I. Allegro moderato
II. Scherzo: allegro—andante—allegro moderato
III. Adagio
IV. Finale: Feierlich, nicht schnell
Bruckner’s Eighth is in all respects to be numbered with his greatest.
The structure is nobler, the form more clearly recognized than in his
other symphonies. There is less perplexing or boresome detail. The
digressions do not cause the main line of musical argument to be
forgotten. The interest is more steadily maintained. The instrumentation
is richer in color and in contrasts. Above all, the invention shown,
both in thematic lines and in wealth of development, is little less than
marvelous, for Bruckner was sixty years old when he began work on this
symphony.
Much has been said in European cities about the extraordinary length of
the work. This length does not seem distressing. Bruckner had a great
deal to say, and whereas in other symphonies he sometimes stammers and
often falters, as though he were not able to express his thoughts, as
though they were so great to him that he hesitated to put them into even
musical speech, which comes nearest to the full expression of the
inherently inexpressible, in this symphony he is master of his speech;
he is convincing, authoritative, eloquent. Furthermore, he is more
discriminative in his use of material. In other symphonies he is seen
building indifferently with marble and clay. His Eighth symphony is as a
stately temple, in which mortals forget the paltry cares and
tribulations of earth, and gods appear calm and benignant.
There are pages that remind one of the visions seen by John on the isle
of Patmos. “And I heard, as it were, the voice of a great multitude, and
as the voice of many waters, and as the voice of mighty thunderings.”
There are also pages of ravishing beauty, as those of the trio in the
_scherzo_, as those devoted to the exposition of the first and second
themes of the _adagio_, as those of the second theme in the _finale_.
The _scherzo_, with rough humor and its episode of rare melodic beauty
finely orchestrated, is of this earth, but the other movements leave the
earth behind in a sustained and fearless flight. This is especially true
of the first movement and the _adagio_.
In the _finale_ there is here and there a drooping of the wings, but the
opening measures of this _finale_ and the close are towering and
exultant.
* * *
This symphony, begun in 1885, was completed in 1890. It was performed
for the first time in Vienna, December 18, 1892, at a Philharmonic
concert led by Hans Richter. Even Hanslick admitted in his bitter review
(_Neue Freie Presse_, December 23, 1892) of the symphony that the
concert was a triumph for the composer. “How was the new symphony
received? Boisterous rejoicing, waving of handkerchiefs from those
standing, innumerable recalls, laurel wreaths,” etc.
The symphony is dedicated to the composer’s “imperial and royal
apostolic Majesty Francis Joseph I, Emperor of Austria and apostolic
King of Hungary.” It is scored for three flutes, three oboes, three
clarinets, three bassoons (and double bassoon), eight horns, three
trumpets, three trombones, bass tuba, kettledrums, triangle, cymbals,
three harps, and usual strings.
It appears that, when the symphony was first performed, there was an
explanatory programme written by some devout disciple. This programme
stated that the first theme of the first movement was “the form of the
Æschylean Prometheus”; and a portion of this movement was entitled “the
greatest loneliness and silence.” The _scherzo_ was supposed to typify
“The German Michael.” “_Der deutsche Michel_” may be translated “the
plain, honest, much enduring (but slow) German,” and “Michel” in a
figurative sense means yokel, boor, clodhopper. Hanslick wrote: “If a
critic had spoken this blasphemy, he would probably have been stoned to
death by Bruckner’s disciples; but the composer himself gave this name,
the German Michael, to the _scherzo_, as may be read in black and white
in the programme.” The published score bears no motto. The
programme-maker found in the _scherzo_ “the deeds and sufferings of
Prometheus reduced in the way of parody to the smallest proportions.”
And in the _adagio_ was disclosed “the all-loving Father of mankind in
his measureless wealth of mercy.” The _finale_ was characterized by him
as “heroism in the service of the Divine,” and the trumpet calls in the
_finale_ were explained as “the announcers of eternal salvation, heralds
of the idea of divinity.” On the other hand, it is said that the
beginning of the _finale_ was suggested to Bruckner by the meeting of
the three emperors!
In the published score there is nothing to give the idea that the music
has any programme, any argument. Yet Johannes Reichert in his
analysis[22] of the symphony, referring to Josef Schalk’s vision of
“Prometheus Bound” in the first movement, found something of Prometheus
or of Faust in the music.
