Chapter XIII: Introduction (1)

Don Quixote is deep in the perusal of old romances of errant chivalry. Grandiose and splendid pictures pass through his mind and inflame his imagination. He beholds Dulcinea--Dulcinea, the ideal woman (oboe melody); he sees her beset by giants and rescued by a knight. "His fantasy was filled with those things that he read, of enchantments, quarrels, battles, challenges, wounds, wooings, loves, tempests, and other impossible follies," and in the end, "through his little sleep and much reading, he dried up his brains in such sort as he lost wholly his judgment." The strain becomes unbearable; the orchestra utters confused and insane and wildly chaotic thoughts; until finally, "in some terrible chords that give one the sensation of an overstretched spring snapping violently," we realize that the Knight is at last quite mad. He has determined on a life of chivalry.

THEME

The two-part theme is announced: Don Quixote being limned by a phrase, pathetically grandiose, for solo 'cello (_moderato_); Sancho Panza by a burly and grotesquely comic theme first heard on the tenor tuba and bass clarinet, but afterwards confined to a solo viola.

VARIATION I
DON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO PANZA SET FORTH

The knight and his squire set forth on their quest of chivalric adventure, the Don inspired by the thought of the lovely Dulcinea del Toboso (the theme of the Ideal Woman). The sight of windmills revolving in the breeze inspires his valor; he charges them, and is overthrown by the sails.

VARIATION II
THE VICTORIOUS BATTLE WITH THE HOST OF THE GREAT EMPEROR ALIFONFARON

Out of a cloud of dust (strings) Don Quixote perceives the approach of an army. Sancho sees that it is a flock of sheep (the muted[154] brass instruments in the orchestra imitate their bleating), and seeks to restrain the enthusiasm of his master. Don Quixote charges valiantly and puts the enemy to rout.

VARIATION III
COLLOQUIES OF KNIGHT AND SQUIRE

Don Quixote and Sancho Panzo argue concerning the reasonableness of a life of chivalry. The Don waxes eloquent over the glory of a knightly career, in an orchestral passage (developed out of his own theme and that of Dulcinea) of striking fervor and nobility. Sancho advocates the homely and attainable things of reality; we hear a fragment of his motive; but the Don silences him angrily.

VARIATION IV
THE ENCOUNTER WITH THE PILGRIMS

The knight and his squire fall in with a band of pilgrims (a theme of ecclesiastical character for the wind instruments). Don Quixote imagines them to be villains and malefactors. He attacks them and is worsted, falling senseless. He revives slowly, and Sancho, relieved, lies down beside him and sleeps.

VARIATION V
THE KNIGHT'S VIGIL BESIDE HIS ARMS

Don Quixote, following the knightly custom, refrains from sleep and watches beside his arms through the night. Ecstatically he perceives Dulcinea, as in a vision (the theme of the Ideal Woman is heard).

VARIATION VI
THE MEETING WITH DULCINEA

Sancho Panza assures the Don that a certain vulgar peasant girl whom they meet is his adored Dulcinea (we hear the Ideal Woman theme, transformed into a common and trivial tune--wood-wind and tambourine). Don Quixote is incredulous. He angrily ascribes the effect to some magical agency.

VARIATION VII
THE RIDE THROUGH THE AIR

Sitting stationary with bandaged eyes on a wooden horse, the knight and his squire believe that they are being borne through the air. We hear in the orchestra the whistling of the wind (here enters the famous "wind-machine"); the themes of the Don and of Sancho are giddily borne aloft on the instrumental breeze. A long-held note on the bassoon indicates their sudden stop, their realization, as they look about them, that they have not left the earth.

VARIATION VIII
THE JOURNEY IN THE ENCHANTED BOAT

The knight, perceiving an empty boat, and being convinced that it is miraculously intended for his use, embarks in it with his squire for the accomplishment of some predestined deed of chivalry. The orchestra plays a graceful barcarolle. The boat upsets, but the two reach shore in safety. They offer up thanks for their escape (a religious passage for the wind instruments).

VARIATION IX
THE CONFLICT WITH THE TWO SORCERERS

Don Quixote meets two wayfarers whom he takes to be the magicians whose sorcery has worked him ill. They are merely a pair of inoffensive monks, but the knight attacks them, with victorious results.

VARIATION X
THE COMBAT WITH THE KNIGHT OF THE SILVER MOON,
AND THE OVERTHROW OF DON QUIXOTE

The bachelor Samson Carrasco, the "Knight of the Silver Moon," one of Don Quixote's townsmen, does battle with him for the sake of his own good and to cure him of his delusions: "so to have him in his own house, I thought upon this device." The music portrays the contest between them, which is thus described by Cervantes: "They both of them set spurs to their horses, and the Knight of the White Moon's being the swifter, met Don Quixote ere he had run a quarter of his career so forcibly (without touching him with his lance, for it seemed he carried it aloft on purpose) that he tumbled horse and man both to the ground, and Don Quixote had a terrible fall; so he got straight on the top of him; and, clapping his lance's point upon his visor, said, 'You are vanquished, Knight, and a dead man, if you confess not, according to the conditions of our combat.' Don Quixote, all bruised and amazed, without heaving up his visor, as if he had spoken out of a tomb, with a faint and weak voice said, 'Dulcinea del Toboso is the fairest woman in the world, and I the unfortunatest knight on earth; and it is not fit that my weakness defraud this truth; thrust your lance into me, Knight, and kill me, since you have bereaved me of my honor.' 'Not so, truly,' quoth he of the White Moon; 'let the fame of my Lady Dulcinea's beauty live in her entireness; I am only contented that the grand Don Quixote retire home for a year, or till such time as I please, as we agreed before we began the battle.' And Don Quixote answered that, so nothing were required of him in prejudice of his Lady Dulcinea, he would accomplish all the rest, like a true and punctual knight."

