This book represents an attempt to capture different links between modern literature and music. The author examines strict intertextual correlations, the phenomena of musicality and musicality of literary works, the musical structure in literature, so-called musical literary texts. He focuses on the novel Le Cœur absolu by Philippe Sollers, the poem Todesfuge by Paul Celan, the Preludio e Fughe by Umberto Saba and the drama Judasz z Kariothu [Judas Iscariot] by Karol Hubert Rostworowski. The analysis also includes Stanisław Barańczak’s cycle of poems Podróż zimowa: Wiersze do muzyki Franza Schuberta [Winter Journey: Poems to the Music of Franz Schubert] and a fragment of Scène from Hérodiade by Stéphane Mallarmé in Paul Hindemith’s composition «Hérodiade» de Stéphane Mallarmé.
7 Literature beyond literature: Hérodiade – “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé[[I181]] by Paul Hindemith[[I181]]
A literary work in a musical work
The fundamental problem boils down to simple basic questions: how does literature delight in music? and at the same time – how does music use literature? For what purpose does a musical text adapt a literary text? And how does their coexistence appear? These questions only seem simple, for there are no universal answers. The issue of literary text in the space of music is so extensive and historically complicated that it is difficult to capture them in a theoretical book study520. In proposals that schematically outline the scope of musical-literary research, there are of course two highlighted categories: “literature in music” (concerning programme music) and “music and literature” (generally describes vocal music)521, nevertheless, the result of such a generalisation is always the most general indication of mutual reference points.
Some generalities at the starting point can however be helpful and even necessary, hence the need to repeat the obvious, that from the perspective of ←181 | 182→music, literature constitutes an object of inquiry as a source of artistic inspiration in general522, especially as adaptive material, which is most often taken up on account of the sound value of the verbal text, less often for the sound-semantic value, and most rarely – semantic. (Naturally, such a reservation does not constitute any typology of links between musical text and verbal text and is only an introductory generalisation, raising awareness by the way of the numerous controversies around the issue, and its immanent aporetics)523. Music that uses any value or aspect of a verbal text is always a kind of palimpsest, which is formed (to some extent in an intentional way, to some – spontaneously) in the process of imposing musical text on a verbal text or, less frequently, verbal text to musical text. Only in the light of this simplified distinction is it necessary to ask about the form of the existence of a literary work in a musical work, not in the widely known and traditional manner, that is when a literary text is deconstructed in many ways and to a greater or lesser extent in the most varied vocal genres, but to ask about such a text, which in the score presents formal rigour in its intact state, that only functions, so to say, in the score.
Specifying – and exemplifying at the same time – the analytical intention in the adopted perspective, I would like to reflect on the rare case of the existence of a literary work, the dialogue fragment of Mallarmé’s Hérodiade524, in the musical work of Paul Hindemith from 1944 – “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé. This ←182 | 183→example of realisation of “intersemiotic reference”525 is quite isolated in the light of textual musical-literary relations, the fact that the poetic text is recalled in three different dimensions of Hindemith’s composition: paratextual, delimiting and linear526 – does not appear at all in musical performance. This kind of intended negativity creates a fundamental contrast because the composer emphasises the context of a literary work (in addition, multi-layered), that is undoubtedly emphasising its importance, and at the same time it leaving it only in the sphere of graphic notation. In the final stage of updating the musical work, it is carefully camouflaged, it becomes mute, reduced to the sphere of connotation, although it precedes realisation in actio through suggesting the direction of interpretation, and, in a sense, must accompany it. At the starting point, the problem therefore boils down to the differences resulting from availability: through the score the performers have the possibility of viewing the whole text in its delimited shape, or at least they know the text fragmentarily from numerous quotations placed linearly over the score notation; the listener, in turn, in the worst case realises its existence through the information exposed in the plane of paratextuality (i.e. through the literary character of the title of the musical work).
The functioning of the literary text outside the musical space of performance, determining its visual qualities and the type of interaction initiated with the music recipient, leads to the formulation of a far-reaching hypothesis. Namely in “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé – on the one hand, in contrast to many vocal works, on the other hand, in a certain convergence in relation to, for example, the immanent programmatic qualities of the symphonic poem – the literary work does not appear as incrustation, on account of its sound values, because the composer wants to preserve its literary meaning at all costs. Traditional cognition of music: “by way of listening to its performances, studying scores, scholarly examination of finished compositions, and also – above all – by way of introspective insight into the process of creating a musical work”527, is severely hampered in the situation of extreme verbal-musical affiliations. All the stages listed from the theoretical point of view are equally important, but they do not introduce an individual order of vision, whose hierarchy is usually included in the musical work528. In the case of Hindemith’s work, I think, the composer indicated a certain obligatory sequence of action – one should undertake an instrumental interpretation after reviewing the score and the literary text cited therein. Once Michał Głowiński wrote the sketch “Literackość muzyki – muzyczność literatury” [“Literariness of music – musicality of literature”], as he himself admitted – “from hearing”529, here I will try to formulate some remarks within the score, so to say, from seeing, with a view to tracing the history of literary text beyond literature. The appearance of Mallarmé’s text in Hindemith’s composition in three dimensions (paratextual, delimiting and linear) outlines the overall perspective of interpretation and at the same time indicates its three stages.
The non-musical context in the first encounter with the instrumental composition is manifested primarily through the title and its historical-literary direction on musical ground – “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé. Here this is not just about a general indication of the cultural-literary source of inspiration, since the full text will be attached, but rather to emphasise the complementary coexistence of both texts, the extent of their interdependence. Undoubtedly, Hindemith’s undertaking of Mallarmé’s text and exposing this fact in the paratextual plane initially determine the type of analysis and indicate the direction of possible explication of the musical work for the audience. Similar artistic behaviour, well known – not to say: topical – particularly in the case of “programme” compositions, where the title opens the space of associations530, is also not unknown in literature. One could hypothesise that in both cases the aim is to provide condensed verbal instruction of the same type, namely suggesting the existence of relationships or affiliations between the literary text and the musical text. This even creates regularity, narrowing the field of view to only structural conditions: as far as in literature the suggestion concerns the sphere of musical construction rather generally531 (Thomas Stearns Eliot’s Four Quartets are an attempt at literary interpretation not of a specific musical piece, but a technique characteristic of the quartet genre; Paul Celan’s Death Fugue interprets not one or another fugue, but a potential fugue scheme), in music, it refers directly to a specific literary text, looking on one side for the nuances of its sound, on the other – the specificity of its meaning.
