CHAPTER XII

THE ROMANTIC COMPOSERS. SCHUBERT AND WEBER

During the latter part of Beethoven's life--he died in 1827--new currents were setting in, which were to influence profoundly the trend of modern music. Two important, though in some respects unconscious, representatives of these tendencies were actually working contemporaneously with Beethoven, von Weber (1786-1826) and Schubert (1797-1828). Beethoven himself is felt to be a dual personality in that he summed up and ratified all that was best in his predecessors, and pointed the way for most of the tendencies operative since his time. For the designation of these two contrasting, though not exclusive, ideals, the currently accepted terms are Classic and Romantic. So many shades of meaning have unfortunately been associated with the word Romantic that confusion of thought has arisen. It is also true that the so-called Romanticists, including poets and painters as well as musicians, in their endeavors to break loose from the formality of the Classic period, have indulged in many irritating idiosyncracies. We are beginning to see clearly that a too violent expression of individuality destroys a most vital factor in music--universality of appeal. Yet the Romantic School cannot be ignored. To its representatives we owe many of our finest works, and they were the prime movers in those strivings toward freedom and ideality which have made the modern world what it is. The term Romantic is perfectly clear in its application to literature, from which music borrowed it. It refers to the movement begun about the year 1796 among such German poets as Tieck, the two Schlegels and Novalis, to restore the poetic legends of the middle ages, written in the Romance dialects, and to embody in their own works the fantastic spirit of this medieval poetry.[173] In reference to music, however, the terms Classic and Romantic are often vague and misleading, and have had extreme interpretations put upon them.[174] Thus, to many, "romantic" implies ultra-sentimental, mawkish or grotesque, while everything "classic" is dry, uninspired and academic. How often we hear the expression, "I am not up to classic music; let me hear something modern and romantic." Many scholars show little respect for the terms and some would abolish them altogether. Everything, however, hinges upon a reasonable definition. Pater's well-known saying that "Romanticism is the addition of strangeness to beauty" is fair; and yet, since strangeness in art can result only from imaginative conception, it amounts to nothing more than the truism that romantic art is imbued with personality. Hence Stendhal is right in saying that "All good art was Romantic in its day"; _i.e._, it exhibited as much warmth and individuality as the spirit of its times would allow. Surely Bach, Haydn and Mozart were real characters, notwithstanding the restraint which the artificialities of the period often put upon their utterance. On the other hand, work at first pronounced to be romantic establishes, by a universal recognition of its merit, the claim to be considered classic, or set apart; what is romantic to-day thus growing to be classic[175] tomorrow. It is evident, therefore, that the terms interlock and are not mutually exclusive. It is a mistaken attitude to set one school off against the other, or to prove that one style is greater than the other; they are simply different. Compositions of lasting worth always manifest such a happy union of qualities that, in a broad sense, they may be called both romantic and classic, _i.e._, they combine personal emotion and imagination with breadth of meaning and solidity of structure.

[Footnote 173: For a more complete historical account see the article "Romantic" in Grove's Dictionary and the introduction to Vol. VI of _The Oxford History of Music_. _Rousseau and Romanticism_ by Professor Irving Babbitt presents the latest investigations in this important field.]

[Footnote 174: Some very sane comments may be found in Pratt's _History of Music_, pp. 427, 501, 502.]

[Footnote 175: "A _classic_ is properly a book"--and the same would be true of a musical composition--"which maintains itself by that happy coalescence of matter and style, that innate and requisite sympathy between the thought that gives life and the form that consents to every mood of grace and dignity, and which is something neither ancient nor modern, always new and incapable of growing old."

Lowell, _Among My Books_.]

