Werner Egk’s Bizarre “Irische Legende”

EGK: Irische Legende / Inge Borkh, sop (Cathleen); Kurt Böhme, bs (Aleel, a poet); Margarete Klose, alto (Oona, the nurse); Franz Bierbach, bar (Administrator); Waldemar  Kmentt, ten (Shepherd 1); Theo Baylé, bs (Shepherd 2); Walter Berry, bar (Tiger); Chloe Owen, sop (Owl 1); Lilian Benningsen, alto (Owl 2); Lászlé Szemere, ten (Vulture); Max Lorenz, ten (Hyena/Merchant 1); Oskar Czwerwenka, bar (Hyena/Merchant 2); Gottlob Frick, bs (Ghost of Faust/Satan); Patricia Brinton, dancer (Snake) / Vienna State Opera Chorus; Vienna Philharmonic Orch.; George Szell, cond / Orfeo C 564 0121 (live: Salzburg, August 17, 1955)

My exploration of ignored but fascinating operas of the past finally found its way to this strange artifact of an even stranger work, Werner Egk’s Irische Legende, which to the best of my knowledge hasn’t been performed since 1955. Yet although the opera is incredibly fascinating and, as you can tell from the cast listing, very well sung (and conducted), there is a back story to it and the composer which has kept it out of the public eye and ear.

The back story is that composer Werner Egk, who was a young man when the Nazis came to power in 1933, eventually accepted the post of director of the Composer’s Section of the Reichsmusikkammer in 1941 and composed a few politically compliant works. Although he was eventually cleared at the Nuremberg trials after the war, this apparently only cleared him in the eyes of Austrians and fellow Germans. Even to this day, British and American critics refer to his output sarcastically as “Eine Kleine Nazi Musik,” and he is persona non grata elsewhere in the world.

Yet somehow the same political sins do not stick to Richard Strauss, who also accepted prestigious conducting posts from the Nazis as well as composing politically compliant works. But Strauss’ music is more tonal, less abrasive, and loved by millions, whereas the music of Werner Egk is rhythmically amorphous, harmonically thorny and lacking in melodies, thus the choice was easy. Keep Strauss, but kick Egk to the curb.

Egk was born as Werner Joseph Mayer in 1901. Musically precocious, he studied at the Benedictine Gymnasium and municipal conservatory. Showing talent in both composing and graphic design, he later studied in Frankfurt and Munich. After moving to Berlin in 1928 and meeting composers Arnold Schoenberg and Hanns Eisler—both Jewish—he decided to become a radio and film composer, working with radio executive Hans Fleisch, who was also Jewish, and who gave him his first commission to compose radio music. So far in his biography, then, we encounter him interacting with several German and Austrian Jews.

In 1921 he married violinist Elizabeth Karl and decided to craft his professional last name from hers: Elizabeth geboren Karl, or Egk. Around that time he also began taking private lessons in composition from Carl Orff, who eventually became one of the Nazis’ favorite composers: both his opera Der Mond and especially his “pagan ritual music” Carmina Burana became big favorites of the Third Reich. But Orff got off the hook after the war because he was known to despite the Nazis, who he considered to be uncouth, low-class gutter trash. After returning to Munich in 1929, Egk became friendly with another German Jew, composer Karl Julius Marx, and in 1933—fateful year!—premiered his radio opera, Columbus.

I listened to Columbus and found it heavily Orff-inspired, but unlike Orff, who wrote in short, often repeated phrases in a regular rhythm, Egk wrote in longer strophic lines that were not repeated, more like Stravinsky. But the biggest problem with Columbus is that it went on far too long and said very little; after all, the real-life Columbus was not a real explorer or the least bit heroic. Even Fernando Cortez had more real achievements. Columbus was just an inept sailor who thought he was discovering a new way to the East Indies but was stupid enough to stumble onto a previously unknown continent and not realize it. In his later years, he repeatedly told people not to praise him or consider him a hero in any way, but that didn’t stop the U.S.A. from celebrating “Columbus Day” for roughly 300 years. Nonetheless, Columbus was a cause célèbre in Germany at the time, and in fact it was given a stage premiere the following year.

