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UMS Concert Program, May 5,6,7, And 1943: The Fiftieth Annual May Festival -- The Philadelphia Orchestra

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Season: 1894-1943
Concert: SIXTH
Hill Auditorium, Ann Arbor, Michigan

Official Program of the Fiftieth Annual
May 5, 6, 7, and 8, IQ43 Hill Auditorium, Ann Arbor, Michigan
Published by The University Musical Society, Ann Arbor
Charles A. Sink, M.Ed., LL.D.........President
Alexander G. Ruthven, Ph.D., Sc.D., LL.D. . . Vice-President
Oscar A. Eberbach, A.B...........Treasurer
Shirley W. Smith, A.M. .... Assistant Secretary-Treasurer cThor Johnson, M.Mus...........Conductor
Roscoe O. Bonisteel, LL.B.
Harley A. Haynes, M.D.
James Inglis
Horace G. Prettyman, A.B.
E. Blythe Stason, A.B., B.S., J.D.
Henry F. Vaughan, M.S., Dr.P.H.
Merlin Wiley, LL.B.
Hardin Van Deursen, M.Mus., Acting Conductor
Durand W. Springer, B.S., A.M., LL.D., Secretary
David Mattern, B.Mus., M.Ed.
In Service.
G. Frank Allmendinger James B. Angell Henry S. Dean Charles B. deNancrede Paul R. DePont Ottmar Eberbach
Francis W. Kelsey Adelbert L. Noble William H. Pettee Albert A. Stanley James H. Wade Levi D. Wines
Eugene Ormandy, Orchestral Conductor Saul Caston, Associate Orchestral Conductor Hardin Van Deursen, Choral Conductor Marguerite Hood, Youth Chorus Conductor
Lily Pons Stella Roman
Astrid Varnay
Contralto Kerstin Thorborg
Tenor Frederick Jagel
Basses Salvatore Baccaloni Alexander Kipnis
Violinist Fritz Kreisler
Pianist Vladimir Horowitz
The Philadelphia Orchestra The University Choral Union The Festival Youth Chorus
Notices and Acknowledgments
All concerts will begin on time (Eastern wartime).
Our patrons are invited to inspect the Stearns Collection of Musical Instruments in the foyer of the first balcony and the adjoining room.
To study the evolution of musical instruments, it is only necessary to view the cases in their numerical order and remember that in the wall cases the sequence runs from right to left and from top to bottom, while the standard cases should always be approached on the left-hand side. Descriptive lists are attached to each case.
The University Musical Society desires to express appreciation to Hardin Van Deursen and the members of the Choral Union for their effective services; to Miss Marguerite Hood, and to her able associates for their valuable services in preparation of the Festival Youth Chorus; to the several members of the staff for their efficient assistance and to the teachers in the various schools from which the young people have been drawn, for their co-operation.
The writer of the analyses hereby expresses his deep obligation to Dorothy Eckert Blackburn for her aid in collecting materials and to the late Lawrence Gilman, whose scholarly analyses, given in the program books of the New York Philharmonic and Philadelphia Orchestras, are authoritative contributions to contemporary criticism. In some instances Mr. Gilman's analyses have been quoted in this Libretto.
The Steinway is the official concert piano of the University Musical Society and of the Philadelphia Orchestra.
University Musical Society Endowment Fund
The University Musical Society is a nonprofit corporation devoted solely to educational purposes in the field of music. During its entire existence the Society has maintained its concert activities through the sale of tickets of admission. The price, at all times, has been kept as low as possible, just enough to cover the expenses of production and administration. Obviously, the problem is becoming increasingly difficult. The Society has confidence that there are among its patrons and friends those who would like to contribute to an endowment fund, for the purpose of ensuring continuance, particularly during lean years, of the high quality of the concerts. Any contribution so received will be invested, and the income will be utilized by the Board of Directors in maintaining the ideals and purposes of the Society by securing the services of the best possible artists and concerts for Society programs.
Wednesday Evening, May 5, at 8:30
Soloist: Salvatore Baccaloni, Bass
The Philadelphia Orchestra Eugene Ormandy, Conductor
Overture to "Leonore," No. 3...........Beethoven
Played as the opening number at the First May Festival Concert, May 18, 1894
Basilio's Aria, "La Calumnia" from "The Barber of Seville" . . Rossini Bartolo's Aria, "La Vendetta" from "The Marriage of Figaro" . . Mozart
Salvatore Baccaloni
Sinfonia for Double Orchestra......J. Ch. Bach-Ormandy
Symphony, Op. 20...............Creston
With majesty With humor With serenity With gaiety
Leporello's Aria, "Madamina" from "Don Giovanni" .... Mozart
"Udite, udite, O rustici" from "Elisir d'amore".....Donizetti
Varlaam's Aria, "The Siege of Kazan" from
"Boris Godounov"............Moussorgsky
Mr. Baccaloni
Suite from "The Three-Cornered Hat" Falla
The Neighbors .
Dance of the Miller Final Dance
Thursday Evening, May 6, at 8:30
' Frederick Jagel, Tenor
Fritz Kreisler, Violinist
University Choral Union The Philadelphia Orchestra
Palmer Christian, Organist Eugene Ormandy and Hardin Van Deursen, Conductors
"Laus Deo"--Choral Ode for Chorus,
Orchestra, and Organ........Albert A. Stanley
A Psalmodic Rhapsody--For Chorus, Tenor,
Orchestra, and Organ.........Frederick Stock
Concerto in E minor, Op. 64, for Violin and Orchestra . . Mendelssohn
Allegro molto appassionato Andante
Allegro non troppo, allegro molto vivace
Fritz Kreisler
Symphonic Poem, "Death and Transfiguration" ......Strauss
Played in memory of Albert A. Stanley and Frederick A. Stock
Friday Afternoon, May 7, at 2:30
Soloist: Astrid Varnay, Soprano
Festival Youth Chorus
The Philadelphia Orchestra
Saul Caston and Marguerite Hood, Conductors
PROGRAM Overture, "Marriage of Figaro"...........Mozart
Aria, "Dove sono" from "Marriage of Figaro"......Mozart
Astrid Varnay
Folk Song Fantasy (Folk Songs of the United Nations)
Orchestrated by Marion E. McArtor The Fisher Maiden (French) May Day Carol (English--Cornish) John Peel (English--Border ballad) Came a-Riding (Czech) Chinese Evening Song In Vossevangen (Norwegian) Tutu Maramba (Brazilian) In the Plaza (Mexican) The Pedlar (Russian)
Sweet Betsy from Pike (American--pioneer song) Cape Cod Chantey (American--sailor chantey)
Dedicated to the memory of Juva N. Higbee
Festival Youth Chorus
Arias '.................. Wagner
"Ewig war ich" from "Siegfried"
"Du bist der Lenz" from "Die Walkiire"
"Dich, theure Halle" from "Tannhauser"
Miss Varnay
Symphony No. i................Brahms
Un poco sostenuto, allegro Andante sostenuto
Un poco allegretto e grazioso
Adagio, piu andante, allegro non troppo, ma con brio
Friday Evening, May 7, at 8130
Soloist: Lily Pons, Sofrano
The Philadelphia Orchestra Saul Caston, Conductor
Overture to "Oberon"..............Weber
Aria of the Queen of the Night, from "The Magic Flute" . . . Mozart
Variations ..............Mozart-LaForge
Flute obbligato played by Frank Versaci Lily Pons
Les Roses d'Ispahan...............Faure
Air du rossignol, from "Parysatis".........Saint-Saens
Aria: "Una voce poco fa" from "The Barber of Seville" .... Rossini
Miss Pons
Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64 ........ Tchaikovsky
Andante, allegro con anima
Andante cantabile, con alcuna licenza Valse, allegro moderato
Finale, andante maestoso
Saturday Afternoon, May 8, 2:30
Soloist: Vladimir Horowitz, Pianist
The Philadelphia Orchestra Eugene Ormandy, Conductor
Oriental Fantasy "Islamey"........Balakireff-Casella
Symphony No. 5, Op. 47...........Shostakovich
Moderato; allegro non troppo Allegretto Largo
Allegro non troppo
Concerto No. 1 in B-flat minor, Op. 23, for
Piano and Orchestra...........Tchaikovsky
Allegro non troppo e molto maestoso; allegro con spirito Andantino semplice Allegro con fuoco
Vladimir Horowitz
The ¦piano used is a Steiniuay
Saturday Evening, May 8, at 8:30
Stella Roman, Sop-ano
Kerstin Thorborg, Contralto
Frederick Jagel, Tenor
Alexander Kipnis, Bass
University Choral Union
The Philadelphia Orchestra
Eugene Ormandy, Conductor
Requiem Mass.................Verdi
Composed in memory of Alessandro Manzoni For Soli, Chorus, and Orchestra
Requiem et Kyrie
a) Requiem aeternam.........Chorus
b) Kyrie eleison ...... Quartet and Chorus
Dies irae
a) Dies irae, dies ilia.........Chorus
b) Tuba mirum spargens sonum . . . Bass and Chorus
c) Liber scriptus proferetur . . Contralto and Chorus
d) Quid sum, miser!......Trio and Chorus
e) Rex tremendae majestatis . . . Quartet and Chorus
f) Recordare, Jesu pie ... Soprano and Contralto
g) Ingemisco, tamquam reus......Tenor Solo
h) Confutatis maledictis........Bass Solo
i) Lacrymosa dies ilia.....Quartet and Chorus
Ojfertoriunu '
Domine Jesu Christe.........Quartet
Sanctus et Benedictus...........Chorus
Agnus Dei......Soprano, Contralto, and Chorus
Lux aeterna.......Contralto, Tenor, and Bass
Libera me, Domine.......Soprano and Chorus
The Manzoni Requiem was performed as the closing1 concert of the First May Festival, May 19, 1894
Wednesday Evening, May 5 Overture to "Leonore" No. 3........Beethoven
Ludwig van Beethoven was born at Bonn about December 16, 17705 died in Vienna, March 26, 1827.
It is difficult to decide whether the man creates the age or the age the man, but in the case of Beethoven each is true to some extent. Certainly, as far as music is concerned, he created the age of Romanticism to such a degree that the new movement which began in the nineteenth century could be called "Beethovenism" as well. On the other hand, there is no more decided proof to be found in music history of the fact that the age produces the man than the case of Beethoven. Certainly in his life and in his works, he is the embodiment of his period. Born at the end of the eighteenth century, he witnessed, during the formative period of his life, the drastic changes that were occurring throughout central Europe; changes which affected not only the political but the intellectual and artistic life of the world as well. The French Revolution announced the breaking up of an old civilization and the dawn of a new social regime. Twice during the most productive period of Beethoven's career, Vienna was occupied by the armies of Napoleon. The spirit, or call it what you will, that caused the Revolution and brought the armies of Napoleon into existence, is the very root of Beethoven's music. The ideas which dethroned kings, swept away landmarks of an older society, changed the whole attitude of the individual toward religion, the state, and tradition ultimately gave birth to the inventive genius of the nineteenth century, which brdught such things as railroads, reform bills, trade unions, and electricity. The same spirit animated the poetic thought of Goethe, Schiller, Wordsworth, and Byron, and it infused itself into the music of Beethoven, from the creation of the Appassionata Sonata to the Choral Ninth Symphony.