Beginning, however, with Schubert and Weber--the two first representatives of the romantic group--there is a marked novelty of content and style; and if we drop the terms and confine ourselves to the inner evidence of the music itself, we note a difference which may be felt and to a certain extent formulated. To take extreme types for the sake of vivid contrast, let us compare the compositions of Haydn and Mozart with those of Berlioz and Liszt. In the former there is repose, restraint and a perfect finish in the structural presentation; a feeling of serenity comes over us as we listen. In the latter, a peculiar intensity of expression, an attempt to fascinate the listener by the most intimate kinds of appeal, especially to the senses and fancy, regardless of any liberties taken with former modes of treatment. The purely classical composer is always master of his subject, whereas the romanticist is often carried away by it. Classical works are objectively beautiful, commending themselves to everyone like works of nature, or, let us say, like decorative patterns in pure design. Romantic works are subjective, charged with individuality and demand a sensitive and sympathetic appreciation on the part of the hearer. It is evident that many of these tendencies are found clearly outlined in the works of Beethoven. In fact, as has been said, he was not only the climax of the classical school, but the founder of the new era--opening a door, as it were, into the possibilities of a more intense, specialized form of emotional utterance and a freer conception of form. These special characteristics were so fully developed by Beethoven's successors, Schubert, Weber, Schumann, Chopin, etc. that they are always grouped together as the Romantic School. A striking feature in this whole Romantic group is the early flowering of their genius and the shortness of their lives--Weber, forty years, Schubert, thirty-one, Schumann, forty-six, Mendelssohn, thirty-eight, Chopin, forty. In the case of all the composers we have hitherto studied, with the exception of Mozart, their masterpieces have been the result of long years of patient, technical study and hence show that finish and maturity of style which come only with time. But the precocity of the Romanticists is astounding! Many of Schubert's famous pieces were composed in his earliest manhood; Mendelssohn's _Midsummer Night's Dream_ Overture dates from his sixteenth year; Schumann's best pianoforte works were composed before he was thirty. The irresistible spontaneity and vigor of all these works largely atone for any blemishes in treatment. We feel somewhat the same in the case of Keats and Shelley in comparison with Milton, and are reminded of Wordsworth's lines, "Bliss was it in that hour to be alive, but to be young was very Heaven."[176] Why expect senatorial wisdom and the fancy of youth in any one person!

[Footnote 176: Compare also the definition of genius by Masters in the _Spoon River Anthology_:

"In youth my wings were strong and tireless, But I did not know the mountains. In age I knew the mountains But my weary wings could not follow my vision-- Genius is wisdom and youth."]

A most important distinction between a classical and a romantic composer is the knowledge and love of literature shown by the latter. Although Haydn kept a note-book on his London tours, and although we have a fair number of letters from Mozart, in neither of these men do we find any appreciation of general currents of thought and life. In many of Beethoven's works we have seen how close was the connection between literature and musical expression. All the Romantic composers, with the exception of Schubert, were broadly cultivated, and several could express themselves artistically in words as well as in notes. They may not have been on this account any better composers, as far as sheer creative vitality is concerned, but it is evident that their imaginations were nourished in quite a different way and hence a novel product was to be expected. Romantic music has been defined as a reflex of poetry expressed in musical terms, at times fairly trembling on the verge of speech. Music can not, to be sure, describe matters of fact, but the Romantic composers have brought it to a high degree of poetical suggestiveness. Thus the horn-calls of Weber and Schubert remind us of "the horns of Elfland faintly blowing" and much romantic music arouses our imaginations and enchants our senses in the same way as the lines of Keats where he tells of "Magic casements opening on the foam of perilous seas in fairy lands forlorn," the chief glory of which is not any precise intellectual idea they convey, but the fascinating picture which carries us from the land of hard and fast events into the realm of fancy. Schumann claimed that his object in writing music was so to influence the imagination of the listeners that they could go on dreaming for themselves. A second characteristic is the freedom of form. Considering that a free rein to their fancy was incompatible with strict adherence to traditional rules, the Romantic spirits refused to be bound by forms felt to be inadequate. Although this attitude sometimes resulted in diffuseness and obscurity, on the whole (as Goethe says of romantic literature) "a wider and more varied subject matter and a freer form has been attained." The chief aim of romantic art being to arouse the imagination, we find a predilection for the use of solo wood-wind instruments, which are capable of such warmth and variety of tone-color. Whereas in the classical masters, and even generally in Beethoven, the melodies are likely to be the upper voice of a harmonic mass, or assigned to groups of instruments, Weber and Schubert in particular showed the eloquence to be gained by the use of such warm-blooded _solo_ instruments as the horn, the oboe and the clarinet. Schubert fairly conjures with the horn, often holding us spellbound with its haunting appeal, _e.g._, in the well-known second movement of the C major Symphony, the calls of which, as Schumann said, "seem to come from another world." Schubert was anything but a thinker, and reflected unconsciously the tendencies which were in the air; but his wonderful gift of lyric melody was thoroughly in keeping with the individual expression for which Romanticism stood. He said himself that his compositions were the direct result of his inmost sorrows. He was steeped in romantic poetry and the glowing fancy in his best work leads us to condone the occasional prolixity referred to by Schumann as "heavenly length." Schubert was well named by Liszt the most poetic of musicians, _i.e._, a creator of pure beauty which enthralls the imagination of the hearer. Why expect the work of any one composer to manifest all possible merits? If we crave dynamic power of emotion or sublimity of thought we may have recourse to Bach and Beethoven; but the spontaneous charm of Schubert never grows old; and it is not without interest to note that his music fulfils the definition of one of the most poetic composers of our time, Debussy, who claims that music is chiefly meant "to give pleasure."

