At the zenith of his career Willem Mengelberg was voted the most popular man in the Netherlands, his fame surpassing even that of the nation’s reigning monarch. Upon his arrival in America in the early 1920s, he was feted as the greatest conductor that had yet touched foot on its shores. But a quarter century later his name became tarnished in political ignominy, his passionate style of music-making rendered dubious by the rise of postwar “objectivity.” Nearly 70 years after his death, Mengelberg’s name has largely vanished from the consciousness of even those dwindling audiences which still bother to care about classical music, a dusty footnote in musical history.
His conducting—wildly Romantic with an almost improvisatory élan, the result of an autocratic podium manner which tolerated no dissent—runs firmly against the grain of today’s literalist dogmas. Conductors of the 21st century generally treat the scores of Beethoven, Brahms, Mahler, and Strauss as Holy Writ, their performances mere reenactments of ossified rituals codified in a dead language. Mengelberg’s performances are altogether different. Startlingly, almost dangerously alive, music emerges from him with all the fluent effervescence of a living lingua franca.
“[He] was unfortunate to die in a period that looked down at his two greatest assets: Virtuosity and romanticism,” Harold C. Schonberg lamented.
In his mid-20s Mengelberg was appointed director of Amsterdam’s Concertgebouw Orchestra and for the next fifty years he was the sun which radiated at the center of Dutch cultural life; his orchestra’s star rising along with his own. Within only a few short years the sturdy provincial ensemble became every bit the equal of the finest orchestras in German-speaking lands and America.
“Nice?,” Ernestine Schumann-Heink’s incredulously replied to a Dutch reporter in 1896. “But your orchestra is absolutely magnificent. I have almost never heard anything like it. You are very spoiled because you hear it every week! This sound! This nuance and then the interpretation of your brilliant music director!”
Leopold Stokowski, Bruno Walter, and Pierre Monteux were among the conductors who spoke of Mengelberg with the highest admiration. Modeste Tchaikovsky found himself so moved by the conductor’s performances of his brother’s Pathétique that he presented him with several scores annotated by the composer himself. Maurice Ravel, Igor Stravinsky, Carl Nielsen, and Paul Hindemith all counted themselves among his admirers. Above all the conductor cherished most his friendships with Gustav Mahler and Richard Strauss. The latter immortalized his esteem by dedicating his Ein Heldenleben to Mengelberg and his orchestra. Off the podium, Strauss was always ready to dispense helpful career advice to his younger colleague, and avidly shared his love of collecting art and antiques.
But it was Mahler who was destined to become Mengelberg’s lodestar.
“We have now been introduced to a great genius,” the Dutchman toasted Mahler after a performance of the Resurrection. “Someone I would like to qualify as the Beethoven of our time.”
Amsterdam quickly became what Mahler referred to as his “second homeland.” Impressed by Mengelberg’s artistic instincts and character, Mahler returned the favor by consulting with his Dutch colleague on revisions of his own works.
“Mengelberg is a great guy!,” Mahler wrote back to his wife after rehearsals at the Concertgebouw in March 1906. “The only one whom I trust with my work in complete confidence.”
Over the span of two decades Dr. Frits Zwart, with the cooperation of the Mengelberg estate, has exhaustively researched the life and work of one of the great maestro-auteurs of the 20th century. The fruit of his labors, the two-volume Conductor Willem Mengelberg, 1871 – 1951: Acclaimed and Accused was finally made available to English readers late in 2018 thanks to the efforts of his translator, Cynthia Wilson, and Amsterdam University Press (AUP). Coinciding with the centenary of Mengelberg’s famous Mahlerfeest, AUP has reprinted the book in paperback this year.
Late last year, Dr. Zwart was kind enough to answer my questions about his book and its fascinating subject.
Dr. Frits Zwart, author of Willem Mengelberg, 1871 - 1951: Acclaimed and Accused. (image courtesy of Dr. Zwart)
Néstor Castiglione (N. C.): How did your interest in Mengelberg begin?
Frits Zwart (F. Z.): I became interested in him because of my work. Being a curator at the Kunstmuseum Den Haag, I also took care of Mengelberg’s archives, which were housed in their collections. Little had been written before on his life, despite being the most dominant figure in the musical life of the Netherlands in the early 20th century.
N. C.: How much time did it take for you to realize this project?
F. Z.: I began my research around 1990. Nine years later, I presented a dissertation which covered Mengelberg’s life up till 1920. That became the basis of the first half of the biography. Much later in 2016, I followed that up with the second volume. For various reasons, I was unable for years to make progress on the second book on a regular basis.
N. C.: When did work on the English translation begin?
F. Z.: My translator Cynthia Wilson started in 2015 with volume 1. Her translation of volume 2 was completed in 2018, I think around May.
N. C.: Mengelberg was sometimes criticized for his temper and loquaciousness. Were these deliberately exaggerated by his detractors?
F. Z.: Many of those anecdotes are true. He would speak a lot during rehearsals, was very domineering with his orchestra, and on top of that could also be grumpy and unpleasant towards individual players. But, certainly, there have been exaggerations about this. His paramount goal was working hard on results to draw from his orchestras flawless playing. While he led other ensembles in Germany and America, Mengelberg loved the Concertgebouw Orchestra and remained loyal to it, being that he considered it his “instrument.”
