Richard Wagner wrote to Liszt July 20, 1856, concerning his symphonic
poems:
"With your symphonic poems I am now quite familiar. They are the only
music I have anything to do with at present, as I cannot think of doing
any work of my own while undergoing medical treatment. Every day I read
one or the other of your scores, just as I would read a poem, easily and
without hindrance. Then I feel every time as if I had dived into a
crystalline depth, there to be all alone by myself, having left all the
world behind, to live for an hour my own proper life. Refreshed and
invigorated, I then come to the surface again, full of longing for your
personal presence. Yes, my friend, _you have the power! You have the
power!_"
And later (December 6, 1856): "I feel thoroughly contemptible as a
musician, whereas you, as I have now convinced myself, are the greatest
musician of all times." Wagner, too, could be generous and flattering.
He had praised the piano sonata; Mazeppa and Orpheus were his favourites
among the symphonic poems.
Camille Saint-Saens was more discriminating in his admiration; he said:
"Persons interested in things musical may perhaps recall a concert given
many years ago in the hall of the Theatre Italien, Paris, under the
direction of the author of this article. The programme was composed
entirely of the orchestral work of Franz Liszt, whom the world persists
in calling a great pianist, in order to avoid acknowledging him as one
of the greatest composers of our time. This concert was considerably
discussed in the musical world, strictly speaking, and in a lesser
degree by the general public. Liszt as a composer seemed to many to be
the equal of Ingres as a violinist, or Thiers as an astronomer. However,
the public, who would have come in throngs to hear Liszt play ten bars
on the piano, as might be expected, manifested very little desire to
hear the Dante Symphony, the _Berges a la creche_ and _Les Mages_,
symphonic parts of _Christus_, and other compositions which, coming from
one less illustrious, but playing the piano fairly well, would have
surely aroused some curiosity. We must also state that the concert was
not well advertised. While the "Spanish Student" monopolized all the
advertising space and posters possible, the Liszt concert had to be
satisfied with a brief notice and could not, at any price, take its
place among the theatre notices.
"Several days later, a pianist giving a concert at the Italien, obtained
this favour. Theatres surely offer inexplicable mysteries to simple
mortals. The name of Liszt appeared here and there in large type on the
top row of certain posters, where the human eye could see it only by the
aid of the telescope. But, nevertheless, our concert was given, and not
to an empty hall. The musical press, at our appeal, kindly assisted;
but the importance of the works on which they were invited to express
an opinion seemed to escape them entirely. They considered, in
general, that the music of Liszt was well written, free from certain
peculiarities they expected to find in it, and that it did not lack a
certain charm. That was all.
"If such had been my opinion of the works of Liszt, I certainly should
not have taken the trouble to gather together a large orchestra and
rehearse two weeks for a concert. Moreover, I should like to say a few
words of these works, so little known, whose future seems so bright. It
is not long since orchestral music was confined to but two forms--the
symphony and the overture. Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven had never
written anything else; who would have dared to do other than they?
Neither Weber, Mendelssohn, Schubert, nor Schumann. Liszt did dare."
Liszt understood that to introduce new forms he must cause a necessity
to be felt, in a word, produce a motive for them. He resolutely entered
on the path which Beethoven, with the Pastoral and Choral Symphonies,
and Berlioz, with the Symphonie Fantastique and Harold in Italy, had
suggested rather than opened, for they had enlarged the compass of the
symphony, but had not transformed it, and it was Liszt who created the
symphonic poem.
This brilliant and fecund creation will be to posterity one of Liszt's
greatest titles to glory, and when time shall have effaced the luminous
trace of this greatest pianist who has ever lived it will inscribe on
the roll of honour the name of the emancipator of instrumental music.
Liszt not only introduced into the musical world the symphonic poem, he
developed it himself; and in his own twelve poems he has shown the chief
forms in which it can be clothed.
Before taking up the works themselves, let us consider the form of which
it is the soul, the principle of programme music.
To many, programme music is a necessarily inferior _genre_. Much has
been written on this subject that cannot be understood. Is the music, in
itself, good or bad? That is the point. The fact of its being
"programme" or not makes it neither better not worse. It is exactly the
same in painting, where the subject of the picture, which is everything
to the vulgar mind, is nothing or little to the artist. The reproach
against music, of expressing nothing in itself without the aid of words,
applies equally to painting.
To the artist, programme music is only a pretext to enter upon new ways,
and new effects demand new means, which, by the way, is very little
desired by orchestra leaders and kapellmeisters who, above all, love
ease and tranquil existence. I should not be surprised to discover that
the resistance to works of which we speak comes not from the public, but
from orchestra leaders, little anxious to cope with the difficulties of
every nature which they contain. However, I will not affirm it.
The compositions to which Liszt gave the name symphonic poem are twelve
in number:
1. Ce qu'on entend sur la montagne, after Victor Hugo.
2. Tasso, Lamento and Trionfo.
3. Les Preludes, after Lamartine.
4. Orphee.
5. Promethee.
6. Mazeppa.
7. Fest-Klaenge.
8. Heroide funebre.
9. Hungaria.
10. Hamlet.
11. La bataille des Huns, after Kaulbach.
12. L'ideal, after Schiller.
The symphonic poem in the form in which Liszt has given it to us, is
ordinarily an ensemble of different movements depending on each other,
and flowing from a principal ideal, blending into each other, and
forming one composition. The plan of the musical poem thus understood
may vary infinitely. To obtain a great unity, and at the same time the
greatest variety possible, Liszt most often chooses a musical phrase,
which he transforms by means of artifices of rhythm, to give it the
most diverse aspects and cause it to serve as an expression of the most
varied sentiments. This is one of the usual methods of Richard Wagner,
and, in my opinion, it is the only one common to the two composers. In
style, in use of harmonic resources and instrumentation, they differ as
widely as two contemporary artists could differ, and yet really belong
to the same school.