Symphonies and Their Meaning Part 26

whimsical play

[Music: (Woodwind doubled in higher 8ve.)]

and masterful career.

[Music: (Doubled in higher 8ve.)]

The various phases are mingled in spirited song; only the very beginning seems reserved as a special symbol of a turn in the chase, of the sudden flame of desire that is kindled anew.

In the midst of a fresh burst of the main phrase are gentle strains of plaint (_flebile_). And now a tenderly sad motive in the wood sings against the marching phrase, amidst a spray of light, dancing chords.

Another song of the main theme is spent in a vanis.h.i.+ng tremolo of strings and harp, and buried in a rich chord whence rises a new song (_molto espressivo_) or rather a duet, the first of the longer love-pa.s.sages.

The main melody is begun in clarinet and horn and instantly followed (as in canon) by violins. The climax of this impa.s.sioned scene is a t.i.tanic chord of minor, breaking the spell; the end is in a distorted strain of the melody, followed by a listless refrain of the (original) impetuous motive (_senza espressione_).

The main theme breaks forth anew, in the spirit of the beginning. It yields suddenly before the next episode, a languorous song of lower strings (_molto appa.s.sionato_), strangely broken into by sighing phrases in the high wood (_flebile_). After further interruption, the love song is crowned by a broad flowing melody (_sehr getragen und ausdrucksvoll_)--the main lyric utterance of all. It has a full length of extended song, proportioned to its distinguished beauty. The dual quality is very clear throughout the scene. Much of the song is on a kindred phrase of the lyric melody sung by the clarinet with dulcet chain of chords of harp.

Here strikes a climactic tune in forte unison of the four horns (_molto espressivo e marcato_). It is the clear utterance of a new mood of the hero,--a purely

[Music: (Four horns in unison) (Full orchestra)]

subjective phase. With a firm tread, though charged with pathos, it seems what we might venture to call a symbol of renunciation. It is broken in upon by a strange version of the great love song, _agitato_ in oboes, losing all its queenly pace. As though in final answer comes again the ruthless phrase of horns, followed now by the original theme.

_Rapidamente_ in full force of strings comes the coursing strain of impetuous desire. The old and the new themes of the hero are now in stirring encounter, and the latter seems to prevail.

The mood all turns to humor and merrymaking. In gay dancing trip serious subjects are treated jokingly (the great melody of the horns is mockingly sung by the harp),--in fits and gusts. At the height the (first) tempestuous motive once more dashes upwards and yields to a revel of the (second) whimsical phrase. A sense of fated renunciation seems to pervade the play of feelings of the hero. In the lull, when the paroxysm is spent, the various figures of his past romances pa.s.s in shadowy review; the first tearful strain, the melody of the first of the longer episodes,--the main lyric song (_agitato_).

In the last big flaming forth of the hero's pa.s.sion victory is once more with the theme of renunciation,--or shall we say of grim denial where there is no choice.

Strauss does not defy tradition (or providence) by ending his poem with a triumph. A final elemental burst of pa.s.sion stops abruptly before a long pause. The end is in dismal, dying harmonies,--a mere dull sigh of emptiness, a void of joy and even of the solace of poignant grief.

_TILL EULENSPIEGEL'S MERRY PRANKS_

_In the Manner of Ancient Rogues--In Rondo Form_

Hardly another subject could have been more happy for the revelling in brilliant pranks and conceits of a modern vein of composition. And in the elusive humor of the subject is not the least charm and fitness.

Too much stress has been laid on the graphic purpose. There is always a tendency to construe too literally. While we must be in full sympathy with the poetic story, there is small need to look for each precise event. We are tempted to go further, almost in defiance, and say that music need not be definite, even despite the composer's intent. In other words, if the tonal poet designs and has in mind a group of graphic figures, he may nevertheless achieve a work where the real value and beauty lie in a certain interlinear humor and poetry,--where the labels can in some degree be disregarded.

Indeed, it is this very abstract charm of music that finds in such a subject its fullest fitness. If we care to know the pranks exactly, why not turn to the text? Yet, reading the book, in a way, destroys the spell. Better imagine the ideal rogue, whimsical, spritely, all of the people too. But in the music is the real Till. The fine poetry of ancient humor is all there, distilled from the dregs of folk-lore that have to us lost their true essence. There is in the music a daemonic quality, inherent in the subject, that somehow vanishes with the concrete tale. So we might say the tonal picture is a faithful likeness precisely in so far as it does not tell the facts of the story.

Indeed, in this ma.s.s of vulgar stories we cannot help wondering at the reason for their endurance through the centuries, until we feel something of the spirit of the people in all its phases. A true mirror it was of stupidity and injustice, presented by a sprite of owlish wisdom, sporting, teasing and punis.h.i.+ng[A] all about. It is a kind of popular satire, with a strong personal element of a human Puck, or an impish Robin Hood, with all the fairy restlessness, mocking at human rut and empty custom.

[Footnote A: On leaving the scene of some special mischief, Till would draw a chalk picture of an owl on the door, and write below, _Hic fuit_.

The edition of 1519 has a woodcut of an owl resting on a mirror, that was carved in stone, the story goes, over Till's grave.]

It is perhaps in the mult.i.tude of the stories, paradoxical though it seem, that lies the strength. In the number of them (ninety-two "histories" there are) is an element of universality. It is like the broom: one straw does not make, nor does the loss of one destroy it; somewhere in the ma.s.s lies the quality of broom.

In a way Till is the Ulysses of German folk-lore, the hero of trickery, a kind of _Reinecke Fuchs_ in real life. But he is of the soil as none of the others. A satyr, in a double sense, is Till; only he is pure Teuton, of the latter middle ages.