That is when the Aryan, Roman Catholic Egk became slowly but surely embroiled with the Nazis. Michael H, Kater, professor of German studies at York University, labeled Egk “The enigmatic opportunist.” Egk’s Stravinskian music was clearly at odds with the Nazi aesthetics leading to his clashing with the “Militant League for German Culture.” He complied by writing a melodic, tuneful opera, Die Zaubergeige (The Magic Violin) which premiered in 1935, and he was “in.” Around this time his friendship with Orff was broken as the older composer, leading them to become rivals. But Egk was uncomfortable writing “down” in his musical style, so he composed another Stravinskian opera, Peer Gynt, in 1938, but the Third Reich was by now committed to pushing Egk and did so through Joseph Goebbels. Egk was ordered to make public pronouncements on the state of modern German music and commissioned to write a grand opera on Nazi themes, which he never finished. Yet Egk was commissioned to write the music for the 1936 Olympic Games in Berlin, and his official post provided him with a luxurious income while Orff, though popular, was living in near-poverty. It was a very complicated affair, but the bottom line is that Egk either had to play ball with the Nazis or risk losing a lot more than his income. It’s easy to sit back from a great distance in time and space and pass judgment on Egk (or, pace a previous review of mine, Franz Schmidt), but as many who were there have pointed out, living under the Nazi Regime was a complex, back-biting nightmare world where you never knew where you stood with one part of the Party while the other part sang your praises.

Fast-forward to 1954, and Egk was commissioned to write a new opera for the 1955 Salzburg Festival, a commission endorsed by conductor Wilhelm Furtwängler who, himself a victim of Nazi propaganda though he never joined the Party, wore a Swastika armband or gave the Nazi salute, probably saw in Egk a fellow victim who was a brilliant musician needing validation. Of course, Furtwängler never lived to see the premiere of Irische Legende.

Irische Legende was a benchmark work in operatic history. Musically, it looked forward to the more complex works of Bernd Alois Zimmermann and Aribert Reimann with its insistently dramatic style with absolutely no compromise for melodic lines that listeners could hang on to, while from a dramatic standpoint it summed up the most common and pertinent dramatic themes of opera during the 20th century up to that point, namely, the struggles of good vs. evil, the worth or worthlessness of established religion, the willingness of people to sacrifice their principles when faced with privation and starvation, and one return to older operas in its featuring a heroine who is willing to sacrifice herself for the common good. And all of it was wrapped up in a plotline and libretto almost as convoluted as Mikhail Bulgakov’s legendary novel, The Master and Margarita.

Egk wrote his own libretto based on William Butler Yeats’ verse drama Countess Cathleen. Ireland is going through one of its many famines. The people are visited by two merchants, actually hyenas, sent by the devil who promise food to the starving peasants in exchange for their immortal souls. Desperate, many of them agree and end up in hell, but Countess Cathleen decides to offers her soul in exchange for all of theirs. Egk said that he liked the idea of one person trying, against all odds, to stand up for others in a seemingly hopeless situation—something he himself did not have the courage to do under Nazi rule. The opera, which runs a little under two hours, is not divided into acts but into five scenes, two of which are set “In the Demonic Forest” where animals not represented by the population with a good reputation are demonized because they act negatively. In addition to the two hyenas, these include a tiger, two owls, a vulture and a snake. The latter does not sing but merely dances, crawls and hisses.