We note these same tendencies in Weber as shown in the overtures to his three Romantic operas, _Der Freischütz_, _Euryanthe_ and _Oberon_, which are the foundations of the modern art of dramatic orchestration, _i.e._, the intensification of certain ideas and situations by the special tone color and register of solo-instruments or by a novel use of customary means, _e.g._, the divided violins in the mysterious passage of the _Euryanthe_ overture. Another favorite means of arresting the attention was by modulation; not used in a constructive sense, simply to pass from one point to another, or to connect themes in different keys, but to furnish the ear with a purely sensuous delight, corresponding to that which the eye derives from the kaleidoscopic colors of a sunset. The works of Schubert, Chopin and to a lesser degree of Schumann abound in these shifting harmonies by which we seem to be wafted along on a magic carpet. A final characteristic, shared by all the Romantic composers, is the prevalence of titles--the logical result of the close connection between music, literature and the world of outward events,--thus Mendelssohn's Overture to the _Midsummer Night's Dream_ with its romantic opening chords, his _Hebrides_ Overture, the musical record of a trip to Scotland, and Schumann's _Manfred_, from Byron. Liszt even went so far as to draw inspiration from a painting, as in his _Battle of the Huns_, and again from a beautiful vase in _Orpheus_.

We shall now make a few specific comments on the style of Schubert and Weber and then analyze some of their representative works. Schubert was a born composer of songs, and though his works for Pianoforte, String quartet and Orchestra were of marked significance and have proved of lasting value, the instinct for highly individualized, lyric melody predominates, and all his instrumental compositions may fairly be called "Songs without words."[177] It is evident that the solo-song, unencumbered by structural considerations, is one of the best media for expressing the Romantic spirit, and many of its fairest fruits are found in this field. Schubert's songs are often tone-dramas in which the expressive powers of music are most eloquently employed.[178] Note the poetic touches of character-drawing and of description in the _Young Nun_ (see Supplement No. 50). Schubert's pianoforte compositions are miniature tone-poems, mood-pictures--their titles: _Impromptus_ and _Moments Musicaux_, speak for themselves--making no pretense to the scope and elaborate structure of movements in Sonata-form,[179] yet of great import not only for their intrinsic beauty but as the prototypes of the numerous lyric and descriptive pieces of Schumann, Brahms, Grieg, Debussy and others. Their charm lies in the heart-felt melodies and surprising modulations. While neither sublime nor deeply introspective, they make the simple, direct appeal of a lovely flower. In the development of music they are as important as the modern short story in the field of literature; which, in distinction to the old "three-decker" novel, often really _says more_ and says it so concisely that our interest never flags. This tendency to the short, independent piece had been begun by Beethoven in his _Bagatelles_ (French "trifles"); but these, as has been aptly said, were "mere chips from the work-shop" whereas in a short piece of Schubert we find the quintessence of his genius. He was a prolific composer in the field of chamber music, and the Trios for Violin, 'Cello and Pianoforte, the A minor Quartet, the C major Quintet and, above all, the posthumous Quartet in D minor, which contains the entrancing Variations on the song _Death and the Maiden_, are still as fresh as when they were composed. In these works we do not look for architectonic power--we must admit, in fact, at the risk of seeming ungracious, that Schubert is diffuse at times--but our senses are so enthralled by the imaginative freedom and by the splendor of color, that all purely intellectual judgment is suspended. The magician works his wonders; it is for us to enjoy. We have from Schubert seven complete Symphonies and the so-called _Unfinished in B minor_, _i.e._, the first two movements and the fragment of a Scherzo. Of these the _Fourth_ (_Tragic_), composed in 1816, foreshadows the real Schubert and is occasionally heard to-day. But the immortal ones are the B minor and the C major, the latter composed in 1828 (the last year of his life) and never heard by its author.[180] Of this work Schumann said that "a tenth Muse had been added to the nine of Beethoven." This symphony is specially characterized by the incorporation of Hungarian types of melody, particularly in the first and in the last movement. It is indeed a storehouse of beauty, but the "high moments" are in the last two movements--the fairly intoxicating Trio of the Scherzo, which seems as if Nature herself were singing to us, and the gorgeous Finale with its throbbing rhythms. The first movement is laid out on a vast scale and holds the attention throughout, but the second movement, notwithstanding its wondrous theme, suffers from a lack of concentration; the sweetness is so long-drawn out that we become sated.