With Hindemith, the first option is completely eliminated, as to the second, however – the matter gets more complicated because the title, in addition to the meaning indicating a literary source of inspiration and intermedial shift, reveals two closely related pieces of information: indicates the literary tradition in detail (Mallarmé’s text of Hérodiade), and at the same time through its prism, and as a kind of ricochet, implies the cultural tradition associated with the character of Herodias. Hindemith consciously takes the existing literary interpretation ←185 | 186→(hence the verbal text for him is ready from the beginning) and he is unable to introduce any transformations in this regard – as Mallarmé remains at a certain distance from cultural tradition532, for the poet’s Herodias (and in a simple consequence that of the composer) is not a daughter of Aristobulus and Berenice, sister to Herod Agryppa I, wife – amongst others – of Herod Philip I, Salome’s mother, etc.533
The title in the form “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé given to a purely instrumental composition is thus a harbinger of a non-verbal interpretation or an attempt at musical illustration, but only of Mallarmé’s poem. In other words, the broad cultural perspective in Hindemith’s work is entirely rejected by taking an individual literary perspective, contrary to, for example, Jules Massenet’s opera (Hérodiade; premiered Brussels, 1881), remaining close to the biblical thread behind the heavily modified text of Gustave Flaubert’s novella. That is why the title in the sphere of music needed to be specified – Hérodiade would be inadequate in form due to the implications associated primarily with cultural tradition, historical-biblical, present in art for several hundred years534. According to the author himself Mallarmé’s figure of Hérodiade becomes: “a purely imaginary being and completely independent of history” (“un être purement rêvé et absolument indépendant de l’histoire”535), as Charles Mauron laconically says: “is ←186 | 187→a ‘linguistic being’ […]”536. To paraphrase the last conclusion and expand its scope, it is easiest to say that Hindemith’s Hérodiade should become a “musical being”. Both reservations at the same time formulate the basic problem of interdependence – only as a result of the polarisation between the musical text and the verbal text hidden in the score, which leads beyond the thread of cultural tradition, is the full meaning of the musical composition revealed.
The analytical trope is suggested by the composer, once again using the verbal possibility of paratextual information transfer. He describes the work in the subtitle as “orchestral recitation” [récitation orchestrale]. The resulting idiomatic expression – defines the combination of that, which is verbal (literary), with that which is musical. In this context, the concept of “recitation” on account of its unusual description (“orchestral”), imposes a new meaning onto it, functions somewhat differently than in dictionary definitions and constitutes a determinant of a new genre. But at the same time it means traditionally: “reading” (in accordance to the etymological burden from Latin recitatio), and especially the process through which the whole operation is performed – to recite is nothing other than delivering a text from memory. It is indeed from this detail that the arguments arise for a literary manner of reception at the analytical-interpretative stage or, as Michał Bristiger would like, “in the theoretical view”537; to recall the explanation from Hindemith’s preface, a musical work “could follow the text literally”538. “Orchestral recitation” in consequence also means adopting the position that the coexistence of a literary text and a musical text becomes paradoxical, the operation of their codependency creates an artistic paradox: to obscure the literary text or to move the potential of its sound to a more distant plane, in order to – through apparent marginalisation – expose its meaning within the musical whole. Hence, analogically, I think that in the situation of understanding “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé after prior understanding of Hérodiade, the situation of taking into account the specific presupposition of a literary text that should precede and announce a musical work in actio seems paradoxical.
After looking at the score, above all else, attention is drawn to the fact that the literary text quoted in the musical work does not cover the whole of Hérodiade; it is about the dialogue fragment – Scene539 (II. Scène), whereas the two surrounding and non-dialogue parts (I. Ouverture and III. Cantique de saint Jean) are not used540. Although this is not the place to wonder about the genesis of Hérodiade541, it is worth signaling certain circumstances surrounding its formation. Well, the work started in October 1864 with the author’s intention for it to be something of the nature of an opus magnum542, but was never completed, even though Mallarmé maintained such an intention for over 30 years, indeed to the end of his life543. Despite the fact that from the beginning Hérodiade was available in fragments – in the current layout of the text: Ouverture – Scène – Cantique de saint Jean544 there is a clear logic of anticipation. Maybe it is just this that causes, in the opinion of Haskell M. Block that “the structure of the work ←188 | 189→is at once musical and dramatic”545, that would find an additional argument in Mallarmé’s late notes to Hérodiade, which contain stage-ballet indications546. The musical realisation introduced into space of the ballet will become “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé547, but Hindemith concentrated on the middle part. He chose just the Scène, which fills out the discussion between the Nurse and Hérodiade, and in this context, it is possible to think, that he was only interested in the aspect of dialogism.
Mallarmé’s Scène between the Nurse and Hérodiade, which in a superficial view appears to be transparent in structure and probably best testifying to the original intention of creating a tragic 3-act whole548, is accomplished through the oppositional juxtaposition of two planes: real and unreal. In the “real space” a Nurse with whitened hair exists (“nourrice d’hiver”), in the “unreal space” – Hérodiade, who guards her ontological indefiniteness (she has nothing human in her). This opposition has an essential character: the Nurse as a mother with a broken body (“sénile chair”) collides with – as Julia Kristeva proposes to describe Hérodiade – an “anti-mother”549, for whom the body is not needed (“chair inutile”). The result of the fundamental divergence of ontological perspectives (hence the dramatic value and theatricality of the scene) determines the general nature of the situation – Nurse’s three proposals (kiss, sampling the smell of “funereal power” and touching the falling hair) must be rejected. Their fulfilment would be an intrusion into “potential”550, the unreal reality of Hérodiade, into her self-existence and ontological loneliness, the ←189 | 190→sense of which becomes waiting for some “unknown thing” (ambiguous at the end: “J’attends une chose inconnue”). The source of this loneliness, otherwise defined three times and in various dimensions: “mon corps solitaire”, “depuis ma solitaire enfance”, “Et ta soeur solitaire”, every time is indicated and defined by Hérodiade’s words551.
Hindemith however resigns from the first two fragments of the text in the linear system (resulting from the dialogue between Hérodiade and the Nurse), and makes use of the moment, when Hérodiade speaks about herself in crypto-dialogue – supposedly to the Nurse, which would be indicated by the direct context, but in fact to her own mirror image (“J’aime l’horreur d’être vierge…”). Hérodiade’s description of herself as a “lone sister” in the perspective of a mirror requires a twofold interpretation: in the sense of closeness, kinship or self-recognition, and at the same time in the sense of strangeness due to the lack of a direct relationship (the reflection always creates an external “witness”). This kind of aporia associated with mediatisation of the mirror and the semantics of “shadow” appears starting with the first words of Scène, together with Nurse’s first question, when she formulates the temptation to kiss: “Tu vis! ou vois-je ici l’ombre d’une princesse?/A mes lèvres tes doigts et leurs bagues […]”. In fact, the question announces and introduces the whole problem of Hérodiade: “it is permissible to state that Hérodiade appears as if in a mirror”552. What is more interesting, at the moment of going beyond the literary text and becoming aware of the complicated experience of the poet – this interpretation trope gains a new dimension.
