THE LISZT CENTENARY AT HEIDELBERG (1912)
The Liszt centenary was celebrated everywhere with elaborate
festivities, perhaps most notably at Budapest where the _Missa Solemnis_
was sung in the great cathedral--that alone would have been sufficient
glory for the composer. At Weimar, which, during his lifetime, Liszt
made a sort of musical Mecca, they gave a performance of his deeply
charming oratorio _Die Legende von der Heiligen Elisabeth_. The festival
at Heidelberg was of special interest as it was organized by the General
Association of German Musicians which Liszt had founded fifty years
before. Each year this society gives in a different city a festival
which lasts several days. It admits foreign members and I was once a
member as Berlioz's successor on Liszt's own invitation. Disagreements
separated us, and I had had no relation with the society for a number
of years when they asked me to take part in this festival. A refusal
would have been misunderstood and I had to accept, although the idea of
performing at my age alongside such _virtuosi_ as Risler, Busoni, and
Friedheim, in the height of their talent, was not encouraging.
The festival lasted four days and there were six concerts--four with the
orchestra and a chorus. They gave the oratorio _Christus_, an enormous
work which takes up all the time allowed for one concert; the Dante and
Faust symphonies, and the symphonic poems _Ce qu'on entend sur la
montagne_ and _Tasso_, to mention only the most important works.
The oratorio _Christus_ lacks the fine unity of the _Saint Elisabeth_.
But the two works are alike in being divided into a series of separate
episodes. While the different episodes in _Saint Elisabeth_ solve the
difficult problem of creating variety and retaining unity, the parts of
_Christus_ are somewhat unrelated. There is something for every taste.
Certain parts are unqualifiedly admirable; others border on the
theatrical; still others are nearly or entirely liturgical, while,
finally, some are picturesque, although there are some almost confusing.
Like Gounod, Liszt was sometimes deceived and attributed to ordinary and
simple sequences of chords a profound significance which escaped the
great majority of his hearers. There are some pages of this sort in
_Christus_.
But there are beautiful and wonderful things in this vast work. If we
regret that the author lingered too long in his imitation of the
_Pifferari_ of the Roman campagna, on the other hand, we are delighted
by the symphonic interlude _Les Bergers à la Crèche_. It is very simple,
but in an inimitable simplicity of taste which is the secret of great
artists alone. It is surprising that this interlude does not appear in
the repertoire of all concerts.
The Dante symphony has not established itself in the repertoires as has
the Faust symphony. It was performed for the first time in Paris at a
concert I organized and managed at a time when Liszt's works were
distrusted. Along with the Dante symphony we had the Andante (Gretchen)
from the Faust symphony, the symphonic poem _Fest Kloenge_, a charming
work which is never played now, and still other works. It would be hard
to imagine all the opposition I had to overcome in giving that concert.
There was the hostility of the public, the ill-will of the
Théâtre-Italien which rented me its famous hall but which sullenly
opposed a proper announcement of the concert, the insubordination of the
orchestra, the demands of the singers for more pay--they imagined that
Liszt would pay the expenses--and, finally, complete--and expected
failure. My only object was to lay a foundation for the future, nothing
more. In spite of everything I managed to get a creditable performance
of the Dante symphony and I had the pleasure of hearing it for the first
time.
The first part (the Inferno) is wonderfully impressive with its
_Francesca da Rimini_ interlude, in which burn all the fires of Italian
passion. The second part (Purgatory and Paradise) combines the most
intense and poignant charm. It contains a fugue episode of unsurpassed
beauty.
_Ce qu'on entend sur la montagne_ is, perhaps, the best of the famous
symphonic poems. The author was inspired by Victor Hugo's poetry and
reproduced its spirit admirably. When will this typical work appear in
the concert repertoires? When will orchestra conductors get tired of
presenting the three or four Wagnerian works they repeat _ad nauseum_,
when they can be heard at the Opéra under better conditions, and
Schubert's insignificant _Unfinished Symphony_.
* * * * *
The _Christus_ oratorio was given at the first concert of the festival
at Heidelberg. It lasted three hours and a half and is so long that I
would not dare to advise concert managers to try such an adventure. The
performance was sublime. It was given in a newly constructed square
hall. Cavaillé-Coll, who knew acoustics, used to advise the square hall
for concerts but nobody would listen to him. Three hundred chorus
singers, many from a distance, were supported by an orchestra that was
large, but, in my opinion, insufficient to stand up against this mass of
voices. Furthermore, the orchestra was placed below the level of the
stage, as in a theatre, while the voices sounded freely above. Two
harps, one on the east side of the stage and one on the west, saw each
other from afar,--a pleasingly decorative device, but as annoying to the
ear as pleasing to the eye. The chorus and the four soloists--their task
was exceedingly arduous--triumphed completely over the difficulties of
this immense work and all the varied and delicate nuances were rendered
to perfection.
Liszt was far from professing the disdain for the limitations of the
human voice that Wagner and Berlioz did. On the contrary he treated it
as if it were a queen or a goddess, and it is to be regretted that his
tastes did not lead him to work for the stage. Parts of _Saint
Elisabeth_ show that he would have succeeded and the fashion of having
operas for the orchestra, accompanied by voices, which we enjoy to-day,
might have been avoided. He discovered a method, peculiarly his own, of
writing choruses. His manner has never been imitated, but it is
ingenious and has many advantages. The only trouble about it is that the
singers have to take care of details and shadings which is too often
the least of their worries. The German societies, where the members sing
for pleasure, and not for a salary, are careful to excess, if there can
be excess in such matters, and it is their great good fortune to be the
interpreters of choruses written in this manner.