[Footnote 177: Schubert was of incredible versatility and fecundity; he literally tried his hand at everything: operas, church-music, ensemble combinations. Since, however, he exercised little power of selection or revision much of this music has become obsolete. The joke is well-known that he could set a theatre notice to music, and his rule for composing was "When I have finished one song I begin another."]

[Footnote 178: For an original, though at times rhapsodic, study of Schubert's vocal style see H.T. Finck's _Songs and Song Writers_, and the last chapter of the Fifth Volume of the Oxford History.]

[Footnote 179: Schubert did compose a number of Pianoforte Sonatas in the conventional form, but with the exception of the one in A minor they seem diffuse and do not represent him at his best; they certainly have not held their own in modern appeal.]

[Footnote 180: For the account of its exciting discovery in Vienna by Schumann in 1838, after a neglect of ten years, see the life of Schubert in Grove's Dictionary.]

As examples[181] for analytical comment we select the Menuetto in B minor from the Fantasia for Pianoforte, op. 78; the fourth Impromptu in A-flat major from the set, op. 90, and the B minor Symphony for orchestra. The Menuetto, though one of Schubert's simpler pieces--the first part in an idealized Mozartian vein--yet exemplifies in the Trio one of the composer's most characteristic traits, the predilection for those bewitching alternations,[182] like sunlight and shadow, between the major and the minor mode.

[Footnote 181: For lack of space no one of these compositions is cited in the Supplement, but they are all readily available.]

[Footnote 182: This tendency is prevalent in folk-music, especially that of the Russians and Scandinavians. Schubert, however, was the _first_ to make such systematic and artistic use of the effect. For a beautiful modern example see the Spanish folk-dance by Granados, _e.g._,

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The Impromptu in A-flat major, one of several equally fine ones, is notable for the wealth of its iridescent modulations and for the note of genuine pathos and passion in the middle portion in the minor mode. Schubert might well say that his most inspired music came from his sorrows.