During this period of chaos and turmoil, Beethoven stood like a colossus, bridging with his mighty grasp the two centuries in which he lived. In his one person he embodied the ideas of both the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, became the sage and prophet of his period, and the center of the classic and romantic spirit.
These two elements were mutually helpful in making him the outstanding representative of each. His romantic tendencies helped him to infuse Promethean
The "Leonore" No. 3 overture opened the first May Festival in 1894..
fire into the old, worn-out forms, and to endow them with new passion. His respect for classic forms made him the greatest of the early Romanticists, for it aided him in tempering the fantastic excesses and1 extremes of his radical contemporaries. Thus, this harmonious embodiment of opposing forces, controlled by an architectonic intelligence that molded and fused them together into one passionate, creative impulse, resulted in the production of epoch-making masterpieces, built upon firm foundations, but emancipated from all confining elements of tradition, and set free to discover new regions of unimagined beauty.
As a master of absolute music Beethoven undeniably exerted a powerful influence upon succeeding opera composers. But "Fidelio," his own single attempt in the field of opera, has had far less emancipating force than most of his instrumental compositions or the operas of his inferior contemporary, von Weber. The supreme service of "Fidelio" to aesthetic history, on the other hand, was accomplished when it turned Beethoven's attention to the dramatic overture. There is more real dramatic art in the four overtures Beethoven wrote for his "Fidelio," than exists in the entire bulky score of the opera, for which they were designed as preludes.
The four overtures are known as the "Leonore" Nos. I, 2, 3, and 4, in C major, and the "Fidelio," in E major. We know that the overture numbered by the publishers as 2, was used for the premiere of the opera on November 20, 1805. The incomparable No. 3 on tonight's program is a remodeled form and was written for a reconstructed version of the opera which had its hearing March 29, 1806. For the revival of the opera in Vienna in 1814, Beethoven, obviously dissatisfied with his previous efforts, wrote an entirely new overture in E major on a much smaller scale. Why he should have rejected the supreme product of his genius, No. 3, is still an enigma.
For years it was a question as to what place No. 1 really occupied in the sequence of composition. Schindler had stated that it had been tried out before a few friends of Beethoven and discarded as inadequate for the premiere of the opera, implying that it was the first written. The subsequent researches of Nottebohm, now proved false, declared Schindler's information incorrect, and stated, as positive fact, the actual succession of the "Leonore" overtures to be No. 2 (1805), No. 3 (1806), No. 1 (Opus 138, written in 1807 but not published until 1832), with the "Fidelio" overture the last to be composed. This order was accepted by such authorities as Alexander Wheelock Thayer and H. E. Krehbiel, the editor of Thayer's definitive biography of Beethoven. In this work we find the following statement:
Thayer, Alexander Wheelock, The Life of Ludwig van Beethoven. Translated and edited by H. E. Krehbiel. English edition published by the Beethoven Association of New York. Novello, 1921. 3 vols.
Schindler's story that it (Leonore No. i) was tried at Prince Lichnowsky's and laid aside as inadequate to the subject, was based on misinformation; but that it was played either at Lichnowsky's or Lobkowitz's is very probable, and if so, may well have made but a feeble impression on auditors who had heard the glorious "Leonore" Overture of the year before (No. 3 in 1806).
According to the recent research of the musicologist, Dr. Joseph Braunstein, Nottebohm's conclusions as restated by Thayer, are incorrect, and the established order of composition is now considered to be the natural sequence of No. 1 before 1805, No. 2 in 1805, No. 3 in 1806, and the "Fidelio" overture in 1814. Schindler and others, such as Czerny and Schumann who supported him against Nottebohm, were right in their contention that as Schumann put it, "the 'Leonore' No. 1 represents the roots from which sprang the grand trunk (No. 3); No. 2, with widespreading branches to the right and left of No. 3, ended in delicate blossoms of the 'Fidelio' overture."
The action of "Fidelio" occurs in a fortress near Seville. Don Florestan, a Spanish nobleman, has been imprisoned for life, and to make his fate certain, his mortal enemy, Don Pizarro, governor of the prison, has announced his death, meanwhile putting the unfortunate man in the lowest dungeon, where he is expected to die by gradual starvation, thus rendering unnecessary a resort to violent means.
Don Florestan, however, has a devoted wife who refuses to believe the report of his death. Disguising herself as a servant, and assuming the name of Fidelio, she secures employment with Rocco, the head jailer. Rocco's daughter falls in love with the supposed handsome youth, and he is soon in such high favor that he is permitted to accompany Rocco on his visits to the prisoner.
Hearing that the minister of the interior is coming to the prison to investigate the supposed death of Florestan, the governor decides to murder him, and asks Rocco's aid. Fidelio overhears the conversation and gets Rocco to allow her to dig the grave. Just as Don Pizarro is about to strike the fatal blow, Fidelio rushes forward, proclaims herself the wife of the prisoner, and shields him. The governor is about to sacrifice both when a flourish of trumpets announces the arrival of the minister just in time to prevent the murder of Florestan.
Richard Wagner in his essay "On the Overture" f paid a remarkable tribute to Beethoven and to this great overture, when he wrote:
Braunstein, Joseph, Beethoven's Leonore Overtueren--Eine historische stil-krilische Untersuchung. Breitkopf & Hartel, 1927.
f The essay "On the Overture" was published originally in the Gazette Musicale of January 10, 14, and 17, 1841. Mr. William Ashton Ellis translated it for Volume VII of his edition of Wagner's Prose Works.
Far from giving us a mere musical introduction to the drama, it [the "Leonore" No. 3] sets that drama more completely and more movingly before us than ever happens in the broken action which ensues. This work is no longer an overture, but the greatest of dramas in itself. ...
In this mighty tone-piece, Beethoven has given us a musical drama, a drama founded on a playwright's piece, and not the mere sketch of one of its main ideas, or even a purely preparatory introduction to the acted play; but a drama, be it said, in the most ideal meaning of the term. . . . His object was to condense to its noblest unity the one sublime action which the dramatist had weakened and delayed by paltry details in order to spin out the tale; to give a new, an ideal motion, fed solely by its inmost springs.
This action is the deed of a staunch and loving heart, fired by the one sublime desire to descend as an angel of salvation into the very pit of death. One sole idea pervades the work: the freedom brought by a jubilant angel of light to suffering manhood. We are plunged into a gloomy dungeon; no beam of day strikes through to us; night's awful silence breaks only to the moans, the sighs, of a soul that longs from its deepest depths for freedom, freedom.
As through a cranny letting in the sun's last ray, a yearning glance peers down; 'tis the glance of an angel that feels the pure air of heavenly freedom a crushing load the while its breath cannot be shared by the one who is pent beneath the prison's walls. Then a swift resolve inspires it, to tear down all the barriers hedging the prisoner from heaven's light: higher, higher, and ever fuller swells the soul, its might redoubled by the blest resolve; 'tis the angel of redemption to the world. Yet this angel is but a loving woman, its strength the puny strength of suffering humanity itself; it battles alike with hostile hindrances and its own weakness, and threatens to succumb. But the superhuman idea, which ever lights its soul anew, lends finally the superhuman force; one last prodigious strain of every fibre, and, at the moment of supremest need, the final barrier falls.
After a long and solemn introduction, relating to Florestan's hopeless situation (adagio C major, 3-3 time), the main movement (allegro, 2-2 time), presents a short figured principal theme in the celli and violins, which is developed to unusual length in a grimly passionate manner. The second subject, entering rather abruptly in an extended upward flight in violins and flutes, continues in short fragmentary phrases to a climax of vigorous syncopated string and woodwind passages. The development section continues with these short phrases, occasionally joined by the figures of the principal theme. Sudden and unexpected outbursts in the whole orchestra lend an inarticulate expressiveness to the climax of the work, which is dramatically interrupted by the trumpet call which, in the opera, announces the arrival of Don Fernando. A quiet and brief interlude follows, creating an air of expectancy and heightening the dramatic effect of the
second and closer announcement of the trumpet call. Wagner objected to the altered, yet formal, recapitulation of the first part of the overture as undramatic, and in truth he is artistically justified in wishing that Beethoven had, after the trumpet fanfare, rushed on to the conclusion. But Beethoven paid this respect to the conventional form, and then, in a (fresto) passage of syncopated octaves, created an overwhelming and novel effect in this section. The coda, based on a vigorous working of the principal subject, brings this mighty overture to a thrilling finale.
Basilio's Aria, "La Calumnia" from
"The Barber of Seville"..........Rossini
Gioachino Antonio Rossini was born at Pesaro, February 29, 17925 died at Passy, November 13, 1868.
Much of Rossini's work was incredibly hasty in execution and shallow in artistic purpose. Thus its great popularity with a thoughtless public tended to turn operatic art back into the mere sensationalism of the traditional seventeenth and early eighteenth century Neapolitan style at its worst, and directly away from the dignified reform ideas of Gluck and the dramatic veracity of Mozart.
Rossini's art and career present many contradictory elements. He had tremendous native verve and vivacity, coupled with obvious gifts of melody and movement in his expression. He greatly extended the range of operatic technique, both on the side of lyric ornamentation and in enriching the orchestral texture of his accompaniments. His critics, in fact, often charged him with "imitating the Germans, and smothering his concerted pieces and choruses by the overwhelming weight of his orchestra."
Although Rossini did display a sparkling genius, a raciness of humor, a daring in discarding conventions, and an invention in construction that reminds one of Mozart at times, his appreciation for the higher values of the music drama was slight, if indeed he was capable of understanding them at all. The charm of lyricism for its own sake, the unblushing attempt to captivate audiences by unexpected effects, the typical Italian love for delectability of melody, for brilliant embellishment, for momentum and dash--these were his dominating artistic impulses.
Among the operas written by this 'Swan of Pesaro" none is more delightful, or more deserving of the admiration of the modern world than "The Barber of Seville," based upon the first of a trilogy of Figaro comedies by
Beaumarchais. It frankly makes no attempt at dramatic unity and practically no exercise of the intellect is required to appreciate it to the full; but for sheer melodic beauty, rollicking humor, and unadulterated entertainment value, the opera boards offer no more delectable fare.
Basilio, master of music and intrigue, is acting as matrimonial agent between the mean and suspicious Dr. Bartolo and his high-spirited ward, Rosina,f whose dowry is not the least of her attractions. Basilio informs Dr. Bartolo, in the scene immediately preceding this aria, that Rosina's hand is also sought by one Count Almaviva (Lindoro). Basilio suggests that between them they start a calumny--a disgraceful rumor that will cause Rosina to reject his rival. In this aria, "La Calumnia," Basilio describes, in his bombastic manner, the devastating effects of gossip.
Basilio: Gossip is like a gentle breeze, that at first scarcely stirs the flowers. Its voice is more subtle than a sigh, but then passing from tongue to tongue, it gains in strength and sweeps along its way, till like the sounds of a tempest, raging through the forest and howling in caverns, it fills the soul with dreadful fear. Thus gossip, a mere breath at first, brings ruin, desolation, and death in its train, and the victim of it sinks beneath the lash of slander and public scorn.
Bartolo's Aria, "La Vendetta" from "The
Marriage of Figaro"...........Mozart
Here we meet Dr. Bartolo, who, preoccupied with thoughts of ways and means of outwitting his rival, Figaro, sings this remarkable aria. Mozart, with his consummate talent for characterization, brings within the limitation of a single aria, a full portrait of the doctor, in all his pride, false dignity, malice, and bombast.
