Chopin and Other Musical Essays

ERA IN NE

is as the crowning achievement of his busy life. For years he never gave a concert without having at least one Wagner selection on the programme, no matter how much some of the critics and patrons protested. In 1884 he considered the public sufficiently weaned of Italian sweets to stand a strong dose of Wagner; so he imported the three leading singers of the Ba

y included several of the most popular artists-Nilsson, Sembrich, Scalchi, Campanini, Del Puente, etc., and his repertory embraced the usual popular operas, the conclusion seemed inevitable that the public wanted a complete change. Dr. Damrosch was accordingly appealed to at the eleventh hour, and he hasten

t. The Paris opera is kept afloat by means of an annual subsidy of eight hundred thousand francs, and the imperial opera-houses of Berlin and Vienna, although similarly endowed, are burdened with large annual deficits which have to be covered by additional contributions from the imperial exchequers. New York can hardly claim so large a public interested in high-class opera as Vienna and Berlin; hence it would be unreasonable to expect that grand opera should fare better here. It was, therefore, one of the most lucky accidents in the history of American music that the Metrop

for their boxes. As there were forty-five subscription nights, and as each box holds six seats, the price of each was nine dollars, which can hardly be deemed too much for the best seats in the house, considering that outsiders have to pay ten dollars for these same seats, or sixty dollars for a box. A large part of the assessment (about one thousand dollars for each stockholder) would remain for covering the general expenses of the building (including the mortgage bonds), even if no opera w

y raise a war-whoop in behalf of Italian opera. But the powers that rule the destinies of the Metropolitan Opera House are too wise to heed the arguments of these prophets. They know that Italian opera can never again be successfully revived in New York, and that the only alternative for the present lies between German opera and no opera at all. Signor Angelo and Mr. Mapleson were as unsuccessful in their last

stage so completely the world over that Weber and Beethoven were ignored even in Vienna and the German capitals? They are dead, and all efforts to revive them have been futile. These operas had sprung into sudden popularity, whereas "Fidelio," "Euryanthe," "Lohengrin," and "Tannh?user," which for years had to fight for every inch of ground, are now masters of the situation, and gaining in popularity every year. And this brings us to the second lesson taught by the history of the opera-that the works that thus had to fight their way into the hearts of the public are the immortal operas

zza Ladra" soup. Italian opera has ceased to exist in New York, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, and St. Petersburg, and ev

Wagner was more rapidly acclimated in New York than in the German capitals is that most of the leading German critics are old men-too old to submit readily to Wagner's revolutionary tendencies; whereas in New

to hear the weak voices and the thin scores of Italians to advantage. Ergo, if this house remains the centre of music in New York

udiences as Wagner's opera, which is far from being the case; and I have myself heard some of them confess that after repeatedly hearing Wagner's later operas, they discovered in them a constant stream of melody where all had seemed to them at first a mere chaos of sound. Some of the stockholders, on the other hand, are so absolutely unmusical that they do not know the meaning of the words "tenor" and "soprano," and if blindfolded could not tell if

t give the rest of the audience the benefit of their conversational accomplishments. The parquet often resents these interruptions, and hisses lustily until quiet is restored. There are not a few lovers of music who, although able to pay for parquet seats, frequent the upper gal

, but is a factor of the entertainment recognized even by the composer! Wagner brings out this point clearly in the following remarks: "In Italian opera," he says, "the public gives its attention only to the most brilliant numbers sung by the popular prima donna or her vocal rival; the rest of the opera it ignores almost entirely, and devotes the evening to mutual visits in the b

singers, who are generally strangers to each other and get no encouragement from the audience (the latter are generally either chatting or sleeping-in the fifth box they either sup or play cards), assemble inattentive, insensible, and troubled with catarrh, not as artists, but as people who are paid for the music they make. There i

antomime music during which no voice at all is heard on the stage. Now I am convinced that much of the talking in opera-boxes is simply due to ignorance of this fact. Vocal music is much more readily appreciated than instrumental music, and

the orchestra merely furnishes a sort of background or support for the conversation, people naturally come to look upon the overtures and interludes and introductions to the second and third acts of an opera

parties, should remember that it is their pecuniary interest to preserve quiet. For not a few amateurs, as already stated, are driven to the cheaper parts

pleasure is evidence of very bad manners. Musical people suffer more from such interruptions than persons whose ears are not similarly refined can imagine; for the tone colors

ignity, used to say: "Hush! hush! Handel is in a passion." And Liszt never gave a finer exhibition of his wit and artistic courage than when, at an imperial soirée in the Russian capital, he suddenly ceased playing in the midst of a piece, because the Czar was talki

calls attention to the fact that they not only annoy those of the audie

w reserved for the end of the acts. I remember a performance of "Lohengrin," at the Academy of Music, at which the music was thrice interrupted by some ill-bred admirers of Campanini, who applauded him when he first appeared in sight on the swan-boat; again, when he stepped on shore, and a third time when he came to the front of the

