Salome 2024 Programme

FROM THE HORSE’S MOUTH
RICHARD STRAUSS ON SALOME.
Image: 1903 portrait of Gertrud
Eysoldt as Salome by Lovis Corinth
(1858–1925).
I was in Berlin to see Gertrud Eysoldt [German actress, 1870–
1955] in Wilde’s Salome at Max Reinhardt’s Little Theatre.
After the performance I met Heinrich Grünfeld [Prague-born
cellist, 1855–1931], who said to me, “My dear Strauss, there’s
material here for a real opera for you.” I was able to reply, “I
am already composing it.” The Viennese poet Anton Lindner
[1874–1928] had already sent me this exquisite work and
offered to create a libretto for me from it. I agreed and he sent
me a few cleverly versified opening scenes. But I couldn’t find
my way to compose anything. Then, one day it occurred to me
to start with Wie schön ist die Prinzessin Salome heute Nacht
[How beautiful is Princess Salome tonight!]. From that point on,
it wasn’t at all difficult to prune the text of its literary excesses
and turn it into a genuine libretto. Now that the dance and
especially the entire final scene have been infused with music,
it’s no special feat to claim that the piece was “crying out for
music.” Yes. But one had to be able to see that first!
I had long criticised operas on Oriental and Jewish subjects
where authentic Eastern colour and a blistering sun were
missing. I needed to remedy the situation and this led me to
truly exotic harmonies, especially those strange cadences
which shimmer like shot silk. I was looking for the the sharpest
of characterisations and this led me to bitonality. A purely
rhythmic characterisation, which Mozart used so brilliantly,
did not seem strong enough to convey the contrast between
Herod and the Nazarene. You could call it a unique experiment
on a special subject, but you could not recommend it for
imitation. After the splendid Schuch [Austrian conductor Ernst
von Schuch, 1846–1914] courageously took Salome on for
performance, the difficulties began as early as the first piano
reading. All the soloists gathered, intending to return their parts to
the conductor, except for the Czech Burian [the Herod of the first
production, tenor Karel Burian, 1970–1924], who was the last to be
asked for an opinion. He replied, “I already know it by heart.” Bravo!
Now the others were embarrassed, and the rehearsal could actually
begin. [A 1905 review reported that Burian found his role so difficult
that he had to study it “not act by act, but bar by bar”.]
During the stage rehearsals, the highly dramatic Frau Wittich
[German soprano Marie Wittich, 1868–1931], who had been
entrusted with the role of the 16-year-old princess with the voice
of an Isolde, occasionally protested with the indignation of a
Saxon Burgomaster’s wife about the difficulty of the part and the
heaviness of the orchestration: “I won’t do that, I am a decent
woman.” The director Wirk [Munich-based director and former
buffo tenor Willi Wirk], was oriented towards “perversity and
ruthlessness,” and she drove him to despair! Yet Frau Wittich,
whose figure was not suitable for the role, was actually right
(though for a different reason); later exotic dancers would use
snake-like movements and swing the head of Jochanaan in the
air in a way that often did exceed all bounds of decency and taste!
Anyone who has been to the Orient and observed the modesty of
the local women will understand that Salome, as a chaste virgin,
as an oriental princess, should only be played with the simplest,
most refined gestures, lest her failure against the miracle of a
magnificent world elicit only horror and disgust rather than pity.
(It should be noted here that the high B flat of the double bass
during the murder of the Baptist is not a cry of pain from the victim,
but moaning sighs from the breast of the impatiently waiting
Salome. This ominous passage caused such terror in the dress
rehearsal that Graf Seebach [the intendant of the Hofoper in
14
15