In Mallarmé the obsession connected to the phenomenon of mirror reflection, described in correspondence553, takes on a particularly destructive intensity (and undoubtedly heralds a crisis between 1866 and 1870). There existed in the poet something of a kind of involuntary, even morbid, need to constantly see his own reflection, which he later referred to as “split” [scission]554. Pierre-Olivier Walzer concludes that “the mirror is therefore both a witness to ←190 | 191→and an instrument of his depersonalisation”555. This artistically modified phenomenon of mirror reflection has repeatedly returned in Mallarmé as a constantly exploited recurrent literary motif, turns into an individual mythology and, amongst others, in Hérodiade is of decisive significance556. The magnificent apostrophe put in the mouth of Hérodiade in fact, is directly related to the intimate experience of the poet, with searching in the mirror for the “distant shade”:
|Assez! Tiens devant moi ce miroir.||No more! Hold up the looking-glass before me.|
|Eau froide par l’ennui dans ton cadre gelée||Cold water frozen by the boredom at your back,|
|Que de fois et pendant des heures, désolée||how many times, and during what long hours, dismayed|
|Des songes et cherchant mes souvenirs qui sont||by dreams and groping for my memories that pass|
|Comme des feuilles sous ta glace au trou profond,||like leaves beneath your ice and its profound abyss,|
|Je m’apparus en toi comme une ombre lointaine,||I saw myself within you like some distant shade,|
|Mais, horreur! des soirs, dans ta sévère fontaine,||yet some nights, in your grim fountain–horrible, this!–|
|J’ai de mon rêve épars connu la nudité!||I knew the nakedness of my own scattered dream!|
|Nourrice, suis-je belle?557||Nurse, am I beautiful?558|
The indicated fragment (“O miroir!”) should be recognised as one of the most important (maybe even the most important?) places in Scène due to the extraordinary poetic value conditioned by the classical convention of the use of the apostrophe. This figure, simply perfect to poetically capture the obsession with the essence of the mirror, functions here in a very traditional way, as a determinant of high literature (Poetry) and in opposition to practical speech. Even with such subtlety (noticed by the translator), that the use of language similar to colloquial language clearly stands out: the question in the end is preceded by free interline, at the beginning however, the line is broken559. In short, the convention of the apostrophe becomes the most ←191 | 192→appropriate, perhaps the only convention, for the character of Hérodiade, because in a certain sense it fits into the area of dialogism, and at the same time has little in common with dialogue. Insofar as each subsequent proposal from the Nurse is a repeat of the attempt to get to (self) know Hérodiade through autodefinition (and in this sense, the proposals are not directed to undertaking dialogue, but to the opening of a monologue), so the external dialogue situation turns out to merely be a pretext for the subtle formulation of a superior thought560. Mallarmé revealed it quite laconically several times in correspondence (he was probably looking for further arguments in this way), although with a clear tendency to simplify autocommentary. In 1864 in a letter to Henri Cazalis presents the programme of “poetics”: “Peindre, non la chose, mais l’effet qu’elle produit”561, in 1865 he wrote to him about a perceived parallel: “toutes ces impressions se suivent comme dans une symphonie […]”562, finally, adding a specific explanation in a letter addressed to Villiers de L’Isle-Adam: “le sujet de mon oeuvre est la Beauté, et le sujet apparent n’est qu’un prétexte pour aller vers Elle. C’est, je crois, le mot de la Poésie”563. The proper meaning extends, as Mallarmé argued, outside the apparent theme and pretext superficiality, when there is abandonment of the ←192 | 193→concrete to reach abstract and idealised Beauty, “le mot de la Poésie”. Thus, before Poetry, it becomes the autothematic task of speaking about Beauty, the proper object of interest is born not directly from the thing itself, but from the fleeting impression it causes. Mallarmé’s exegesis dispersed in correspondence seems to be a good context for further explication not only of the initial fragment of Scène:
|Tu vis! ou vois-je ici l’ombre d’une princesse?||You are alive! or do I see the ghost of a princess?|
|A mes lèvres tes doigts et leurs bagues et cesse||Cease walking in some unknown era; let me press|
|De marcher dans un âge ignoré…||your fingers and their rings to my lips . . .|
|Reculez.||Stand back there!|
|Le blond torrent de mes cheveux immaculés||Even the strong blonde stream of my unspotted hair|
|Quand il baigne mon corps solitaire le glace||bathing my solitary body freezes it|
|D’horreur, et mes cheveux que la lumière enlace||with terror, woman, and my hairs entwined and knit|
|Sont immortels. O femme, un baiser me tûrait||with bright light are immortal. One kiss would kill me|
|Si la beauté n’était la mort…||if beauty were not death . . .|
Beauty – earlier as the only thing worthy of interest and reflection on the part of Poetry – here opens up a completely different perspective in connection with its complex nature. “Si la beauté n’était la mort…” – is above all a formula that identifies beauty with death: that which is beautiful must also be marked by the stigma of mortality, and a simple exemplification of this is the whole figure of Hérodiade in a mirror image. In other words, death becomes the necessary condition for the existence of beauty and the contemplation of beauty is also the contemplation of death566. Only here can we understand the accuracy of Jacques Scherer’s insight, that Hérodiade together with L’Après-midi d’un faune are works: “very poor, if limited to their summary, and whose richness manifests itself through numerous allusions […]”567. And indeed, the structural ←193 | 194→transparency of Scène, which earlier made it possible to talk about an easy to review stage order, in the end, it turns out to be merely a pretext for revealing a fundamental and undefined Idea (this ultimately leads the poet to treat literature like theology568). For Mallarmé, consequently, Poetry contemplates Beauty and Death, Beauty and Nothingness at the same time569. Hérodiade imprisoned in the mirror – as a symbol of Beauty, which is Death570 – should therefore also be understood as “a perfect symbol of his poetry”571. This “perfect symbol” in Hindemith’s work finds great expression in an extremely simple sound construction – in the form of a basic interval. Sounds an octave apart reflect the indefinable nature of Hérodiade as a “lone sister” and the essence of Poetry – they evoke a consonant impression of similarity, create an acoustic effect of mirror reflection, and at the same time are fundamentally physically different to each other572.