In order for there to be a dialogue with the devil-controlled wildlife, angels are allowed to oppose them, but the tiger argues that so far people have been at least given a choice between hunger and eternal damnation. He believes that this should change from now on because Hell needs fresh growth, but the angels object that nothing will change because you can’t abolish freedom of choice. Yet the tiger tells the demonic hyenas that the people can be manipulated by hunger and fear while, at the same time, telling the people that no matter how hungry they are they should just refuse their offer. What if the poor use violence, the vulture and owls ask? There will be no dispute because the needy are too weak for action. And if there are any objections, the hyenas should reply that there is enough edible food available if you give us your souls.

The Countess Cathleen is friends with the poet Aleel, who writes about owls that tie black nets, which in turn are laid out by black men. Angels, whose apartments are spread over seven hills, get caught with their feet. Smoke rises from these, which forms black soot. The angels get caught in the nets and cannot fly away. A poor beggar who has no bread and no money, but only owns one scissor, sits on the edge of the path and cuts the net so the angels can fly again on Sunday. The feathered ones set out but cannot find what they are looking for. The symbolism in the opera thus becomes thicker and heavier. Aleel advises Cathleen to flee, but she is adamant about staying in the county of her father and not take the outcome of things for granted.

Learning from the administrator of the peasants’ plight, Cathleen decides to exchange her soul for all the others. She begins her good deeds by giving money from her own coffers to the starving people so that they can buy as much food as they need. This puts the hyena-merchants out of business. The tiger orders that Cathleen’s house be burned with she and Aleel in it, but the owls warn that if they do that, they will be worshiped as saints. Aleel is kidnapped while asleep. Under hypnosis, Aleel is asked by the tiger what he sees and hears in his dream. Aleel answers that he sees a leper lying on a bundle of rotten straw, holding a moldy crust of bread in his feeble hand. Outside the door, he hears the discordant whining of a dog thanking him for a piece of bread. Does he recognize the dog? He should recognize himself! In a few days, he will be like this dream image if he does not decide to flee the plague land.

Aleel gives in to the tiger’s insistence because he already feels damned. The vulture warns him not to forget that he has revoked his oath – not today, not tomorrow, not early, not late! The demons remind him of the woodlice, vipers, spiders and basilisks, of the freezing rain and the fire. They have won the game. Aleel will abandon his beloved. Cathleen realizes the effect of the evil and is saddened. Aleel’s disloyalty, which she had not expected, is the last straw. Even so, she follows through on her promise to exchange her soul for all the others. Much to the operagoers’ expectations, the demons agree to this. While she is still signing the pact, the tiger emphasizes, the grain poured out of the containers into the jars of the hungry. Now she has fallen to hell and the messengers of death are already on their way. Cathleen bids farewell to her nurse Oona and all those who were dear to her. When the nurse sees her sweetheart Aleel again, she is asked to tell him that she was still thinking of him in death.

Shortly after Cathleen is led away, Aleel enters asking about her and is told she went to hell while he was gone. But although she dies, she does not go to hell. A legal skirmish develops between the parties. No step will bring her under your control, the angels decide. But she is doomed to eternal punishment, comes the counter-argument. The white-feathered ones want to know what she is to be punished for. She should be damned because they have a right to it, the tiger claims. Aleel puts up a good fight as Cathleen’s defender and asks whether she might have been arrogant, a boorish or a domineering person? Blackened with anger or withered with avarice that she should be punished? She sacrificed herself to help others.

“But she signed the contract!” the demons rebut. “We didn’t force the woman and we didn’t coerce her, but she came anyway!” Cathleen changes position and moves towards the angels. The dark messengers flee to the demons. They complain to the tiger that he had promised them many souls, and now they have none. He is banished to the coldest corner of infinity, where even destruction can no longer reach him, only oblivion. The angels scare away the animals and demons until they clear the stage set. With Cathleen, the angels wander off in the other direction. Aleel remains alone and abandoned.

Pretty crazy stuff, to be sure. But like all truly great operas, to quote the late Jon Vickers, the plot asks questions but does not provide answers. As a listener or spectator, you are not obligated to agree with Cathleen’s being freed from her obligation just because her actions were altruistic. You can decide for yourself whether or not she deserves eternal damnation since, after all, she willingly sacrificed herself.