Don Quixote, defeated, broken-hearted, his illusions vanishing one by one, rides homeward with his squire in profound dejection; and here the orchestra evolves out of a pathetic variant of his theme an eloquent and vivid commentary.

FINALE
THE DEATH OF DON QUIXOTE

The knight, once more a sane and wise man, his brain cleared of its mists, his reason restored, lies dying peacefully in his bed. "They stood all gazing one upon another, wondering at Don Quixote's sound reasons, although they made some doubt to believe them. One of the signs which induced them to conjecture that he was near unto death's door was that with such facility he was from a stark fool become a wise man. For, to the words already alleged, he added many more so significant, so Christian-like, and so well couched, that without doubt they confidently believed that Don Quixote was become a right wise man.... Amidst the wailful plaints and blubbering tears of the bystanders he yielded up the ghost--that is to say, he died."[155] The music which portrays his end is simple and very peaceful. The chords which, at the beginning, indicated his aberration, are now orderly, tranquil, and composed.

"A HERO'S LIFE" ["EIN HELDENLEBEN"], TONE-POEM: Op. 40

_Ein Heldenleben_ was completed in December, 1898. The score bears absolutely no indication of its purport or significance save the title: we are left to guess whether the "hero" whose life is celebrated therein is an ideal hero or a figure of history, of myth, of romance, or of private life. Strauss is said to have observed, in response to a question: "There is no need of a programme. It is enough to know there is a hero fighting his enemies." Yet the analysts have been busy with this score, as with others by Strauss; and he has, at least by implication, sanctioned their interpretations.

"A Hero's Life" is in six connected sections, arranged and identified as follows:

1. THE HERO
2. THE HERO'S ADVERSARIES
3. THE HERO'S CONSORT
4. THE HERO'S BATTLE-FIELD
5. THE HERO'S WORKS OF PEACE
6. THE HERO'S RETIREMENT FROM THE WORLD, AND THE END OF
HIS STRIVING

I. THE HERO

We hear first the theme of the Hero, a chivalric and wide-arched phrase, of extraordinary breadth and energy, announced _forte_ by horns, viola, and 'cellos. Subsidiary themes follow, picturing various aspects of his nature--his "pride, emotional nature, iron will, richness of imagination," and so forth. The main theme, weightily proclaimed by tenor and bass tubas, four horns, double-basses, 'cellos, and wood-wind, brings the first section to a thunderous close.

II. THE HERO'S ADVERSARIES

Herein are pictured the Hero's opponents and detractors--an envious and malicious crew, rich in all uncharitableness.[156] The wood-wind instruments--flutes, oboes, English horn, clarinets--utter shrill and snarling phrases: beside them, the spiteful cackling of the wood-wind in the "_Meistersinger_" overture is as the amorous murmuring of doves. There is also an uncouth and sluggish phrase for tenor and bass tubas, intended to picture the malevolence of the dull-witted among the foe. The theme of the Hero, in a sad and meditative guise, pictures his dignified amazement, his pained and sorrowful surprise that his adversaries should so reveal the smallness and meanness and acrimony of their natures. A poignant phrase, of "Parsifal"-like color and profile (muted[157] strings) speaks of his temporary disquietment--perhaps his doubt of his own sublimity; but this is barely hinted at. His dauntless courage reasserts itself, and the mocking and contemptible horde are put, at least for the time, to rout.

III. THE HERO'S CONSORT

A solo violin, in a long and elaborate passage, introduces the Hero's beloved. She is pictured at first as capricious--a coquette; but the music grows more tender, more gentle; the full orchestra enters; the oboe sings an expressive melody; there are rapturous and passionate phrases for the strings amid sweeping arpeggios in the harps, and the love scene reaches its climax. The mocking voices of the foe are heard remotely, like the distant croaking of night birds through an ecstatic dream: they are powerless to disturb the peace and felicity of the lovers.

IV. THE HERO'S BATTLE-FIELD

But now the call to battle sounds, and it may not be ignored. Distant fanfares of trumpets summon the Hero to the conflict. The orchestra becomes a battle-field; the music is chaos--tumultuous, cataclysmic: "it evokes the picture of countless and waging hosts, of forests of waving spears and clashing blades. The din, heat, and turmoil of conflict are spread over all, and the ground piled high with the slain." Through the dust and din we are reminded of the inspiration of the beloved, which urges on and enheartens the champion, whose motive contests for supremacy with that of his adversaries. A triumphant orchestral outburst on the Hero's theme proclaims at last his victory. Yet he rejoices alone--the world regards his conquest with cold and cynical indifference.

V. THE HERO'S WORKS OF PEACE

Now begins a celebration of the hero's victories of peace, his spiritual evolution and achievements. This section is introduced by a reminder of the uncouth phrase for tenor and bass tuba heard in the second division. The heroic and tender themes of the preceding pages are recalled, and with them are woven (a significant indication of the true subject of the tone-poem) quotations of themes from Strauss's earlier works. We hear, in surprising and subtle combinations, reminiscences of "Don Juan," "Thus Spake Zarathustra," "Death and Transfiguration," "Don Quixote," "Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks," the music-drama "Guntram," "Macbeth," and the famous and lovely song, _Traum durch die Dämmerung_. Industrious commentators have discovered twenty-three of these quotations.

VI. THE HERO'S RETIREMENT FROM THE WORLD,
AND THE END OF HIS STRIVING

Again we hear, in the tubas, the uncouth and cacophonous phrase which voices the dull contempt of the benighted adversaries. Even the glorious achievements of the Hero's brain, his spiritual conquests, have won only envy and derision. The protagonist rebels mightily; there are passionate and tempestuous phrases, reminiscences of his theme, in the strings, horns, and wood-wind. But his mood quiets. Over a persistent tapping of the kettle-drum, the English horn intones a gentler version of his theme. An agitating memory of the striving and conflict of the past disturbs, but only for a moment, the serenity of his mood. We are reminded of the consoling presence of the beloved one. Peace descends upon the spirit of the Hero. The close is majestic and benign.

