MUSIC NOTES: by Charles J. Ryan
RICHARD WAGNER'S autobiography, just published to the world at large, though it does not include the last twenty years of his life when he had attained success, has made a great stir among all who are interested in the study of human nature. It is an amazing self-revelation, and, from the Theosophical standpoint, a striking example of the duality of man. The popular conception of Wagner is amply confirmed by this "human document." But why should we waste our time, and perhaps feed our own sense of self-righteousness injudiciously, by dwelling on the failings of genius? Have not the great men given us, in their immortal works, that which is really worthiest of remembrance? Whatever his personal shortcomings were, Wagner never failed in his loyal devotion to his ideal in music-drama; he dared everything and suffered greatly in his protracted efforts to lead the incredulous world to listen to his novel and glorious revolutionary forms, which he knew to be superior to those of his time. The soul behind stands out in his immortal music, high above the limitations of his personality, for there was that in him which had listened to the music of the spheres and which lived serenely apart from the jar and jangle of the petty life. That it is possible for an inspired Soul in touch with the Realities to force its way through all kinds of difficulties, even the greatest—the incarnation in a hindering personality—and to deliver its message of living beauty to men, seems to be the principal lesson this ill-advised autobiography teaches. It would have been better perhaps that it had never seen the light, for there are not many who have the understanding of the complex nature of man, the higher and the lower, which alone can interpret so unusual a character.
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The spirit of revolution was in the air of Europe when Wagner was meditating upon the imperfections of the grand opera of his youth. He says, "The spirit of revolution took possession of me once forever." In 1842 The Flying Dutchman was brought out in Dresden, and in 1845 Tannhäuser appeared and set all musical Europe by the ears. For the rest of his life, till 1882, Wagner was at war with his fellow musicians and critics. His keen perception of natural beauty and artistic fitness is shown in the following passage from his Life:
One solitary flash of brightness was afforded by our view of the Wartburg, which we passed during the only sunlit hour of this journey. The sight of this mountain fastness, which from the Fulda side is clearly visible for a long time, affected me deeply. A neighboring ridge further on I at once christened the Hörselberg, and as I drove through the valley pictured to myself the scenery for the third act of my Tannhäuser. The scene remained so vividly in my mind that long afterwards I was able to give Despléchin, the Parisian scene painter, exact details when he was working out the scenery under my directions.
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The death of Felix Mottl came as a sudden blow to all music lovers. It was known for a little while that the great Viennese conductor was in bad health, but not that he was dangerously ill. He was only fifty-five. His reputation was made at an early age; in 1885 he was conducting Tristan at Baireuth. Mottl was virtually the last of the great conductors who had received the true Wagnerian tradition by personal contact with the great composer. He was also distinguished among German conductors of his time by his liking and understanding of French music, and for the success with which he conducted French music before the most discriminating Parisian audiences. He was well known in New York; where his conducting of the Nibelungen Ring series made a profound impression. His remains were cremated. At his funeral in Munich no clergy were present, but Richard Strauss gave an eloquent address.
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"There are women in Boston," says the Boston Herald, "who are undoubtedly as good violinists as some of the younger members of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, and perhaps better. But the old prejudice that woman is necessarily inferior to man and for the same work should receive less pay, is still to be reckoned with." Miss Maud Powell is perhaps the only American woman violinist who has reached the highest success in this country, but there are many others who have spent many years at the best European Conservatories and who are quartet and solo players of distinction, and yet while a male violinist of fair quality can find employment, it is often difficult for women of equal ability to be admitted into the best orchestras. They have to become teachers, or to give up.
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Paderewski's eloquent patriotic address at the Chopin Centenary Festival has just been translated into English. He says: "Music is the only art that actually lives. Her elements, vibration, palpitation, are the elements of life itself." The great pianist is repeating exactly what Katherine Tingley said many years ago. In her Râja Yoga system of training, music is given a prominent position, and the effect upon the character has been very marked. To produce the best results and to avoid the undesirable ones which the ordinary musical training sometimes engenders, great discrimination in the method of teaching is necessary. In the Râja Yoga system of education music is taught in such a way that the interest is sustained without the egotism and vanity of the pupil being stimulated. Can this be said of musical training in general?
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France is certainly the land of great opportunities. A café singer, M. Couyba, who, fifteen years ago was earning a precarious salary at a Montmartre restaurant by singing his own songs, is now Minister of Commerce in the new French cabinet.