Music: An Art and a Language Part 26

[Footnote 302: The best account of his works and style is to be found in the volume _Maurice Ravel et son oeuvre_ by Roland Manuel.]

[Footnote 303: _Le Gibbet_ is without doubt the most realistic piece of musical description in our time.]

Finally, for orchestra his _Spanish Rhapsody_ ranks with Chabrier's _Espana_ and Debussy's _Iberia_ as the acme of descriptive power and of orchestral color. His _Mother Goose Suite_ (originally a set of four-hand pieces but since orchestrated with incomparable finesse) ill.u.s.trates his humor and play of fancy. It has become a truly popular concert number. Ravel's chef d'oeuvre the "ch.o.r.eographic symphony"

_Daphnis et Chloe_ displays an extraordinary synthetic grasp, for all the factors--plot, action, the musical fabric, a large orchestra and a chorus of mixed voices behind the scenes--are held together with a master hand. This work ranks with Debussy's _Pelleas et Melisande_ as the most significant dramatic work of recent years.

It is evident, we trust, from the foregoing somewhat condensed estimates that the modern French school is very much alive, that it has to its credit numerous distinct achievements and that it contains the promise of still further growth. The French nature, which is highly emotional and yet, at its best, always controlled[304] by a regard for fitness and clarity of thought, is particularly suited to express itself worthily in music, for in no other form of artistic endeavor is this balance more requisite. Music without emotion is, to be sure, like "sounding bra.s.s and a tinkling cymbal" and dies in short order. On the other hand, music which is a mere display of crude emotion soon palls. The works of modern French composers deserve enthusiastic study for their charm, their finish and their refined emotional power.

[Footnote 304: Witness the wonderful manifestation of these qualities by the French in the recent war.]

CHAPTER XIX

NATIONAL SCHOOLS--RUSSIAN, BOHEMIAN AND SCANDINAVIAN

Before beginning an account of Tchaikowsky, the most noted though not necessarily the greatest of the Russian composers, a few words may be said concerning nationalism in music, the chief representatives of which are the Russians, the Bohemians, the Scandinavians and the Hungarians. Of these, however, the present-day Russian School is the most active and contributes constantly new factors to musical evolution. This grafting of forms of expression derived from the outlying nations on to the parent-stock of music--which for some three hundred years had been in the exclusive control of Italy, Germany and France--has been a stimulating factor in the development of the last half-century. For the idiom of music was becoming somewhat stereotyped, and it has been noticeably revitalized by the incorporation of certain "exotic" traits, of which there run through all national music these three: (1) the use, in their folk-songs, of other forms of scale and mode than are habitual with ourselves; (2) the preference given to the minor mode and the free commingling of major and minor; (3) the great rhythmic variety and especially the use of groups foreign to our musical sense, such as measures of 5 and 7 beats, and the intentional placing of the accent on parts of the measure which with us are ordinarily unaccented. Every country has its folk-songs--the product of national rather than individual genius--but Russia, in the number and variety of these original melodies is most exceptional. The Russian expresses himself spontaneously in song, and so we find appropriate music for every activity or incident in daily life: planting songs, reaping songs, boating songs, wedding songs, funeral songs; Russian soldiers sing on the march and even enter upon a desperate charge with songs on their lips. In certain battles of the Crimean War this fact caused much comment from the English officers.

For many centuries the bulk of the Russian people has been downtrodden; and the country, with its endless steppes and gloomy climate, is hardly such as to call forth the sparkling vivacity found in the Scandinavian and Hungarian songs. The prevalent mood in Russian folk-songs is one of melancholy or of brooding, wistful tenderness--very often in the old Greek modes, the Aeolian, Dorian and Phrygian. From this we see the close connection existing between the Russian and Greek Churches. The Russian liturgy is exceedingly old, and Russian church music, always unaccompanied, has long been celebrated for its dignified character, especially those portions rendered by men's voices, which are capable of unusually low notes,[305] as majestic as those of an organ.