"DOMESTIC SYMPHONY": Op. 53

In the course of an interview published in London in 1902, Strauss made this announcement: "My next tone-poem will illustrate 'a day in my family life.' It will be partly lyrical, partly humorous--a triple fugue, the three subjects representing papa, mamma, and the baby." The _Symphonia Domestica_, composed in 1903, was published in 1904. The first performance anywhere was at Carnegie Hall, New York, March 21, 1904.

The symphony, which bears this dedication: _Meiner lieben Frau und unserm Jungen gewidmet_ ("Dedicated to my dear Wife and our Boy"), is in one movement and three subdivisions: (1) Introduction and Scherzo; (2) Adagio; (3) Double Fugue and Finale. The composer declined, at the time of the first performance of the symphony, to furnish any programme for the music.[158] When the work was produced in Berlin (December 12, 1904), under the direction of the composer, the programme books contained this (presumably authorized) annotation of the music:

"I. INTRODUCTION and development of the three chief groups of themes:
The husband's themes:
(_a_) Easy-going,
(_b_) Dreamy,
(_c_) Fiery.
The wife's themes:
(_a_) Lively and gay,
(_b_) Grazioso.
The child's theme:
Tranquil.

"II. SCHERZO:
Parents' happiness. Childish play.
Cradle-song (the clock strikes seven in the evening).

"III. ADAGIO:
Doing and thinking. Love scene. Dreams and cares (the
clock strikes seven in the morning).

"IV. FINALE:
Awakening and merry dispute (double fugue). Joyous
conclusion."

A year later, in connection with the first performance in England, an "official" description was published, and it was intimated that this description was "allowed" by the composer "to be made public." It is therefore reproduced here, since there is every reason to believe that it constitutes an authentic interpretation of the music.

"[INTRODUCTION]

"The symphony is concerned with three main themes, that of the
husband, that of the wife, and that of the child. The husband theme is
divided into three sections, the first of which is marked _gemächlich_
('easy-going,' or 'deliberate,' given out by 'cellos), the second
_sinnend_ ('meditative,'[159] oboe,) and the third _feurig_ ('fiery,'
violins). The first section of the symphony, the Introduction, is
devoted to an exposition and treatment of the chief themes, or groups
of themes, its most striking feature being the introduction of the
child theme on the _oboe d'amore_, an instrument which has practically
fallen out of use.[160] The composer himself has spoken of this theme
as being of 'almost Haydnesque simplicity.' On this follows a very
characteristic passage, which has been interpreted as representing the
child in its bath.[161]

"[SCHERZO]

"The Scherzo bears the headings _Elternglück--Kindliche Spiele_
('Parents' Happiness'--'The Child at Play'). Its chief theme is the
child theme in a new rhythm. At its end the music suggestive of the
bath recurs, and the clock strikes seven. We then come to the lullaby,
where we have another version of the child theme.

"[ADAGIO]

"The sub-headings of the Adagio are _Schaffen und
Schauen--Liebes-scene--Träume und Sorgen_ ('Doing and Thinking'--'Love
Scene'--'Dreams and Cares'). This elaborate section introduces no new
themes of any importance, and is really a symphonic slow movement of
great polyphonic elaboration and superlatively rich orchestral color.
The gradual awakening of the family is next depicted by a change in
the character of the music, which becomes more and more restless, the
use of rhythmical variants of previous themes being very ingenious;
and then there is another reference to the bath music, and the
glockenspiel[162] indicates that it is 7 A.M.

"[FINALE]

"In this way we reach the final Fugue. The principal subject of this
is also a new version of the child theme. Its sub-title is _Lustiger
Streit--Fröhlicher Beschluss_ ('Merry Argument'--'Happy Conclusion'),
the subject of the dispute between father and mother being the future
of the son. The Fugue (the chief subject of which is another variant
of the child theme) is carried on with unflagging spirit and humor and
great variety of orchestration.... As the Fugue proceeds, the child
theme gradually grows more and more prominent, and finally seems to
dominate the whole score." ["The child seems to have hurt himself in
boisterous play," says another commentator. "The mother cares for
him, and the father also has a soothing word."] "Some new themes,
all more or less akin to it, and all in the nature of folk-tunes, are
introduced. The father and mother, however, soon assume their former
importance, and the whole ends with great spirit and in the highest
good-humor, with an emphatic reassertion of the husband theme with
which it began, suggesting that the father had the last word in the
argument."

FOOTNOTES:

[142] From the English version of John P. Jackson.

[143] See page 75 (foot-note).

[144] "Rubato": literally, "robbed"; in the phrase, "tempo rubato," a direction that the strict rhythm of the movement be relaxed by prolonging certain notes at the expense of others, which are thus "robbed" of their precise time-value.

[145] Alexander Ritter (1833-1896), composer, violinist, conductor (he married a niece of Wagner, an actress, Franziska Wagner), met Strauss at Meiningen in 1885, during the latter's term there as assistant conductor under Hans von Bülow. The acquaintanceship was of vital consequence to Strauss. "Before I knew Ritter," he himself has said, "I had been brought up in a severely classical school. I had been nourished exclusively on Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven; and then I became acquainted with Mendelssohn, Chopin, Schumann, and Brahms. It is only through Ritter that I came to understand Liszt and Wagner.... Ritter was exceptionally well-read in all the philosophers, ancient and modern, and a man of the highest culture. His influence was in the nature of a storm-wind. He urged me on to the development of the poetic, the expressive, in music, as exemplified in the works of Liszt, Wagner, and Berlioz."

[146] To comment upon this reference to a classic form of musical structure would lead too far afield, although Strauss's suggestion as to the form of his work is not altogether jocose.

[147] See page 12 (foot-note).

[148] See page 184 (foot-note).

