne"_, 255-258.

_Symphony, "Domestic"_, 297-302.

_Symphony, "Fantastic"_, 34-36.

_Symphony, "From the New World"_, 92, 93.

_Symphony, "Harold in Italy"_, 36-41.

_Symphony, "Im Walde"_, 213-216.

_Symphony, "In the Woods"_, 213-216.

_Symphony, "Italian"_, 208-211.

_Symphony, "Lenore"_, 216-220.

_Symphony, "Manfred"_, 323-329.

_Symphony, "Pastoral"_, 25-27.

_Symphony, "Pathetic"_, 329-335.

_Symphony, "Rustic Wedding"_, 120-122.

_Symphony, "Scotch"_, 206-208.

_Symphony, No. 1, B-flat Major ["Spring"]_, Schumann, 241-243.

_Symphony No. 4, F Minor_, Tschaikowsky, 316-323.

_"Tabor," Symphonic Poem_, 253.

_"Tasso," Symphonic Poem_, 145-147.

_"Tempest, The," Fantasia_, 305-308.

_"Thus Spake Zarathustra," Tone-Poem_, 275-285.

_"Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks"_, 269-275.

_"Tintagiles, The Death of," Symphonic Poem_, 177-182.

_"Tod und Verklärung," Tone-Poem_, 266-269.

_Tone-Poem, "Also Sprach Zarathustra"_, 275-285.

_Tone-Poem, "Death and Transfiguration"_, 266-269.

_Tone-Poem, "Don Juan"_, 261-264.

_Tone-Poem, "Ein Heldenleben"_, 292-297.

_Tone-Poem, "Hero's Life, A"_, 292-297.

_Tone-Poem, "Macbeth"_, 264-266.

_Tone-Poem, "Salome"_, 127-130.

_Tone-Poem, "Thus Spake Zarathustra"_, 275-285.

_Tone-Poem, "Tod und Verklärung"_, 266-269.

_Tone-Poem, "Witch of Atlas, The"_, 11-15.

_"Triple Overture"_, 85-91.

_"Trois Nocturnes"_, 75-77.

Tschaikowsky, Peter Iljitsch, 303-337.

_"Two Episodes from Lenau's 'Faust',"_ 173-175.

_Variations, "Enigma"_, 95-98.

_"Villanelle du Diable, La"_, 184-187.

_"Viviane," Symphonic Poem_, 61-64.

_"Vltava," Symphonic Poem_, 252.

_"Voyvode, The," Orchestral Ballad_, 335-337.

_"Vysehrad," Symphonic Poem_, 251, 252.

Wagner, Richard, 330-345.

_"Wild Huntsman, The," Symphonic Poem_, 106, 107.

_"Wild Sage" ["Saugefleurie"] Legend_, 138, 139.

_"Witch of Atlas, The," Tone-Poem_, 11-15.

Wolf, Hugo, 347-351.

_"Wood Dove, The," Symphonic Poem_, 91, 92.

_"Youth of Hercules, The," Symphonic Poem_, 238, 239.

THE END

* * * * *

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.

A number of words in this book have both hyphenated and non-hyphenated

variants. For the words with both variants present the one more used

has been kept.

Obvious punctuation and other printing errors have been corrected.

End of Project Gutenberg's Stories of Symphonic Music, by Lawrence Gilman

Stories of Symphonic Music A Guide to the Meaning of Important Symphonies, Overtures, and Tone-poems from Beethoven to the Present Day · 第 4 / 4 章

[145] Alexander Ritter (1833-1896), composer, violinist, conductor (he