[Footnote 305: In Grove's Dictionary, under Ba.s.s, occurs this statement: This voice, found, or at least cultivated, only in Russia is by special training made to descend to FF [Music].]

During the entire 18th century the development of music in Russia was in the hands of imported Italians; the beginnings of a national type being first made in the works of Glinka, born 1804. By the middle of the 19th century two schools had arisen, the Neo-Russian group of Balakireff, Borodin, Cui, Rimsky-Korsakoff and Moussorgsky, who believed in the extreme development of national traits in melody, rhythm and color; and a second group which was more cosmopolitan in its tastes and believed that Russian music, without abandoning its national flavor, could be written in a style of universal appeal. The chief members of this group were Rubinstein and Tchaikowsky, and distinguished pupils of the latter, in particular Rachmaninoff and Glazounoff. To the world at large Tchaikowsky, of them all, has made the strongest appeal; though he himself said that Rimsky-Korsakoff as an orchestral colorist was more able, and certainly Moussorgsky has a more strongly marked individuality. Tchaikowsky (1840-1893) like so many of the Russian composers, began as a cultivated amateur who showed no special musical gifts, save a sensitive nature and a general fondness for the art. He studied in the school of jurisprudence and won a post in the Ministry of Justice. In 1861, however, his musical nature awaking with a bound, he gave up all official work and for the sake of art faced a life of poverty. Under the teaching of Nicholas Rubinstein at the Petrograd Conservatory he made such amazing progress that in five years he himself was Professor of Harmony at Moscow and had begun his long series of compositions--at first operas of merely local fame. There now followed years of great activity spent in teaching and composing--well-known works being the first String Quartet and the Pianoforte Concerto in B-flat minor, first performed by von Bulow at Boston in '88. At this period his health completely broke down, the immediate cause being an unhappy marriage. He finally rallied but had to travel abroad for a year, and for the rest of his life his temper, never bright, was overcast with gloom. There now entered Tchaikowsky's life Frau von Meck, the woman who played the part of fairy G.o.dmother. She greatly admired his music, was wealthy and generous and, that he might have entire leisure for composition, settled upon him a liberal annuity. Their relations.h.i.+p is one of the most remarkable in the annals of art; for, fearing that the ideal would be shattered, they met but once, quite by accident, and Tchaikowsky was "acutely embarra.s.sed." We have a lengthy and impa.s.sioned correspondence, and Tchaikowsky's 4th Symphony, dedicated "a mon meilleur ami," is the result of this friends.h.i.+p. In 1891, invited to New York for the dedication of Carnegie Hall, he made his memorable American tour. His success was genuine, and was the beginning of the popularity his music has always enjoyed in this country. For several years Tchaikowsky had been working at his Sixth Symphony, to which he himself gave the distinctive t.i.tle "Pathetic."

This work ends with one of the saddest dirges in all literature, although Tchaikowsky, during its composition, as we know from his letters, had never been in a happier state of mind or worked more pa.s.sionately and freely. He himself says, "I consider it the best, especially the most open-hearted of all my works." When, however, he suddenly died in 1893, there were rumors of suicide, but it is now definitely settled that his death was caused by cholera.[306]

[Footnote 306: The writer had this statement from the lips of Tchaikowsky's own brother, Modeste.]

To turn now to his achievements, it may be a.s.serted that Tchaikowsky was marvellously versatile, composing in every form save for the organ; for productiveness, only Mozart, Schubert and Liszt can be compared with him. His works comprise eight operas, six symphonies, six symphonic poems, three overtures, four orchestral suites, two pianoforte concertos, a violin concerto, three string quartets, a wonderful trio, about one hundred songs and a large number of pianoforte pieces. In addition he made several settings of the Russian liturgy and edited many volumes of church music. Whatever may be the final estimate of his music, it a.s.suredly has great vogue at present, for it is an intense expression of that mental and spiritual unrest so characteristic of our times. As Byron was said to have but one subject, himself, so all Tchaikowsky's music is the message of his highly emotional and feverish sensibility. He is invariably eloquent in the presentation of his material, although the thoughts are often slight and the impression made not lasting. He pours out his emotions with the impulsiveness and abandon so characteristic of his race, and this lack of serenity, of restraint, is surely his gravest weakness.