It is impossible to give an analysis of this vast work here. We have
already spoken of the charming interlude, _Les Bergers à la Crèche_.
This pastoral is followed by _Marche des Rois Mages_, a pretty piece,
but a little overdeveloped for its intrinsic worth. The vocal parts,
_Béatitudes_ and _Le Pater Noster_, would be more suitable in a church
than in a concert hall. Then come some most brilliant pages, _La Tempête
sur le lac de Thibériade_, and _Le Mont des Oliviers_, with its baritone
solo, and finally, the _Stabat Mater_, where great beauties are combined
with terrible length. But nothing in the whole work impressed me more
than Christ's entrance to Jerusalem (orchestra, chorus, and soloist) for
the reading alone gives no idea of it. Here the author reached the
heights. That also describes the delightful effect of the children's
chorus singing in the distance _O Filii et Filiae_, harmonised with
perfect taste.
While I listened to this beautiful work, I could not help thinking of
the great oratorios which crowned Gounod's musical career so gloriously.
Liszt and Gounod differed entirely in their musical temperaments, yet in
their oratorios they met on common ground. In both there was the same
drawing away from the old forms of oratorio, the same search for realism
in the expression of the text in music, the same respect for Latin
prosody, and the same belief in simplicity of style. But while there is
renunciation in the simplicity of Liszt, who threw aside worldly finery
to wear the frock of a penitent, on the contrary Gounod appears to
return to his original bent with an almost holy joy. This is easily
explained. Liszt finished his life in a cassock, while Gounod began his
in one. So, despite Liszt's superior refinement, and putting aside
exceptional achievements, in this branch of art Gounod was the victor.
As there is an _odor di femina_ there is a _parfum d'église_, well known
to Catholics. Gounod's oratorios are impregnated with this, while it is
found in _Christus_ very, very feebly, if at all. The _Missa Solemnis_
must be examined to find it to any extent in Liszt's work.
All the necessary elements were combined at Heidelberg to produce a
magnificent production of Faust and Dante. The orchestra of more than
one hundred musicians was perfect. The period when the wind instruments
in Germany were wanting both in correctness and quality of sound has
passed. But the orchestra conductors have to be taken into account. In
our day these gentlemen are _virtuosi_. Their personalities are not
subservient to the music, but the music to them. It is the springboard
on which they perform and parade their all embracing personalities. They
add their own inventions to the author's meaning. Sometimes they draw
out the wind instruments so that the musicians have to cut a phrase at
the end to catch their breath; again they affect a mad and unrestrained
rapidity which allows time neither to play nor to hear the sounds. They
hurry or retard the movement for no reason besides their individual
caprice or because the author did not indicate them. They perpetrate
music of such a disorganized character that the musicians are utterly
bewildered, and hesitate in their entrances on account of their
inability to distinguish one measure from another.
The delightful _Purgatoire_ has become a deadly bore, and the enchanting
_Mephistopheles_ has been riddled as by a hailstorm. Familiarity with
such excesses made me particularly appreciative of the excellent
performance that Wolfrum, the musical director, obtained in the vast
_Christus_ concert.
Among the conductors was Richard Strauss who cannot be passed over
without a word. Certainly no one will hope to find moderation and
serenity in this artist or be surprised if he gives his temperament free
rein, and rides on to victory undisturbed by the ruins he leaves behind.
But he lacks neither intelligence nor elegance, and if he sometimes goes
too fast he never overemphasizes slowness. When he is conducting, we
need not fear the desert of Sahara where others sometimes lead us. Under
his direction _Tasso_ displayed all its wealth of resources and the
jewel-like _Mephisto-Walzer_ shone more brightly than ever before.
I can speak but briefly of the numerous soloists. We neither judge nor
compare such talents as those of Busoni, Friedheim, and Risler. We are
satisfied with admiring them. However, if a prize must be awarded, I
should give it to Risler for his masterly interpretation of the great
_Sonata in B minor_. He made the most of it in every way, in all its
power and in all its delicacy. When it is given in this way, it is one
of the finest sonatas imaginable. But such a performance is rare, for it
is beyond the average artist. The strength of an athlete, the lightness
of a bird, capriciousness, charm, and a perfect understanding of style
in general and of the style of this composer in particular are the
qualifications needed to perform this work. It is far too difficult for
most _virtuosi_, however talented they may be.
Among the women singers I shall only mention Madame Cahier from the
Viennese Opera. She is a great artist with a wonderful voice and her
interpretation of several _lieder_ made them wonderfully worth while.
Madame Cahier interpreted the part of Dalila at Vienna with Dalmores,
so it can easily be appreciated how much pleasure I took in hearing her.
A final word about the Dante Symphony. I have read somewhere that Liszt
used pages to produce an effect which Berlioz accomplished in the
apparition of Mephistopheles in _Faust_ with three notes. This
comparison is unjust. Berlioz's happy discovery is a work of genius and
he alone could have invented it. But the sudden appearance of the Devil
is one thing and the depiction of Hell quite another. Berlioz tried such
a depiction at the end of the Damnation, and in spite of the strange
vocabulary of the chorus, "Irimiru Karabrao, Sat raik Irkimour," and
other pretty tricks, he succeeded no better than Liszt. As a matter of
fact the opposite was the case.