N. C.: His support of Mahler and Richard Strauss are well known, but your book also reveals that Mengelberg’s repertoire of the contemporary music of his time was wide.
F. Z.: Mengelberg stood open for new music. He knew that it was his obligation to present to the audience new repertoire. Though he often looked for interesting music, his tastes weren’t modernist.
N. C.: How important was Mengelberg’s role in American musical life during his tenure at the New York Philharmonic-Symphony?
F. Z.: He brought quality to the New York Philharmonic-Symphony; improving its standards, which had become slack under his predecessor Josef Stránský, back up to a first-class ensemble. During his tenure as music director, he regularly included music by contemporary American composers, and continued to advocate for Mahler. When Mengelberg left the orchestra, it had nothing to do with the conservatism of the American public. The rupture had been caused because he was excluded from the orchestra’s European tour in 1930. Arturo Toscanini, who from 1927 was his co-music director, did not want to share the spotlight with Mengelberg. As I describe in my book, the situation got out of hand after that. Because of friction between the two conductors, the board of the New York Philharmonic chose not to renew Mengelberg’s contract. So the reasons for his departure were political and personal, rather than musical.
N. C.: One of Mengelberg’s best qualities is the illusion he coveys of spontaneity, of music being improvised on the spot.
F. Z.: His orchestral precision with the Concertgebouw Orchestra was the result of years of intense training, carefully sharpening its precision and discipline. At the forefront of his mind was his constant striving for perfection, which made great demands on a lot from his players. As a result he had firm views on articulation, on bowing, on all kinds of aspects of playing.
N. C.: Mengelberg was so proud of his German roots. Why then did he cultivate an almost Gallic sonority from the Concertgebouw?
F. Z.: I don’t know if I have the answer for that. In general Mengelberg was rooted in German traditions. Not only because of his musical preferences, but also because of his family’s Rhenish roots. During World War I he made clear to friends and colleagues in neutral Holland where his sympathies lay. But I also know of the praise he received from the French, which was also a product of the technical perfection of his performances. There were also at various times in the orchestra some French musicians among its ranks—the oboist Georges Blanchard, for example.
Willem Mengelberg in conversation with Pierre Monteux in Montreux, 1934. (Image courtesy of Nederlands Muziek Instituut, The Hague)
N. C.: Was he a political naïf as has been contended?
F. Z.: Although Mengelberg performed in occupied territories and cooperated with the Germans—though he did not publicly support the occupation of the Netherlands—it must also be remembered that he protected many Jews and other victims of Nazi persecution. Yes, he even admonished the Vienna Philharmonic for not playing Mahler’s music. Mengelberg thought he could say whatever he wanted and honestly believed that he was not wading into politics acting as he did, and that in music he could say how he really felt.
N. C.: Nearly 70 years after his death, why is his legacy still important?
F. Z.: He contributed to Dutch musical life in a decisively lasting way. He established the unrivaled St. Matthew Passion tradition in the Netherlands, which continues to gather a great following even to this day. Because of him the work is performed all over the country. Then you must consider his work in Amsterdam, where he molded the Concertgebouw Orchestra into a world class ensemble. That it continues to be regarded as one of the greatest orchestras anywhere is in strong part because of Mengelberg’s work. Of course, he was also the most important Mahler champion of his time. One can hear these recordings he left for posterity, which bear witness to his great artistry and vision. The close friendship and professional collaboration he shared with these composers make his peerless interpretations of Mahler’s music, of Strauss’ music, and many others important and practical models for today’s performance practice.
N. C.: Did Mengelberg influence the work of later conductors?
F. Z.: I don’t think there are any clearly identifiable influences. The hostility against Mengelberg after World War II was so great in Holland that no conductor would ever admit to being influenced by him. No conductor in the 1950s wanted to be associated with him. On the other hand, Mengelberg is spoken of with great respect by Hermann Scherchen in the 1930s, as well as by conductors like Carl Schuricht and Pierre Monteux. But influence is a different thing. There were also several other conductors who admired Mengelberg: Erik Tuxen, Pierre Dervaux; and the Dutch Willem van Otterloo, Hein Jordans, and Paul van Kempen. You also have to take into account that his manner of conducting fell quickly out of style in the postwar era: His autocratic behavior, his free handling of the score ,and the use of portamento.
N. C.: Contemporary opinions of the wartime conduct of conductors like Wilhelm Furtwängler and Herbert von Karajan have become more nuanced. Why has this not occurred for Mengelberg?
F. Z.: Furtwängler and Karajan were Germans. Mengelberg was judged by the Dutch—he was one of us. In my opinion, we are not a very forgiving people, especially to our fallen heroes. And Mengelberg was really considered a hero in his time. Therefore, he was punished severely after 1945. Even today it is something that stains his name and reputation. It is remarkable that we cannot bring ourselves to weigh his merits and faults in a broader, more nuanced perspective.
Willem Mengelberg, 1919. (Atelier Jakob Merkelbach/Wikimedia Commons)