Bayreuth festival of 1876. The house, of course, was packed, and included many old admirers who had heard him abroad, and who, of course, received him with a volley of applause when he staggered into Hunding's hut. But Niemann did not acknowledge this applause with a bow or even a smile. H

e applauded him all the more vigorously for his self-denial when the curtain was down. Singers of the old school should take this lesson to heart and ponder it. They imagine success is measured by the number of times they are applauded, and consequently introduce

ent its pent-up enthusiasm at the end of the act, as has been abundantly proved at the Metropolitan Opera House. A curious episode may be noted sometimes. As soon as the singing has ceased and the curtain begins to descend, a number of people begin to applaud. But the full-blooded Wagnerites wait until the last chord of the orchestra has died away b

artistic sensibility and indifference to other people's feelings. Nor can one wonder, in view of such facts, that the late King of Bavaria pre

conductor who objected to produce a piece by a noted German composer because it ended pianissimo. He was afraid that it would not be applauded if it did not end loudly. Now the finales of Italian operas are habitually

s as he mutely follows the bird to the fire-girdled rock on which Brünnhilde lies asleep, amid the intoxicating and promising strains of the orchestra. The ending of "Die Walküre" is equally quiet and poetic. Wotan has placed poor Brünnhilde on a mound of moss, for disobeying his orders, and covered her with her helmet, after plunging her into a magnetic sleep which is to last until a hero shall co

is hardly an operatic composer who would not have closed the act with this exciting and tumultuous chorus. Not so Wagner. The sound of the watchman's horn suddenly clears the street, and no one is left but the watchman himself, who timorously toddles up the street with his lantern, while the moon rises above the roofs of the houses, and the muted strings of the orchestra softly and dreamily recall a few of the motives of the preceding scenes. I was sitting next to Professor

horus is called for by the situation no one can supply a more inspired and inspiring volume of concerted sound than he. With the possible exception of the

dmire. Some years ago I witnessed a curious scene in the Berlin Opera House. According to Wagner's directions, the curtain goes down after this quintet, but the music continues until the scene is changed. Now, on the occasion in question, the quintet evoked so much enthusiasm that a storm of applause arose

ion of over a quarter of an hour, in order to change this scene. Consequently the last and most popular part o

e harm is done by a few cuts, whereas in Wagner's operas there are very few bars that can be spared, both on account of their intrinsic beauty and because they are required to keep up the dramatic continuity of the story. Nevertheless, Wagner's operas must be cut, in s

his men obey him as they would the sternest general, and admiration of his superior knowledge makes them more attentive to their duty than fear ever would. I do not believe German opera would have won its present popularity under any other conductor excepting Hans Richter. One of the traits to which he owes his great success as a Wagner conductor is his instinctive perception of what parts can be omitted with the minimum of injury to the work he i

aring music, and with no other business oppressing them for the moment. But at a time when the struggle for existence is so severe as now it was chimerical on Wagner's part to hope that such a plan could be permanently realized. Few musical people can afford to journey to Bayreuth merely to gratify their taste for opera. Hence the Bayreuth festivals, although most delightful from an artistic point of view, would have never been financially successful, had not the vocalists given their services gratis; and it is doubtful if they will be continued after the death of

r before going to bed. But in New York, where it is not customary to sup, and where the dinner hour is between six and seven, it would hardly be advisable to commence the opera before eight. Nor is the interest in the opera sufficiently general to inspire the hope tha

r he is rich or poor, and in the evening his brain is too tired to follow for four hours the complicated orchestral score of a music-drama. If he listens attentively, he will be exhausted by eleven o'clock, and the last act, which he might have enjoyed hugely if not so "played out," will weary him so much that he

f the rare beauties of "Tristan" or "Siegfried," went to the opera to hear and judge for themselves. Of course, as everything was new to them, they found it hard work to follow all the intricacies of the plot and the music at the same time; hence, their verdict next day was that German opera was "too heavy" for them. These persons cannot be made to believe that if they would only repeat their visits, the labor of listening would be reduced to a minimum and t

reason why light opera, opera bouffe, and burlesque have their advantage in this country. They are so easy to digest after dinner." And again: "There is no doubt that opera is, to some extent, an

of the opera. Let them keep on, with "damnable iteration," to drum into their friends' heads the fact that if they will only make up their minds to attend one good opera three or four times in succession they will become devoted admirers of it

in regard to Wagner's operas, in his work on "Sensation and Intuition." "Although," he says, "I went to the first performance decidedly prejudiced against the noisy Zukunftsmusik, I found that after patient study of these operas I became so susceptible of their high dramat