The doctor begins with the sweet anticipation of revenge, and ends in an exaggerated recital of his own virtues and powers.
Mozart's "Marriage of Figaro" is based upon the second of the trilogy, and deals with later episodes involving the same characters.
t Miss Pons will sing Rosina's aria, "Una voce poco fa" from the same opera on Friday night's program (see page 58). Miss Varnay will sing the aria, "Dove Sono" from Mozart's "Marriage of Figaro" Friday afternoon. This aria is again sung by Rosina, but who, in Mozart's opera, is now the Countess Almaviva (see page 43).
Dr. Bartolo: Revenge, ah, sweet revenge--what a weapon in the hands of the wise. Nothing is more shameful than to forgive insults and grievances--it is sheer cowardice. With cunning, with calculation, with wit, one could--ah, but it is difficult. Even so, it will be accomplished. I shall, if necessary, turn the pages of the whole index to the legal code to find ambiguities and synonyms to create complete confusion. All Seville knows what Dr. Bartolo is capable of, and that ruffian Figaro will feel the sting of my displeasure. I swear I shall ruin him!
Sinfonia in D major for Double
Orchestra.........Johann Christian Bach
Arranged by Eugene Ormandy
J. Ch. Bach was born in Leipzig, September 5, 1735; died in London, January 1, 1782.
Johann Christian Bach was the youngest son of Johann Sebastian and Anna Magdalena Bach. Without benefit of a formal education (his father's death in 1750 denied him the university training given his brothers), he studied music with his kinsman, Johann Elias Bach, and after four years in Berlin under the guidance of his half-brother, Philip Emanuel, he went to Bologna, Italy, where he became the pupil of the famous and learned Padre Martini. Nothing demonstrates so forcefully the tremendous influence Italy had upon the world of music in this period than the fact that Johann Christian Bach Italianized his name to Giovanni Bacci, and abjured the strong Lutheran faith of his father to become a Roman Catholic. His whole career from this period on was eventful and colorful. He frequented the court of Frederick the Great, was for a brief period organist at the Cathedral in Milan, became famous throughout Italy as a composer of Italian opera, and for twenty years occupied with success and distinction the position in the English Court of George III left vacant by the death of Georg Friedrich Handel. Here he preferred to be known simply as Mr. John Bach. In the field of opera he became the favorite composer, not only of King George and Queen Charlotte, but of the English people. Just before his death in 1782, he was acclaimed in Paris. By comparison, the careers of his mighty father and famous brothers were commonplace and provincial.
But as the eighteenth century drew to its chaotic close, new composers began to appeal to the infamously fickle English public, and Bach's popularity quickly waned. He fell into debt, grew ill, and on the first day of 1782 he died. "No doubt you know that the English Bach is dead," wrote Mozart from Vienna on
April 10, 1782, "a sad day for the world of music." Queen Charlotte paid for the cost of his funeral, bought mourning for his widow, and restored some of his small debts. For a time Johann Christian Bach shared the fate of his illustrious father and slumbered in a neglected grave. The personalities and works of his brothers have been the subject of much investigation and research, but it was almost a century and a half after his death that his first biography appeared, j Charles Sanford Terry ends his biographical work with this estimation:
Bach descended into the shadows which still shrouded his colossal father. His operas left no impress upon a generation that outlived their technique. His ditties lie on dusty shelves, swelling the library of forgotten things. His symphonies, sonatas, and chamber music were eclipsed by the more perfect art of an era whose threshold only he approached. Uniting the formulas of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, his father and Handel had set music upon a new course, while preserving the ancient tradition of composite harmony. Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven controlled the stream into fresh channels, yet drew from the same fount. Craving new modes of utterance, they perfected the Symphony and Sonata, and through them fulfilled the high purpose of their art--the comfort and illumination of the human soul. Bach inhabited the borderland between these two dispensations, the old and the new.
His stature is not gigantic; but he was prominent and respected in his generation, a pioneer in the exploration of new idioms, and honoured by the giants who perfected them. The man whose death Mozart deplored as a loss to the world of music may not be lightly belittled, nor will instructed minds pronounce that his parentage alone rescues his memory from oblivion. On the platform of his generation Bach owes his honourable position, not to the inheritance of a great name, but to his own eclectic genius and indomitable industry.
From the moment of his arrival in London, Bach's instrumental music was eagerly sought by the publishers. He was, in addition to being a prolific opera composer, very fertile in every field of instrumental music popular in his day-symphonies, overtures, concertos, chamber music, piano duets, and military marches.
The Sinfonia on tonight's program is one of a set of six, written and published in England under the title, "Six Grand Overtures for a single, and three for a double orchestra." The double orchestra referred to here does not mean an orchestra doubled in size. It signifies rather, two similar groups of instruments which "converse" with each other. The Concerto Grosso of Bach's period had a similar arrangement, but the "conversation" was carried on between a small group of instruments and the larger orchestra. Here the orchestra in Bach's original instrumentation for "violins, hautboys, flutes, clarinets, horns,
In 1764 Mozart, then eight years of age, visited London where he astonished English audiences with his precocious talents. He received a cordial welcome from Bach, whose music was to have an important influence upon his own style.
f Terry, Charles Sanford, Join Clirhtian Sack. London: Oxford University Press,
tenor and bass" is divided into two equally balanced groups. The three movements are patterned on the Italian overture sequence of fast--slow--fast tempos. The simplicity and clarity of this music needs no further explanation. Deft in treatment and Mozartean in melodious fluency, it demonstrates in grace and elegance, the essentially Italian "gallant" style, so popular at the end of the eighteenth century just before the advent of the great innovator Beethoven.
Symphony, Op. 20........... Paul Creston
Paul Creston was born in New York City, October 10, 1906, of Italian parents. He showed interest in music at a very early age and received his first piano lessons when eight years old. Pietro Yon was his teacher in organ playing. In harmony, counterpoint, and composition, he is entirely self-taught. He has made researches in acoustics, musicotherapy, Gregorian chant, evolution of harmony, psychology of music, and various other aspects of the musical art. He was twice awarded a Guggenheim Fellowship, in 1938 and 1939. On April 13, 1943, Creston received a $1,000 award, given by the American Academy of Arts and Letters and the National Institute of Arts and Letters. Since 1934 he has been organist of St. Malachy's Church in New York; and at present also teaches piano and composition.
Although Paul Creston began composing with the acquisition of his first piano, he did not seriously consider a composer's career until 1932. Since that time he has written over thirty works, mostly in the larger forms. Among his works are: Suite for violin and piano; Suite for viola and piano; Suite for cello and piano; Suite and a Sonata for saxophone and piano; Sonata for piano; String quartet; Missa Pro Defunctis; Legend for band; Concertino for marimba and orchestra; Concerto for saxophone and orchestra; Fantasy for piano and orchestra; songs, piano pieces, and choral works, and the following orchestral works: Threnody, Two Choric Dances, Prelude and Dance, Pastorale and Tarantella, A Rumor, Symphony No. 1, and Dance Variations for soprano and orchestra.
His compositions have been performed by major symphony orchestras under such eminent conductors as Arturo Toscanini, Leopold Stokowski, Fritz Reiner, Eugene Ormandy, Artur Rodzinski, Vladimir Golschmann, Hans Kindler, Eugene Goossens, Fabien Sevitzky, and others, and have been broadcast over all major networks.
The following explanatory notes were provided by the composer:
This symphony is in four movements. The opening movement is in free sonata-allegro form, the thematic material of which is presented in two distinct sections. Within the first six measures are announced three separate motives,
rhythmic and vigorous in character, comprising the first group of themes; at measure sixteen is presented the contrasting lyric theme. During the development of this material the themes are intertwined, combined, fugally treated and varied in many ways, and at times change their initial aspect so that the rhythmic themes become lyric and the lyric theme becomes dramatic.
The second movement is a scherzo in 3-4 meter. Rhythm is the reigning element, with overlapping and subdivisional patterns abounding throughout. The middle section is cast in a lyric vein, but the rhythmic aspect of the movement is maintained in the alternating figure played by the cellos and basses.
In the third movement the cellos present the main theme in its complete form, which was suggested in the introduction by muted strings. The oboe takes up this theme and develops it differently. This leads to the second theme which is passed from flute to clarinet to oboe to bassoon to trumpet, each time varied. After the climax the movement returns to its original serenity with muted strings.
The final movement is based on two main themes, the first being again subdivided into two sections: one presented at the opening by the oboe and the other by the clarinet at the ninth measure. The second theme is presented by the brass choir in chordal structure. No new material is introduced at any time during the movement. Each time the first theme appears it does so in a different texture, is varied, and is treated in a different style. The conclusion presents the second theme in augmentation with a fragment of the first against it.
The work was completed in January, 1940, and was performed in its entirety in February, 1941, by the NYA Symphony Orchestra of New York, under Fritz Mahler. It received its first performance by the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in New York at Carnegie Hall, Tuesday, March 23, 1943. Following are two of the excerpts from the New York critics:
Mr. Creston's Symphony reveals the Mr. Creston has provided a score very
composer's sure craftsmanship both from capably composed, clearly thought out and the architectonic and orchestrational facets. carried through. . . . When Mr. Creston He knows what he wants to say and how sits down to write a symphony it is evito say it. That his ideas are not new is dently with the purpose of writing music equally indubitable. His instrumentation and nothing else. There is no programowes much to Tchaikovsky. He likes, as matic intention in the score. ... It is a does the Russian composer, to throw his matter of purely tonal relationships and themes from one choir of the orchestra to one of the most workmanlike symphonies the other in rapid succession. . . . Mr. by an American that we know.--The Creston delivers his message, such as it is, Sim. spontaneously, without harmonic or formal cramps.--New York Herald-Tribune-.
The scherzo (second movement) has been recorded by the AU-American Youth Orchestra conducted by Leopold Stokowski (Columbia records).
Leporello's Aria, "Madamina" from "Don Giovanni" . . Mozart
In the Wiener Zeitung (No. 91) 1878, after the first performance of Mozart's "Don Giovanni" in Prague there appeared the following criticism:
On Monday, October 29th, Kapellmeister Mozart's long expected opera "Don Giovanni" was performed by the Italian opera company of Prague. Musicians and connoisseurs are agreed in declaring that such a performance has never before been witnessed in Prague. Here Mozart himself conducted and his appearance in the orchestra was a signal for cheers which were renewed at his exit. The opera is exceedingly difficult of execution and the excellence of the representation in spite of the short time allowed for studying the work, was the subject of general remark. The whole powers of both action and orchestra were put forward to do honor to Mozart. Considerable expense was incurred for additional chorus and scenery. The enormous audience was a sufficient guarantee of the public favor.
The work was then given in Vienna, May 7, 1788, by command of Emperor Joseph II. It was a failure, however, in spite of the fact that it was given fifteen performances that year. A contemporary writer, Schink, indignant at the cold reception given the work in Vienna, wrote, "How can this music, so full of force, majesty and grandeur be expected to please the lovers of ordinary opera The grand and noble qualities of the music in Don Giovanni will appeal only to the small minority of the elect. It is not such as to tickle the ear of the crowd and leave the heart unsatisfied. Mozart is no ordinary composer."