As alluded to earlier, Egk’s music with its irregular meter and edgy harmonies (though never atonal, the melodic lines are even less easy to follow than in Strauss’ Elektra), is off-putting to many listeners, and I am 100% positive that if a performance were to be mounted today, we wouldn’t have a cast of singers half as good as this one. Even in 1955, having such top-drawer singers in both the leading and subsidiary roles was an almost unheard-of luxury for a modern opera written in an wholly ungracious style, but considering that this is all we have of it, thank goodness it’s in surprisingly decent mono sound quality and so well performed.

Perhaps surprisingly, the orchestra plays less of a part in the ongoing drama than not only Elektra but also Die Soldaten or Reimann’s Lear. Edgy string and brass passages, often underscored by the tympani, play motifs and musical gestures which provide the singers with at least a bit of rhythmic impetus, but by and large this is sung drama, thus the vocalists have to be the ones to carry the load. At the beginning of the third scene, the second in the “Demonic Forest,” the rhythm becomes faster and a bit regular if quirky: quarter note, followed by an eighth note triplet, followed by two quarters, a very odd sort of 5/4. (I’m going by ear here since not even a score of this opera exists online for me to examine.) In this scene, too, the percussion becomes busier, involving cymbal crashes in addition to the tympani. Egk further increases the tension later in the scene by speeding up the tempo and compressing the rhythm, with some passages in a fast 3/4 (or perhaps 6/8…again, I’m not positive). And later still, in the scene beginning with “Geht jetzt, ihr Kaufleute,” we even get a gracious if bitonal waltz melody, a real rarity in this work. It’s a welcome respite from the previous two scenes’ pounding dark drama.

And really, it is this continually shifting, changing rhythm and tempo that make the strongest impression on listeners, and since there are no stage productions, listening is our only option. Yes, I wish we could have a recording of this work in digital stereo in order to hear the orchestral textures clearer, but as I noted above, we’re almost certain to get defective voices wobbling their way through the opera. (As a sidelight, the one thing that surprised me was how good Max Lorenz, then 54 years old and at the end of a long career as a Heldentenor, sounds in this performance. When he sang the Götterdämmerung Siegfried under Furtwängler five years earlier, he didn’t sound nearly as steady as he does here.) The ghost of Faust makes an appearance at the end of this scene to put his two cents’ worth in regarding the selling of souls, and here Egk almost casts the music in the mold of Alberich’s, although with less stable underlying harmonies.

In Scene 4 (Cathleen’s house) the music again moves towards waltz tempo, but with very strange, eerie harmonies. At one point, Cathleen’s voice is heard from offstage, a cappella, with a wordless chorus of female voices, using extended chords. Truly a remarkable scene! I believe Egk did this in order to emphasize the isolated world in which Cathleen and Aleel live, cut off from the suffering of the people. Then, near the end of the scene, the pace shifts to fast music with atonal harmonies once again as her state of mind becomes more agitated. Later still, soft violin tremolos and surges in the bass line remind one again of Götterdämmerung. The fifth scene opens with dissonant but exciting music as the tiger, owls, vulture and  demons sing up a storm. As Cathleen enters the picture, we hear low viola tremolos and percussion; when the din subsides, the accompaniment is reduced to a solo clarinet obbligato for several bars.

The bottom line is that Irische Legende is not at all lovely music, but it is consistently effective dramatically. I’m sure that this work would make a better impression were we able to see it as well as hear it, but in addition to fearing the worst in terms of casting the voices I am very worried that some Regietheater director will ruin it by hitting you over the head with his or her perverted “view” of the opera. Yet it is clearly a work worth hearing, if for no other reason that to catch the many little details that Egk wove into his score.

—© 2024 Lynn René Bayley

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