fortunately was large; but there have been other performances, equally
good, when the audience was meagre. On such occasions much of my
enjoyment was marred by the melancholy thought that such glorious
music should be wasted on empty stalls, when there were thousands of
persons in the city who, if they only could have been induced to
overcome their prejudices and devote a few hours of previous study to
the libretto and the pianoforte-score of these operas, would not only
have found them entertaining, but would have enjoyed them rapturously.
The essence and perennial charm of German music lies in its _melodious
harmony_. Nothing is more absurd than the notion that there is more
melody in Italian than in German music. The only difference is that in
Italian music the melody is more prominent, being unencumbered by
complicated harmonies and accompaniments, while in German music the
melody is interwoven with the various harmonic parts, which makes it
difficult to follow at first. But when once this gift has been
acquired, it is a source of eternal pleasure. Nor is it so difficult
to cultivate the harmonic sense, if one takes pains to hear good music
often and _attentively_. I once met a young lady on a transatlantic
steamer, who frankly confessed she could not see any beauty in certain
exquisite Wagnerian and Chopinesque modulations and harmonies which I
played for her on the piano. When asked if she did not care for
harmony at all, she replied: "Oh, yes! I know a chord which is _simply
divine_!" Then she played--what do you fancy?--the _simple major
triad_--A flat in the bass, and A flat, C, E flat an octave
higher--which is the most elementary of all chords, the very alphabet
of music. If she found this commonplace chord "simply divine," what
would she have said could she have been made to realize that the
modulations I had played were as superior to her chord in poetic charm
as a line of Shakspere is to the letters A B C? And she _could_ have
been made to realize this truth in a few months, under proper
instruction.
I have dwelt so long on this matter because I have come to the
conclusion, as already stated, that the greatest problem in connection
with German opera is to enlarge the patronage, and induce persons to
reserve their judgment of a "heavy" opera until they have heard it two
or three times. They will soon find that the word "heavy" is a very
relative and changeable term in music. To one who really admires
Shakspere and Homer, a fashionable novel is tedious beyond endurance;
just so, to one who can appreciate "Tristan" or "Euryanthe," Verdi's
"Ernani" and Bellini's "Norma" are heavy as lead, soporific as opium.
The difficulty of understanding subtle harmonies is perhaps the main
reason why English-speaking people are so slow in appreciating and
encouraging the opera. But there are two other important reasons which
may be briefly referred to--religious rigorousness, and a certain
predilection for the ornamental style of singing.
No doubt there was a time when the stage was so profligate that the
Puritans were justified in tabooing it altogether. But that is not now
the case. There are many theatres where plays are given that are not
only pure in tone, but exert a refining and educating influence on all
who hear them. And as for operas, there is hardly one in the modern
repertory that is open to censure on moral grounds. Mr. Carl Rosa
refers to the curious fact that, when circumstances compel him to give
an operatic performance in a hall instead of a theatre, the audiences
are of quite a distinct character, including many who like opera, but
do not wish to go to a theatre. Now, this general condemnation of the
theatre because it is often used for frivolous purposes is just as
unreasonable as it would be to condemn and avoid all novels because
Zola writes novels.
There is, indeed, a positive harm that results from the tabooing of
the theatre by religious people. Why is so large a proportion of our
plays frivolous and vulgar? Because the frivolous and vulgar
predominate among theatre-goers. If the large number of refined
people who avoid the theatre were to attend, this proportion might be
reversed, and more of the managers would find it profitable to bring
out clean and wholesome dramas. Some prominent clergymen have lately
expressed themselves in this sense, and it is probable that a reaction
is at hand that will benefit the cause of serious opera. There is
absolutely nothing in any of the operas given at the Metropolitan that
could not be fitly sung before a Sunday-school audience. Why, then,
taboo the opera and jeopardize its existence, leaving the field to the
frivolous operettas and farces?
The other obstacle alluded to--the love of colorature song--is a thing
that will cure itself with the advance of musical culture. The Germans
and the French have long since turned their backs on the florid
variety of vocalists, and the Italians are now following suit. An
eminent Italian teacher in New York, who has made a specialty of
teaching trills and runs and roulades and other vocal circus tricks,
lately declared that he was tired of this style of singing, and began
to prefer a more simple and dramatic style. The same is true of the
modern Italian composers. It is well known that Boïto, Ponchielli, and
Verdi in his latest operas, approximate the German style; and their
admirers will doubtless ere long adapt their taste to this change.
