During my professional career I have received scores of letters from
musical persons all over the country, asking for the name of the book or
books from which I derive the information, anecdote, and poetic
suggestion, concerning the compositions used in my Lecture Recitals,
particularly the points bearing upon the descriptive and emotional
significance of such compositions. All realize the importance and value
of this phase of interpretative work, and many are anxious to introduce
it in their teaching or public performances; but all alike, myself not
excepted, find the sources of such information scanty and difficult of
access.
First, let me say frankly that there is no such book, or collection of
books. My own meager stock of available material in this line has been
laboriously collected, without definite method, and at first without
distinct purpose, during many years of extensive miscellaneous reading
in English, French, and German; supplemented by a rather wide
acquaintance among musicians and composers, and the life-long habit of
seizing and magnifying the poetic or dramatic bearing and import of
every scene, situation, and anecdote. If asked to enumerate the sources
from which points of value concerning musical works can be derived, I
should answer that they are three, not all equally promising, but from
each of which I myself have obtained help, and all of which I should try
before deserting the field. These are:
First, and perhaps the most important, reading. Second, a large
acquaintance among musicians, and frequent conversations with them on
musical subjects. Third, an intuitive perception, partly inborn and
partly acquired, of the analogies between musical ideas, on the one
hand, and the experiences of life and the emotions of the human soul, on
the other. I will now elaborate each of these a little, to make my
meaning more clear.
While there is no book in which information concerning the meaning of
musical compositions is collected and classified for convenient
reference, such information is scattered thinly and unevenly throughout
all literatures,—a grain here, a nugget there, like gold through the
secret veins of the earth,—and can be had only by much digging and
careful sifting. Now and again you come upon a single volume, like a
rich though limited pocket of precious ore, and rejoice with exceeding
gladness at the discovery of a treasure. But unfortunately, there is
usually nothing in the appearance or nature of such a book to indicate
to the seeker before perusal that this treasure is within, or to
distinguish it from scores of barren volumes. And the very item of which
he may be in search is very likely not here to be found; so he must turn
again to the quest, which is much like seeking a needle in a hay-mow, or
a pearl somewhere at the bottom of the Indian Ocean.
Musical histories, biographies, and essays—what is usually termed
distinctly musical literature—by no means exhibit the only productive
soil, though they are certainly the most fruitful, and should be first
turned to, because nearest at hand. Poetry, fiction, travels, personal
reminiscences, in short every department of literature, from the
philosophy of Schopenhauer to the novels of George Sand, must be made to
contribute what it can to the stock of general and comprehensive
knowledge, which is our ambition. I instance these two authors, because,
while neither of them wrote a single work which would be found embraced
in a catalogue of musical literature, the metaphysical speculations of
Schopenhauer are known to have had great influence upon Wagner’s
personality, and through that, of course, upon his music; while in some
of the characteristics of George Sand will be found the key to certain
of Chopin’s moods, and their musical expression. But even where no such
relation between author and composer can be traced, I deem one could
rarely read a good literary work, chosen at random, without chancing
upon some item of interest or information, which would prove directly or
indirectly of value to the professional musician in his life-work. And
this is entirely apart from the general broadening, developing, and
maturing influence of good reading upon the mind and imagination, which
may be added to the more direct benefit sought, forming a background of
esthetic suggestion and perception, against which the beauties of
tone-pictures stand forth with enhanced power and heightened color.
I know of no better plan to suggest to those striving for an intelligent
comprehension of the composer’s meaning in his great works than much and
careful reading of the best books in all departments, and the more
varied and comprehensive their scope the better. In the search for
enlightenment concerning any one particular composition, I should advise
the student to begin with works, if such exist, from the pen of the
composer himself, followed by biographies and all essays, criticisms,
and dissertations upon his compositions which are in print. If these
fail to give information, he should proceed to read as much as possible
regarding the composer’s country and contemporaries, and concerning any
and all subjects in which he has become aware, by the study of his life,
that the master was interested. The chances are that he will come upon
something of aid or value before finishing this task. Still very often
the quest will and must be in vain, because about many musical works
there exists absolutely no information in print.
I can perhaps better indicate the course to be pursued by giving some
illustrations in my own experience. The following will serve: During a
trip in New York State I was asked whether Grieg’s “Peer Gynt” suite was
founded upon any legend or story, and if so, what. Though familiar with
the composition in question, I had never played it myself, nor given it
any particular attention, and in point of fact was as ignorant on the
subject as my interrogator, and obliged to confess as much. This was
before the composition had become familiar in this country and before
the drama on which it is founded had been translated into English.
Being, however, convinced, from the names attached to different parts of
the suite, of the probability of its foundation upon some literary or
historic subject, I determined to investigate. I first read several
biographical sketches of Grieg, but found no special mention of the
“Peer Gynt” suite; then everything I could secure on the subject of
Norwegian music in general and Grieg’s compositions in particular,
without avail. As I knew Grieg to be, with the possible exception of
Chopin, the most intensely national and patriotic of all composers, I
inferred that if he had taken any legend or story as the basis of this
work, it was undoubtedly Norwegian in character. I read, therefore,
several articles on the history of Norway, the Norsemen, and the
Norwegian language and literature, watching carefully for the name of
Peer Gynt, but in vain. I next undertook some of the _sagas_ or ancient
Norse traditions, with the same result. Having exhausted my resources in
this direction, I began to investigate modern Norwegian literature.