Goethe, after a performance in Weimar in 1797, writes to Schiller, "Your hopes for opera are richly fulfilled in 'Don Giovanni' but the work stands absolutely alone and Mozart's death prevents any prospect of its example being followed."
In this scene, Leporello, Don Giovanni's lackey, is maliciously reading a list of his master's feminine conquests to Dona Elvira, whom the Don has recently abandoned. He purports to give comfort, but he mercilessly probes at Dona Elvira's unhealed wound--her love for Don Giovanni in spite of his deceitfulness. His final thrust comes at the end of the aria, where he repetitiously insists that no woman is able to resist his master, ending with the cynical and cruel admonition: "You ought to know that."
Leporello: Every country and township has contributed to my master's pleasure. Dear lady, this catalogue numbers them all. I have myself compiled it, and if it please you, peruse it with me (he turns the pages of the catalogue). In Italy--six hundred and forty; in Germany ten score and twenty; as for France, oh, say a hundred; but ah! in Spain--in Spain--a thousand and three. Some you see, are country maids, ladies in waiting, others are from the city--countesses, duchesses, baronesses
--every kind of "esses"--women of all conditions. If they are haughty, they do not frighten him; if they are tiny, no less, he likes them. He is kind to the dark ones, beseeching to the blue-eyed; in the winter he prefers them portly, in the summer, slender. Women can't resist my master, you ought to know that.
Aria, "Udite, Udite, O Rustice" from
"L'elisir d'amore"...........Donizetti
Gaetano Donizetti was born March 29, 1797 (), in Bergamo; died there April 8, 1848.
Including the four posthumously performed operas, one of which was not, heard till 1882 (Rome), the number of such works accredited to Donizetti is sixty-seven, but of them only five are now recognized as of enduring quality, and it is not well to stress the word "enduring." Among this group, "L'elisir d'amore" must be included, which, after disappearing from the repertory for several years, has recently been rehabilitated with great success. This success does not rest entirely on its real merit, either musical or dramatic, but on account of several arias which are favorites with singers. In the group referred to the composer amply satisfied the demands of the "world, the flesh, and the devil," the last personified by the "encore fiends," in favor of whom Death not infrequently relaxed his hold on his victim that he, or she, might anticipate the Resurrection sufficiently to satisfy the public. It goes without saying that all of his operas abound in beautiful melodies cast in the conventional Italian form, and abundantly endowed with the applause-producing elements that have endeared them to singers.
Dr. Dulcamara, a quack doctor, arrives in a small Italian village to exhibit and sell his marvelous nostrums. Nemorino, a young lovesick peasant, spurned by the beautiful and rich maiden Adina, purchases with his last coin a miraculous love potion, which is, in reality, only a bottle of very strong wine. Before the end of the opera, however, it brings about the desired results, and the curtain falls upon Dr. Dulcamara relieving the peasants of their money in return for bottles of the amazing "Elixir of Love."
The aria on tonight's program is from the First Scene of Act I, and is sung by the fabulous Dr. Dulcamara upon his arrival in the village. To the awestruck peasants, he recounts the marvels of his wares.
Dr. Dulcamara: Here me, you rustics! Attention now, and silence all of you! No doubt you have heard of me--the great Dulcamara, the renowned Doctor of Ferrara To all men, I am the greatest--the
most wond'rous benefactor. I sell the magic pain extractor, the famous Odontalgicuine, a truly admirable mixture. It cures every sort of toothache known. Its infallible efficacy is corroborated by undoubted certificates. An old man of eighty was changed, after drinking one bottle, to his youth. Many an afflicted widow was cured of her sorrow. If you matrons would be young again, take this wond'rous tonic and let your wrinkles disappear. And you, maidens, keep your snowy complexions; you, gallants, too, who wish to find favor in your mistress' eyes, come buy of me this miraculous Elixir--I'll sell it cheap. In addition to all this, it cures the apoplectical, the asthmatical, the paralytical, the dropsical, the diuretical--consumption, deafness, rickets, and scrofula. For a mere trifle, you can have it. What do you think it will cost you, this wonder of the world I have brought you ten thousand miles--one hundred dollars--thirty-twenty No, you won't believe me really, but to prove my friendship for you, I am happy, more than pleased, to offer you this marvel, this amazing mixture, for--yes--one single dollar!
Varlaam's Aria, "The Siege of Kazan" from
"Boris Godounov"..........Moussorgsky
Modest Petrovich Moussorgsky was born in Karevo, Russia, March 21, 1839; died at St. Petersburg, March 28, 1881.
This famous aria is taken from the final episode of Act I. The scene is an inn by the Lithuanian border. Messail and Varlaam, two bibulous monks, arrive with Gregory, pretender to the throne of Russia, but now disguised as a beggar. His escape from a convent and his attempt to reach the Polish border is known to the police. While the officers search the inn, Gregory escapes. At the height of a drinking party, Varlaam is induced to sing an old folk song, "By the Walls of Kazan, the Mighty Strong-hold," which tells of the fall of this city, at the hands of the crafty Ivan the Terrible. The boldness and audacity of its rhythm and harmony create the wildness and fury of a Tartar song. Musically, the orchestra presents a set of variations on the melody, which is repeated again and again by Varlaam.
By the walls of Kazan the mighty stronghold Tsar Ivan with his soldiers made merry, Fought the Tartars to a finish, And no longer did they relish Standing on Russia's soil.
He crept closer day by day up to the walls of Kazan;
He drove mines and tunnels deep under the wide river bed;
Kept the Tartars on the ramparts wide awake day and night,
Turning toward Tsar Ivan their faces pale with fright.
Wicked Tartar brood!
But the great Tsar scowled and ground his teeth,
And his head on his shoulders sank; he pondered lost in thought
Then he called his sturdy cannoniers,
And he bid them stand with fuse in hand,
Stand with fuse in hand.
Now the fuses are lit, they sputter sparks and smoke,
And the sappers come forward with their powder casks.
Now the casks are set a-rolling--down the mine they roll; Hoy!
Rolling faster, faster, reach the goal,
With a bang they go off!
See the wicked Tartars toppling, they are sick and sore.
Hear them shriek and yell with all their might.
See them in their thousands lying all around.
Forty thousand bodies strew the ground,
And three thousand more.
Such was the fate of Kazan the mighty stronghold--Hoy!
Suite from "The Three-Cornered Hat"
("El Sombrero de Tres Picos") Falla
Manuel de Falla was born at Cadiz, November 23, 1877.
Manuel de Falla is perhaps the most distinguished of contemporary Spanish composers. He studied composition with Pedrell (teacher of Granados) and piano with Tregell, the creator of the modern Spanish School. After winning the prize offered by the Madrid Academy of Fine Arts for his two-act opera, "La Vida Breve," he went to Paris, as so many of the younger men of Italy, Russia, and Spain had done before him. He settled in Paris and there made the friendship of Debussy, Dukas, and Ravel. With the outbreak of the war, however, he returned to Madrid, refusing the suggestion that he should adopt French nationality as a means to success.
The art of de Falla is extremely unique and individual, and can be distinguished from that of his countrymen, Granados and Albeniz, by its concision, rapid logic, and prevailing sense of form. It is full of the warmth and imagination of the typical Spaniard, but it combines with this an almost rigid formal perfection and lucidity of structural detail that is often lacking in the
more or less improvisatory style of his countrymen. His art is cultivated and skillfully graphic, and his orchestra works reveal that he, like Ravel, thinks of music in terms of a finish of instrumental texture, and he is fastidious and painstaking in the extreme in his attempt to achieve it.
De Falla should not be judged entirely from this little ballet, which places him under the severe discipline of folk music. He can, when he wishes, attain an aesthetic ideal of exquisite artistry as in his "Nights in the Gardens of Spain," of which M. Jean Aubry affirmed that it "endowed Spanish music with its first great symphonic work, at once new and yet national." Deriving his inspiration from Spanish history and scenes, and strongly influenced by the dance and the music of guitars, de Falla could, when he desired, reach out beyond these local stimuli into the less restricted sphere of a more universal musical appeal. He is therefore the most European of all Spanish musicians, and the most Spanish of all Europeans.
"The Three-Cornered Hat" was performed for the first time by the Russian Ballet at the Alhambra, London, July 23, 1919. The Ballet was written for a scenario by Martinez Sierra from a novel by Alarcon (1833-91) called "El Sombrero de Tres Picos."
The action of the Ballet was outlined as follows at the time of the London premiere:
Over the whole brisk action is the spirit of frivolous comedy of a kind by no means common only to Spain of the eighteenth century. A young miller and his wife are the protagonists, and if their existence be idyllic in theory, it is extraordinarily strenuous in practice--chorographically. But that is only another way of saying that M. Massine and Mme. Karsavina, who enact the couple, are hardly ever off the stage, and that both of them work with an energy and exuberance that almost leave one breathless at moments. The miller and his wife between them, however, would scarcely suffice even for a slender ballet plot. So we have as well an amorous Corregidor, or Governor (he wears a three-cornered hat as a badge of office), who orders the miller's arrest so that the way may be cleared for a pleasant little flirtation--if nothing more serious--with the captivating wife. Behold the latter fooling him with a seductive dance, and then evading her admirer with such agility that, in his pursuit of her, he tumbles over the bridge into the mill-stream. But, as this is comedy, and not melodrama, the would-be lover experiences nothing worse than a wetting, and the laugh, which is turned against him, is renewed when, having taken off some of his clothes to dry them, and gone to rest on the miller's bed, his presence is discovered by the miller himself, who, in revenge, goes off in the intruder's garments after scratching a message on the wall to the effect that "Your wife is no less beautiful than mine!" Thereafter a "gallimautry of gambols" and--curtain!
The original title of the story was "El Corregidor y la Molinera" (The Governor and the Miller's Wife). This story was also used by Hugo Wolf as the basis for his opera libretto, "Der Corregidor."
Thursday Evening, May 6
"Laus Deo," Choral Ode for Chorus, Orchestra,
and Organ..........Albert A. Stanley
Albert Augustus Stanley was born May 25, 1851, at Manville, Rhode Island. Died May 19, 1932, at Ann Arbor, Michigan.
The Choral Ode "Laus Deo" was written by Dr. Stanley for the first concert of the Twentieth Annual May Festival (1913). This concert was the first to be given in Hill Auditorium. The program notes are taken from the 1913 program book and were written by the composer.
Of this composition little will be said in way of analysis, but the following remarks may not be out of place. The work is divided into three parts, of which the first section is a working-over of an earlier composition. This is a somewhat dangerous procedure and the composer has no intention of stating whether it has been successful or the reverse. As to the second and third sections, it may be said that the second is in the nature of a pastorale as befits the text, which, although this division has been given lofty moments by the poet, is idyllic in the main. The third, after a short introduction based on the first section, is the longest and is written for double chorus, in fact it is a double fugue with three subjects. A broad choral melody with modal harmonies, "Alleluia! Alleluia! Hearts and voices heavenward raise; Sing our Lord a song of gladness, Sing our Lord a song of Praise," introduces the second chorus, after the exposition of the fugue by the first and is utilized throughout the section. Sung in unison to a figurated accompaniment by the orchestra based on the harmonies of the organ, it forms the climax.
