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Sunday, October 11, 2015

DANHUSER -- "The picture of Dorian Gray" -- The importance of being Dorian -- The Jockey Club were offended: the 'ballo' had to be in the 2nd act AT LEAST!

Speranza

In chapter 11 of The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde's hero goes to the opera: a knight at the opera, almost.

As transgression and excess begin to rot that famous portrait, the piece to which he becomes obsessively drawn is Wagner's Tannhäuser, the only named musical work in a passage widely viewed as a catalogue of the trappings of decadence.

Wilde describes the

"rapt pleasure"

Dorian takes in "seeing in the prelude to that great work of art a presentation of the tragedy of his own soul".
Dorian was by no means alone, for it was in Tannhäuser, more than any of Wagner's other melodrammi, that many in the late 19th century found a reflection of their moral and sexual concerns.

Its admirers included Queen Victoria, Baudelaire and Freud.

The melodramma inspired major works of literature, and was interpreted as everything from a justification of normative values to a fierce celebration of counter-culture extremes.

It appealed above all to those who were – or felt – out-lawed by their sexuality.
The melodramma's starting point is the dichotomy between flesh and spirit, as refracted through a variation on the medieval legend of the 'trovadore' or 'bardo' Tannhäuser, who strayed into the Monte di Venere (properly Grotto di Venere), or kingdom of the goddess Venere (hence venereal disease) whose lover he became.

Sexual satiety provoked the 'bardo''s return to the world of men, where shame impelled him to seek salvation by undertaking a self-mortifying journey to Roma to beg absolution from Urbano IV.

Urbano IV, however, rejects his request.

Damnation awaits those who have enjoyed the pleasures of Venere.

Urbano uses a 'trope':

i. Tannhäuser has no more chance
of achieving salvation than the Pope's
staff has of beginning to flower.

Yet after the 'brado' left, Urbano IV's staff apparently did, indeed, miraculously, begin to flower.

But too late for Tannhäuser's soul.

He had returned to Venere with whom he will remain until he is damned on judgment day.

***************************************************************
Wagner, the self-styled musical redeemer par excellence, made drastic changes to this tale in order to affect his hero's salvation.

For example, he introduced a love triangle: ELISABETTA, and actually a love square, with a rival for Elisabetta's love.

On entering the Grotto di Venere, Wagner's bard Tannhäuser abandons his relationship with the virginal Elisabeth, niece of the "conte" di Thuringia, who loves both him and his music.

Back in the world of mortals, the 'bardo' is asked at a singing contest to IMPROVISE a song on the nature of -- no less -- love.

Cole Porter had not yet written, "What is this thing called love" nor has Britten set Auden's magical "Tell me the truth about love".

So naturally Danhuser breaks into an explicit "hymn" to Venus, which exposes both his erotic secrets and a world of extreme sexual experience beyond the comprehension of prudish Thuringian society.

Elisabeth, refusing to accept his social ostracism, demands Danhuser be offered the potential for salvation.

In Danhuser's absence she begs the Virgin Mary to take her from this earth to intercede directly with God on his behalf should Danhuser fail.

Her prayer is granted.

Tannhäuser, once more seeking Venere, is held back from the Grotto di Venere by mention of Elisabeth's name, and DOES DIE, as news of the miracle in Rome reaches mourners at Elisabetta's funeral.
Wagner was never satisfied with the score of Tannhäuser, which has the most complex editorial history of all his operas.

There are two major versions.

The first more or less gives us the piece as it was heard at its Dresden premiere in 1845.

The second, the so-called "Parigi" version, presents us with the revision that Wagner prepared for the first performance in France, which was planned as part of his failed attempt to conquer the French capital in 1860/61.
Both scores follow the same narrative outline and derive their dramatic power and unity from an underlying vision of sexuality and spirituality as anti-thetical yet mutually dependent.

In the opera's world, the idea of spirit cannot exist without the idea of flesh, and the lofty moral implications of the redemption of Danhuser's soul are balanced by one of the most extreme depictions of sex attempted in music.
Within these polarities, Elisabeth is neither naïve or girlish, as some have supposed.

Virginity endows her with powers of self-determination strong enough to take on a gang of armed men on Dannhuser's behalf.

Sainthood embodies tremendous fixity of will, in contrast to the promiscuous desires of the Grotto di Venere, which bring in their wake the allure of the profane, linguistically as well as musically.

Decorum dictates that the word "Venus berg" is left in its original German in English-language discussions of the opera -- but it shouldn't. The English for Venusberg (a place in Germany, actually) is "Grotto di Venere": a sculpture garden somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

(But worth visiting).

But it translates out of the Latin "mons veneris" and into English as "mountain" or "hill of Venus".

Wagner reportedly became embarrassed when anyone pointed out the opera's erotic nomenclature.

But he knew what he was doing, and the libretto is full of puns about being "in" or "penetrating" the mount of Venere that were not lost on its first admirers.

