Article on the revival of the debate about programmatic music

“The recent production of Wagner’s ‘Faust’ overture at Theodore Thomas’s last concert has attracted much attention and revived the old discussion as to the purely descriptive flowers of the musical art. The subject is interesting. There is, perhaps, no opinion more prevalent among the genuine lovers of music than that the divine art per se possesses the power of expressing, with the clearest intelligence, every sentiment and emotion of the human soul, as well as every idea that any composer of ability may attempt to convey to the understanding. Such an opinion as this may, we think, be attributed to the circumstance that music from time immemorial, has been the vehicle of words expressive of those emotions, and that we, consequently, have come to regard both as forming a simple unit, and to believe that the one does for us that for which we are in reality indebted to the other. Take for example the ‘Last Rose of Summer,’ at the hands of any instrumentalist, and we involuntarily accept it as the delightful exponent of the tender sentiment so exquisitely embodied in the well-known lines of Moore; but had we never heard the words before the music reached our ears, it would be quite a stretch of fancy on our part to suppose that the melody alone would have suggested to us the melancholy situation of the beautiful flower or have portrayed the questionable sympathy that in the last hours of its existence played with it like a mischievous kitten.

 

It is, of course, a very easy matter for composers of the Liszt or Wagner school to assume that whole episodes in romance or in everyday life can be expressed through the medium of music solely; but while they may be able to discover an appositeness in their labors to any preconceived, unspoken or unwritten libretto, the music only reaches those who are not conversant with the ideas that prompted it; and hence its utter vagueness, save in so far as it assimilates itself to certain sounds which are of themselves essentially unique and familiar, and which cannot be mistaken for any others. In this relation it may become intelligible without the aid of words; but when it purports to deal with abstract ideas or to embody all our thoughts and sentiments, we venture to believe it fails. The most it can do in this relation is of a negative description. It can, without doubt, refuse to land itself to words not consonant with the character it may assume in any given melody. For instance, the ’Barcarolle’ in ‘La Muette di Portici’ will not accept as its exponent ‘The Dying Christian’ of Pope, nor will the prayer from ‘Moses’ lie down with the rollicking text of ‘Rory O’More;’ although either composition will fraternize readily with words expressive of ideas differing from those to which they have been wedded.

 

And this brings us to the very point where we hope to hinge an argument that will command some attention among musicians, if it should happen to be new to them, and which cannot, we are inclined to believe, be rejected totally, in view of all the circumstances of the case. To be brief, then, we may say that music of itself is utterly incapable of expressing, with any degree of clearness, more than two emotions of the soul, and their modifications, and these are joy and grief. In these two relations it is independent of all spoken language, and makes itself felt as sensibly as though it were associated with words. And why? Simply because the natural tonal exponent of both these sentiments are its two modes, the major and the minor, as is evidenced by the fact that a hearty, ringing laugh is never heard in the minor or expressions of deepest woe in the major, while the reverse is frequently the case. In truth, it is impossible to wholly divest the minor of its tears or the major of its frank and open character; so that here we have a positive clew [sic] to the extent and nature of the unaided powers of music, and some evidence of the truth of the assumption that if we want it to aid in the expression of any other sentiments we must put words in its mouth to assist it. How great, then, are the embarrassments under which mere instrumental composers labor who fancy they can write an Indian on horseback or an avaricious old witch! and [sic] how great the amount of pleasure lost to those who cannot discover in music per se a fountain of delights that passes the measure of all commonplace things, and speaks a language higher than that of mortals.”