The reason for its inclusion in the opening program of our series is the desire to express the feeling of gratitude on the part of the chorus and its conductor towards the generous donor of this magnificent auditorium. It is intended to express our grateful memory of the donor by an indication of the feelings evoked by the gift. Inadequate as it is, it is offered with sincerity and affection.
The text, given below in a translation by J. W. Neale (1818--1866), is the famous Sequence for Septuagesima--"Canternus cuncti melodum nunc Alleluia" --by Notker Balbulus (the stammerer) (840--910), a monk of the celebrated St. Gallen School.
The text of the choral is taken from an Easter hymn by Bishop C. Words; worth (1806-1892). j
Notker put the stamp of genius on the Sequence and the one we quote is ; .included in the list of forty-six of whose authenticity there is no doubt. The ] remaining sixty-nine are classified as follows: twenty-four probable, thirty-seven j possible, and eight impossible. ]
Notker, while still a very young man, even if we accept the possible date of j 835 as that of his birth, was displeased with the lack of artistic appreciation disj played by his predecessors in their settings, and having succeeded, as he thought, ] in developing a finer interpretation, showed some of the results of his work to j Iso and Marcellus (the latter an Irishman) who taught in the school from 853j 871 and 853--860 respectively. They put the stamp of their approval on his ; efforts and caused them to be included in the authorized list. The original hymn j is found in the Einsiedeln Mss (tenth century) and also in the Munich Mss j written by the monks of the St. Bemmeran Monastery, Regensburg, in the ] eleventh century. ¦
' j The strain upraise of joy and praise, Alleluia! ' I
To the glory of their King Shall the ransomed people sing, Alleluia!
And the choirs that dwell on high ¦
Shall re-echo through the sky, Alleluia!
They in the rest of Paradise who dwell,
The blessed ones with joy the chorus swell, Alleluia!
The planets beaming on their heavenly way, j
The shining constellations, join and say Alleluia! '.
Ye clouds that onward sweep, j
Ye winds on pinions light, ]
Ye thunders, echoing loud and deep, 'I
Ye lightnings, wildly bright, ;
In sweet consent unite your Alleluia! :
Ye floods and ocean billows, -j
Ye storms and winter snow, Ye days of cloudless beauty, Hoar frost and summer glow;
Ye groves that wave in spring, ,
And glorious forests, sing Alleluia! j
First let the birds, with painted plumage gay ':
Exalt their great Creator's praise, and say Alleluia! j
Then let the beasts of earth, with varying strain, I
Join in creation's hymn, and cry again Alleluia! ;
Here let the mountains thunder forth sonorous Alleluia, J
There let the valleys sing in gentler chorus Alleluia!
Thou jubilant abyss of ocean cry Alleluia!
Ye tracts of earth and continents, reply Alleluia!
To God, Who all creation made,
The frequent hymn be duly paid: Alleluia!
This is the strain, the eternal strain our God, the
Lord Almighty loves: Alleluia! This is the song, the heavenly song, that Christ, the
King, approves: Alleluia!
Wherefore we sing, both heart and voice awaking, And children's voices echo, answer making, Alleluia! Now from all men be outpoured Alleluia to the Lord; With Alleluia evermore The Son and Spirit we adore. Praise be done to the Three in One, Alleluia! Alleluia! Amen!
Alleluia! Alleluia!
Hearts and voices heavenward raise;
Sing to God a song of gladness,
Sing to God a hymn of praise.
A Psalmodic Rhapsody, for Chorus, Tenor, Orchestra,
and Organ..........Frederick A. Stock
Frederick A. Stock was born November II, 1872, at Jiilich; died October 20, 1942, at Chicago.
"A Psalmodic Rhapsody" was first performed in Ann Arbor at the Twentyninth Annual May Festival (1922) and is included on tonight's program in honor of Dr. Stock. The program notes for this work are taken from the 1922 program book and were written by Dr. Albert A. Stanley.
. On Festival programs in the past have appeared several of the orchestral compositions of Mr. Stock, among them being "After Sunset," Symphonic Waltz; "Festival March and Hymn to Liberty"; "March and Hymn to Democracy." "A Psalmodic Rhapsody," however, serves to introduce the conductor of the evening's program as a composer in the field of choral literature. This performance of the work is the second in America; the initial presentation having taken place at a concert of the North Shore Festival Association, at Evanston, Illinois,
in June, 1921, for which organization--under the distinguished leadership of Dean Peter C. Lutkin of Northwestern University--"A Psalmodic Rhapsody" was written, and to which it was dedicated by the composer.
"A Psalmodic Rhapsody" is a brilliantly written work of great breadth of expression and strong contrasts. It is laid out in three major sections: the first and third for chorus, in which joyful, festive praise is expressed; the second, for solo tenor, is inspired by reverential meditation on the "Lord, who maketh heaven and earth." Within these broad divisions there are other smaller sections which invite attention.
The work opens with an immediate jorte statement of a theme (moderato-non troppo allegro--3-4 time) which forms the woof and warp of the orchestral and choral fabric. As this theme is of great importance, it is repeated, this time with a harmonization that gives a clue to future methods of treatment--bold, turgid, dissonant chords which seek and find resolution. It may be stated at the outset that the melodic phrase throughout the work is for the most part diatonic, yielding an effect of strength and dignity; the frequent use made of enharmonic spellings gives greater "lift and sweep" to the choral phrase. The orchestra finds its varied paths through devious melodic ways, but never detracts from the main purpose, that of intensifying the expression of the text as enunciated by the chorus.
The brief orchestral introduction leads directly into the choral statement in octaves of "Sing ye to the Lord a festive song," which mounts to a climax in "And shout unto God the Lord." A dance rhythm forms a background for the phrase "Shout unto God and clap your hands," interrupted, however, by the changing mood of "The Lord our rock and our defense." The dance is resumed, and after the words "And the Lord is gone up with the sound of the trumpet" the trumpet in the orchestra announces the principal theme again. An unusual effect is to be noted in the treatment of "For the Lord is high! and to be feared." "He is our Lord and King" marks the first appearance of the main theme in the choral parts. It is developed freely in fugal style, the counter subject being used later in a quasi episodical passage, "We bend our knees, and sing His praise." Interesting augmentations and diminutions of the main theme appear constantly in these sections, giving coherency to the tonal structure. The ascent to the climax of the first division begins with "Praise Him" and mounts through varied rhythms and harmonies to a peak on "Sing His praise with voices of triumph, praise the Lord."
The tenor soloist brings a new mood in his phrase, "Unto thee lift I up mine eyes"-a mood which, while it is at a lower dynamic level, yet reaches several heights of emotional expression in "O Lord, have mercy upon us," and "The Lord, He shall preserve."
As if filled with wonder and awe, the chorus sings very softly, "Be still, and know that He is God." Over a B-flat pedal point the mood of fulsome, joyous praise is brought back, reaching a fortissimo variant of the main theme in the Festive maestoso. A new theme, "Praise Jehovah's power," expressive and stately, is assigned to the basses, and later is complemented by the women's voices in "Sing unto the Lord a noble song." After a dissonant climax on "Lord! King! Ruler!" the dance theme is again heard in the orchestra, contrasted with another esfressivo melody wedded to "He alone is our rock." The last portion of the work begins with the hymn, "Great is Jehovah the Lord" (main theme), continues with a dramatic setting of the succeeding lines of the text, "He maketh wars to cease, that peace may bless again the deeds of men"; and concludes with an inspired and ingenious section built on the main theme, which is announced fortissimo by the trombones, and answered by the chorus in the phrases, "Almighty God! Ruler and King! Master and Lord! Almighty God!"
The "Psalmodic Rhapsody" was begun in the summer of 1920 at Lake Chateaugay, New York, and completed--with the exception of the orchestration--October I, in Chicago. Mr. Stock began the orchestration of the work at the beginning of the new year. The "Psalmodic Rhapsody" makes use, as to the choral part, of the forty-sixth, forty-seventh, and forty-eighth Psalms. The tenor solo, which occurs in the middle, employs material in the one hundred and twenty-first and one hundred and twenty-third Psalms. It may be added that the text is not always a literal rendering of that found in the Holy Bible.
A large orchestra is employed for the instrumental portion of the "Psalmodic Rhapsody." The following instruments are called for by the score: Three flutes (the first flute interchangeable with a piccolo), two oboes, English horn, two clarinets, bass clarinet, two bassoons, double-bassoon, four horns, four trumpets, three trombones, tenor tuba, bass tuba, four kettledrums, bass drum, cymbals, castanets, triangle, glockenspiel, gong, celesta, two harps, organ, and strings.
Sing ye to the Lord a festive song! Sing ye to the Lord a cheerful song! Sing praises unto God! Sing now his praises! O clap your hands, all ye people! And shout unto God the Lord! Shout unto God! and clap your hands! Praise Him! Praise Him! Sing! Shout unto God! and clap your hands!
Praise Him, all ye people! For God is our King!
And the Lord our rock and our defense! Sing ye praises with understanding. Shout unto God! and clap your hands! Praise Him! Shout! For our God is gone up with a merry
noise! And the Lord with the sound of the
trumpet. Give praises unto God; praise ye all the
King. For the Lord is high, and to be feared.
He is our Lord and King, our strength and our salvation; we bend our knees and sing His praise in faithful adoration.
Ah .... (vocalizing)
Praise Him, praise Him,
He is our King and Lord,
Greatly to be feared, more to be praised:
He is our Ruler and King, He is our Master and Lord, Glory to Him! Glory to His Name!
Shout unto God! and clap your hands!
Glory be to God, sing His praises, laud His greatness!
Mighty is He, great is His power!
Glory to God!
Sing His praise with voices of triumph,
Praise the Lord!
Tenor Solo
Unto Thee lift I up mine eyes:
0 Thou that dwellest in the heavens, Unto Thee lift I up mine eyes.
Behold, even as the eyes of servants look unto the hands of their masters, and as the
eyes of a maiden look unto the hands of her mistress, Even so our eyes wait upon the Lord our God! Until He have mercy upon us! Have mercy upon us, O Lord, for we are utterly despised.
1 will lift mine eyes upon the hills from whence cometh my help. My help cometh
from the Lord, who maketh heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved, and He that keepth thee shall not sleep. Behold even He that keepth Israel, He shall neither slumber nor sleep. The Lord himself is thy keeper, and the Lord is thy shade upon thy right side, so
that the sun; he shall not burn thee by day, neither the moon by night. The Lord preserve thee from all evil. The Lord, He shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in, from this time forth,
for ever more. ,
A cofella Be still, be still, and know that He is God!
Tempo frimo
The Lord is gone up with a merry noise;
The Lord has gone up with a merry shout!
The King has gone up with the sound of the trumpet!
Rise and greet Him! Praise the Lord!
Festive {Maestoso)
Praise be the Lord our King and our God! His praise we sing!
He is our God and our shield, our salvation, hope and trust; our defense, our strength, rock and shield.
Piu mosso
He is our Ruler and King, praise to His name; God is our strength and shield, praise to His name; Great is the wisdom of God, praise to His name; For He is King of us all, praise to His name.
Broad, stately
Praise then Jehovah's power and might, rich and poor, high and low, sing ye His praise. Praise ye all His wisdom, kindness and grace; young and old, strong and weak, sing
unto the Lord.