Nevertheless, there are not a few remaining who look upon opera as a
sort of vocal acrobatics. They go once or twice to the Metropolitan,
and feel defrauded of their money if the prima donna fails to come
forward to the prompter's box to run up some breakneck scales, and,
having arrived at the top, descend by means of a chain of trills or
series of somersaults. Their interest in music is _athletic_ (feats of
skill), not _æsthetic_ (artistic expression of emotions). Yet these
people have the impudence to say that German opera is "stupid,"
forgetting that their case might be analogous to that of the drunkard
who thinks the earth is reeling when he is.
This class of opera-goers never tire of abusing such singers as
Fräulein Brandt and Herr Niemann because their voices are no longer as
mellow as in their youth, and sometimes weaken in a sustained note or
swerve for a second from the pitch. Such blemishes are no doubt to be
regretted, but they are a hundred times atoned for by the passion and
the variety of emotional expression that animate their voices, and by
their superb acting. Fräulein Brandt's _Ortrud_, _Eglantine_, and
_Fides_ will be referred to generations hence as models, as will Herr
Niemann's _Tannhäuser_, _Siegmund_, _Cortez_, _Lohengrin_, _Tristan_,
etc. New Yorkers must consider themselves fortunate in having heard
for two seasons the greatest of Wagnerian tenors--even though he is no
longer in his prime--the man who sang the title _rôle_ of
"Tannhäuser" when that opera was produced in Paris in 1861; who
created the part of _Siegmund_ in 1876 at Bayreuth; and who, in his
way, has done as much to popularize Wagner's operas as Liszt did
during the Weimar period, when people had to go to that city to hear
"Lohengrin" and "Tannhäuser," as they now go to Bayreuth to hear
"Parsifal." He is not only valuable for the sake of his artistic
qualities, but because of his enthusiasm for the cause of the best
music. Wagner held him in the highest esteem; and he wrote in his
review of the Bayreuth festival of 1876, that without Niemann's
devotion and ardor its success would not have been assured. He
regretted subsequently that he did not ask Niemann to create the
_rôle_ of _Siegfried_ in the last drama of the Tetralogy, as well as
that of _Siegmund_ in the second. Thanks to this mistake, New Yorkers
had the privilege of hearing Niemann's _début_ in this _rôle_--at the
age of fifty-seven, an age when most tenors have retired on their
pensions.
Three artists are included in the present company at the Metropolitan
whom Mr. Stanton could not dispense with under any circumstances. One
of these is Herr Fischer, who, now that Scaria is no more, is beyond
comparison the finest dramatic bass on the stage. No Italian could have
a more mellow and sonorous voice, and his method has all the
conscientiousness, passion, and distinctness of enunciation that
characterize the German style. His _Wotan_ and his _Hans Sachs_,
especially, are marvels of operatic impersonation. Herr Alvary, the
second of the vocalists who unite Italian with German merits, is a
young singer who has a great future before him, if his _Siegfried_, a
most realistic and powerful impersonation, may be argued from. And as
for the third of these artists--Lilli Lehmann--her equal can hardly
to-day be found on the operatic stage. It is very characteristic of the
late Intendant of the Berlin theatres--Herr von Hülsen (who waited nine
years before he accepted "Lohengrin" for performance, and afterward
repeated the same _faux pas_ with the Nibelung Trilogy)--that he
confined Fräulein Lehmann for years to subordinate _rôles_. Indeed,
although she had acquired considerable fame abroad, it may be said that
her real career did not begin till she came to New York. Here her rare
merits were at once recognized, and instead of resting on her laurels,
she has grown more admirable as an actress and singer every year. Her
voice has a sensuous beauty that is matchless, and no other prima
donna, except Materna, has emotion in her voice so deep and genuine as
that which moves us in Lehmann's _Isolde_ and _Brünnhilde_.