I. _Allegro moderato_, C minor, 2-2. The first and chief motive is given
to violas, violoncellos, and double basses. It is announced
_pianissimo_; it is decisively rhythmed, and its rhythm and its upward
leap of a sixth are important factors in the development. After a short
_crescendo_, the strings are about to return to a _pianissimo_ when the
theme is proclaimed with the full force of the orchestra.
The first violins have the expressive and questioning second theme.
Wood-wind instruments answer the question. The rhythm of the second
theme, a rhythm that is characteristically Brucknerian, is used in
counterpoint to a new _cantilena_ sung by horns and first violins.
There is a modulation to the dominant of the chief tonality. The second
theme now assumes an obstinate, arrogant character. Wood-wind
instruments conduct over _pianissimo_ and sustained chords of tubas,
with the use of the first measures of the chief motive, to the second
subsidiary section. In spite of the interrupting springs of the seventh
there is a return to a quiet mood. Then comes a chromatic and mighty
_crescendo_ for full orchestra, which reaches a climax with trumpet
fanfares. The chief motive returns and is given out thrice _pianissimo_.
The first horn has the chief motive in augmentation, and there is a
double echo of it: from first oboe; from tenor tuba.
The “working-out” section begins with the indication “very quietly.”
Oboes and tubas introduce constituent parts of the chief motive in
augmentation; then the motive itself appears in inversion and as in a
_stretto_. This form of elaboration is long continued. And now the
second theme appears inverted, and gives with its compelling rhythm the
impetus to a great crescendo which reaches its climax with the encounter
of the two themes _fortississimo_. This shock occurs three times without
a decisive result. The orchestra seems to lose its force. There are
wandering fragments of the two motives, while the trumpet keeps up
monotonously the rhythm of the chief theme. A fragment of the first
theme leads to the repetition section.
The repetition is at first free, whereas as a rule in Bruckner’s
symphonies it is literal. The first theme, now a lamentation, is given
to the first oboe. The clarinet answers in another tonality. After bold
modulations the second theme is repeated. The prevailing mood of unrest
ends with a long held _fermata_. The second subsidiary section is
repeated quietly, and, as in the first chief section of the movement, it
is used in a _crescendo_; but here the climax is built on a _coda_
motive of a bitterly complaining character, while horns and trumpets
repeat incessantly the chief theme. Grief itself soon loses its voice.
The violins sigh the chief motive thrice _pianissimo_. Only the last
portion of the theme is then heard, and it dies away in the violas.
II. _Scherzo_, _Allegro moderato_, C minor, 3-4. The chief theme (violas
and violoncellos) has a rough humor, while violins have a contrasting
figure of a whispering and mysterious nature. This figure brings in a
great _crescendo_ in which the theme is blown by horns, later by
trumpets, and at last by the bass tuba. At the end of the section a
rhythm appears (E flat major, bassoons, drums, basses) that is slightly
reminiscent of a rhythm in Beethoven’s Symphony No. 8. The whispering
figure is inverted. The first section is repeated.
The trio begins _langsam_ (“slow”), 2-4, softly and delicately (first
violins). The horn enters. There are pleasant harmonies in E major. “The
whole episode breathes smiling happiness.”
The harp is used here and in the _adagio_, the only instances of the use
of this instrument in a symphony by Bruckner. A second subject brings
the return to A flat major. The beginning of the trio is repeated with
changes in tonality, and the whole first part of the _scherzo_ is
repeated with an ending in C major.
III. The _adagio_ is said to be probably the longest symphonic _adagio_
movement in existence, and there are some that put it at the head of all
_adagios_ by reason of its solemnity, nobility, and elevated thought. It
begins, “solemn, slow, but not dragging,” D flat major, 4-4. The first
violins sing (on the G string) a long and intimate song to the
accompaniment of the second violins and lower strings. “This theme
contains three moments of mood. For the first four measures the violins
complain softly; then sighing clarinets and bassoons enter in gasps; the
four last measures are only an extension to strengthen the mood.” A
strange organ-point puts an end to the mood of doubt and brings in
triumphant certainty. The violins, playing with greater breadth, lead to
a calm close in F. There is a repetition of what has gone before, with
the exception of a few measures of the chief theme.