Sing unto the Lord a noble song, Praise Him, all ye people! Sing unto the Lord a festive song, Praise Him, all ye people! Glory to God! Glory to God! Lord! King! Ruler!
Moderate {come frima)
Shout unto God, and clap your hands; sing His praise, shout! Praise the Lord on high!
Dolce esfressivo
He alone, He is our rock and our defense. Praise Him. Sing to Him. Praise His Name. Praise the Lord! Praise our King! Praise the Lord on high!
Hymn Grandioso
Great is Jehovah the Lord!
Great is Jehovah our King and our God!
He shall subdue unruly nations and humble the wrath of the heathen.
He shall break the heathen's bow, and snappeth his spear in sunder, and burneth his
chariots in holy fire.
He maketh wars to cease in all the land, That peace may bless again the deeds of men. Amen! Amen!
Maestoso--Tempo frimo
Sing praise, then, and know that He is God!
That He is King over Heaven and Earth!
Sing unto Him and praise His name,
Sing unto Him and praise the Lord,
With voices of triumph proclaiming His greatness and His glory, forever more!
Almighty God! Ruler and King! Master and Lord! Almighty God!
Concerto in E minor, Op. 64, for Violin and
Orchestra ............Mendelssohn
Felix Mendelssohn-Bartholdy was born February 3, 1809, at Hamburg; died November 4, 1847, at Leipzig.
It is well in these chaotic days to turn to a perfectly balanced nature such as Mendelssohn, in whose life and art all was order and refinement. There are few instances in the history of art, of a man so abundantly gifted with the good qualities of mind and spirit. He had the love as well as the respect of his contemporaries, for aside from his outstanding musical and intellectual gifts, he possessed a genial--even gay--yet pious nature. Moses Mendelssohn, the famous philosopher, was his grandfather and, in an atmosphere of culture and learning, every educational advantage was his. In fact, one might almost say that he was too highly educated for a musician. Throughout his life he was spared the economic insecurity felt so keenly by many composers; he never knew poverty or privation, never experienced any great soul-stirring disappointments, suffered neglect, nor any of the other ill fortunes that seemed to beset Beethoven, Mozart, Schubert, or Verdi. His essentially happy spirit and healthy mind were never clouded by melancholy; no morbidity ever colored his thinking. His genius was of the highest order, but it was never tried and tempered in fire, nor strengthened by forces of opposition. It produced, therefore, an art that was, like his life, delightful, well ordered, and serene.
Mendelssohn's music, like that of its period in Germany, for all its finesse and high perfection, has something decidedly "dated" about it. Full of priggish formulas, it was the delight of Queen Victoria and her England--thoroughly conventional, polite, spick-and-span, "stylish" music--as rear guard as Frederick IV, who admired and promoted it. Influenced by the oratorios of
Handel and Haydn, the Waldlieder of Weber, and the piano music of Schubert, his art was eclectic in details, but in general it bore no relation whatever to the contemporary music in France, nor to the overpowering romanticism of his own country. His habitual forms were those of the classical school, yet his idiom was often fresh and ingenious. In the minds of some, grief might have lent a deeper undertone to his art, or daring innovation have given it a vitality and virility. But innovation was foreign to Mendelssohn's habit of mind and he rarely attempted it. He must be thought of as a preserver of continuity with the past, rather than a breaker of new paths. However, his instinctively clear and normal mind produced a music that should refresh us today with its inner logic, its order, and its tranquillity.
In July of 1838, Mendelssohn wrote to Ferdinand David: "I should like to write a violin concerto for you next winter. One in E minor runs through my head, the beginning of which gives me no peace." No progress seems to have been made immediately, for in 1839 Mendelssohn again wrote to David: "Now that is very nice of you to press me for a violin concerto. I have the liveliest desire to write one for you, and if I have a few propitious days here [Hochheim, near Coblenz] I shall bring you something of the sort. But it is not an easy task. You want it to be brilliant, and how is such a one as I to manage that The whole first solo is to consist of the high E." It is well to explain that although Mendelssohn studied the violin in his earlier youth, when he played any stringed instrument it was the viola he preferred.
Thus, under the inspiration, advice, and practical suggestion of David, the concerto gradually took form. Though the score bears the date of completion, September 16, 1844, Mendelssohn, according to his custom, continued to revise and polish it. David took infinite pains with the technical details of the solo part; he was responsible for much of the cadenza as it now stands. The results of Mendelssohn's instinct for what was effective, and his unerring perception of what was artistically suitable, combined with David's knowledge of the capacities of the violin as a solo instrument, have yielded the world a masterpiece in this field of musical literature. It is the only published example of its kind by Mendelssohn.
The orchestra accompaniment of the violin concerto is scored for two flutes, two oboes, two clarinets, two bassoons, two horns, two trumpets, kettledrums, and strings.
I. {Allegro molto affassionato, E minor, 2-2 time.) After an introductory measure in the orchestra, the solo violin begins at once with the principal theme. After the statement of this the orchestra breaks in with a section of its own, based on the same material, following which the violin brings forward a new
idea over a pulsating figure in the winds. There is passage work in triplets leading to the second theme in G major, played by the clarinets and flutes over a long held G in the solo violin. The development begins in the solo instrument with a working out of the principal theme, this being the only material that is used. The cadenza is introduced at the close of the Development instead of at the end of the Recapitulation, as was usual with other writers. The Recapitulation enters shyly, as it were, in the midst of the arpeggios of the solo violin. The subjects are presented as before, the second theme being now in E. There is no pause between the first movement and the Andante.
II. {Andante, C major, 6-8 time.) This movement puts forward eight measures of Introduction before the violin announces the principal theme. It is interesting to remember that Mendelssohn originally intended the accompaniment (in the strings) to this melody to be played pizzicato. "I intended to write it in this way," wrote Mendelssohn to David, "but something or other--I really don't know what--prevented me." There is a middle section, of more agitated character, and the first part then returns.
III. The finale is preceded by a short introductory movement (Allegro non trofipo, 4-4 time). The main movement (Allegro molto vivace, E major, 4-4 time) has its first theme set forth by the solo instrument. Following brilliant passage work in the violin, the orchestra brings in, ff, a new theme in B major. This is worked over at considerable length, and over a development (in the strings) of the principal theme the violin sings a new subject in G major. A Recapitulation ensues, in which the orchestra takes this theme while the solo instrument brings forward the opening subject of the movement. The fortissimo second theme appears once more in the orchestra, this time in E major, and there is a brilliant coda.
Symphonic Poem, "Death and Transfiguration,"
Op. 24............Richard Strauss
(Played in memory of Dr. Albert A. Stanley and Dr. Frederick A. Stock)
Richard Strauss was born at Munich, June 11, 1864; still living.
Criticism is embarrassed in its attempt to evaluate Richard Strauss. There is no doubt that he is one of the most interesting and extraordinary personalities in the world of music today. Whatever his antagonistic critics say of him, he remains, in the light of his early works, one of the greatest of living composers.
Trained during his formative years in the classical musical tradition of Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven, he exerted his individuality and independence of thought and expression with such daring and insistence that at his mature period he was considered the most modern and most radical of composers. Critics turned from their tirades against Wagner to vent their invectives upon him. They vilified him as they had Wagner, with a persistence that seems incredible to us today.
The progressive unfolding of his genius has aroused much discussion, largely because it has been so uneven and has had so many sudden shifts. Hailed on his appearance as the true successor of Wagner, this Richard II became, for some years, the most commanding figure in modern music. Twelve years ago, apart from Germany and Austria, he was almost entirely ignored by the leaders of progressive musical opinion. No composer has ever suffered such a startling, such a sudden and decisive reversal of fortune. Just when his popularity seemed to be steadily growing and controversy dying down, his works began to disappear from current programs and for a period of approximately ten years became inaccessible to the public.
During this period, music was developing at a greater rate of speed than at any time in its history. Russia had begun to exert herself in the field of music with such great force that it seemed as though she were about to usurp the position of Germany as the leading musical nation; France had caught the attention of the musical world with impressionistic and modern devices; and England had suddenly revived interest in native art by rediscovering her heritage of Elizabethan music, and by chauvinistically attending to a contemporary output.
With the interest of the world suddenly caught by the novelty of new styles and held by the rapid shift from one to another, attention was drawn away from Germany just at that period when the works of Strauss were winning acceptance. When, after ten years of indifference to his output, the world again began to hear his works, it was with different ears. Music that had been controversial now seemed perfectly acceptable; what at first had appeared to be novel in harmonic device, exotic in coloration, and new in conception of form was now looked upon as being commonplace. Strauss's fresh and ingenious manner of treating old material had been mistaken for startling innovation and open rebellion against musical traditions.
Russia in particular had so extended the expressive powers of music that much that had seemed unusual and even cacophonous now appeared to be utterly prosaic. After the performance of Stravinsky's "Rite of Spring" (1913), Strauss's one time exceptional harmony, erratic melody, and queer instrumentation "left the itch of novelty behind."
When, however, criticism again turned to him, it observed that he had not continued to fulfill the great promise of his youth, and that aside from not developing steadily from strength to strength, there was a marked deterioration of his talents. His most recent works, "Ariadne on Naxos" (1913--24), "Die Frau ohne Schatten" (1919), "Der Friedenstag" (1938), and "Daphne" (1938) bear witness to the gradual degeneration and final extinction of his creative powers.
Romain Rolland, in his essay on Strauss, sensed this depletion when he wrote: "The frenzied laugh of Zarathustra ends in an avowal of discouraged impotence. The delirious passion of Don Juan dies away into nothingness. Don Quixote in dying forswears his illusions. Even the Hero himself (Heldenleben) admits the futility of his work, and seeks oblivion in an indifferent nature."
After all, Strauss expresses the romantic rather than the modern psychological point of view. The undercurrent of weariness and disgust, of satiety and disillusion, that runs through his works links him spiritually, mentally, and psychologically with the great romanticists of the past rather than with the true modernists. He has his roots in the same soil that nurtured Wagner, Byron, Goethe, Leopardi, and Tchaikovsky; and the tragic spectacle of his gradual but perceptible deterioration is a reflection of le desenchantement de la vie which had caught the romantic artists in its merciless grip.f
And so a revaluation of Strauss is necessary, but difficult. In the light of today he is no longer" considered a modernist, nor even an innovator of any true significance. But let it be said that Richard Strauss, from the first, has manifested an extraordinary mastery of technical procedure; that he is one of the few composers of our generation who has shown himself capable of constructing works on a monumental scale and of approaching the epic conception. His work as a whole is greater than any of its constituent parts; and, in this sense, he possesses an architectonic quality of mind that is impressive. There is in his greatest works--"Elektra," "Salome," "Don Juan," "Till Eulenspiegel's Merry Pranks," and "Der Rosenkavalier"--a nervous energy and exuberance, a vitality and fertility of invention, and a technique of handling the orchestra that is admittedly unsurpassed. He has again and again shown his power to create beauty of rare freshness. But he has, and most tragically so, failed in the complete realization of his highest achievement. At the end of his essay, Romain Rolland sees in Richard Strauss's defeat and depletion of talent a symbol of contemporary Germany and speaks thus:
Romain Rolland, Musicians of Today. New York: Henry Holt and Company, 1915. See notes on Tchaikovsky, page 59.