We are reminded by his music of a fire which either glows fitfully or bursts forth into a fierce uncontrolled blaze, but where a steady white heat is too often missing. His style has been concisely described as fiery exultation on a basis of languid melancholy. To all this we may retort that what he lacks in profundity and firm control, he makes up in spontaneity, wealth of imagination and, above all, warmth of color. It is illogical to expect his music to be different from what it is. He expressed himself sincerely and his style is the direct outcome of his own temperament plus his nationality.

Tchaikowsky was widely read in modern literature--d.i.c.kens and Thackeray being favorite authors--and had travelled much. The breadth of his cultivation is shown in the subjects of his symphonic poems and the texts of his songs, which are from Shakespeare, Dante, Goethe and Bryon. However much estimates may differ as to the import of Tchaikowsky's message, he is universally recognized as a superb "colorist," one of the masters of modern orchestral treatment; who, by his subtle feeling for richness and variety of tone, has enlarged the means of musical expression. This is especially shown in the characteristic use he makes of the orchestra in its lower ranges. As Brahms, for depth of thought, was compared with Browning, so Tchaikowsky may well be likened to such poets as Sh.e.l.ley and Swinburne, so exquisite is his instinct for tonal beauty and for delicacy of shading. At times, to be sure, he fairly riots in gorgeous colors--this being the result of his Slavic blood--but few composers have been able to achieve such brilliancy without becoming vulgar.

As to the charge of pessimism often made against Tchaikowsky, he was a thinker, an explorer into the mysteries of human aspiration and disappointment,[307] and his music seems weighted down with the riddle of the universe. This introspective dejection, however, is a natural result of his temperament and his nationality. If to us of a more hopeful outlook upon life it seems morbid, we should simply remember that our conditions have been different. A distinction must likewise be made between the expression of such feelings in art and their influence in actual life. As a man Tchaikowsky was practical, conscientious, and did not in the least allow his feelings to emasculate him. He was a prodigious worker and throughout his career, in the face of ill health and many adverse circ.u.mstances, showed immense courage. His creed was no ign.o.ble one--"To regret the past, to hope in the future, and never to be satisfied with the present; this is my life." And to a gus.h.i.+ng patroness of art who asked him what were his ideals, his simple reply was "My ideal is to become a good composer." Certain English critics in their fault-finding have been particularly boresome, because, forsooth, Tchaikowsky's music does not show the serenity of Brahms or the solidity or stolidity of their own composers. To the well-fed and prosperous Briton "G.o.d's in his Heaven, all's right with the world" is hardly an expression of faith, but a certainty of existence. Not so with the Russian, upon whom the oppression of centuries has left its stamp. This same note of gloomy or even morbid introspection is found in some of the great literature of the world--in the Bible, the Greek Tragedies and in Shakespeare.

Granted that optimism is the only working creed for every-day life, until the millenium arrives a sincere and artistic expression of the sorrows of humanity will always strike a note in oppressed souls.

[Footnote 307: See the pa.s.sage from his diary (quoted on page 504 of the _Biography_ by his brother) in which he writes--"What touching love and compa.s.sion for mankind lie in these words: 'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden!' In comparison with these simple words all the Psalms of David are as nothing."]

