When we come to examine Franz’s songs in detail we discover an astonishing subtlety and variety of method and expression within the superficially narrow limits he allowed himself. Probably no other song composer save Hugo Wolf has made each one of his songs so perfectly individual. We find this individuality first in the outline and superficial character of the melody; next we discover it in the technical methods and devices used in development and elaboration; finally, we trace it in all the niceties of ornament and prove the absolute fitness down to the last note. Franz’s peculiar success in all this is due, of course, first of all to selection of themes which are very accurately adjusted to the end in view. A poetic melody, an accompanying figure which provides just the right suggestion, and we have the materials for a fine song. In a majority of cases we have the whole thematic material for the song in the first three or four measures. The simple germ is developed without the introduction of extraneous matter, yet without a suggestion of vain repetition. When we consider that the majority of the songs are in the strophic form (and the strophe is usually very brief) we may realize the artistry which achieved utter individuality within the space of a few bars. In other words, the perfection of Franz’s songs comes not from elaboration but from selection—the test, as we have so often pointed out, of the true lyric composer.
Franz’s melody is likely to veil itself against the first glance. It is always beautiful and well proportioned, but it so persistently avoids striking effects that it is apt to seem colorless. But if we listen with our inner ears we shall find it eloquent. Avoiding the striking, Franz’s melody also avoids the obvious and at first hearing we are apt to find it a trifle aimless and meandering. But its continuous subtle deviations from the expected are never without purpose, and never, if we know how to listen, without meaning. Usually, too, there is little or no obvious design, no striking climax point, no resounding cadence. But here again we need only look beneath the surface to discover the most restful and satisfying architecture. Though the emotional color may be almost unvarying from beginning to end,though the final note of the voice may not be on the tonic and may glide in the piano postlude, yet we discover that if any note had been changed the whole would have been less perfect. These qualities we find in their simplest form in such masterpieces asWidmungandBitte, songs simple as any folk-song yet rich with conscious artistry. Franz’s harmony is not radical or striking. It contains practically nothing which could not be found in Schumann before him; we might almost say that it contains nothing that could not be found in the Beethoven sonatas. He is fluent though not frequent with modulation; his greatest radicalism is a stimulating use of altered chords and passing notes. In fact, his harmony is in every way more conservative than that of Schumann; for, whereas Schumann was professedly an innovator, Franz loved best the old German tradition—that of the Bach fugues and the Lutheran chorale.
Franz’s treatment of the words is individual. Few song writers have ever set their texts with more conscientious regard for the niceties of metre and accent. Yet it is musical design and not verbal peculiarities which determines his melodic line. The melody is always and beyond all a melody. The perfect marriage of words and music in Franz comes from his selection of melodies which would nicely fit the words in hand. Neither is strained; neither is sacrificed to the other. In this respect Franz is surpassed by no song writer who ever lived. Now and then the melody is so handled as to seem like very reserved declamation, but even these instances are rare. Franz was not a purist in the setting of his texts; he did hold strictly to the ‘one syllable one note’ principle. Not infrequently he uses the slurred phrase on a single vowel. But we can never feel that this was done out of a careless disregard for the integrity of the text. In his accompaniment Franz is even greater than in his treatment of the voice. Itis here that his extreme artistry becomes most evident. The accompaniment is always rich, always a thing of value in itself. Usually it would make a perfectly satisfactory musical composition alone. It is so well filled with musical beauties that with a little more emphasis it might overpower the voice part. But always it is kept nicely in its proper function. In no other song writer are the voice and piano parts so perfectly fused. In Franz’s accompaniments is shown his great musical resourcefulness. No two are alike. Nearly all the recognized means are used—solid chords, broken chords, melodic figurations over a spread bass, four-part chorales with free passing notes, contrapuntal melodies against the voice, suggestive devices innumerable. But in every case the germ principle is simple and is strictly adhered to throughout. Franz’s accompaniments are, as a whole, more polyphonic than those of any other song writer. In the greater part of his songs the inner notes do not serve merely for harmonic filling-in; they are parts of individual voices which are preserved in their integrity. In all these songs there is nothing ambitious or spectacular. But so deeply based is his musicianship that we may say that anyone who knows the Franz songs accurately knows in epitome the whole development of German classical music. Moreover, they are the finest of cultural exercises. For one who has learned to love the Franz songs has learned one of the most precious things music has to give—the art oflistening.
The germ figures which Franz uses in his accompaniments are almost endless in their variety. Sometimes they are, in a restrained way, highly picturesque. We may point out the triplets inWas pocht mein Herz so sehr?, the suggestion of ripples inAuf dem Meere, the broken accompaniment inEs treibt mich hin, the delicate trill which persists throughAch, wenn ich doch ein Immchen wär, the long rolling diatonic figure inMeeresstille, and so on through innumerable instances. The attainment of the most exquisite beauty within the smallest limits may be studied inWidmung,Deine weissen Lilienfinger,Leise zieht durch mein Gemüth, andTreibt der Sommer seinen Rosen, the last a remarkable example of a song built up out of the repetition of the briefest of units, yet without monotony. Franz’s range of expression is usually limited to the tender and graceful. He has not succeeded in the mood of tragedy or deep emotion. But several of his songs are powerfully energetic, witnessFrühlingsfeierandDas ist ein Brausen und Heulen. The dramatic element, too, is almost entirely absent, though in such a song asChilde Haroldwe have something approaching it. The influence of the chorale, of which traces are to be found in nearly every one of the songs, is predominant in such ones asGute Nacht,Wenn sich zwei Herzen Scheiden,Habt ihr sie schön gesehen,Stille Liebe,In der Fremde,Der Schmetterling ist in die Rose verliebt, andFrühling, as well as others already mentioned.