l faculties sufficiently to enable us to perceive the countless subtle beauties in Wagner's and Weber's scores. M. Saint-Sa?ns, who is considered the best living score-reader, compares Wagner's scores to those master-works of medi?val architecture which are adorned with sculptured reliefs that must have required infinite care and labor in the chiselling. Now, just as a careless obs

d knew every bar by heart, it seemed as if I had never heard it before, so vividly were all its beauties revealed in the white heat of Conductor Seidl's enthusiasm. All the evening I sat trembling with excitement, and could not sleep for hours afterward. I have for twelve years made a special study of the emotions, but I could not conceive any pleasure more in

ment was marred by the melancholy thought that such glorious music should be wasted on empty stalls, when there were thousands of persons in the city who, if they only could have been induced to overcom

ce of eternal pleasure. Nor is it so difficult to cultivate the harmonic sense, if one takes pains to hear good music often and attentively. I once met a young lady on a transatlantic steamer, who frankly confessed she could not see any beauty in certain exquisite Wagnerian and Chopinesque modulations and harmonies which I played for her on the piano. When asked if she did not care for harmony at all, she replied: "Oh, yes! I know a chord which is simply divine!" Then she played-what do you

serve their judgment of a "heavy" opera until they have heard it two or three times. They will soon find that the word "heavy" is a very relative and changeable term in music. To one who really admires Sha

so slow in appreciating and encouraging the opera. But there are two other important reasons which may be

hear them. And as for operas, there is hardly one in the modern repertory that is open to censure on moral grounds. Mr. Carl Rosa refers to the curious fact that, when circumstances compel him to give an operatic performance in a hall instead of a theatre, the audiences are of qui

theatre were to attend, this proportion might be reversed, and more of the managers would find it profitable to bring out clean and wholesome dramas. Some prominent clergymen have lately expressed themselves in this sense, and it is probable that a reaction is at hand that will be

began to prefer a more simple and dramatic style. The same is true of the modern Italian composers. It is well known that Bo?to, Ponchielli, and Verdi in his latest operas, approximate the German style; and their admirers will doubtless ere long adapt their taste to this change. Nevertheless, there are not a few remaining who look upon opera as a sort of vocal acrobatics. They go once or twice to the Metropolitan, and feel defrauded of their money if the prima d

Tristan, etc. New Yorkers must consider themselves fortunate in having heard for two seasons the greatest of Wagnerian tenors-even though he is no longer in his prime-the man who sang the title r?le of "Tannh?user" when that opera was produced in Paris in 1861; who created the part of Siegmund in 1876 at Bayreuth; and who, in his way, has done as much to popularize Wagner's operas as Liszt did during the Weimar period, when people had to go to that city to hear "Lohengrin" and "Tannh?user," as they now go to Bayreuth to hear "Parsifal." He is not only valuable for the sake of his artistic

nd of the vocalists who unite Italian with German merits, is a young singer who has a great future before him, if his Siegfried, a most realistic and powerful impersonation, may be argued from. And as for the third of these artists-Lilli Lehmann-her equal can hardly to-day be found on the operatic stage. It is very characteristic of the late Intendant of the Berlin theatres-Herr von Hülsen (who waited nine years before he accepted "Lohengrin" for performance, and afterward repeated the same faux pas with the Nibelung Trilogy)-that he

h her daily walk of several miles. Her versatility is extraordinary, for she sings Norma and Valentine as well as she does Isolde. She scouts the idea that Wagner's music ruins the voice, agreeing on this point with the most famous vocal teacher of the day, Madame Marchesi. It is only when Wagner's music is sung to excess that it injures the voice, according to Fr?u

of first-class acting vocalists that makes opera so expensive, and prevents it from being self-supporting. The number of first-class singers is so small that ev

especially in the case of tenors. Herr Niemann obtains seven hundred and fifty dollars for every appearance; Fr?ulein Lehmann gets six hundred dollars, and there are singers who are much better paid still because they appear under the star system. Surely this ought

erly believed for years that "Lohengrin" was the only one of Wagner's early operas that American audiences cared for. But "Tannh?user" has, in a few years, become more popular than "Lohengrin," thanks largely to its better staging and interpretation. Owing in a large measure to Fr?

n Vienna some years ago. It is not too much to say that Wagner's scenic backgrounds are as much more artistic than those of other opera composers as his texts are more poetic than theirs. He avoids frequ

ese are, many consider the last act of "Die G?tterd?mmerung" the supreme achievement of Wagner. The exquisite trio of the Rhine maidens swimming and singing in a picturesque forest scene; the death of Siegfried, and the procession that slowly carries his body by the light of the moon up the hill; and the burning of the funeral pyre at the end, until it is put out by the rising waters of the Rhine bearing the maidens on the surface; these scenes, with the glorious music accompanying, cannot be matched

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7) are from two articles, and both are legitimate