The full text of Scène, included in the score in an arrangement that maintains the order of the literary notation, in a sense corresponds to an autonomous verbal text: it retains only the visual aspect and creates the appearance of existence in its own space. Nevertheless, it is no longer autonomous to the extent that it was in literature, because it becomes one of the elements of the structure of the ←194 | 195→musical work through the process of recontextualisation, and radically changes its function in the moment that it is taken as an intersemiotic citation. The fact that it has no material form in the musical space – it is given explicite in the score, implicite in the act of perception – eliminates its direct deconstruction by the composer (known from vocal or vocal-instrumental works), but this does not indicate its absence. Simply, the deconstruction takes place in a more sophisticated way. This artistic activity has a deconstructive character undoubtedly from the very beginning, since the literary text turns into a set of instructions for the musical text and appears in a situation of coexistence (beyond literature), whose far-reaching consequence will be an attempt to reduce the literary text to the level of the verbal text or, more exactly, to the schema of the dialogue structure. The complexity of this operation is so subtle that the convention announces and defines, despite the precise title, the “programmatic” foreword. A musical work where the possibility of vocal performance is abandoned is to be a combination of: “words, poetic idea, lyric expression, and music”573. The musical text, in order to meet the criteria to permit talking about an “orchestral recitation”, should interpret, with available means, not only verbal text, but – with its help – also literary text, that is, to establish an intertextual play with it, to show their palimpsestial closeness574.
Hence the literary text of Hérodiade also appears in Hindemith in another dimension, along with music notation, but this time it is directly subjected to destructive adaptation operations and undergoes transformation from a delimiting to a linear arrangement. The operation of deconstruction (or, if it sounds better, specific concretisation) leads in practice to a seemingly schematic search for appropriate – from the point of view of musical construction – fragments of Hérodiade and placing them above the musical text (with the exception of Ouverture). Thus, let us see once again the two previously mentioned fragments of Scène in another light, the poetic whole goes beyond the framework of the verse scheme in a multitude of citations devoid ←195 | 196→of context575 (for clarity, I have made bold those fragments of Mallarmé’s text which are placed above the musical text):
|POETIC TEXT||MUSICAL TEXT|
|Tu vis! ou vois-je ici l’ombre d’une princesse?||N: Tu vis! ou vois-je [ici] l’ombre d’une princesse?|
|A mes lèvres tes doigts et leurs bagues et cesse|
|De marcher dans un âge ignoré…|
|Reculez.||H: Reculez. Le blond torrent de mes cheveux|
|Le blond torrent de mes cheveux immaculés|
|Quand il baigne mon corps solitaire le glace|
|D’horreur, et mes cheveux que la lumière enlace|
|Sont immortels. O femme, un baiser me tûrait||O femme, un baiser me tuerait|
|Si la beauté n’était la mort…|
and by necessity invoked in a linear, non-delimited order in relation to the basic text:
|Assez! Tiens devant moi ce miroir.|
|O miroir!||O miroir! Eau froide576|
|Eau froide par l’ennui dans ton cadre gelée|
|Que de fois et pendant des heures, désolée|
|Des songes et cherchant mes souvenirs qui sont|
|Comme des feuilles sous ta glace au trou profond,|
|Je m’apparus en toi comme une ombre lointaine,|
|Mais, horreur! des soirs, dans ta sévère fontaine,|
|J’ai de mon rêve épars connu la nudité!|
This kind of quotation mosaic in the score (not a full literary text) is not accidental, the purpose for which Hindemith applies the selection criteria and how the phenomenon of the elliptic nature of the structure arises is clearly visible. In particular, he takes up those parts of the text that were the dramatic axis of dialogue; within the literary structure they were distant from each other, now through “close-ups”, exposure, they acquire not so much additional meaning, as semantic sharpening. In turn those fragments, which were in the immediate context, undergo an apparent split: the Nurse’s propositions do not appear expressis verbis, but they are constantly obligatorily implied by Hérodiade’s questions. Through structural reduction a new type of textual cohesion is created, which, however, is not self-sufficient, is merely an emblem and it has to refer to the proper text (in the opposite case the full text in the score – preceding the musical text – would be unnecessary). Therefore, emphasis should be placed on the non-self-reliance of the text in a linear system, a good illustration of which appears to be for example aposiopesis in the literary text, in the delimitation system and in the text in a linear configuration. Passus: “O femme, un baiser me tûrait/Si la beauté n’était la mort…”, whose meaning I tried to interpret earlier, in Hindemith is reduced to the form: “O femme, un baiser me tuerait”577. The effect of reticence in thought and suspension in both cases is similar (moving the centre of gravity to understatement), but the first fragment shows aposiopesis in a “traditional” way, the second only potentially – realises the rhetorical figure only in two stages (that is it reveals embrionic semantic nuance, but remains unreadable in and of itself and needs to be clarified by a full literary text).
A carefully shaped constellation of quotes directs and at the same time determines the composer’s manner of work, and secondarily, it constitutes a nonspecific – because it is in a way a replacement for technical musical terms – “instructional” for performers578 and a metacommentary for the audience. Had ←197 | 198→Hindemith settled on the text in the delimitation system, the coexistence of the musical text and the literary text would never be defined to the extent that it presents a direct, linear juxtaposition. It could be argued that verbal quotation (literary) in this type of musical structure functions “in anticipation”, that it semantically determines the musical text. (The situation is quite different in the case of citing a fragment of music in a literary work, where the musical notation most often appears “conclusively”579). Furthermore, in “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé the area of “anticipation” of the verbal text is penetrated twice – the full literary text of Scène in general, and key passages in particular, become an impulse to define the boundaries of the musical space of interpretation. In this sense, on account of the aspect of dialogism, juxtaposed contrasting fragments of the verbal text imply the quality of the musical structure in a natural way. This is shown by an extremely simple but instructive example where the shaping of the dynamics reveals the extent to which its scope is modeled by the immediate context of individual words. The Nurse’s astonishment at the beginning of the scene, whether a phantom appears or a real figure (“Tu vis! ou vois-je [ici] l’ombre d’une princesse?”580), associated with outlining an aura of ambiguity and mystery, a priori assumes piano; just like the later admiration of Hérodiade’s beauty (“Un astre, en vérité”). Three proposals rejected with different firmness by Hérodiade (1/ “Reculez. Le blond torrent de mes cheveux”, 2/ “Laisse là ces parfums[!]”, 3/ “Arrête dans ton crime”581) require a musical accent – mezzo forte (1) fortissimo (2, 3). But when Hérodiade turns to her Nurse: “Assez! Tiens devant moi ce miroir”, the meaning of the literary text itself becomes ambivalent, as it makes possible two equally valid types of interpretation: either the statement wants to sound firm, or lofty. In the first variant, the musical text should be realised rather forte, in the second, and this is the case with Hindemith, piano582. Just how ←198 | 199→unusually interpretationally accurate the composer’s decision turns out to be can be seen only when Mallarmé’s stage instructions become known. Admittedly, they are not included in the editions of Scène (already they were not there in Le Parnasse Contemporain), but the original version of the text contained many instructions – in the fragment of interest to us, Hérodiade was precisely defined as “impérieuse”583 (“proud”), which eloquently explains the quality of musical text in this place. Even through such an inconspicuous detail it can be seen that tackling the literary text in Hindemith’s musical work was preceded by a considerable intellectual effort, a thoroughly thought-out literary analysis584. Most important in consequence, interpretation of Scène undertaken by the composer is not finished or closed, it becomes, so to say, a mediatising interpretation (appropriate for cases of “literature in music”), finally waiting for the recipient of the musical work.
