The preceding brief account of the minor composers of Germany, belonging to the “classical” and “romantic” periods, may serve to show that in art as well as nature the “survival of the fittest” seems to be the governing principle of evolution. Comparatively few works of musical art are monumental, and survive the changes of fashion, the inconstancy of the public, and the ravages of time. Among the crowd of masters who are grouped around the central figures are some who merit a better fate than has befallen them. Some day, no doubt, their now forgotten works will be revived, just as those of neglected poets and painters have been. Surely fame is to some extent the accident of fortune. The case of Sebastian Bach is the most striking illustration. Of the majority of imitators or epigones, however, it may briefly be written, as the abstract of the historian’s page,—they lived—and died.
SALOMON JADASSOHN.
From a photograph from life by Naumann, of Leipsic.
(See page [595].)
We come now to the more recent and widely celebrated composers, Raff, Brahms, Rubinstein, Goldmark, Bruch and Rheinberger, who form the subject of special articles in this work. These masters are not to be classed with the new movement inaugurated by Berlioz and Liszt in concert music and by Wagner in the music-drama, but with the “classical-romantic” masters. Raff, it is true, wrote “program” music, but he differs from Berlioz and Liszt in holding almost strictly to the regular construction of the symphonic form. Though Raff, in his earlier days, was a warm advocate of the ideas of Wagner, his own music bears little relation to the great works of the musical dramatist. Raff has a style of his own. He never repeated himself, notwithstanding the enormous amount of music he composed. This fertility of ideas was in fact a source of weakness, since it rendered him careless in the choice of themes, and blunted his feeling for what was truly refined and elevated. He often failed to keep to the high level of the true symphonic spirit and style. His “salon” style crops out here and there. The “Lenore” and “Im Walde” symphonies are his most celebrated works.
MORITZ HAUPTMANN.
From a portrait loaned for reproduction by C. Weikert, of New York.
(See page [595].)
No living German composer represents the tragic and intellectual side of modern subjective music so impressively as Brahms. The strong outlines of his character are impressed on all his music. He is entirely opposed to the so-called “new German school” of Liszt and Wagner, and adheres strictly to the classical forms. No comparison, however, ought to be made between him and Wagner, as Brahms has never turned his attention to dramatic music. Brahms defends his own art-principles on the ground of absolute music. His love for the strict, logical process of thematic development proves his affinity with Bach. The leading theme is the germ of the whole movement; and notwithstanding the episodes and secondary themes, he is not usually drawn away from the main idea. Brahms has no living peer in the art of developing themes; here he shows wonderful ingenuity and infinite skill. In general, however, his themes do not captivate us like the heaven-born melodies of Schubert and Schumann. Strength, purity, nobility and profundity of thought, rather than sensuous beauty, grace, lightness, naturalness and spontaneousness, are his leading characteristics as a composer. A certain heaviness of spirit and gloom, nay, asceticism, prevail in his music. He appears at his best in his “German Requiem,” which many musicians consider to be his greatest work. His symphonies and other instrumental compositions occupy the foreground at present. Although musicians are still divided in opinion as to the ultimate position of Brahms among the great masters, no one can deny that his music is gaining public appreciation year by year. He is universally recognized as the foremost living composer of Germany.
The so-called “musical reform,” inaugurated in Germany more than a generation ago, was not incited by Germans, but by the adopted composers, Berlioz and Liszt. Their aim was simply to make poetical ideas the motive and governing principle of the form and material of their tone-works. The idea of “program” music, however, was not original with them; in fact, it is centuries old. Beethoven was the first great master to write elaborate program music; but his “Pastoral Symphony” was, in his own words, “more expression of emotions than tone-painting.” In this short statement of his faith he has clearly defined the true scope of descriptive music. He gave poetic titles to certain other works, as, for instance, the “Heroic Symphony,” the “Passionate” and “Farewell” sonatas, which serve to indicate in a general way the poetical motive that swayed his imagination. Spohr, Mendelssohn, Schumann, Raff, Rubinstein and other later composers have followed Beethoven’s example. Most of the program music of these masters does not modify the traditional form of musical construction. Berlioz went much further, and conceived the idea of using elaborate word descriptions to give a detailed and minute exposition of his pseudo-symphonies. Berlioz shot beyond his mark. Berlioz made his program serve as a kind of running commentary on the music. Liszt did not attempt this; his aim was a simpler and a better one. Symphonic Poem is the happy name for an original form which he created in orchestral music. Some character or event was chosen as a poetical motive easily realizable in music; as, for instance, the Lament and Triumph of Tasso, in which the passion and struggle of the great poet are vividly portrayed, or the wild ride of Mazeppa, which, as in Victor Hugo’s poem, has a symbolical meaning. Mazeppa represents the gifted man, or genius, tied down by fate, but destined to free himself and ultimately to triumph over evil. The galloping horse is suggested by wild triplets, and the final triumph is expressed in the march with which the work culminates.
The symphonic poems of Liszt, and those who follow strictly his example, are not divided into a number of distinct, separate movements like the symphony, but the changes of tempo or movement follow each other without break. Liszt made a prominent use of the Leitmotiv (leading-motive) principle, which he adopted from Wagner. It will be observed that the result, however, is wholly different, for Wagner in the course of one of his music-dramas uses a variety of dissimilar and strongly contrasted leading motives. His music, therefore, is based on the polythematic principle, whereas the symphonic poems of Liszt are generally monothematic. The leading-motive is one thing in connection with the drama, another as employed in the concert-room. In the latter case it serves the same purpose that it has in the fugues of Bach (mostly founded on one theme) or in certain movements of symphonies. It is simply the working up on the imitative principle of a leading idea, which is modified, enlarged, curtailed and varied according to the conditions of counterpoint, harmony, rhythm, etc. So far as thematic imitation is concerned, the symphonic poem is an offshoot of the symphony or overture. What the symphonic poem has gained in conciseness of form it has lost in grandeur and impressiveness. The symphonic poem relates to the symphony as a noble and beautiful church does to a grand, awe-inspiring cathedral. In treating his grandest subjects—“The Divine Comedy” of Dante, and “Faust” of Goethe—Liszt returned to the general outlines of the symphony.