In this lies the undying worm of German thought. I am speaking of the thought of the choice few who enlighten the present and anticipate the future. I see an heroic; people, intoxicated by its triumphs, by its numbers, by its force, which clasps the worlds in its great arms and subjugates it, and then stops, fatigued by its conquest and asks:; "Why have I conquered" i
"Death and Transfiguration" was composed in 1889. The score was pref] aced by a poem written by Strauss's friend, Alexander Ritter. As in the cases] of other significant "program" pieces in musical literature, the music was writteni before the poem. The following is a paraphrase of the poem made by Mr. j W. F. Apthorp:
In the necessitous little room, dimly lighted by only a candle-end, lies the sick .j man on his bed. But just now he has wrestled desperately with death. Now he has ; sunk exhausted into sleep, and thou hearest only the soft ticking of the clock on the [ wall of the room, whose awful silence gives a foreboding of the nearness of death. Over j the sick man's pale features plays a sad smile. Dreams he, on the boundary of life, of.] the golden time of childhood j
But Death does not long grant sleep and dreams to his victim. Cruelly he shakes ] him awake, and the fight begins afresh. Will to live and power of death! What frightj ful wrestling! Neither bears off the victory, and all is silent once more! j
Sunk back, tired of battle, sleepless as in fever frenzy, the sick man now sees life ] pass before his inner eye, trait by trait and scene by scene. First the morning red of ¦; childhood, shining bright in pure innocence! Then the youth's saucier play exerting and trying his strength, till he ripens to the man's fight, and now burns with hot lust ! for the higher prizes of life. The one high purpose that has led him through life was to shape all he saw transfigured into a still more transfigured form. Cold and sneering, j the world sets barrier upon barrier in the way of his achievement. If he thinks himself i near his goal, a "Halt!" thunders in his ear. "Make the barrier thy stirrup! Ever j higher and onward go!" And so he pushes forward, so he climbs, desists not from his { sacred purpose. That which he has ever sought with his heart's deepest yearning he still seeks in his death sweat. Seeks--alas! and finds it never. Whether he comprehends ' it more clearly or that it grows upon him gradually, he can yet never exhaust it, cannot ¦ complete it in his spirit. Then clangs the last stroke of Death's iron hammer, breaks the earthly body in twain, covers the eye with the night of death. !
But from the heavenly spaces sounds mightily to greet him that which he yearningly i sought for here; deliverance from the world, transfiguration of the world. j
Friday Afternoon, May 7 Overture to "The Marriage of Figaro"...... . Mozart
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born at Salzburg, January 27, 1756; died at Vienna, December 5, 1791.
Mozart was perhaps the most natural musician who ever lived; his art the most spontaneous that ever came into existence; his style the most limpid, serene, lucid, and transparent in all music. Here is empyrean music which treads on air--witty without loss of dignity, free without abandon, controlled without constriction, joyful and light-hearted, yet not frivolous; here is the music of eternal youth. No composer ever showed more affluence or more precision, more unerring instinct for balance and clarity than he. His genial vitality, absolute musicianship, and sympathetic sentiment set him apart from all other composers.
One hundred and fifty years ago, Mozart composed a thoroughly exquisite and charming opera The Marriage of Figaro, and since the first performance on May 1, 1786, its overture has constantly enlivened and refreshed men's spirits. Merriest of all overtures, it puts the listener at once into a frolicsome mood. It romps, it skips, it never pauses to reflect, for motion not emotion is its aim. One might as well attempt to explain the charm of a thrush's song as to analyze the bewitching fascination of this music. Laughing and singing itself out in five minutes, it recaptures each time it is recreated something of universal joy and well-being.
Aria, "Dove Sono" from "The Marriage of Figaro" . . Mozart
Some time after the marriage of Count Almaviva and Rosina, the Count (Lindoro in Rossini's "Barber of Seville") has transferred his affection from his wife (Rosina, also in Rossini's opera) to her maid, Suzanna. Longing for peace of mind and the return of domestic tranquillity, the Countess Almaviva, although she suffers from her husband's infidelities, does little more than hope for their termination. In her lovely aria, "Dove Sono," she reflects sorrowfully and regretfully upon her unhappy situation.
Rosina: Where are those sweet and tender moments Where are the promises of those lying lips All is changed to tears and sorrow, yet I cannot banish from my mind the memory of my former happiness. If only my affection and longing will give me the power to change that ungrateful heart!
Folk Song Fantasy (Folk songs of the United Nations) Orchestrated by Marion E. McArtor
I. The Fisher Maiden.........French folk song
translated by Carol Fuller
"Come pretty fisher maiden,
Sailing your boat so free;
Look where my castle rises!
Will you not marry me
Blossoms I'll bring, fresh as the spring;
Rubies, laces I'll buy,
Gifts that are glad surprises.
No prince will be proud as I."
2. May Day Carol
The moon shines bright, the stars give
A little before 'tis day. Our heav'nly Father, He called to us And He bade us wake and pray. Awake, awake, O pretty maid, Out of your drowsy dream, And step into your dairy house And fetch a bowl of cream.
If not a bowl of your sweet cream A beaker to bring you cheer, For God knows if again we shall meet For the Maying time next year.
3. John Peel
Do ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay, Do ye ken John Peel at the break of the
day, Do ye ken John Peel when he's far, far
away With his hounds and his horn in the
Chorus 'Twas the sound of his horn brought me
from my bed,
"No, no, no, no!" she answers,
I need no lace at all.
Look how the foam is weaving
Patterns that rise and fall.
Seaweeds that float, close by my boat,
Make a garden for me.
I would not dream of leaving
My home near the shining sea."
.....English folk song
I've been a-rambling all this night And some time of this day, And now returning back I come With branches of the May.
A branch of May I brought you here And here at your door I stand. 'Tis but a sprout, but well budded out By the work of our Lord's hand. My song is done and I'll be gone, No longer can I stay. God bless you all, both great and small, And send a joyful May.
. . . . . English folk song
And the cry of his hounds which he ofttimes led.
Peel's "View, halloo" would awaken the dead,
Or the fox from his lair in the morning.
Do ye ken John Peel with his coat so gay He lived at Troutbeck once on a day; But now he has gone far away, far away, We shall ne'er hear his voice in the morning.
4. Came A-Riding..........Czech folk song j
English by Martha C. Ramsay j
Came a-riding by one day, Zhum ta di ya di ya, Suitor jaunty, bold and gay, Zhum ta di ya diya, Hey!
"Were you always kind and true," Zhum to di ya di ya
"I might give my heart to you," Zhum ta di ya di ya, Hey!
"But your pride has you misled," Zhum to di ya di ya, "Not to you will I be wed." Zhum to di ya di ya, Hey!
5. Chinese Evening Song ........ Chinese folk tune
words by Nancy Byrd Turner
Temple bells ring soft and clear Down the twilight hill, Dusky quiet hill Where the shadows fill. Ling Foo, go to sleep, my dear, Lotus blooms are drifting near; Night is on the hill; Temple bells are still.
Birds are drowsy in their nest, Slow the shadows creep, Tip-toe shadows creep, Dark is growing deep. All the world has gone to rest, One fair star is in the west, And a watch will keep. Ling Foo, go to sleep.
6. In Vossevangen ......... Norwegian folk song
English by Neva Boyd
In Vossevangen I love to stay Among the hills sweet with clover; Where lads are fine in their buckles gay, With jacket buttons silver'd over. Beribboned girls dancing 'round and
'round, Their shining braids nearly touch the
Upon the hillside are berries sweet, 'Mid hazel brush, oaks and birches; The little goats leap with nimble feet, The river through the valley rushes. The smell of earth and the sigh of trees And songs of birds float upon the breeze.
Believe you me, when I tell thee, It's beautiful in Vossevangen.
7. Tutu Maramba..........Brazilian folk song
English version by Augustus T. Zanzig
Tutu Maramba,1 if you come this way, The baby's father will chase you away; Go to sleep, my baby, lovely little pet of
mine, Beautiful and happy be, O little child of
Aranha Tatanha, Aranha Tatinha,"
Tatu 8 your house is scratching to see if
you are sleeping,
Aranha Tatanha, Aranha Tatinha, Tatu will be glad when he finds you are
ITutu Maramba is an imaginary, frightening character like our "bogey man."
Aranha Tatanha and Aranha Tatinha are spiders in Brazilean fairytales. 3 Tatu is an armadillo of like significance.
In the Plaza..........Mexican folk song
English version by Christine Turner Curtis
Swaying beneath the mangoes,
Dancers are weaving tangos;
Softly the lutes are sighing,
And overhead with shining stars the sky is sown.
Red heels are tapping, black eyes are snapping;
On dresses silky fall petals milky.
Swiftly the hours are flying;
Too soon the balmy night of summer will be flown.
Crimson, in gardens hilly,
Blossoms the tiger lily.
Pigeons will soon be winging;
The little goats will soon be skipping in
the dawn.
The palm trees shiver, the banjos quiver. Gardenias creamy lend odors dreamy. Sadly the flute is singing; Too soon the lovely night of summer will
be gone.
The Pedlar...........Russian folk song
English by Augustus T. Zanzig
Down the road the whole day long With my pack of goods for dame or maid. Oh, the weight on my aching shoulders! But to live a man must trade!
io. Sweet Betsy from Pike
Did you ever hear of sweet Betsy from
Pike, Who crossed the wide prairies with her
husband, Ike, With two yoke of cattle and one spotted
hog, A tall shanghai rooster, and old yaller dog
The alkali desert was burning and bare, And Ike cried in fear, "We are lost, I declare!
ii. Cape Cod Chantey . . . .
Oh, Cape Cod girls they have no combs, Heave away, heave away! They comb their hair with codfish bones, We are bound for far Australia!
Heave away, my bully, bully boys, Heave away, heave away!
"Madame, you see before you now What pretty things I have to sell." "Ah, good pedlar, they steal my heart, Indeed I like them far too well!"
. . . American traditional song
My dear old Pike County, I'll go back to
you." Said Betsy, "You'll go by yourself if you
They swam the wide rivers and crossed
the tall peaks, They camped on the prairie for weeks
upon weeks; They fought with the Indians with musket
and ball; They reached California in spite of it all.
. American sailor chantey
Heave away and make a lot of noise, We are bound for far Australia.
Oh, Cape Cod boys they have no sleds, Heave away, heave away! They slide down hill on codfish heads, We are bound for far Australia!
"Ewig war ich" from "Siegfried"........Wagner
Born May 22, 1813, at Leipzig; died February 13, 1883, at Venice.
When Cosima Wagner's diary was published in 1929, it revealed that Wagner had created the important musical material for the last act of "Siegfried" years before, with the intention of using it, not for the music drama, but for chamber music. When Wagner was at Triebschen in 1869, he composed the music for Briinhilde in the scene with Siegfried, beginning "Ewig war ich, ewig bin ich." For this scene he employed two themes which he had conceived for use in a string quartet that he had hoped to write at Starnberg five years before. One of these themes became the center of the "Siegfried Idyll" in 1870, and the other, also used in the Idyll, occurs in Siegfried, accompanying Briinhilde's words: "Siegfried herrlicher! Hort der Welt."
This music, then, came into existence as material for absolute chamber music, and only later was it forced into the service of the drama. This instance of the music being written before the words, and countless other examples of a similar kind that could be quoted, strikes rather deeply at the popular conception that, in Wagner, the words preceded the music or that the music arose from the very essence of the text.