[149] Friedrich Nietzsche, philosopher, poet, and mystic, was born at Röcken, near Lützen, Germany, October 15, 1844; he died insane at Weimar, August 28, 1900. He was, at one time, a close friend of Richard Wagner's and a passionate adherent and champion of his cause in the days when Wagnerism needed such devoted and effective advocacy as his. Later he became estranged from the author of "Parsifal," and his antagonism was as fervent as had been his partisanship. His bitter and savage _Der Fall Wagner_ (1888) is famous. _Also sprach Zarathustra_, written in 1883-1885, was published in 1892. Nietzsche's "Zarathustra," it may not be superfluous to add, has nothing whatever in common with the Zarathustra (Zoroaster) of the Persians.

[150] "The German word is _untergehen_; literally, to go below. It means both 'to perish' and 'to set' (as the sun sets)."--W. F. A.

[151] "In the original: '_ein Übergang und ein Untergang_'; literally, 'a going over and a going under.'"--W. F. A.

[152] "This title is in allusion to the old Northern _Ragnarök_--_Götterdämmerung_, or 'Twilight of the Gods'--which Wagner took for the title of the closing drama of his _Ring des Nibelungen_."--W. F. A.

[153] The titanic orchestral proclamation with which the tone-poem begins has been interpreted as a musical illustration of the opening paragraphs of the preface quoted in the score, suggesting the apparition of the rising sun on the mountain-tops, and Zarathustra's apostrophe. The trumpet theme which is intoned at the beginning of this passage over a _crescendo_ roar of the drums and organ has been called both the "Zarathustra" motive and the "Nature" theme.--L. G.

[154] See page 12 (foot-note).

[155] This and the foregoing translations from Cervantes are from the English version of Thomas Shelton.

[156] It has been held that Strauss is here autobiographic, that he here objectifies and pillories those critics of his own works "who have not been prudent enough to proclaim him great." For, Mr. James Huneker declares, "there can be no doubt as to the identity of the protagonist of this drama-symphony--it is the glorified image of Richard Strauss."

[157] See page 12 (foot-note).

[158] When the "Domestica" was first performed in London (February 25, 1905), Mr. Ernest Newman, discussing the stand-point of Strauss towards his works and the public, relieved his mind as follows (it is well to reproduce his comment here, since it may obviate some confusion in the thought of the reader unacquainted with the history of Strauss's relation to programme-music in general and his own in particular): "It has been said very confidently that here Strauss has forsaken programme-music and gone back to music of the absolute order; it has also been said, with equal confidence, that he has done nothing of the kind. Strauss himself has behaved as foolishly over it as he might have been expected to do after his previous exploits in the same line. He writes a work like 'Till Eulenspiegel,' that is based from start to finish on the most definite of episodes, and then goes through the heavy farce of 'mystifying' his hearers by telling them he prefers not to give them the clue to the episodes, but to leave them to 'crack the nut' as best they can. All the while he is giving clue after clue to his personal friends, till at length sufficient information is gathered to reconstruct the story that Strauss had worked upon; this gradually gets into all the programme books, and then we are able to listen to the work in the only way it can be listened to with any comprehension--with a full knowledge of the programme. With each new work of Strauss there is the same tomfoolery--one can use no milder word to describe proceedings that no doubt have a rude kind of German humor, but that strike other people as more than a trifle silly. So it is now with the 'Symphonia Domestica.'"

[159] The direction in the published score is _träumerisch_ ("dreamy").

[160] The _oboe d'amore_, or _hautbois d'amour_, invented about 1720, stands a minor third lower in pitch than the treble oboe. It fell into disuse soon after the middle of the eighteenth century. Though it is no longer part of the ordinary orchestral apparatus, it might be restored with advantage. Its use by Strauss is exceedingly effective.

[161] In this section of the symphony occur the celebrated genealogical references of the composer. Above a brief and emphatic ascending figure in the clarinets and trumpet is this note in the score: "The Aunts: 'Just like his papa!'" Oboes, horns, and trombone rejoin in an uncompromising _descending_ phrase which is superscribed: "The Uncles: 'Just like his mamma!'"

[162] See page 184 (foot-note).

TSCHAIKOWSKY

(_Peter Iljitsch Tschaikowsky: born in Votinsk, in the government of Viatka, Russia, May 7, 1840; died in St. Petersburg, November 6, 1893_)

"ROMEO AND JULIET," OVERTURE-FANTASIE[163]

"Romeo and Juliet" ("overture-fantasie after Shakespeare"), composed in 1869-70, is the second of Tschaikowsky's programmatic works for orchestra.[164] There is no note of any kind attached to the score; but according to responsible interpreters the music is concerned with definite aspects of Shakespeare's tragedy. At the start is presented the figure of Friar Laurence (churchly harmonies in the clarinets and bassoons); later, the conflict of the opposing houses, expressed in a tumultuous passage full of strife and fury. Then follows the love scene, introducing two themes of rich emotional suggestion. The first of these themes--the rhapsodic and song-like phrase announced by muted[165] violas and English horn--was used by Tschaikowsky in the fragmentary "Duo from 'Romeo and Juliet'" found among his papers after his death, where it voices these words sung by Romeo: _O nuit d'extase, arrête toi, O nuit d'amour, étends ton voile noir sur nous!_ ("O linger, night of ecstasy; O night of love, spread thy dark veil over us!"). The second theme--the lovely sequence of chords scored for muted and divided violins--forms, in the duet, the accompaniment to the impassioned dialogue of the enamoured pair in the chamber scene.[166] Following the love scene is a resumption of the stress and conflict of the first part, against which the solemn warning of Friar Laurence protests in vain. The lovers are again evoked, with more passionate insistence than before; there is a cumulative moment of arresting intensity; then, after a brief and portentous silence, a dolorous reminiscence of Romeo's ecstatic song, now dirge-like and woful (violins, 'cellos, bassoons; afterwards, declaimed with greater breadth, in the strings, with accompaniment of wood-wind, horns, and harp), brings the music to a close.

