Overtones, a book of temperaments : $b Richard Strauss, Parsifal, Verdi, Balzac, Flaubert, Nietzsche, and Turgénieff — Nietzsche — John Shaqi
Overtones, a book of temperaments : $b Richard Strauss, Parsifal, Verdi, Balzac, Flaubert, Nietzsche, and Turgénieff
Nietzsche · en
Ernest Newman, in his Study of Wagner, an epoch-making work in
musical criticism, puts the question in its exact bearings. Wagner
is a great _musical_-dramatist—his dramas alone could not stand
on their legs, so otiose are they. His poetry, _quâ_ poetry, is
second-rate; but as “words for music,” words that fly well in the
wind of his inspiration, they are unique. This composer was harassed
all his life long by the word “drama.” He believed that a perfect
union of music and drama could be effected—vain dream—and wasted much
valuable time and good white paper trying to prove his thesis. To
the end his musical ruled his dramatic instincts; he was always the
composer. Tristan and Isolde is the most signal instance of this. Its
Greek-like severity of form in the book, its paucity of incident,
were so many barriers removed for the poet-composer who, hampered by
the awful weight of material in the Ring, had to write ineffectual
music at times.
Newman thinks that the last scene of Act II of Isolde and Tristan is
an anti-climax. From a theatric viewpoint, yes; but not so if Wagner
the composer be considered. If he had dropped the curtain on the
infatuated pair—as he does in Act I of Die Walküre—a whole skein of
the moving story would have been missing. The action is pulled up
with a jerk by Melot’s entrance; yet what follows is worth a volume
of plays with the conventional thrilling “curtain.” Think of the
drama without Marke’s speech, without that compassion and love which
Isolde and Tristan exhibit, oblivious to all about them! Besides, the
scene needs a quieter, withal more tragic, note than the endings of
Acts I and III. Suppose that the King, Tristan’s uncle, had been like
that other monarch sung of by Heinrich Heine:—
Oh, there’s a king, a grim old king, with beard both long and gray.
The king is old. The queen is young. Her face is fresh as May.
And there’s a lad, a laughing lad, so blithe and debonair,
The queen herself has chosen him, her silken train to bear.
How runs the tale, that good grave tale the peasant women tell?
“So both of them were put to death, for loving over well.”