Concluding in a broader perspective: if it is not possible to equate verbal text placed over musical notation with literary text, it is above all because its meaning is slightly different – it is what Mallarmé called “pretext”. In Mallarmé the impulse (pretext) to contemplate Beauty and Death comes from the literary text and extends the space of reflection over it; the identical impulse, from the side of verbal text, needs an orchestral recitation, but the interpretative proposition arising in different material still needs the context of this original space of reflection. Only in confrontation with this may it constitute a cultural interpretation variant of a poetic work considering the essence of Beauty (and for sure Mallarmé would consider this as ideal, because music ad naturam condemned to suggestion does not have to avoid naming585), and in isolation from it – remains closed in musical logic and breaks the rules of the genre of “orchestral recitation”.
Above all I have attempted to show the need to accurately quote the whole of Scène in the score and the semantic function of a literary text in a multi-level structure of a musical piece, to follow the fate of a fragment of Hérodiade beyond literature, look for the planes of its relationship with the musical text within the composition which should be understood – according to Hindemith’s formula, devoid of mystification – as an “orchestral recitation”. All observations about the mechanism of interactivity and the status of the interdependence of texts, musical text and literary text, flow from the essential question: why in the course of performance does an instrumental composition obligatorily require an indirectly existing literary text, through a specific effort of the recipient? In other words, why in the opposite case, together with the rejection of the parallelism of texts, should there be destruction of the composer’s idea of constructing a structure that, in maintaining the indicated requirements, would be, as suggested by Michał Bristiger, of “a kind of Gesamtkunstwerk”586.
As a consequence, and remaining with the rather experimental manifestation, “literature in music” (experimental, because it is possible to talk about programme music, but in a very specific sense), it is necessary to formulate the problem in general and to reflect on the “curious manner of reception”587 or say like Michał Głowiński, that in this case there will be a variant of “a style of music reception that can be described as literary”588. (Defining musical perception as “literary” by the literature researcher would only be a more precise naming of the phenomenon that the musicologist from the perspective of the reception would call “peculiar”, and would have to indicate interdisciplinary complications with understanding of musical works of the type “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé). I think an essential source of the immanently demanded reception perception lies in the type of the most far-reaching semantically integrated literary text with the musical text in the score, and in the great importance given by the composer ←200 | 201→to the creation of a cultural bi-text. It is a logical matter that if: “The incomprehensibility of [verbal] text is as if it was included in listening to music”589, the reverse effect in music is realised by provoking the situation of a purely literary reception, that is, by creating an intermediate stage preceding musical perception. It is difficult to imagine a more extreme requirement in the literary way of receiving music than “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé. The musical text intersemiotically paraphrasing and “reciting” Mallarmé initiates a game of mirror reflection in relation to the verbal text and the meaning of the dialogic Scène. Hindemith’s gesture is here too readable and creates numerous arguments to talk about the possibilities of (secondary) semanticising of music590.
The example of such a composition actually opens up a much wider problem, because it is as easy to believe that: “music is partially liberated from words”591, as it is to insist upon the completely opposite position. The previous reflections in this regard appear to be unequivocal, and as a conclusion (due to the nature of literary text), it would be surprisingly appropriate to quote, albeit formulated on a completely different occasion, Paul Ricoeur’s commentary: “The text is mute. An asymmetric relation obtains between text and reader, in which only one of the partners speaks for the two. The text is like a musical score and the reader like the orchestra conductor who obeys the instructions of the notation”592. If one would like to maintain the accuracy of the hermeneutic generalisation in this context, it is especially in this respect, that this is about a particular type of recipient; his effort as a reader should precede his effort as a listener, to establish ←201 | 202→understanding of the instrumental composition. He may only be a listener, and then the composer’s intentions undergo a fundamental destabilisation or even destruction – the coexistence of both texts is not perceived, and therefore the literary work remains mute. In the meantime, Mallarmé’s text in Hindemith’s work is supposed to be purely visual, and at the same time perhaps even as double mute, but certainly a little different: it is expected that convention is consciously applied. Primarily “mute”, metaphorically, within the scope of literary construction, its character in the delimiting system (contained in the score) requires a philological interpretation; secondly and rather literally within the scope of musical structure, due to its substantial non-existence and semantic dispersion during performance. In other words, in the first case, one thinks about the text, according to the rules of literary perception, while in the second one already thinks of the text “from memory”, through the interpretation proposed by musical work. Finally, there is no doubt that “orchestral recitation” as an example of border art gains legitimisation only at the level of perception of composition, that is at the moment of “the necessity of guessing the meaning of a text”593.
519P. Hindemith, “Hérodiade” de Stéphane Mallarmé: Récitation orchestrale [piano reduction], Edition Schott 4115, Mainz: B. Schott’s Söhne, 1955, p. 10.
520The type of unavoidable dangers, associated with a synthetic attempt at theoretical categorisations, is well shown in the perspective of musicology by amongst others Michał Bristiger’s proposal. M. Bristiger, Związki muzyki ze słowem, Warsaw: PWM, 1986. See K. Pisarkowa, “Muzyka jako język,” in: Prace Językoznawcze, 97 (1989): pp. 13–40.
521See S. P. Scher’s musical-literary research schema: Introduction, p. 17.
522For many composers, Mallarmé’s poetry became a creative impulse (amongst others: C. Debussy, L’après-midi d’un faune; M. Ravel, Trois poèmes de Stéphane Mallarmé; P. Boulez, Pli selon Pli), of which the effect seems to be similar every time: “In the face of a musical piece born of its inspiration, the musicologist experiences a kind of dizziness”. L. Polony, “Ravel–Mallarmé,” in: idem, W kręgu muzycznej wyobraźni, Kraków: PWM, 1980, p. 81.
