The complex relationship between Wagner and Liszt has been much caricatured. Liszt is usually perceived as long-suffering, patient, and generous in his support, while Wagner appears self-serving and ruthless. This chapter unravels how their relationship was shaped by contemporary economic, political, and, artistic forces. In doing so, it observes the contrasting ways Liszt and Wagner attempted to reconcile revolutionary republican sympathies with their desire for royal patronage. It examines the advice and practical support Liszt provided Wagner through his position as Kapellmeister at the Weimar Court Theatre, Liszt’s ambitions to position his relationship with Wagner as equivalent to Goethe and Schiller within a new artistic ‘golden age’ in Weimar, and their differing responses to contemporary aesthetic debates. It highlights similarities and differences in their ideas about the future of music, the relationship between music and drama and its implications for musical form, and their compositional approaches.

Germany’s musical heritage is remarkably rich, but much of German music history is associated with smaller towns rather than Berlin and other large cities. Meiningen and Weimar are but two examples. Meiningen’s Court Orchestra boasts an illustrious history. In 1867, the town hosted the first meeting of the General German Music Society (ADMV or Allgemeiner Deutscher Musikverein), founded a few years earlier by Franz Liszt and Franz Brendel to promote the cause of “new music.” It was in Meiningen that Hans von Bülow introduced the young Richard Strauss to orchestral conducting. Between 1889 and 1894, and in Weimar, Strauss consolidated his growing reputation as an orchestral leader and a controversial composer of “new music.”Until illness forced him to resign his position, Strauss conducted works by Cherubini, Haydn, Robert Schumann, and Smetana as well as portions of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde and his own symphonic poem Don Juan.

This chapter explores the environment of programmatic music-making that centered on the so-called “progressive” composers Liszt, Wagner, and their acolytes, contextualizes the ongoing debates between absolute music and program music that they occasioned, and considers various programmatic compositions outside of that narrow tradition. It gives particular attention to the forty-year period between the appearance of most of Liszt’s symphonic poems and Strauss’s tone poems, in which Hans von Bronsart, Hans von Bülow, Alexander Ritter, Felix Draeseke, and other students of the New German School sought to develop tenets of program music with limited success. Just as integral to the success of program music were the sites and contexts of its performance, as Vienna, Paris, Madrid, and New York welcomed and rejected program music in equal measure. These circumstances shaped Strauss to be a composer open toward, but also healthily suspicious of, program music and its past practitioners.

For Richard Strauss, the orchestra was his primary medium of expression, and his use of orchestral forces mirrors the growth and expansion of that ensemble in the late nineteenth century. Strauss’s earliest works call for a traditional double-wind orchestra, which reflects the conservative teachings of his father, Franz Strauss, but by the late 1880s, Richard’s tone poems require triple-wind ensembles with more brass, due to the influences of the Wagnerian Alexander Ritter. Strauss’s experiences as a conductor in Meiningen, Weimar, and elsewhere revealed the limitations of undersized orchestras and the growing practice of reinforcing those ensembles with additional instrumentalists for Wagnerian repertoire, especially including Strauss’s own works. Strauss’s revision of Hector Berlioz’s Treatise on Instrumentation (1905) also appears to have inspired a new generation of composers, who quickly adopted the Wagnerian orchestra in the years immediately after the Treatise appeared.