Each of Tchaikowsky's last three symphonies is a remarkable work. The Fourth is most characteristically Russian and certainly the most striking in its uncompromising directness of expression. The first movement announces a recurrent, intensely subjective motto typical of that impending Fate which would not allow Tchaikowsky happiness.[308]

The slow movement is based upon a Russian folk song of a melancholy beauty, sung by the oboe, and another, already cited (see Chapter II, p. 33), is incorporated in the Finale. The Scherzo is unique as an orchestral _tour de force_; for, with the exception of a short middle portion for wood-wind and bra.s.s, it is for the string orchestra playing pizzicato throughout. The effect is extremely fantastic and resembles that of ghosts flitting about in their stocking-feet or of sleep-chasings, to use Whitman's expression.[309] The Finale is a riot of natural, primitive joy, a picture--as the composer says--of a popular festivity. "When you find no joy within you, go among the people, see how fully they give themselves up to joyous feelings."

Fate sounds its warning, but in vain; nothing can repress the exultation of the composer. "Enjoy the joy of others and--you still can live." The work is sensational, even trivial in places; but it reveals sincerity and elemental life. The composer lays himself bare and we see a real man--not a masked hypocrite--with all his joys and sorrows, caught, as Henley would say, "in the fell clutch of circ.u.mstance," bludgeoned by Fate.

[Footnote 308: See the detailed program by the composer himself, cited in Nieck's _Program Music_.]

[Footnote 309: For this simile I am indebted to Mr. Philip Hale.]

The Sixth Symphony, the Pathetic, is the most popular and, on the whole, Tchaikowsky's most sustained work. It owes its hold upon public esteem to the eloquent way in which it presents that "maladie du siecle" which, in all modern art,[310] is such a prominent note. The mood may be a morbid one but we cannot mistake the conviction with which it is treated. The work is likewise significant because of the novel grouping of movements. The first is in complete sonata form and for finished architecture will stand comparison with any use of that form. The themes are eloquent, well contrasted and organically developed. The orchestration is a masterpiece.[311] The second movement is the one famous for its use of five beats a measure throughout; and its trio, on a persistent pedal note D, is a striking example of the Russian tendency to become fairly obsessed with one rhythm. It is an intentional, artistic use of monotony and may be compared to the limitless Russian Steppes. If it seem strange to Western Europeans, it should be remembered that the music is Russian and portrays a mood perfectly natural to that people. The third movement is a combination of a scherzo and a march--of a most unbridled fury. The Finale is a threnody, one of overpowering grief, the motto of which might be "vanity of vanities, all is vanity." It abounds in soul-stirring orchestral eloquence and invariably makes a deep impression.

[Footnote 310: For further comment see the Life of Tchaikowsky by Rosa Newmarch.]

[Footnote 311: As may be seen by the number of ill.u.s.trations from it in text books!]

For special comment we have selected Tchaikowsky's[312] Fifth Symphony in E minor since, being a union of Russian and Italian characteristics, it reveals that eclecticism so prominent in his style. It is also an admirable example of organic relations.h.i.+p between the movements. This symphony, like the Fourth, contains a recurrent motto of sombre nature in the minor mode which, appearing in the first three movements with some dramatic implication, is changed in the Finale to the major and used as the basis for a march of rejoicing. The first and last movements are in elaborate sonata-form; the second and third in three-part form. The Finale is one of the most striking examples in modern literature of a _resume_ of preceding themes and hence a convincing proof of the composer's constructive power. The symphony begins with a long prelude announcing the motto. Scored for clarinets, ba.s.soons and low strings it shows vividly that peculiar impression which Tchaikowsky secured by using the lower ranges of the orchestra.

[Footnote 312: The authoritative work on Tchaikowsky is _The Life and Letters_ by his brother Modeste; the abridged biography by Rosa Newmarch should also be read. There are excellent essays in _Mezzotints in Modern Music_ by Huneker; in Streatfield's volume _Modern Composers_ and in Mason's _From Grieg to Brahms_.]

[Music]

The melody itself seldom moves above middle C, and its effect is enhanced by the quality of the clarinets in their chalumeau register.