He is every sort of tradesman, from tailor to doctor. Many of the stories, perhaps the best, are not stories at all, but merely clever sayings. In most of the tricks there is a Roland for an Oliver. Till stops at no estate; parsons are his favorite victims. He is, on the whole, in favor with the people, though he played havoc with entire villages. Once he was condemned to death by the Lubeck council. But even here it was his enemies, whom he had defrauded, that sought revenge. The others excused the tricks and applauded his escape. Even in death the scandal and mischief do not cease.

The directions in Strauss' music are new in their kind and dignity. They belong quite specially to this new vein of tonal painting. In a double function, they not merely guide the player, but the listener as well.

The humor is of utmost essence; the humor is the thing, not the play, nor the story of each of the pranks, in turn, of our jolly rogue. And the humor lies much in these words of the composer, that give the lilt of motion and betray a sense of the intended meaning.

[Music: _Gemachlich_]

The tune, sung at the outset _gemachlich_ (comfortably), is presumably the rogue _motif_, first in pure innocence of mood. But quickly comes another, quite opposed in rhythm, that soon hurries into highest speed.

These are not the "subjects" of old tradition.

[Music: (Horn)]

And first we are almost inclined to take the "Rondo form" as a new roguish prank. But we may find a form where the subjects are independent of the basic themes that weave in and out unfettered by rule--where the subjects are rather new grouping of the fundamental symbols.[A]

[Footnote A: It is like the Finale of Brahms' Fourth Symphony, where an older form (of _pa.s.sacaglia_) is reared together with a later, one within the other.]

After a pause in the furious course of the second theme, a quick piping phrase sounds _l.u.s.tig_ (merrily) in the clarinet, answered by a chord of ominous

[Music: _Molto allegro_ (Clar.) _l.u.s.tig_]

token. But slowly do we trace the laughing phrase to the first theme.

And here is a new whim. Though still in full tilt, the touch of demon is gone in a kind of ursine clog of the ba.s.ses. Merely jaunty and clownish it would be but for the mischievous scream (of high flute) at the end.

And now begins a rage of pranks, where the main phrase is the rogue's laugh, rising in brilliant gamut of outer pitch and inner mood.

At times the humor is in the spirit of a Jean Paul, playing between rough fun and sadness in a fine spectrum of moods. The lighter motive dances harmlessly about the more serious, intimate second phrase. There is almost the sense of lullaby before the sudden plunge to wildest chaos, the only portent being a constant trembling of low strings. All Bedlam is let loose, where the rogue's shriek is heard through a confused cackling and a medley of voices here and there on the running phrase (that ever ends the second theme). The sound of a big rattle is added to the scene,--where perhaps the whole village is in an uproar over some wholesale trick of the rogue.

And what are we to say to this simplest swing of folk-song that steals in navely to enchanting strum of rhythm. We may speculate about the Till as the

[Music: (_Gemachlich_)]

people saw him, while elsewhere we have the personal view. The folk-tunes may not have a special dramatic role. Out of the text of folk-song, to be sure, all the strains are woven. Here and there we have the collective voice. If we have watched keenly, we have heard how the tune, simply though it begins, has later all the line of Till's personal phrase. Even in the ba.s.s it is, too. Of the same fibre is this demon mockery and the thread of folk legend.

We cannot pretend to follow all the literal whims. And it is part of the very design that we are ever surprised by new tricks, as by this saucy trip of dancing phrase. The purely human touches are clear, and almost moving in contrast with the impish humor.

An earlier puzzle is of the second theme. As the composer has refused to help us, he will not quarrel if we find our own construction. A possible clue there is. As the story proceeds, aside from the mere abounding fun and poetry, the more serious theme prevails. Things are happening. And there come the tell-tale directions. _Liebegluhend_, aflame with love, a melody now sings in urgent pace, ending with

[Music: _Liebegluhend_]

a strange descending note. Presently in quieter mood, _ruhiger_, it gains a new grace, merely to dash again, _wutend_, into a fiercer rage than before. Before long we cannot escape in all this newer melody a mere slower outline of the second theme. A guess then, such as the composer invites us to make, is this: It is not exactly a Jekyll and Hyde, but not altogether different. Here (in the second theme, of horn) is Till himself,--not the rogue, but the man in his likes and loves and suffering. The rogue is another, a demon that possesses him to tease mankind, to tease himself out of his happiness. During the pa.s.sionate episode the rogue is banned, save for a grimace now and then, until the climax, when all in disguise of long pa.s.sionate notes of resonant ba.s.s the demon theme has full control. But for once it is in earnest, in dead earnest, we might say. And the ominous chord has a supreme moment, in the shadow of the fulfilment.

A new note sounds in solemn legend of lowest wood, sadly beautiful, with a touch of funeral pace.[A]

[Footnote A: Strauss told the writer that this was the march of the jurymen,--"_der Marsch der Schoffen_." Reproached for killing Till, he admitted that he had taken a license with the story and added: "In the epilogue,--there he lives."]

The impish laugh still keeps intruding. But throughout the scene it is the Till motive, not the rogue, that fits the stride of the death-march.

To be sure the rogue anon laughs bravely. But the other figure is in full view.

[Music: (Lowest woodwind)]

The sombre legend is, indeed, in a separate phase, its beauty now distorted in a feverish chase of voices on the main phrase. It is all a second climax, of a certain note of terror,--of fate. In the midst is a dash of the rogue's heartiest laugh, amid the echoes of the fearful chord, while the growing roar of the mob can be heard below. Once again it rings out undaunted, and then to the sauciest of folk-tunes, _leichtfertig_, Till dances gaily and jauntily. Presently, in a mystic pa.s.sage, _schnell und schattenhaft_