FANTASIA, "THE TEMPEST": Op. 18

During a visit to St. Petersburg in the winter of 1872-73, Tschaikowsky begged his friend Vladimir Stassov to suggest to him a subject for a symphonic fantasia--something, he preferred, Shakespearian. Stassov responded by sending Tschaikowsky a letter proposing "The Tempest" as a theme, and outlining, in elaborate and enthusiastic detail, the poetic and dramatic plan which, he conceived, should underlie the music. This scheme so appealed to Tschaikowsky that he announced his determination "to carry out every detail"; and, to judge from his own programme affixed to the score, he actually did so. Stassov's remarks, therefore, serve as the best possible commentary on the significance of Tschaikowsky's music. He wrote as follows:

"I ... rejoice in the prospect of your work, which should prove a
worthy pendant to your 'Romeo and Juliet' [see the preceding pages].
You ask whether it is necessary to introduce the tempest. Most
certainly. Undoubtedly, most undoubtedly. Without it ... the entire
programme would fall through. I have carefully weighed every incident,
with all their _pros_ and _cons_, and it would be a pity to upset
the whole business. I think the sea should be depicted twice--at
the opening and close of the work. In the introduction I pictured
it to myself as calm, until Prospero works his spell and the storm
begins. But I think this storm should be different from all others
[all other orchestral storms], in that it breaks out _at once_ in
all its fury, and does not, as generally happens, work itself up to
a climax by degrees. I suggest this original treatment because this
particular tempest is brought about by enchantment, and not, as in
most operas, oratorios, and symphonies, by natural agencies. When the
storm has abated, when its roaring, screeching, booming, and raging
have subsided, the Enchanted Island appears in all its beauty, and,
still more lovely, the maiden Miranda, who flits like a sunbeam over
the island. Her conversation with Prospero, and immediately afterwards
with Ferdinand, who fascinates her, and with whom she falls in love.
The love theme (_crescendo_) must resemble the expanding and blooming
of a flower; Shakespeare has thus depicted her at the close of the
first act, and I think this would be something well suited to your
muse. Then I would suggest the appearance of Caliban, the half-animal
slave; and then Ariel, whose motto you may find in Shakespeare's
lyric (at the end of the first act)--'Come unto these yellow sands.'
After Ariel, Ferdinand and Miranda should reappear; this time in a
phrase of glowing passion. Then the imposing figure of Prospero,
who relinquishes his magic arts and takes farewell of his past; and
finally the sea, calm and peaceful, which washes the shores of the
desert island, while the happy inhabitants are borne away in a ship to
distant Italy."

How faithfully Tschaikowsky adhered to this admirable plan is made evident by the following programme, which, in Russian and French, prefixes the score:

"The Sea. Ariel, spirit of the air, obedient to the will of the
magician Prospero, evokes a tempest. Wreck of the ship which carries
Ferdinand. The Enchanted Isle. First timid stirring of love between
Miranda and Ferdinand. Ariel. Caliban. The love-lorn couple abandon
themselves to the triumphant sway of passion. Prospero lays aside his
magical power and quits the isle. The Sea."

_La Tempête_ was begun early in August, 1873, and finished three months later. It is dedicated to Stassov. The work was produced at a concert of the Moscow Musical Society, December 19, 1873. In November of the following year it was performed in St. Petersburg. Stassov attended a rehearsal, and wrote frankly to Tschaikowsky concerning the music of which he was at least part creator:

"I have just come from the rehearsal for Saturday's concert. Your
'Tempest' was played for the first time. Rimsky-Korsakoff and I sat
alone in the empty hall and overflowed with delight.

"Your 'Tempest' is fascinating! Unlike any other work! The tempest
itself is not remarkable or new; Prospero, too, is nothing out of the
way, and at the close you have made a very common-place cadenza, such
as one might find in the finale of an Italian opera--these are three
blemishes. But all the rest is a marvel of marvels! Caliban, Ariel,
the love scene--all belong to the highest creations of art. In both
love scenes, what passion, what languor, what beauty! I know nothing
to compare with it. The wild, uncouth Caliban, the wonderful flights
of Ariel--these are creations of the first order. In this scene the
orchestration is enchanting.

"Rimsky and I send you our homage and heartiest congratulations upon
the completion of such a fine piece of workmanship."[167]

FANTASIA, "FRANCESCA DA RIMINI": Op. 32

Tschaikowsky visited Paris in the summer of 1876, and while there sketched the plan of a symphonic poem after Dante--"Francesca da Rimini." He had intended to write an opera based on this theme, and had considered a libretto on the subject prepared by one Zvantsieff. But the project was abandoned. In July of that year he wrote from Paris to his brother Modeste: "Early this morning I read through the fifth canto of the 'Inferno,' and was beset by the wish to compose a symphonic poem, 'Francesca da Rimini.' On October 26th he wrote from Moscow: "I have just finished a new work, the symphonic fantasia 'Francesca da Rimini.' I have worked on it _con amore_, and I believe that my love has brought with it success.... However, a just estimate of this work is impossible so long as it is not orchestrated and has not been played."

The fantasia was completed in November, 1876.

Prefaced to the score is this introduction:

"Dante arrives in the second circle of hell. He sees that here the
incontinent are punished, and their punishment is to be tormented
continually by the crudest winds under a gloomy air. Among these
tortured ones he recognizes Francesca da Rimini, who tells her story."

Then follows a quotation from the fifth canto of the "Inferno," beginning with Francesca's words:

"... _Nessun maggior dolore,
Che ricordasi del tempo felice
Nella miseria;_"

("... There is no greater pain
Than to recall a happier time
In misery;")

and ending with the concluding line of the canto--that is to say, twenty-one lines out of the hundred and forty comprised in the canto. Since it is, perhaps, well to recall the entire story as Dante relates it, in order that the scope and significance of Tschaikowsky's music may be understood, I quote the canto from beginning to end, in the extraordinarily careful and felicitous translation of Dr. John A. Carlyle:

"Thus I descended from the first circle down to the second,[168]
which encompasses less space, and so much greater pain, that it
stings to wailing. There Minos sits horrific, and grins; examines
the crimes upon the entrance; judges, and sends according as he
girds himself. I say that when the ill-born spirit comes before him
it confesses all; and that sin-discerner sees what place in hell is
for it, and with his tail makes as many circles round himself as the
degrees [the number of grades or circles] he will have to descend.
Always before him stands a crowd of them. They go each in its turn to
judgment; they tell and hear and then are whirled down.