523On the one side, the literary text is marginalised (reduced to the level of sound) in a musical work and perfect this example would be the principle of the composer’s conduct described by Arnold Schönberg (A. Schönberg, “Relationship to Text,” in: idem, Style and Idea, New York: Philosophical Library, 1950, p. 4), on the other – the question about “meaning” arises and at the same time the quality of the text (often ennobled only in the context of music), which is formulated most bluntly by Nicolas Ruwet: “If indeed the ideal text to be used in music is the most absurd, the least significant, one which is no more than pure verbal games, why then have composers always made so much effort to search for texts […]?”. N. Ruwet, Langage, musique, poésie, Paris: Éd. du Seuil, 1972, pp. 42–43.
524S. Mallarmé, Hérodiade. II. Scène, in: idem, Oeuvres complètes, ed. H. Mondor, G. Jean-Aubry, Paris: Gallimard, 1970, pp. 44–48 (see S. Mallarmé, Herodias: Scene, in: idem, Collected Poems and Other Verse, trans. E. H. Blackmore, A. M. Blackmore, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006, pp. 29–39).
525Amongst others such a case of intertext relations is distinguished by Janusz Sławiński, undertaking an attempt to define the concept of “intertextuality” (M. Głowiński, T. Kostkiewiczowa, A. Okopień-Sławińska, J. Sławiński, Słownik terminów literackich, Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossolińskich, 1989, p. 201). Gérard Genette proposed another name for the phenomenon – “hyperartistic practices” (see G. Genette, Palimpsestes: La littérature au second degré, Paris: Éditions du Seuil, 1982, pp. 443–444; see G. Genette, Palimpsests: Literature in the Second Degree, trans. C. Newman, C. Doubinsky, Lincoln–London: University of Nebraska Press, 1997, p. 384). The term “intersemioticity” functions here in the basic sense, i.e. defining the relationship between arts as different systems, and not as for example in Stanisław Balbus, where he defines “semiotic systems” within literature itself (see S. Balbus, Między stylami, Kraków: Universitas, 1993, pp. 143–144).
526Three dimensions have been defined conventionally, thus together they have meaningful sense only within the scope of this sketch. Paratextuality does not require a preliminary explanation; “delimitation” however and “linearity” of a literary text in the context of a musical work must be treated in a purely typographic sense. The delimitation system should be understood as remaining within the restrictiveness of the literary notation (the literary text apparently retains its autonomous form; function of a musical programme), by linear system – introduction by the composer of disruptions to the primary structure (the literary text becomes a verbal text; the function of musical-verbal instructions).
527B. Buczek, “O sposobie istnienia utworu muzycznego,” in: Studia Filozoficzne, 11/12 (1983): p. 43.
528Mieczysław Tomaszewski’s distinctions would be valuable with expressions reminiscencent of Ingarden, about the coexistence in a musical work of four “texts” (musical, sound, auditory and cultural) and analogically four types of research attitudes: theoretician, practitioner, empiricist and apriorist. M. Tomaszewski, “Nad analizą i interpretacją dzieła muzycznego: Myśli i doświadczenia,” in: Res Facta, 9 (1982): pp. 192–200.
529M. Głowiński, “Literackość muzyki – muzyczność literatury,” in: Pogranicza i korespondencje sztuk, “Z dziejów form artystycznych w literaturze polskiej”, vol. 56, ed. T. Cieślikowska, J. Sławiński, Wrocław: Ossolineum, 1980, p. 65.
530See M. Chion, Le poème symphonique et la musique à programme, Paris: Fayard, 1993, p. 28.
531Although it should be noted that some of the experimental attempts to interpret a particular musical work break off in part beyond such a vision. Extremely interesting in this respect is for example Michel Butor’s proposal, relying on “simultaneous” leading: “a little dialogue with the Bagatelles Op. 126 of Ludwig van Beethoven”. See M. Butor, Les Bagatelles de Thélème, in: Revue des Sciences Humaines, 205 (1987): pp. 227–231.
532See amongst others: J. Kristeva, La révolution du langage poétique. L’avant-garde à la fin du XIXe siècle: Lautréamont et Mallarmé, Paris: Éd. du Seuil, 1974, p. 445 (the fragment is not in the abridged English version: J. Kristeva, Revolution in Poetic Language, trans. M. Waller, New York: Columbia University Press, 1984); R. G. Cohn, Toward the Poems of Mallarmé, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1965, p. 52 ff (see R. G. Cohn, Vues sur Mallarmé, introduction M. Deguy, translated from English L. Holt, R. Coward, Paris: A.-G. Nizet, 1991, pp. 57–59); J.-L. Steinmetz, Mallarmé: L’absolu au jour le jour, Paris: Fayard, 1998, p. 90.
533See Flavius Josephus, Antiquities of the Jews [Book XVIII: V, 1; V, 4; VI, 2; VII, 1; VII, 2], in: The Complete Works of Flavius-Josephus, ed. W. Whiston, Chicago: Thompson & Thomas, 1901, pp. 445, 446, 447, 452–453, 453. See also interpretations of Herodias’ behaviour, which appear several times in the Gospels – in direct connection with the figure of John the Baptist (St. Matthew 14, 3–12; St. Mark 6, 17–29; St. Luke 3, 19–20).
534See M. Bocian, Lexikon der biblischen Personen, Stuttgart: Alfred Kröner Verlag, 2004, pp. 152–154. Nota bene the keyword entry of the thread of the character Herodias and its functioning in various fields of art do not include Hindemith’s work (!).
535S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, vol. 1, ed. H. Mondor, J.-P. Richard, Paris: Gallimard, 1959, p. 154 (see Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, trans. R. Lloyd, Chicago–London: University of Chicago Press, 1988, p. 47).
536Ch. Mauron, Mallarmé, Paris: Éd. du Seuil, 1964, p. 87. The issue is directly related to the formula “phonetic mythology of Hérodiade”, which is presented in brief by Jean-Pierre Richard, L’univers imaginaire de Mallarmé, Paris: Éd. du Seuil, 1961, pp. 144–145.
537M. Bristiger, op. cit., p. 187.
538P. Hindemith, op. cit., no page numbers.
539Nota bene Scène, written in the winter between 1864 and 1865 was the only part published during the poet’s life, for the first time in the second edition of Le Parnasse Contemporain (1871), later in the edition of Les poésies de Stéphane Mallarmé (1887).