Here, of course, I encountered, in large type, the names of Björnson and
Ibsen, and almost at the outset I found among the works of the latter
the versified drama of “Peer Gynt,” and my search was at an end. Having
procured a German translation of this drama, I found scenes and
characters to correspond exactly with those which figure in Grieg’s
music, and a reference in the preface to an orchestral suite, by this
composer, founded upon “Peer Gynt.”
Now had I been as well informed as I recommend all my readers to be, I
should have known at the outset of this Norwegian drama, and been at
once upon the right track. But being only familiar with those prose
dramas of Ibsen which have been translated into English, I was obliged
to undertake all this extra labor, to ascertain a single fact; which
only proves once again, that the more the musician’s memory is stored
with miscellaneous facts and ideas, even such as do not seem to have any
connection with music, the lighter and more successful will be his
labors in his profession.
The second main source of information concerning musical works is found
among musicians themselves. There is a vast amount of tradition,
suggestion, and knowledge appertaining to the masterpieces in this art,
which has never got into print, and lives only by passing from mouth to
mouth, much as the early legends of all countries were orally handed
down among minstrels and skalds from generation to generation. Every
great interpreter and every great composer becomes, with the passage of
years of a long and active life, a vast and valuable storehouse of all
sorts of hints, facts, and ideas on the subject of various compositions,
which usually die with him, except such portions as have been orally
transmitted to pupils and associates. In this respect the late Theodor
Kullak was worth any three men I have ever known, and those of his
pupils who had tastes and interests similar to his own, and were of
retentive memory, have all derived from him no mean portion of their
material. To cull from every musician and musically informed person all
the odds and ends of information in his possession is a valuable, though
perhaps selfish habit. And here let me emphasize to all students the
importance of not allowing the memory to get into that very prevalent
bad habit of refusing to retain anything which is not presented in print
to the organ of vision. The ear is as good a road to the brain as the
eye, and every one should possess the faculty of acquiring information
from conversations, lessons, and lectures, as readily as from books.
The third resource of the seeker after truth of this nature is to be
found within himself. The musician should early accustom himself to
grasp clearly the essential essence, the vital principle, of an artistic
moment, a dramatic situation. For some such moment, mood, or situation,
however vague or veiled, underlies every true art work; and unless the
performer can perceive and comprehend this inner germ of meaning clearly
enough to express it intelligibly, though it may be crudely, in his own
words, he will find that many a hint has been lost upon him, and many a
bit of knowledge, that might have been his, has escaped him. This is not
a musical faculty merely; it is a mental peculiarity. Every person,
whatever his profession, should train himself to catch, as quickly and
clearly as may be, the real drift of a book, of an argument, of a chain
of circumstances, of a political situation, of history, of character,
and to place his finger instinctively upon the germ upon which all else
centers.
The power to feel instinctively the real mood and meaning of a musical
composition is by no means confined to the musical profession; indeed,
is often strongly marked in those ignorant of the very rudiments of the
art. I remember once playing to a rough old trapper, of the early
pioneer days in Wisconsin, who had drifted back to civilization to “die
in camp,” as he expressed it, the Revolutionary Etude of Chopin, Op. 10,
No. 12, already cited in illustration, written on receipt of the
knowledge that Warsaw had been taken and sacked by the Russians. “What
does it mean?” I asked when it was finished. He sprang from his chair in
great excitement. “Mean?” he said; “it means cyclone in the big woods!
Indian onslaught! White men all killed, but die hard!” His
interpretation, I need not say, was not historically correct, but for
all artistic purposes it was just as good, though expressed in the rough
backwoods imagery familiar to him. He caught the tone of rage and
conflict, of desperate struggle and dark despair, which sounds in every
line, and he had truly understood the composition, to the shame of many
a well-educated musician, whose comment would probably have been, “How
difficult that left hand part is! De Pachmann plays it much faster, and
with such a beautiful pianissimo!”
This particular study is simply a vivid mood picture. It is not in any
sense what is called descriptive or program music; yet it has a distinct
meaning which can be more or less adequately expressed in words, for the
aid of those who do not readily grasp its expression. I wish to
reiterate here what I have before stated, that I would not be understood
to hold that all music has or should have some story connected with it.
I merely believe that every worthy composition is the musical setting of
some scene, incident, mood, idea, or emotion. Long practice in
perceiving and grasping what may be termed the “internal evidence” of
the music itself will develop, in the musician, a susceptibility to such
impressions, which will often lead him to a knowledge elsewhere sought
in vain, and greatly lessen his labors in arriving at knowledge
elsewhere to be found.
I have now thrown all the light in my power upon the _modus operandi_ of
obtaining information and ideas relating to musical compositions, and
have, I think, demonstrated the difficulty of such an undertaking. For
my own Lecture Recital programs I often select works about which I
happen to be well informed, and have more than once spent an entire
summer in reading and research concerning others which I wished to
include. It will be seen from the nature of the case, that because one
possesses full information in regard to a certain ballade or polonaise,
it by no means establishes a certainty, as is sometimes inferred, that
he will be equally enlightened concerning all others. There never was
and never will be any one man who can furnish information on the subject
of all compositions, and it is equally impossible that any glossary or
cyclopedia will ever be compiled which can refer the student to books
containing points in regard to any musical work one may chance to be
practising, or wish to perform.