"'O thou who comest to the abode of pain!' said Minos to me, leaving
the act of that great office when he saw me; 'look how thou enterest,
and in whom thou trustest. Let not the wideness of the entrance
deceive thee.'

"And my guide to him: 'Why criest thou? Hinder not his fated going.
Thus it is willed there where what is willed can be done; and ask no
more.'

"Now begin the doleful notes to reach me; now am I come where much
lamenting strikes me. I am come into a part void of all light, which
bellows like the sea in tempest when it is combated by warring winds.
The hellish storm, which never rests, leads the spirits with its
sweep; whirling and smiting, it vexes them. When they arrive before
the ruin, there the shrieks, the moanings, and the lamentation; there
they blaspheme the divine power.

"I learned that to such torment were doomed the carnal sinners who
subject reason to lust. And as their wings bear along the starlings,
at the cold season, in large and crowded troop, so that blast, the
evil spirits. Hither, thither, down, up, it leads them. No hope ever
comforts them, not of rest but even of less pain. And as the cranes
go chanting their lays, making a long streak of themselves in the
air, so I saw the shadows come, uttering wails, borne by that strife
of winds. Whereat I said: 'Master, who are those people whom the
black air thus lashes?'

"'The first of these concerning whom thou seekest to know,' he then
replied, 'was Empress of many tongues. With the vice of luxury she
was so broken that she made lust and law alike in her decree, to
take away the blame she had incurred. She is Semiramis, of whom we
read that she succeeded Ninus, and was his spouse. She held the land
which the Soldan rules. That other is she [Dido] who slew herself in
love and broke faith to the ashes of Sichæus. Next comes luxurious
Cleopatra.'

"Helena I saw, for whom so long a time of ill revolved; and I saw the
great Achilles, who fought at last with love. I saw Paris, Tristan.
And more than a thousand shades he showed to me, and with his finger
named them, whom love had parted from our life. After I had heard my
teacher name the olden dames and cavaliers, pity conquered me, and I
was as if bewildered.

"I began: 'Poet, willingly would I speak with these two that go
together, and seem so light upon the wind.'

"And he to me: 'Thou shalt see when they are nearer to us; and do
thou then entreat them by that love which leads them, and they will
come.'

"Soon as the wind bends them to us I raise my voice: 'O wearied
souls! come to speak with us, if none denies it.'

"As doves, called by desire, with open and steady wings fly through
the air to their loved nest, borne by their will, so those spirits
issued from the band where Dido is, coming to us through the
malignant air. Such was the force of my affectuous cry.

[Francesca speaks] "'O living creature, gracious and benign! that
goest through the black air, visiting us who stained the earth with
blood. If the King of the Universe were our friend, we would pray him
for thy peace, seeing that thou hast pity of our perverse misfortune.
Of that which it pleases thee to hear and to speak, we will hear and
speak with you, whilst the wind, as now, is silent.

"'The town[169] where I was born sits on the shore where Po descends
to rest with his attendant streams. Love, which is quickly caught in
gentle heart, took him with the fair body of which I was bereft; and
the manner still afflicts me. Love, which to no loved one permits
excuse from loving, took me so strongly with delight in him that,
as thou seest, even now it leaves me not. Love led us to one death.
Caïna [the place in the lowest circle of hell occupied by Cain and
other fratricides] waits for him who quenched our life.' These words
from them were offered to us.

"After I had heard those wounded souls, I bowed my face and held it
low until the Poet said to me: 'What art thou thinking of?'

"When I answered, I began: 'Ah me! what sweet thoughts, what longing
led them to the woful pass!'

"Then I turned again to them; and I spoke, and began: 'Francesca,
thy torments make me weep with grief and pity. But tell me: in the
time of the sweet sighs, by what and how love granted you to know the
dubious desires?'

"And she to me: 'No greater pain than to recall a happy time in
wretchedness; and this thy teacher knows. But, if thou hast such
desire to learn the first root of our love, I will do like one who
weeps and tells.[170]

"'One day, for pastime, we read of Lancelot,[171] how love
constrained him. We were alone and without all suspicion. Several
times that reading urged our eyes to meet and changed the color of
our faces. But one moment alone it was that overcame us. When we read
how the fond smile was kissed by such a lover, he who shall never be
divided from me kissed my mouth all trembling.

The book, and he who wrote it, was a Galeotto. That day we read in it
no further.'[172]

"Whilst the one spirit thus spake, the other wept so, that I fainted
with pity, as if I had been dying; and fell, as a dead body falls."