Both versions of the score bring the sacred and the profane into disturbing proximity, however, by allowing flesh and spirit to speak the same thematic language.

The strings' first entry consists of a rhythmic octave leap followed by four descending chromatic notes.

The phrase is later associated with pilgrims singing of "the burden of sin", but in the Grotto di Venere its component parts, now sundered, are also identified with the limitless expression of desire.

The leap, prefaced by bounding wood wind, juts impertinently upwards, while the chromatic descent, thanks to the addition of an extra note, has mutated into a yielding moan.
Yet the two versions also have notable differences.

For the revision, Wagner shortened the second act, set entirely in Thuringia, but lengthened the opening scene between Venus and Tannhäuser, prefacing it with an extended orchestral sequence, originally intended for a "BALLO" all'italiana (compleat with naked Baccanti), and now commonly known as the Venusberg Music.

In the interim, Wagner had completed the score of Tristan und Isolde.

The Venusberg Music, more explicit than anything in Tristan, was composed using the latter's revolutionary and often overwhelming chromatic language.

Savage and libidinal, it is the most extreme passage in Wagner's output.
The Parigi premiere, in March 1861, was a debacle, the exact reason for which remains the subject of debate.

It is probable that the demonstration that broke out during the first performance was organised against Pauline Metternich, Wagner's patron and the unpopular wife of the Austrian ambassador to Napoleon III's court, though Wagner's decision to place the obligatory "ballo" in the OPENING scene also offended The Jockey Club, whose members were in the habit of arriving at the interval to see their mistresses dance before going back stage for sex.

By the third night, dog whistles could be bought in the streets outside the 'teatro dell'opera' for the express purpose of interrupting the performance.

Wagner withdrew the score, and wanted nothing to do with Paris again.
Yet there were some in the audience who were prepared to listen, and chief among them was Baudelaire.

Given his understanding of the erratic intensity of sexuality and his belief that anti-thetical impulses towards salvation and damnation were integral to the human psyche, it was inevitable that he would view Dannhuser as a work of archetypal imaginative importance.

When Baudelaire first heard the overture in concert in 1860, he was "ravished and flooded" by it, as he told the composer in an appreciatory letter.

Appalled by the response to this premiere, Baudelaire went into print, partway through the opening run, with the epoch-making essay "Riccardo Wagner e Tannhäuser a Parigi".
It is with Baudelaire that Tannhäuser begins its process of decadent assimilation.

Decadence depends on a self-conscious blurring of conventional moral absolutes.

Though Baudelaire does not unbalance the opera's metaphysical polarities, his astonishing descriptions of the music reveal a transgressive inclination towards Venere rather than God.

The  Music at the Grotto di VENERE depicts "frenzied love, immense, chaotic, elevated to the level of a counter-religion".

As in his poetry, desire is heightened by thoughts of criminality, "as if barbarity always has to have its place in the drama of love, and sensual enjoyment has to lead, by a satanic logic, to the delights of crime".
Algernon Charles Swinburne, Baudelaire's admirer, took this imagery one step further.

Tannhäuser had to wait until 1876 for its London premiere, though the Dresden version of the Overture was already a familiar concert item.

Victoria, who heard it in 1855, thought it quite overpowering, so grand and in parts wild, striking and descriptive.

Swinburne, however, was thinking of Baudelaire's essay rather than Wagner's music when he wrote "Laus Veneris" in 1863.

His Tannhäuser is willing to accept damnation as the price of sexual fulfilment.
The impact of transgression on the soul is the principal theme of The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Wilde knew his Swinburne as well as the French decadents who followed in Baudelaire's wake.

Among them was Joris-Karl Huysmans, whose novel "A Rebours" is almost invariably identified as the "poisonous" book that sets Dorian's quest for heightened experience in motion.

"A Rebours" makes no mention of Wagner's opera, though Huysmans also wrote a florid prose-poem entitled

"Ouverture di Tannhäuser",

which is weary with images of "rearing haunches and swelling breasts, throbbing and distended".

Yet for all the work's associations with decadence, Wilde's views on Danhuser were often expressed in terms of personal sadness.

The melodramma spoke, he wrote in 1890, "of myself it may be, and my own life, or the lives of others whom one has loved and grown weary of loving".

"Like the Dorian music of the Greeks," he adds, glancing at his hero's name, "it may perform the office of a physician and give us an anodyne against pain and heal the spirit that is wounded."

Nietzsche loved this reference to DORIAN, since he thought the origin of tragedy (or melodramma) was, as the Renaissance Bardi camerata had thought, in the Dyonisiac 'spirit of music'.

After Wilde's trial, the idea of redemption, as well as desire, was on his mind.

In "The Ballad of Reading Gaol", the image of the flowering staff resurfaces, in the hope that, as a sign of salvation, it will bring "Christ's will to light".

As in the melodramma, thoughts of salvation balanced those of sex.

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