540This remark is important from the viewpoint that the text of Hindemith’s work is not – as Michał Bristiger hastily wrote – the “first scene of Stéphane Mallarmé’s Hérodiade”. M. Bristiger, op. cit., p. 185.
541See G. Davies, Mallarmé et le rêve d’“Hérodiade”, Paris: Librairie José Corti, 1978, pp. 9–29.
542In October 1864 – in the letter addressed to Henri Cazalis – Mallarmé wrote: “Car je veux – pour la première fois de ma vie – réussir. Je ne toucherais plus jamais à ma plume si j’étais terrassé”. S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, p. 137 (in English translation: “For I want – for the first time in my life – to succeed. I would never touch my pen again if I were floored”; Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 39). See P.-O. Walzer, Approches II: Mallarmé–Valéry, Paris: Honoré Champion Éditeur, 1995, p. 34.
543Even in 1896, he informed the publisher about plans to write Prelude and Finale. See S. Mallarmé, Oeuvres complètes, p. 1445. The otherwise complicated problem of Mallarmé’s conceiving of Hérodiade has been discussed many times and from very different perspectives; see amongst others: S. Huot, Le “Mythe d’Hérodiade” chez Mallarmé, Paris: A. G. Nizet, 1977; G. Davies, op. cit.; M. Robillard, Le Désir de la vierge: Hérodiade chez Mallarmé, Genève: Droz, 1993.
544S. Mallarmé, Oeuvres complètes, pp. 41–49 (see S. Mallarmé, Hérodiade, in: idem, Collected Poems, trans. H. Weinfield, Berkeley–Los Angeles–London: University of California Press, 1994, pp. 25–37).
545H. M. Block, Mallarmé and the Symbolist Drama, Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1963, p. 12.
546See ibidem, p. 19.
547The composition came into being on the initiative of Martha Graham (solo dance performed by her for the first time 30 October 1944 at the Library of Congress in Washington).
548In one of his letters to Mallarmé Théodore Aubanel praises the idea of writing a “grand tragedy” in three acts. See S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, p. 171. Mallarmé himself mentioned a tragedy several times (amongst others the letter to Cazalis from March 1865, ibidem, p. 160; see Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 43), but he quickly abandoned the original plan and in the same year wrote that he intends create not a tragedy, but a poem (letter to Théodore Aubanel; S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, p. 174; see Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 55).
549J. Kristeva, op. cit., p. 448. Compare M. Robillard, op. cit., p. 40.
550H. P. Lund, “‘Les Noces d’Hérodiade, mystère’ – et résumé de l’oeuvre mallarméenne,” in: Revue Romane, 1 (1969): p. 33.
551Mallarmé in letters to Henri Cazalis and to Eugène Lefébure described the whole Hérodiade with the words – “oeuvre solitaire” [“solitary work”]. See S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, pp. 166, 171 (see Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, pp. 51, 54).
552L. Cellier, Mallarmé et la morte qui parle, Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1959, p. 88.
553See amongst others two letters to Henri Cazalis, from November 1864 and from May 1867. S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, pp. 142, 242 (see Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 74).
554See J.-P. Richard, op. cit., p. 175.
555P.-O. Walzer, Essai sur Mallarmé, Vienne: Éditions Pierre Seghers, 1963, p. 114.
556See E. S. Epstein, “‘Hérodiade’: la dialectique de l’identité humaine et de la création poétique,” in: Revue des Sciences Humaines, 140 (1970): pp. 579–592. See also H. P. Lund, op. cit., pp. 28–50.
557S. Mallarmé, Scène, in: idem, Oeuvres complètes, p. 45.
558S. Mallarmé, Herodias: Scene, in: idem, Collected Poems and Other Verse, pp. 31, 33.
559Already in the technique of writing Hérodiade Raymond Court recognises elements that will appear with full force in a typographic experiment (forming in Mallarmé’s belief a realisation of a “score”) – Un Coup de dés [A Throw of the Dice] (1897). R. Court, “Mallarmé et Debussy,” in: Revue des Sciences Humaines, 205 (1987): p. 72. See C. S. Brown, “The Musical Analogies in Mallarmé’s ‘Un Coup de dés’,” in: Comparative Literature Studies, 1/2, Vol. 4 (1967): pp. 67–79.
560The dialogue construction is a type of mystification and, according to Jacques Scherer, dialogue appears to confuse the recipient: “Everything here becomes a universal allusion”. J. Scherer, Le “Livre” de Mallarmé, Paris: Gallimard, 1977, p. 24.
561S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, p. 137 (in English translation: “paint, not the object, but the effect it produces”; Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 39).
562S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, p. 161 (in English translation: “all these impressions follow one another as in a symphony”; Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 44). This formula should be understood in the context of the extremely complicated question of the relationship of Mallarmé and his poetry to music, for which unfortunately there is no space here. See S. Bernard, Mallarmé et la musique, Paris: Librairie Nizet, 1959. See also J.-P. Madou, “Langue, mythe, musique,” in: Littérature et musique, ed. R. Célis, Bruxelles: Publications des Facultés Universitaires Saint-Louis, 1982, pp. 75–110.
563S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, p. 193 (in English translation: “the subject of my work is Beauty and its ostensible subject is merely a pretext for approaching Beauty. That, I believe, is the clue to Poetry”; Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 58). Compare also letter to Henri Cazalis from May 1866 (S. Mallarmé, Correspondance 1862–1871, p. 215; see Selected Letters of Stéphane Mallarmé, p. 62).
564S. Mallarmé, Scène, in: idem, Oeuvres complètes, p. 44.
565S. Mallarmé, Herodias: Scene, in: idem, Collected Poems and Other Verse, p. 29.
566See L. Cellier, op. cit., pp. 126–127.
567J. Scherer, op. cit., p. 129. In fact, this method of constructing meaning is ubiquitous in Mallarmé and brings about the opening of the text for many different interpretations. The issue is shown more closely – on the example of the numerous interpretation proposals of the sonnet Le vierge, le vivace et le bel aujourd’hui (nota bene this work was the poetic material for Improvisation I from Pli selon Pli by Pierre Boulez) – M. Żurowski, “Mallarmé et le problème de l’interprétation plurielle,” in: Approches méthodologiques de la recherche littéraire, ed. A. Abłamowicz, Katowice: Uniwersytet Śląski, 1985, pp. 121–133.
568See Ph. Sollers, “Littérature et totalité,” in: idem, L’écriture et l’expérience des limites, Paris: Éd. du Seuil, 1968, p. 70. See also M. Viegnes, “Le retour de la ‘chère morte’: variations sur un thème orphique chez Villiers et Mallarmé,” in: Revue des Sciences Humaines, 242 (1996): p. 76.