The opening section (_Andante lugubre_) of Tschaikowsky's fantasia evokes the sinister and dreadful scene which greeted Dante and Virgil as they entered the region of the second circle--the tempestuous winds, the wailing of the damned, the appalling gloom and horror of the place. "Pale, tormented, shadowy figures approach; they increase in number; orchestral spasm follow spasm; and then there is rest, there is awful silence." There follows a lull in the whirlwind, and a theme heard at the beginning (horns, cornet, trombones) "announces solemnly the approach of Francesca and Paolo. The wood-wind takes the theme, and a recitative leads to the second section of the fantasia, _Andante cantabile non troppo_." In this section the apparition of the two lovers is brought before us. "This middle part is especially beautiful," observes a German annotator, "on account of the original and vaporous accompaniment by three flutes of the chief theme. The ... motive of the first section enters ('cello) as the thought of remorse, but a delightful melody of the English horn and delicate harp-chords dispel the gloomy thoughts; and the picture of the two, happy in their all-absorbing, passionate, but disastrous love, is maintained. ["We seem," says Mrs. Rosa Newmarch of this passage, "to hear the spirit-voice of Francesca herself, from which all the horrors of hell have not taken the sweetness of human love and poignant memory."] Then the "lamenting ghosts" re-enter (_largamente_, wind instruments, then in the strings). "The lovers vanish in an orchestral storm." Saint-Saëns, in his lively _Portraits et Souvenirs_, makes some interesting comments on the music: "The gentlest and kindest of men," he writes, "has let loose a whirlwind in this work, and shows as little pity for his interpreters and hearers as Satan for sinners [here speaks the invincible classicist!].... A long, melodic phrase, the love song of Paolo and Francesca, soars above this tempest, this _bufera infernale_, which attracted Liszt before Tschaikowsky, and engendered his Dante Symphony [see pages 164-173]. Liszt's Francesca is more touching and more Italian in character than that of the great Slavonic composer; the whole work is so typical that we seem to see the profile of Dante projected in it. Tschaikowsky's art is more subtle, the outlines clearer, the material more attractive; from a purely musical point of view the work is better. Liszt's version is perhaps more to the taste of the poet or painter. On the whole, they can fitly stand side by side; either of them is worthy of Dante."

SYMPHONY No. 4, IN F MINOR: Op. 36

1. _Andante sostenuto_ _Moderato con anima in movimento
di valse_
2. _Andantino in modo di canzona_
3. _Scherzo, "Pizzicato ostinato": Allegro_
4. _Finale: Allegro con fuoco_

Tschaikowsky began this symphony in 1876, and completed it in the winter of 1877-78. The score bears the dedication: "To my Best Friend"; and behind the phrase lies a singular history, too long to be told here in full. The "best friend" was Nadeshda Filaretowna von Meck,[173] a widow living in Moscow. Exceedingly wealthy, she deeply admired the music of Tschaikowsky. She inquired concerning his pecuniary circumstances, and, learning that his means were straitened and that he was in debt, she sent him, in the summer of 1877, the sum of three thousand rubles. A correspondence had meanwhile begun between them (the first letter, from Mrs. von Meck, is dated December 30, 1876); she had given Tschaikowsky certain small commissions to do for her--transcriptions for violin and piano of certain of his works which she wished made--and for these she paid him generous fees. In the autumn of 1877 she asked him, with many apologies, to permit her to settle upon him an annual allowance of 6000 rubles (about $3000), that he might compose undisturbed by material cares. "If I wanted something from you," she wrote, "of course you would give it me--is it not so? Very well, then, we cry quits. Do not interfere with my management of your domestic economy, Peter Iljitsch." She desired and insisted that they should never meet or personally know each other; "the more you fascinate me, the more I shrink from knowing you," she wrote. Tschaikowsky accepted the settlement, and respected her wish concerning their intercourse. "I can only serve you," wrote the composer, "by means of my music. Nadeshda Filaretowna, every note which comes from my pen in future is dedicated to you!" They corresponded frequently, at length, and with the deepest intellectual and spiritual intimacy; but they never met. "When they accidentally came face to face," writes Tschaikowsky's brother Modeste, "they passed as total strangers. To the end of their days they never exchanged a word...."

Their correspondence, which extended over thirteen years, was abruptly and lamentably ended. In December, 1890, Tschaikowsky received a letter from his patroness informing him that she was on the brink of ruin, and that she would be obliged to discontinue his allowance; this, despite the fact that she had more than once declared to him that, no matter what occurred, his annuity was assured to him for life. As it happened, this curtailment of his income did not greatly affect Tschaikowsky's pecuniary situation, for he had come to know prosperity with his increasing fame; but he suffered keen anxiety on his friend's account. Not long after, it turned out that Mrs. von Meck's fortune was not seriously affected, after all--a turn of events which, however, brought misery to the hyper-sensitive soul of Tschaikowsky. He persuaded himself that Mrs. von Meck's announcement had been merely "an excuse to get rid of him on the first opportunity"; that he had been mistaken in idealizing his relations with his "best friend"; that his allowance had long since ceased to be the outcome of a generous impulse. "Such were my relations with her," he wrote at this time to a friend, "that I never felt oppressed by her generous gifts; but now they weigh upon me in retrospect. My pride is hurt; my faith in her unfailing readiness to help me, and to make any sacrifice for my sake, is betrayed." He thought of returning to her in full the money she had settled upon him, but feared to mortify her. He endeavored, both frankly and diplomatically, to renew their intercourse; but to no avail. She made no response whatever to his attempts to continue their relationship, either through letters or in response to overtures made by Tschaikowsky through mutual friends. He learned that she was ill--ill of "a terrible nervous disease, which changed her relations not only to him, but to others." Yet no illness, no misfortune, it seemed to him, could, as he wrote, "change the sentiments which were expressed in [her] letters."... "I would sooner," he declared, "have believed that the earth could fail beneath me than that our relations could suffer change. But the inconceivable has happened, and all my ideas of human nature, all my faith in the best of mankind, have been turned upside-down. My peace is broken, and the share of happiness fate has allotted me is embittered and spoiled." Two years later, on his death-bed, her name was constantly and feverishly on his lips, "in an indignant or reproachful tone," says Modeste. "... In the broken phrases of his last delirium these words alone were intelligible to those around him."[174] Nadeshda von Meck survived him by only two months. She died January 25, 1894.

The Fourth Symphony is closely bound up with this singular experience. Not only is it dedicated to Tschaikowsky's devoted benefactress, but he speaks of it repeatedly in his correspondence with her as "our" symphony. "May this music, which is so intimately associated with the thought of you," he wrote to her in November, 1877, "speak to you and tell you that I love you with all my heart and soul. O my best and incomparable friend!" That the symphony has a well-defined programme we know on the authority of the composer himself, though the score bears no descriptive title or prefatory note of any kind. Writing to Mrs. von Meck from Florence in March, 1878, Tschaikowsky sent this exposition of his music, which he accompanied with thematic illustrations:

"You ask if in composing this symphony I had a special programme in
view.... For _our_ symphony there is a programme. That is to say, it
is possible to express its contents in words, and I will tell you,
and you alone, the meaning of the entire work and of its separate
movements. Naturally, I can do so only as regards its general
features.