The first theme of the movement proper (beginning at the Allegro con anima), on the same harmonic basis as the motto and derived from it rhythmically, is given out _pp_ by a solo clarinet and solo ba.s.soon, accompanied by very light detached chords in the strings, _e.g._

[Music]

This is elaborately and brilliantly developed until, in measure 79 (counting from the Allegro), we reach a transitional, subsidiary theme in B minor. This is followed by some striking sequences, exquisitely scored, and then (at un pochettino piu animato) there is a quickened presentation of the transitional theme, interspersed by syncopated calls--on the horns and wood-wind--a presentation which introduces the second theme in D major, marked molto piu tranquillo. This melody, sung by the violins against an obbligato in the wood-wind, is clearly Italian in its grace and suavity and establishes that wonderful contrast so prominent in Tchaikowsky--the warmth and exuberance of the South set against the grim austerity of the North.

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This theme, expanded (stringendo and crescendo) into a series of exciting climaxes _fff_ leads, after some modulatory phrases derived from the transitional theme, to the Development which begins in B-flat major. Throughout this is a fine piece of work--with real thematic growth, bold modulations and no "padding." It should refute completely any erroneous opinion that Tchaikowsky was lacking in power of organic treatment. The connection between the Development and the Recapitulation is skilfully managed and the third part does not bore us but is welcomed as something we would gladly hear again. There is a long and stormy Coda--a second development in true Beethoven style--which finally ends _ppp_ in the lowest depths of the orchestra, in the same mood as the opening measures.

The second movement, Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza, with its melting theme on the solo horn, _e.g._,

[Music]

--accompanied later by answering phrases on the clarinet--might seem a bit too "luscious" were it not for the beauty and finish of the orchestration. The movement is in rather loose three-part form--as the t.i.tle would imply--the joints being somewhat obvious in certain places, _e.g._, measures 39-45. The themes, however, have that intensity peculiar to Tchaikowsky, and the original orchestral treatment, especially in the use of the horns, enhances their effect.

The middle contrasting portion, starting in F-sharp minor, shows some very effective polyphonic imitations based on the following theme:

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At the climax of its development the motto is proclaimed _fff_ in a most arresting manner--its effect being due to the unusual pedal point which makes a chord of the second with the upper voices, _e.g._,

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The third part with slight expansions corresponds to the first. At its close, just before the Coda, we have a second appearance of the motto--this time, on account of the fierce dissonances, with even more sinister effect.[313] The closing measures are of great beauty by reason of the imitations on the strings and the dreamy, reminiscent phrase on the clarinets, _e.g._

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[Footnote 313: The pa.s.sage has already been cited in Chapter IV as an example of a deceptive cadence.]

The third movement, a Waltz, with a graceful theme, in clear-cut three-part form, needs little comment. If any one considers it too light or even trivial for a place in a symphony he might study the individual orchestration and then try to compose one like it! The second and third parts are ingeniously fused together--Tchaikowsky following the practise of Mozart, his favorite master, in the first movement of the G minor Symphony. In the Russian philosophy of life, however, there is no such thing as perpetual joy; so, even amid scenes of festivity, the motto obtrudes itself as if to ask "What right have you to be dancing when life is so stern and grim?" See measures 23-28 from end of movement.

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The Finale, in complete sonata-form and laid out on a large scale, for several reasons is of distinct significance. It is a carefully planned _resume_ of preceding themes; it contains several examples of those periods of depression or exultation (especially on a pedal-point) so characteristic of the Slav, and lastly, there are pages of extreme brilliancy. In fact, the orchestration throughout is of such convincing power that it refutes any charge of sensationalism or mere bombast. If to us the music seem unrestrained, unbridled, we are to remember that the Russian temperament is p.r.o.ne to a reckless display of emotion just as in their churches they like to "lay the colors on thick." The movement begins with an extended prelude in which the original sombre motto is transformed into a stately, march-like theme.

This is presented twice with continually richer scoring and more rhythmic animation. The closing measures of the prelude are a specific instance of that protracted mood of depression spoken of above. The movement proper begins at the Allegro vivace with a fierce, impa.s.sioned theme,

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which leads, in measure 25, to a subsidiary theme treated at first in free double counterpoint[314] and later canonically.