To name all the Franz songs which are distinguished in musical beauty and workmanship would be to name the best portion of his life work. But we may point out as of especial beauty (in addition to those already named)Auf geheimen Waldespfade,Auf dem Teich,Der Sommer ist schön,Die Welt ist so öd,Im Friedhof,Im Walde,Für Musik,Im Mai,Ich hab’ in deinen Augen,Der junge Tag erwacht, andEr ist gekommen.
We have seen in a previous chapter how Schubert, having created one supremely great ballad, failed ever to write another. So the task of creating the art-ballad fell not upon his shoulders but upon those of another, Johann Carl Gottfried Löwe, who was born in NorthGermany in 1796, almost at the same time as Schubert, and long outlived the gentle Viennese composer. Löwe wrote a quantity of choral and church music, but he is chiefly known for his numerous ballads, which he made known throughout Europe in his own concert tours and which have pretty well held their own to this day, in spite of serious drawbacks. Löwe’s songs were almost solely in the ballad form. To this he gave his best talents, which were marked though uneven. Undoubtedly he was an artist, working with sincerity and reserve in a form which, more than most forms, would tempt a composer to artistic excess. Add to this the fact that Löwe was not endowed with a rich fund of musical ideas (at least from the standpoint of pure beauty) and we must pay considerable respect to the man who stuck to his guns as he did and produced such a sincere and admirable body of work as he did. Löwe’s ballads are descriptive in the highest degree. Every resource that the composer has at his command he calls upon to make the scene pictorial and vivid. In his search for effects he stumbled upon many musical devices which must have proved valuable to later composers. His harmony, considering the time in which he worked, is free and daring. His modulation goes by direct chromatic progression to the most remote keys. Dissonance he uses freely for poignant effect. But the great fault is that he was not a melodist. Melody is, of course, not needed in the ballad as it is in the lyric, but none the less the composer who cannot call forth a beautiful melody when he needs it must jog along as a second-rate artist. It is the lack of melody which we miss most in Löwe’s ballads. Melody is obviously absent because the composer could not command it, not because he chose not to use it. Time and again he writes what is meant to be, and perhaps was believed to be, a pleasing tune. But too often it is only empty and angular. It was in developing the form and techniqueof the art-ballad that Löwe performed his chief service to music.
Apart from this failing in point of melody many of Löwe’s ballads are altogether admirable. He caught the spirit of the ballad as few others have, that spirit expressed so well in Goethe’s words: ‘The ballad requires a mystical touch, by which the mind of the reader is brought into that frame of undefined sympathy and awe which men unavoidably feel when face to face with the miraculous or with the mighty forces of nature.’ Löwe’s resource in the invention of picturesque musical formulas is very great. With his fine sense of drama he managed to make his best ballads impressive and moving. In theErlkingor ‘Sir Oluf’ we feel (if they are well sung) that we are living through a great life experience with the characters represented. HisErlkingis not comparable with Schubert’s in loveliness. But it emphasizes the dramatic elements of the poems as Schubert did not try to and probably could not have done if he had tried. The galloping of the horse is represented graphically in the accompaniment. The three characters speak in three different kinds of voice—the father’s is quiet and low, the son’s high and excited, the Erlking’s eerie and unsubstantial. The Erlking’s speeches are all in G major and on the notes of the tonic chord. For the effective delivery of the song there are demanded not only dramatic fire and intensity of emotional expression, but the careful differentiation of the three qualities of voice.
One of the finest of the ballads is ‘Sir Oluf,’ in which there are four speaking characters and an abundance of picturesque stage machinery. Sir Oluf, riding through the forest on his way to his wedding, is accosted by the elves and invited to dance, with the fatal consequences usual in ballads. Oluf’s ride is described in a stirringallegro vivacein the introduction, and the dance of the elves is pictured in a charming passage.Another of the great ballads, perhaps the best known of all, is ‘Edward,’ the text being that of the famous Scotch folk-ballad of the same name. (Brahms wrote a piano piece on the subject, and also set the words as a duet.) The dramatic power is gained from the repetition many times over of an incisive emotional phrase. The whole effect is broad and tragic. Among the many others of Löwe’s ballads which are worthy of study and of frequent inclusion in concert programmes we may mention ‘Henry the Fowler,’ ‘The Moorish Prince,’ and ‘Odin’s Ride Over the Sea.’
Few composers have given their best to the ballad form. This is a pity, because no single form of poetry has such a universal and direct appeal as the condensed dramatic story in verse. No type of poetry is more difficult to write with sincerity and human truthfulness. The ballad has remained almost as it was in the beginning, the peculiar property of folk-art. It is, on the other hand, the easiest form for a musician to abuse, the one which tempts most to cheap and clumsy effects. Löwe is one of the few composers who has given his best to the ballad form and, while that best is far inferior to what a first-rate genius would have done, it is too stimulating and suggestive to be absent from any singer’s cultural equipment.