The second theme is sung by the violoncellos, and they lead to the
serenely quiet song of the tubas. Some measures based on fragments of
the second theme bring in the “working-out” section. The chief theme
appears. Portions of the long _cantilena_ are combined, and there is
fresh and melodic counterpoint. There is at the same time a _crescendo_.
After the climax the second theme becomes prominent, with interruptions
by the tubas.
The first theme appears with lively figuration at the beginning of the
second section of development. A portion of this theme is used in
augmentation. “Then appears suddenly and in a decided manner the rhythm
for horns of the ‘Siegfried’ motive in _The Ring_.” The accompaniment
for strings grows livelier; the chief theme is more and more impressive
in the brass. The second theme enters, and there are tranquillizing
episodes, but there is no checking the course of the _crescendo_ or the
acceleration in pace. “_À tempo_ (though in a lively movement).” The
third section of the chief theme is now in powerful augmentation. There
is a return to the prevailing tempo. The mood is milder. The violins
“intimately and softly” remember once more the second theme. The _coda_
brings in a peaceful close. In the third and fourth measures before the
end the tubas indicate _pianissimo_ the chief rhythm of the _finale_
that follows.
IV. _Finale_, C minor, “solemnly, not fast,” 2-2. The heavily rhythmed
chief theme contains three important motives. It first appears in F
sharp, as the enharmonically changed subdominant of the preceding
tonality, D flat major (or as the dominant of the dominant of C minor).
Joyful fanfares sound in D flat. The whole is repeated, and there is a
modulation from A flat to E flat. Then appears sonorously the conclusion
of the whole theme in the prevailing tonality, C minor. Out of the
counterpoint arises a lamenting strain for oboes.
There is a pause. The melodious and religious second theme is sung in
slower tempo. The accompanying voices for horn and violas might well be
reckoned as thematic. The third theme, wood-wind and strings, is
practically a double theme, and the lower voice has much importance
later. The concluding section of this theme is developed in choral
fashion, and it is then combined with the lower voice. After a pause
comes the working-out section. As the introduction indicated, it gives
the impression of a mighty struggle. A blend of the two just preceding
themes leads to a new melody for violins. There is a powerful
_crescendo_ for full orchestra. The rhythm of the chief theme of the
first movement is heard. The first measures of the _finale_ are now
played softly by the horns, then by the flutes. Preceding themes are
again combined. The repetition section opens powerfully. The decisive
rhythm of the chief theme spurs the full orchestra. The _coda_ begins
quietly, but it soon becomes intense. In the triumphant ending in C
major, chief themes of the four movements are heard exulting.
I am indebted in a measure for the preceding sketch of the contents of
this symphony to the analysis by Werner Wolff, published in the
programme book of the Philharmonic Orchestra, Berlin, October 29, 1906;
and to the analysis of Johannes Reichert which has already been
mentioned. They that wish to study the symphony may consult with profit
the analysis by Willibald Kähler (_Musikführer_ No. 262). These analysts
are by no means unanimous in their designation of the chief themes. I
have followed chiefly in the footsteps of Mr. Wolff.
It may help to a better understanding of the music of Bruckner if light
be thrown on the personal nature and prejudices not only of the composer
but of his contemporaneous partisans and foes. This simple man, who had
known the cruelest poverty and distress, and in Vienna lived the life of
an ascetic, made enemies by the very writing of music.
There appeared in Vienna in 1901 a little pamphlet entitled _Meine
Erinnerung an Anton Bruckner_. The writer was Carl Hruby, a pupil of
Bruckner. The pamphlet is violent, malignant. In its rage there is at
times the ridiculous fury of an excited child. There are pages that
provoke laughter and then pity; yet there is much of interest about the
composer himself, who now, away from strife and contention, is still
unfortunate in his friends. We shall pass over Hruby’s ideas on music
and the universe, nor are we inclined to dispute his proposition (p. 7)
that Shakespeare, Goethe, Beethoven, Wagner, were truer heroes and
supporters of civilization than Alexander, Cæsar, Napoleon, who,
nevertheless, were, like Hannibal, very pretty fellows in those days.