She made her _début_ in 1866, at Prague, and ten years later sang the
small _rôles_ of the first Rhine maiden and the forest bird in
"Rheingold" and "Siegfried," at the Bayreuth festival--little
fancying, perhaps, that she would twelve years later be the queen of
German opera in America. She takes excellent care of her voice, and
never allows the weather to interfere with her daily walk of several
miles. Her versatility is extraordinary, for she sings _Norma_ and
_Valentine_ as well as she does _Isolde_. She scouts the idea that
Wagner's music ruins the voice, agreeing on this point with the most
famous vocal teacher of the day, Madame Marchesi. It is only when
Wagner's music is sung to excess that it injures the voice, according
to Fräulein Lehmann, because it requires such extraordinary power to
cope with the orchestra. Heretofore she has not always succeeded in
holding her own against the full orchestra, but in her latest and
greatest impersonation--_Brünnhilde_, in "Die Götterdämmerung"--her
voice rivalled Materna's in power without losing a shade of its
sensuous beauty, which is always enchanting.
If it were possible to secure half a dozen more singers like Lehmann,
Alvary, and Fischer, the operatic problem might be regarded as solved.
It is the scarcity of first-class acting vocalists that makes opera so
expensive, and prevents it from being self-supporting. The number of
first-class singers is so small that every manager competes for them,
and enables them to charge fancy prices, which are ruinous to any
manager who has no government or other support to fall back on.
It is a curious thing, this scarcity of good singers. We read so much
about all professions being over-crowded; and yet here is a profession
in which success literally means millions, and yet so few come forward
in it that managers are at their wits' ends what to do, especially in
the case of tenors. Herr Niemann obtains seven hundred and fifty
dollars for every appearance; Fräulein Lehmann gets six hundred
dollars, and there are singers who are much better paid still because
they appear under the star system. Surely this ought to be a
sufficient bait to catch talented pupils. How many professions are
there in which one can make between five hundred and two thousand
dollars in three or four hours?--not to speak of the possibility of
winning the great prize--Madame Patti's four or five thousand?
It is sometimes said that the repertory is at fault; but I am
convinced that if there were plenty of good singers in the field, many
of the operas that were formerly in vogue might be revived
successfully--always excepting the flimsy productions of Bellini and
Donizetti. It was formerly believed for years that "Lohengrin" was the
only one of Wagner's early operas that American audiences cared for.
But "Tannhäuser" has, in a few years, become more popular than
"Lohengrin," thanks largely to its better staging and interpretation.
Owing in a large measure to Fräulein Brandt's _Fides_ and Fräulein
Lehmann's _Bertha_, Meyerbeer's "Prophète" has been a success for
several years. Spontini's "Cortez," Weber's "Euryanthe," Wagner's
"Rienzi," and Beethoven's "Fidelio," are among the most interesting
revivals during Mr. Stanton's enterprising _régime_.
No composer, and few poets, have ever inspired so many artists to
visualize their conceptions on canvas as the poetic scenes suggested
in Wagner's dramas. A special exhibition of such pictures was held in
Vienna some years ago. It is not too much to say that Wagner's scenic
backgrounds are as much more artistic than those of other opera
composers as his texts are more poetic than theirs. He avoids frequent
changes, and generally has only three scenes for an opera. But each of
these, if executed according to his directions, is a masterpiece, and
impresses itself on the memory like the canvas of a master.
The performance of the Trilogy in New York has naturally revived among
the Wagnerites the question as to which of the master's works is the
greatest. Leaving aside "Tristan" and "Die Meistersinger," which he
never surpassed, many regard the first act of "Die Walküre" the most
finished of Wagner's creations; and certainly it has a marvellously
impressive climax--_Siegmund's_ drawing of the sword from the
ash-tree, and the love duo which follows; and another in _Wotan's_
farewell in Act III. But grand as these are, many consider the last
act of "Die Götterdämmerung" the supreme achievement of Wagner. The
exquisite trio of the Rhine maidens swimming and singing in a
picturesque forest scene; the death of _Siegfried_, and the procession
that slowly carries his body by the light of the moon up the hill; and
the burning of the funeral pyre at the end, until it is put out by the
rising waters of the Rhine bearing the maidens on the surface; these
scenes, with the glorious music accompanying, cannot be matched by any
act of any other opera. Nevertheless, as a whole, "Siegfried" is, in
my opinion, the grandest part of the Trilogy. In no other work of
Wagner is there such a minute correspondence, every second, between
the poetry, music, and scenery. Every action and gesture on the stage
is mirrored in the orchestra; and I shall never forget the remark made
to me in 1876, at Bayreuth, by a musician, that in "Siegfried" we hear
for the first time music such as Nature herself would make if she had
an orchestra.
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| Schubert's music, these are left as is. |
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End of Project Gutenberg's Chopin and Other Musical Essays, by Henry T. Finck