"[I. _Andante sostenuto; Moderato con anima in movimento di valse_]

"The Introduction is the kernel, the quintessence, the chief thought
of the whole symphony. [Tschaikowsky quotes the stern and threatening
opening theme, announced by horns and bassoons, _Andante_.] This is
Fate, the fatal power which hinders one in the pursuit of happiness
from gaining the goal, which jealously provides that peace and
comfort do not prevail, that the sky is not free from clouds--a
might that swings, like the sword of Damocles, constantly over the
head, that poisons continually the soul. This might is overpowering
and invincible. There is nothing to do but to submit and vainly to
complain. [Tschaikowsky quotes here the expressive theme for strings,
_Moderato con anima_.] The feeling of despondency and despair
grows ever stronger and more passionate. It is better to turn from
the realities and to lull one's self in dreams. [Clarinet solo,
accompanied by strings.] O joy! What a lovely and gentle dream! A
radiant being, promising happiness, floats before me and beckons me
on. The importunate first theme of the allegro is now heard afar off,
and now the soul is wholly enwrapped with dreams. There is no thought
of gloom and cheerlessness. Happiness! Happiness! Happiness!... No,
they are only dreams, and Fate dispels them. The whole of life is only
a constant alternation between dismal reality and flattering dreams of
happiness. There is no port: you will be tossed hither and thither
by the waves, until the sea swallows you. This, approximately, is the
programme of the first movement.

"[II. _Andantino, in modo di canzona_]

"The second movement shows suffering in another stage. It is a feeling
of melancholy such as fills one when one sits alone at home, exhausted
by work; the book has slipped out of one's hand; a swarm of memories
arise in one's mind. How sad that so much has been and is gone, and
yet it is pleasant to think of the days of one's youth. We regret the
past and have neither the courage nor the desire to begin a new life.
We are weary of life. We wish refreshment, retrospection. We think
of happy hours when our young blood still sparkled and effervesced
and life brought satisfaction. We think of moments of sadness and
irrepressible losses. But these things are far away, so far away! It
is sad, yet sweet, to pore over the past.

"[III. _Scherzo, "Pizzicato ostinato": Allegro_]

"No definite feelings find expression in the third movement. These
are capricious arabesques, intangible figures which flit through the
fancy as if one had drunk wine and become slightly intoxicated. The
mood is neither merry nor sad. We think of nothing, but give free
rein to the fancy which humors itself in drafting the most singular
lines. Suddenly there arises the memory of a drunken peasant and
a ribald song.... Military music passes by in the distance. Such
are the disconnected images which flit through the brain as one
sinks into slumber. They have nothing to do with reality; they are
incomprehensible, bizarre, fragmentary.

"[IV. _Finale: Allegro con fuoco_]

"Fourth movement. If you find no pleasure in yourself, look about you.
Go to the folk. See how it understands to be jolly, how it surrenders
itself to gaiety. The picture of a folk-holiday. Scarcely have you
forgotten yourself, scarcely have you had time to be absorbed in
the happiness of others, before untiring Fate again announces its
approach. The other children of men are not concerned with you. They
neither see nor feel that you are lonely and sad. How they enjoy
themselves, how happy they are! And will you maintain that everything
in the world is sad and gloomy? There is still happiness--simple,
native happiness. Rejoice in the happiness of others--and you can
still live.

"This is all that I can tell you, my dear friend, about the
symphony...."

"MANFRED," SYMPHONY IN FOUR TABLEAUX: Op. 58

1. _Lento lugubre; andante_
2. _Scherzo: Vivace con spirito_
3. _Pastorale: Andante con moto_
4. _Finale: Allegro con fuoco_

This symphony is frankly programme-music. It is not listed among Tschaikowsky's symphonies--where, in order of composition and opus number, it would stand between the Fourth (Op. 36, 1876-78) and the Fifth (Op. 64, 1888). "Manfred, Symphony in Four Tableaux, after the Dramatic Poem by Byron," was composed in 1885. The score contains the following preface, printed in French and Russian:

"I. Manfred wanders in the Alps. Tortured by the fatal anguish
of doubt, racked by remorse and despair, his soul is a prey to
sufferings without a name. Neither the occult science, whose
mysteries he has probed to the bottom, and by means of which the
gloomy powers of hell are subject to him, nor anything in the world
can give him the forgetfulness to which alone he aspires. The memory
of the fair Astarte, whom he has loved and lost, eats his heart.
Nothing can dispel the curse which weighs on Manfred's soul; and
without cessation, without truce, he is abandoned to the tortures of
the most atrocious despair.

"II. The Fairy of the Alps appears to Manfred beneath the rainbow of
the waterfall.

"III. Pastorale. Simple, free, and peaceful life of the mountaineers.

"IV. The underground palace of Arimanes. Manfred appears in the midst
of a bacchanal. Invocation of the ghost of Astarte. She foretells him
the end of his earthly woes. Manfred's death."[175]

I
(_Lento lugubre; andante_)

Manfred's despair and anguish, his inextinguishable longing and remorse, his fruitless quest after forgetfulness, form the emotional and dramatic burden of this movement. Manfred's theme is heard at the beginning--a sombre and tragic motive for bassoons and bass clarinet. There are also musical symbols for his passionate appeal for oblivion, for his occult powers, and for the thought of Astarte. "The movement should not be considered as panoramic in any sense. There is no attempt to depict any special scene, to translate into music any particular soliloquy. It is the soul of Manfred that the composer wishes to portray."

II
(_Scherzo: Vivace con spirito_)