When Hruby begins to talk about Bruckner and his ways, then it is time
to prick up ears.
As a teacher, Bruckner was amiable, patient, kind, but easily vexed by
frolicsome pupils who did not know his sensitive nature. He gave each
pupil a nickname, and his favorite phrase of contentment and disapproval
was “_Viechkerl!_”—“You stupid beast!” There was a young fellow whose
name began “Sachsen”; but Bruckner could never remember the rest of it,
so he would go through the list of German princes,
“Sachsen”—“Sachsen”—“Sachsen-Coburg-Gotha, Sachsen”—and at last the name
would come. Another pupil, afterwards a harp virtuoso, was known to his
teacher only as “Old Harp.” Bruckner had a rough, at the same time, sly,
peasant humor. One of his pupils came into the class with bleached and
jaded face. Bruckner asked what ailed him. The answer was: “I was at the
Turnverein till two o’clock.” “Yes,” said Bruckner, “oh, yes, I know the
Turnverein that lasts till 2 A.M.” The pupil on whom he built fond hope
was Franz Nott, who died young and in the madhouse. When Bruckner was
disturbed in his work, he was incredibly and gloriously rude.
Bruckner was furious against all writers who discovered “programmes” in
his music. He was warmly attached to the ill-fated Hugo Wolf, and was
never weary of praising the declamation in his songs: “The fellow does
nothing all day but compose, while I must tire myself out by giving
lessons,” for at sixty years Bruckner was teaching for three guldens a
lesson. Beethoven was his idol, and after a performance of one of the
greater symphonies he was as one insane. After a performance of the
_Eroica_, he said to Hruby—would that it were possible to reproduce
Bruckner’s dialect—“I think that if Beethoven were alive, and I should
go to him with my Seventh symphony and say, ‘Here, Mr. Van Beethoven,
this is not so bad, this Seventh, as certain gentlemen would make out’
... I think he would take me by the hand and say, ‘My dear Bruckner,
never mind, I had no better luck; and the same men who hold me up
against you even now do not understand my last quartets, although they
act as if they understood them.’ Then I’d say to him, ‘Excuse me, Mr.
Van Beethoven, that I have gone beyond you in freedom of form, but I
think a true artist should make his own forms for his own works, and
stick by them.’” He once said of Hanslick, “I guess Hanslick understands
as little about Brahms as about Wagner, me, and others. And the Doctor
Hanslick knows as much about counterpoint as a chimney sweep about
astronomy.”
Hanslick was to Bruckner as a pursuing demon. (We are giving Hruby’s
statement, and Hanslick surely showed a strange perseverance and an
unaccountable ferocity in criticism that was abuse.) Hruby likens this
critic to the _Phylloxera vastatrix_ in the vineyard. He really believes
that Hanslick sat up at night to plot Bruckner’s destruction. He affirms
that Hanslick tried to undermine him in the Conservatory and the
Imperial Chapel, that he tried to influence conductors against the
performance of his works. And he goes so far as to say that Hans
Richter, thus influenced, had never performed a symphony by Bruckner in
England. As a matter of fact, Richter produced Bruckner’s Seventh in
London, May 23, 1887. There is a story that when the Emperor Franz Josef
asked Bruckner if he could honor him in any way, he asked if the Emperor
would not stop Hanslick abusing him in print.
He was never mean or hostile toward Brahms, as some would have had him.
He once said that Brahms was not an enemy of Wagner, as the Brahmsites
insisted; that down in his heart he had a warm admiration for Wagner, as
was shown by the praise he had bestowed on _Die Meistersinger_.
Just before his death Bruckner’s thoughts were on his Ninth symphony: “I
undertook a stiff task,” he said. “I should not have done it at my age
and in my weak condition. If I never finish it, then my ‘_Te Deum_’ may
be used as a _finale_. I have nearly finished three movements. This work
belongs to my Lord God.”
Although he had the religion of a child, he had read the famous book of
David Strauss, and he could talk about it reasonably. Someone asked him
about the future life and prayer. “I’ll tell you,” he replied. “If the
story is true, so much the better for me. If it is not true, praying
cannot hurt me.”
JOHN ALDEN
CARPENTER
(Born at Park Ridge, Ill., February 28, 1876)