569See P. Bénichou, Selon Mallarmé, Paris: Éditions Gallimard, 1995, pp. 28–30.
570See J.-P. Madou, op. cit., p. 104. See also M. Robillard, op. cit., p. 16.
571P.-O. Walzer, Essai sur Mallarmé, p. 112.
572The semantic functionalisation of the interval of an octave is the most powerful when a fragment of the verbal text containing the word “miroir” appears in the immediate context of the musical text: 1) “Assez! Tiens devant moi miroir”, 2) “O miroir! Eau froide” (the second case I quote at the beginning of the sketch as a kind of motto). See P. Hindemith, op. cit., pp. 9, 10.
573Ibidem, no page numbers.
574For a particular palimpsesticity Michał Bristiger casually indicates, categorising Hindemith’s work through a quite impractical formula: “() + b + c + d”, but accurately defining the lack of the sound of the text – “()”. At the same time this creates a separate category within a schematic typology, including instrumental compositions in which the “conceived” text appears (“the word is only conceived, it has no material form”). M. Bristiger, op. cit., p. 184.
575This is about the original context, because the quotes inevitably start to create a new text constellation. It is a thought-provoking matter that some “cutouts” deconstruct the text with a kind of carelessness, the source of which is sometimes difficult to establish. In some moments this is due to numerous editorial errors (amongst others: “Assez! liens devant moi ce miroir” (p. 9) instead of: “Assez! Tiens devant moi ce miroir”; “Vous pierres, où mes yeux” (p. 16) instead of: “Vous, pierres où mes yeux”; “Mais voit dans ma pudeur” (p. 17) instead of: “Me voit dans ma pudeur”; “Jetez vous les sanglots suprêmes” (p. 22) instead of: “Jetez-vous les sanglots suprêmes”, etc.). In other situations, particularly in reference to exclamatory sentences, doubts arise in the interpretation: there appears “Laisse là ces parfums” (p. 8) in place of: “Laisse là ces parfums!”; “Qui parles d’un mortel” (p. 17) in place of: “Qui parles d’un mortel!”. This is also for question sentences, with the exception of “Tu vis! ou vois-je [ici] l’ombre d’une princesse?” (p. 4), which are left without a question mark – “Mais n’allais-tu pas me toucher” (p. 13), “Madame, allez-vous donc mourir” (p. 20) – although in this case the unambiguity results from sentence construction.
576P. Hindemith, op. cit., pp. 4, 5, 10.
577Ibidem, p. 5.
578A similar approach (often full of sarcasm) can be seen for example in Luigi Nono, who quotes Hölderlin’s verses in Fragmente-Stille, an Diotima for performers, in order to stimulate their imaginations. Françoise Escal presents various artistic strategies in an interesting manner in this regard, analysing the constructs and the meaning of verbal terms [les mentions verbales] in musical text. F. Escal, Aléas de l’oeuvre musicale, Paris: Hermann, 1996, pp. 259–287.
579Not looking far, an example of the “conclusive” application would be the repeatedly used musical notation of the first bars of Allegro giocoso, ma non troppo vivace from the Violin Concerto in D major by Brahms in Cudzoziemka [The Stranger] by Maria Kuncewiczowa. It is rare, however, to have the “anticipatory” use of musical quotes in literature – in Arias tristes (1903) by Juan Ramón Jiménez or in Podróż zimowa by Stanisław Barańczak fragments of Schubert’s melodies function as a kind of motto.
580P. Hindemith, op. cit., p. 4.
581Ibidem, pp. 4, 8, 11.
582Ibidem, p. 9.
583See S. Mallarmé, Oeuvres complètes, p. 1444.
584Calvin S. Brown would describe Hindemith’s work within the scope of his typology with the name “narrative music”; it is worth noting however that from here the categorisation of programme music into “descriptive” and “narrative” (an example of the first is Symphony No. 6, the “Pastorale”, by Beethoven, and the second – Danse macabre by Saint-Saëns based on the text by Henri Cazalis), that Brown himself suggested, becomes by and large a tautological operation. See C. S. Brown, Descriptive Music [chapter 20] and Narrative Music [chapter 21], in: idem, Music and Literature: A Comparison of the Arts , Athens–Georgia: The University of Georgia Press, 1963, pp. 245–256, 257–267.
585“Nommer un objet, c’est supprimer les trois quarts de la jouissance du poëme qui est faite de deviner peu à peu: le suggérer, voilà le rêve”. S. Mallarmé, “Réponses à des enquêtes: ‘Sur l’Évolution littéraire’ (Enquête de Jules Huret),” in: idem, Oeuvres complètes, p. 869 (in English translation: “To name an object is to suppress three-quarters of the enjoyment … to suggest, that is the dream”; “Interview with Stéphane Mallarmé (1891),” in: Symbolist Art Theories: A Critical Anthology, ed. H. Dorra, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1994, p. 141).
586M. Bristiger, op. cit., p. 185.
587Ibidem, p. 187.
588M. Głowiński, “Literackość muzyki – muzyczność literatury,” p. 66.
589M. Głowiński, “Pytania zadawane muzyce,” in: Ruch Muzyczny, 3 (1993): p. 6.
590See G. Schubert, Paul Hindemith, translated from German M.-H. Ricquier, D. Collins, Arles: Actes Sud, 1997, p. 115. In this respect, Bohdan Pociej’s constatations, placing the individuality of Hindemith’s style over Bach’s style, go very far: “There is certainly a distinct phenomenon that we call ‘Hindemith’s sound’, there is his own […] harmonic system, which for sure is a language […]”. B. Pociej, “Paul Hindemith (1895–1963),” in: Ruch Muzyczny, 5 (1964): p. 4. This conclusion gains the correct dimension through the prism of the complex problem of the semanticity and asemanticity of music, in the labyrinth of diverse positions in which music is treated as: “asemantic art”, “information about itself”, “referential statement” or “language”. See E. Kofin, Semiologiczny aspekt muzyki, Wrocław: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Wrocławskiego, 1991, pp. 7–106.
591G. Dorfles, “Interferenze tra musica e pittura e la nuova notazione musicale,” in: Musica e arti figurative, “Quaderni della Rassegna Musicale”, vol. 4, Torino: Einaudi, 1968, p. 20.
592P. Ricoeur, “Explanation and Understanding,” in: idem, Interpretation Theory: Discourse and the Surplus of Meaning, Fort Worth: Texas Christian University Press, 1976, p. 75.