The _Unfinished Symphony_ requires less comment and elucidation than perhaps any other symphonic composition. The two movements are in definite Sonata-form--the first, strict, the second, with modifications; but the quality of the themes is quite different from that to which we have been accustomed in classical treatment. Instead of the terse, characteristic motive which, often at first uncompromisingly bare, impresses us as its latent possibilities are revealed, we have a series of lyric, periodic melodies which make their instant appeal. In Schubert everything sings; thus in the first part of the Exposition of the Allegro we have _three_ distinct melodies: the introductory phrase, the accompaniment figure which has a melodic line of its own, and the first theme proper. In any consideration of this work from a pianoforte version we must always remember how much the beauty and eloquence of the themes depend upon the solo instruments to which they are assigned. For Schubert was one of the first, as well as one of the greatest, of "Colorists." By the use of this pictorial term in music we mean that the tone-quality of certain instruments--the mellow, far-echoing effect of the horn, the tang of the oboe, the passionate warmth of the clarinet[183]--appeals to our sense of hearing in the same way in which beautiful colors--the green grass, the blue sky, the hues of a sunset--delight our sight. A striking example of Schubert's genius in utilizing tone-color to suit structural needs is found in the transition beginning at measure 38. This is a single tone on the horn (with a modulatory ending) announced _forte_ and then allowed to die away, _i.e._, _sf_ [decrescendo symbol]. So powerful is the horn in evoking a spirit of suspense and revery that this tone introduces the beautiful, swaying second theme more impressively than a whole series of routine modulations. The Development speaks for itself. Though there is little polyphonic treatment, it holds our interest by reason of the harmonic variety and the dramatic touches of orchestration. In Schubert we do not look for the development of a complicated plot but give ourselves up unreservedly to the enjoyment of pure melodic line, couched in terms of sensuously delightful tone-color. The transitional passage of the Recapitulation (measures 231-253) illustrates Schubert's fondness for modulation just for its own sake; we care not what the objective point of the music may be--enthralled, as we are, by the magical shifts of scene. In the Second Movement, likewise, the chief beauty--especially of the second theme--consists in the lyric quality, in the color of the solo instruments, the oboe, clarinet and horn, and in the enharmonic changes, _e.g._, where, in measures 80-95, the theme modulates from C-sharp minor to D-flat major. Note in the orchestral score the charming dialogue in this passage between the clarinet, oboe and flute. The Development, based upon the second theme, with some effective canonic treatment, shows that Schubert was by no means entirely lacking in polyphonic skill. At any rate he can work wonders with the horn, for at the close of the Development (measures 134-142) by the simple device of an octave leap, _ppp_, he veritably transports the listener, _e.g._

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The Coda has a dream-like quality all its own.

[Footnote 183: So appropriately called by Berlioz the "heroine of the orchestra."]

Weber's permanent contribution to musical literature has proved to be his operas--a form of art not treated in this book. But the whole nature of his genius was so closely related to the Romantic spirit, as shown in the intimate connection between literature and music, in his descriptive powers and his development of the orchestra, that for the sake of comprehensiveness some familiarity should be gained with the essential features of his style. Of Weber it may be said with conviction that there is hardly a composer of acknowledged rank in whom style, _i.e._, the way and the medium by which musical thought is presented, so prevails over the substance of the thought itself. There are few if any of Weber's melodies which are notable for creative power, and as a harmonist he was lamentably weak. It has been scathingly said, though with considerable truth, that all his melodies are based upon an alternation of tonic and dominant chords![184] But when we consider what his themes are meant to describe, the pictures they evoke and their orchestral dress, we must acknowledge in Weber the touch of real poetic genius. To quote Runciman[185]--

"If you look, and look rightly, for the right thing in Weber's music, disappointment is impossible, though I admit that the man who professes to find there the great qualities he finds in Mozart, Beethoven, or any of the giants, must be in a very sad case. Grandeur, pure beauty, and high expressiveness are alike wanting. Weber's claim to a place amongst the composers is supported in a lesser degree by the gifts which he shared, even if his share was small, with the greater masters of music, than by his miraculous power of vividly drawing and painting in music the things that kindled his imagination. Being a factor of the Romantic movement, that mighty rebellion against the tyranny of a world of footrules and ledgers, he lived in a world where two and two might make five or seven or any number you pleased, and where footrules were unknown; he took small interest in drama taken out of the lives of ordinary men and enacted amidst every-day surroundings; his imagination lit up only when he thought of haunted glens and ghouls and evil spirits, the fantastic world and life that goes on underneath the ocean, or of men or women held by ghastly spells."

[Footnote 184: A striking illustration of this progression (surely Weber's most characteristic mannerism) is naïvely supplied by Weingartner; when, in his own orchestral arrangement of Weber's _Invitation to the Dance_, for the final climax he assembles all the leading themes in combination--an effect made possible only by their common harmonic basis.]

[Footnote 185: This whole article is well worth reading and may be found in that breezy though somewhat erratic volume called _Old Scores and New Readings_.]

