THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

Evening Star, Issue 21218, 27 September 1932, Page 3

THOUGHTS ABOUT MUSIC

[By L.D.A.J

Music gives tone to the universe; wings to the mind; flight to the imagination; a charm to sadness; gaiety and life to everything.Plato. One of the most popular songs of the day informs us, in accents of melodious insistence that we will remember Vienna, the fairyland of fame. It seems something of a coincidence, the vogue of this particular song, in a year which chronicles the bi-ccntcnary of Haydn, beside the local revival of Mozart, two of the many musical celebrities identified with the famous Austrian city. The importance of Vienna in the histdry of music can hardly be over-estimated; it was the birthplace of Schubert, Banner, and Johann Strauss, the adopted home of Beethoven and Brahms; and in it died such immortals as Bruckner, Gluck, Havdn Mozart, Mahler, and Hugo Wolf. ’ Despite the war-time vicissitudes which humbled \ ienna to the dust, the city has not abated one iota of its musical prestige; on the contrary, its standing is probably higher than ever before, and. with returned prosperity, Vienna is again indisputably the musician’s Mecca.

Hosts of other names distinguished in niusic are also associated with the Austrian capital. Richard Strauss is permanently settled there, whilst among those who at various times have helped to enhance its artistic atmosphere we find such names as Richtei, Schalk, Bruno Walter, Anton Rubinstein. Otto Nicolai, Ernst Mottl, Joachim, Eritz Kreisler, and many more of whom lack of space will not permit mention; but we must not omit the great Richard Wagner, \yho conducted several of his works at concerts of the ‘ Wiener Philharmoniker in the early ’sixties. Most of the personages here alluded to are commemorated bv inscriptions in various parts of the city: in fact. Vienna is so full of musical landmarks that they meet one at nearly every turn. A wellknown Wellington musician, Mr Trevor Fisher, who has been resident in Vienna for the past twelve months, recently wrote in sprightly fashion of that city’s myriad attractions. Mr Fisher, a verv talented young pianist, of whom New Zealand may one day have cause to feel proud, wields--as I will show—a facile and humorous pen. and gives ns quite a vivid picture of musical life in the Continental metropolis. 1 * * • *

“In Vienna,” he writes, “there must be scores of houses bearing tablets announcing that here so-and-so was born, or died, or wrote such-and-such a work. You get into the habit of looking at all old houses for these tablets. but as like as not you’ll sec instead an enamelled advertisement of somebody's soap. . . ■ The house in which Haydn died (now the Haydn Museum) is a modest little place in a flagstoned back street, not easy to find without a map. ... The site of Brahms’s house is marked by a tablet on the Technical Academy, whilst a few streets away is the house where Gluck passed awav. ... In tho heart of the city another tablet proclaims the death place of Mozart (buried no one knows where), and just round the corner from my own lodging T discovered an announcement to the effect that in the house indicated Beethoven completed his ‘ Ninth Symphony.’ Other spots associated with him are duly tabletted, and there arc quite a number of “Beethoven houses,” too, m which it is said the composer never set foot.” * * * * “ As for streets and cafes named after musicians—they are legion. Usually Mozart graces a cafe and Schubert a beer garden, whilst a street is called Liszt-strasse. The city is liberally sprinkled with statues and bronze busts; a nobio one of Beethoven, pleasant ones of Haydn and Mozart, sentimental ones of Banner (who invented the Viennese waltz) and Johann Strauss (who immortalised it), a fine one of Brahms, and a pretty awful one of Schubert (who n’ever 1 took ’ well). In Stadt Park there is a bronze head and shoulders of the revered Bruckner, against the pedestal of which leans a graceful maiden. . . . Unfortunately the expression on Bruckner’s face seems to say: ‘ My dear young lady, do put some clothes on!’ . . . In a quiet corner of tho vast Central Cemetery stands a smajl statue to the memory of Mozart, surrounded by the graves of Beethoven, Schubert, Brahms, Suppe, and J. Strauss. A little further on is that of Hugo Wolf.” But Mr Fisher thinks the grave of Beethoven tho most impressive. “It is impossible to stand at the foot of it and not feel overawed. .Perhaps the stone does it—a simple obelisk with the symbol of eternity thereon, a serpent with tail in mouth.”

Mr Fisher’s description of the Schubert House and, Museum is, however, the most interesting. “ A clean court, at the, end a cool garden . . . a winding stone staircase leading up to the Schubert flai. The simple rooms, as now revealed, give no clue to the former family life and Vienna atmosphere : they are too clean and inuseumish. I’hrough the muslified windows comes the sound of trams rumbling past. The floor creaks at every step, whilst a young policeman watches with suspicious eye to see that you don’t dive a hand into a glass case and steal some precious M.SS., of which there are a score or so. Schubert’s handwriting is perfectly legible, and was evidently vigorous and swift. In the later specimens it becomes, if possible, still clearer and neater, surprising in a composer who wrote so volubly and at such white heat. . . . In other cases are family letters . . . and in one an invitation to Schubert’s funeral, December 23, IS2B. . . . The falls of the rooms are generously covered with portraits . . . and a glass case holds such precious relics as some locks or Ins curly brown hair and his spectacles.

Mr Fisher then describes the furniture—writing desk, armchair, and, above all, Schubert’s piano, finite a large grand for those days, though it looks as though a good earthquake would make it collapse! 1 In respect of solidity, therefore, this instrument evidently cannot compaie with the piano last used by Beethoven, which is now in the Beethoven Museum at Boon, and which 1 described at some length in this column some tunc ago. During the momentary absence of the caretaker I had a good tune on this celebrated piano, and can vouch tor it that except for being somewhat harsh in tone it differed little froni small frauds of the present day. But the German town did nothing for Beethoven during his lifetime. He was certainlv born there, but it was m Vienna that'lie chiefly lived and worked, and there he died.” The magic of the place is no mere fancy of the ephemeral song writer; for this once at least the muse of the popular lyricist speaks truly, ami no matter how many years roll on him musical world can never lorget Vienna.