Weber's present-day fame rests upon the Overtures to his three operas of _Der Freischütz_, _Euryanthe_ and _Oberon_, which are often played in detached concert form and hold their own for their romantic glow and for the brilliancy of orchestral effect. By employing for his thematic material the leading melodies of the operas themselves Weber has created what may be called epitomized dramas which, if we have any knowledge of what the titles imply, present us with realistic pictures. For the use of special tone-color to enhance the dramatic situation Weber is the precursor of that type of orchestration which has reached such heights in Wagner and other moderns. From the above comments it is evident that only the barest idea of the Overtures can be gained from a pianoforte version; we have selected _Oberon_[186] because it suffers less than either of the others. Everyone, however, should become familiar with the mysterious, boding passage in the introduction to _Der Freischütz_ (taken from the scene in the Wolf's Glen) and the Intermezzo from _Euryanthe_ for muted, divided strings,[187] which accompanies the apparition of the ghost. This is _genuine_ descriptive music for it really _sounds ghostly_. (See Supplement No. 51.)

[Footnote 186: Not given in the Supplement since good arrangements for two and four hands are numerous. To gain the real effect the student is strongly advised to consult the orchestral score.]

[Footnote 187: The genesis of so many similar effects in modern music, notably in Wagner.]

The _Oberon Overture in D major_, begins with the intoning of the motto of Oberon's magic horn, and then follows a passage for muted strings (piano e adagio sostenuto) and for delicate combinations of the wood-wind instruments, which gives us a picture of the moonlit glens of fairyland, peopled with airy spirits. The vision is dispelled by a sudden _ff_ chord for full orchestra which, from its setting, is one of the loudest effects in music, thoroughly characteristic of Weber's penchant for dramatic contrast. The main body of the work (allegro con fuoco) opens with a dashing theme for the strings of great brilliancy, most typical of Weber. Though we may feel that it has little substance (note the tonic and dominant foundation of the harmony) we cannot be insensible to its abounding vigor. It is not alone the ponderous things which should move our imaginations; even a soap-bubble is a wonderful phenomenon. The theme is expanded to a climax, in measure 28 (counting from the allegro), of great sonority and considerable harmonic boldness. After some reminiscent appearances of the introductory horn-call, a long-sustained dominant note introduces the second theme which seems a bit cloying, to be sure, but is just suited to the melting tone-color of the clarinet. The closing theme borders on triviality; the Exposition ends, however, with some exceedingly brilliant improvisations on the rhythmic figure of the main theme. The following Development is rather flimsy and we need expend upon it no critical powder. Weber was a great colorist but not a great architect. These qualities are united only too seldom. In the Recapitulation, which is shortened by the omission of the second theme--rather overworked in the Development--he is once more on his own ground of rhythmic life and dazzling orchestral color. At the close we are convinced that the overture has accomplished its purpose of graphically depicting the revels of Fairy-land.

Although they are seldom[188] played to-day, no account of Weber would be complete which entirely passed over his compositions for the Pianoforte, _i.e._, the four Sonatas, the concert piece in F minor and the originally conceived _Invitation to the Dance_, often played in the orchestral version of Berlioz which is so much better than the inflated, bombastic one by Weingartner. Weber is classed as one of the founders of the "brilliant school" of pianoforte playing which, chiefly through the genius of Franz Liszt, has done so much to enlarge the sonorous and coloristic possibilities of the instrument. Here again Weber's fame rests more upon his influence than upon lasting achievement; as to the importance of this influence, however, there can be no doubt.

[Footnote 188: Perhaps the whirligig of time may restore them; who can say?]

The student will be repaid for informing[189] himself as fully as possible concerning Weber's career and artistic ideals, for he was a genuine though early exponent of Romantic tendencies. Of marked versatility, of no mean literary skill and of such social magnetism and charm that he might properly be considered a man of the world, as well as an artist, Weber was thus enabled to do pioneer work in raising the standard of musicianship and in bringing the art of music and ordinary, daily life into closer touch.

[Footnote 189: The life in Grove's Dictionary is well worth while; there are essays by Krehbiel and others and, above all, the biographical and critical accounts in the two French series: _Les Musiciens Célèbres_, and _Les Maîtres de la Musique_.]