Briinhilde, cast into magic sleep by her father, Wotan, for her disobedience, is awakened by the kiss of the young hero, Siegfried. As she rises from her couch she greets the world no longer as a goddess, but as a woman, her godhood having been taken from her by Wotan. To Siegfried she sings:
Eternal I was, eternal I am--deathless to sweet affection. O Siegfried, thou hope of the world, life of the universe, highest hero, leave me in peace. Press not upon me thy ardent approaches. Hast thou not seen thy face mirrored in the waters and been gladdened by thy glance Disturb not then those calm waters, O Siegfried, but leave me in peace; betray me not, destroy not thy faithful slave.
"Du bist der Lenz" from "Die Walkure"......Wagner
This excerpt is taken from the end of Act I of "Die Wakiire." Siegmund, a warrior in flight, takes refuge one stormy evening in the house of Hunding, one of his enemies, whose wife, Sieglinda, arouses his interest and love. Hunding is bound by the laws of hospitality not to harm his guest till the morrow. Siegmund, alone in the great room of the house, built 'round the trunk of an ash tree, meditates upon his heritage; the rays of the fire on the hearth light up a sword buried to the hilt in the ash tree; he reflects upon this good
omen and upon the beauty of Sieglinda, who now enters by a side door, robed in white. She promises to guide him "to a goodly weapon, a glorious prize to gain." The door at the back opens wide revealing a lovely spring night, the full moon shines in on the pair of lovers. Siegmund first sings a passionate song of love, to which Sieglinda answers:
Thou art the Spring,
for thee have I sighed 'neath the frost-fettered winter's frown.
Tow'rd thee leapt my heart
with heavenly thrill
when thy radiant glance on me rested-Foreign seemed all until now, friendless I and forsaken; I counted strange and unknown each and all that came near.
But thee, now, I
thoroughly knew;
when these eyes fell on thee
wert thou mine own one.
What my heart long had held,
what was hid,
clear as the day
dawned on my eyes,
the dulcet refrain
fell on my ear,
when in winter's frosty wildness a friend first awaited me.
"Dich theure Halle" from "Tannhauser"......Wagner
"Into this work," wrote Wagner, "I precipitated myself with my whole soul, and with such consuming ardor that, the nearer I approached its end, the more I was haunted with the notion that perhaps a sudden death would prevent me from bringing it to completion; so that when the last note was written I experienced a feeling of joyful elation, as if I had escaped a mortal danger." But Wagner gave even further testimony to the flame of enthusiasm which burned within his soul when "Tannhauser" was in process of creation. "This opera," he wrote, "must be good, or else I never shall be able to do anything that is good. It acted upon me like real magic; whenever and wherever I took up the work I was all aglow and trembling with excitement. After the various long interruptions from labor, the first breath always transported me back into the fragrant atmosphere that had intoxicated me at its first conception."
Tannhauser, the minstrel, has returned to Eisenach from the Venusberg, where he has been held by the seductive charms of the Goddess of Love. During his absence, the Hall of Song in the Wartburg Castle, the scene of the minstrels' song contests, has not rung with their voices. Elizabeth, joyful at Tannhauser's return, enters the empty Hall, and, as an apostrophe to it, sings:
Dear hall of song, I give thee greeting!
AH hail to thee, thou hallowed place! 'Twas here that dream, so sweet and fleeting,
Upon my heart his song did trace.
But since by him forsaken,
A desert does thou seem! Thy echoes only waken
Remembrance of a dream! But now the flame of hope is lighted,
Thy vault shall ring with glorious war, For he, whose strains my soul delighted,
No longer roams afar! All hail to thee, Thou hall of glory, dear to my heart!
Symphony No. i in C minor, Op. 68.......Brahms
Brahms, Wagner, and Tchaikovsky were products of the same artistic soil, nurtured by the same forces that conditioned the standards and norms of art in their period. They lived in a poverty-stricken and soul-sick period, when anarchy seemed to have destroyed culture, an age which was distinctly unfavorable to genuinely great art--unfavorable because of its pretentiousness and exclusiveness, its crass materialism, its hidebound worship of the conventional. The showy exterior of the period did not hide the inner barrenness of its culture.
It is no accident that the real Brahms seems to us to be the serious Brahms of the great tragic songs and of the quiet resignation expressed in the slow movements of his symphonies. Here is to be found an expression of the true spirit of the period in which he lived. But by the exertion of a clear intelligence, he tempered an excessively emotional nature, and thereby dispersed the vapors of mere sentimentalism. Unlike Tchaikovsky and other "heroes of the age," Brahms, even as Beethoven, was essentially of a healthy mind, and, with a spirit strong and virile, he met the challenge of his age, and was triumphant in his art. In a period turbulent with morbid emotionalism, he stood abreast with such spirits as Carlyle and Browning, to oppose the forced impoverishment of life and the unhealthful tendencies of his period. Although he suffered disillusionment no less than Tchaikovsky, his was another kind of tragedy, the tragedy of a musician born out of his time. In fact, he suffered more than Tchaikovsky from the changes in taste and perception that inevitably come with the passing of rime. But his particular disillusionment did not affect the power and sureness of his artistic impulse. With grief he saw the ideals of Beethoven dissolved in a welter of cheap emotionalism; he saw the classic dignity of his art degraded by an infiltration of tawdry programmatic effects and innocuous imitation, and witnessed finally its complete subjugation to poetry and the dramatic play. But all
See note on Tchaikovsky, page 59.
of this he opposed with his own grand style; profoundly moving, noble, and dignified. With a sweep and thrust he forced music out upon her mighty pinions to soar once more.
In the Neue Freie Presse of Vienna, fifty years ago, Hanslick, Brahms' chief champion, referred to the C-minor Symphony as "music more or less clear, more or less sympathetic, but difficult of comprehension ... it affects the hearer as though he had read a scientific treatise full of Faust-like conflicts of the soul."
Tchaikovsky sensed in Brahms' music the same difficulty of comprehension. "I have looked through a new symphony by Brahms (C minor). He has no charms for me. I find him cold and obscure, full of pretensions, but without any real depth." He wrote to Mme. Von Meek in 1877, and again in 1880--"but in his case, his mastery overwhelms his inspiration. . . . Nothing comes but boredom. His music is not warmed by any genuine emotion. . . . These depths contain nothing, they are void. ... I cannot abide them. Whatever he does, I remain unmoved and cold."
Even Mr. H. C. Colles, of all critics of Brahms the most enthusiastic and loyal, speaks of the "difficulty of grasping his music," the statement referring, astonishingly enough, to the transparently beautiful slow movement of the C-major Symphony.
With extraordinary insistence this criticism of Brahms has persisted. The old Brahmsians themselves encouraged it. They reveled in the master's esoteric, inaccessible qualities and, like the champions of Meredith in the eighties, they gloried in his "aloofness."
In the light of the attempts of modern composers to stretch beyond their predecessors in search of new effects, sometimes having more interest in the intellectual manipulation of their materials, than in the subjective, emotional expression achieved by them; it is amazing to still come into contact with this old, yet prevailing idea that the music of Brahms is "cold," "heavy," "pedantic," "opaque," "unemotional," and "intellectual."
It is true that Brahms has none of the overstimulating and exciting quality of his more emotional contemporaries, Tchaikovsky and Wagner, but this fact does not reduce Brahms' music to mere cerebration. One has only to hear the glorious Introduction to this symphony to realize the tremendous emotional impact of the music. If there is anything cerebral or intellectual in Brahms, it lies in the manner in which he controls and sublimates the excessiveness and overwelling of his emotions, and that is the mark of every true artist. One reason that criticism has placed upon Brahms' head the condemnation and terrible burden of cold intellectuality lies in the fact that there are none of the sensational or popular devices used to catch immediate response. There are no tricks to discover in Brahms; there is no assailing the judgment in the attempt to excite sudden enthusiasm. We are, however, more and more impressed with the inTHIRD CONCERT
finite wealth of profound beauty that is to be found in his pages. Critics may have been bewildered at times by his rich, musical fabric, often lost and confused in the labyrinth of his ideas, but again, in the light of contemporary attempts at musical expressiveness at all cost, Brahms appears today with an almost lucid transparency, and as a master of great emotional power.
Fuller Maitland in his admirable book on Brahms, referring to this symphony, defends him saying, "the case is almost parallel to certain poems of Browning, the thoughts are so weighty, the reasoning so close, that the ordinary means of expression are inadequate. To try to re-score the first movement with the sacrifice of none of its meaning, is as hopeless a task as to rewrite 'Sordello' in sentences that a child should understand."
The association of Brahms and Browning is a happy one. There is something fundamentally similar in their artistic outlook and method of expression, for Brahms, like Browning, often disclaimed the nice selection and employment of a style in itself beautiful. As an artist, nonetheless, he chose to create, in every case, a style fitly proportioned to the design, finding in that dramatic relation of style and motive a more vital beauty and a broader sweep of expression.
In this broader conception Brahms often verged upon the sublime. He lived in his creative life upon the "cold white peaks." No master ever displayed a more inexorable self-discipline or held his art in higher respect. For Brahms was a master of masters, always painstaking in the devotion he gave to his work and undaunted in his search for perfection. "The excellence he sought dwelt among rocks hardly accessible, and he had to almost wear his heart out to reach her." What Matthew Arnold wrote of Milton's verse might well have been written of Brahms' music. "The fullness of thought, imagination and knowledge, makes it what it is." In Milton's magnificent phrase, the Brahms of music is the man "of devout prayer to that Eternal Spirit that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and sends out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases."
The creation of the C-minor Symphony displayed Brahms' discipline and noble intention--the most impressive marks of his character. With all the ardour of his soul, he sought the levels of Bach and Beethoven. His first symphony caused him great trouble and profound thought. It took him years to complete it. The sketches for the work, with which Brahms came forward in his fortythird year (1876), date from decades back. In the fifties Albert Dietrich saw a draft of the first movement. Brahms kept it beyond the time when he committed one symphony after another to the flames, proving the triumphant perseverance that let it survive to a state of perfection. The symphony is written with tremendous seriousness and conciseness. It speaks in tones of a troubled
Fuller Maitland, Brahms. London: Methuen and Co., 1911.
soul, but rises from a spirit of struggle and torture in the first movement to the sublimity of the fourth movement with its onrushing jubilation and exultant buoyancy. Mr. Lawrence Gilman, in the program notes for the Philadelphia Symphony, wrote the following analysis:
From the first note of this symphony we are aware of a great voice uttering superb poetic speech. The momentous opening (the beginning of an introduction of thirtyseven measures, Un foco sostenuto, 6-8) is among the unforgettable exordiums of music--a majestic upward sweep of the strings against a phrase in contrary motion for the wind, with the basses and timpani reiterating a somberly persistent C. The following Allegro is among the most powerful of Brahms' symphonic movements.
In the deeply probing slow movements we get the Brahms who is perhaps most to be treasured; the musical thinker of long vistas and grave meditations, the lyric poet of inexhaustible tenderness, the large-souled dreamer and humanist--the Brahms for whom the unavoidable epithet is "noble." How richly individual in feeling and expression is the whole of this Andante sostenuto! No one but Brahms could have extracted the precise quality of emotion which issues from the simple and heartfelt theme for the strings, horns, and bassoon in the opening pages; and the lovely complement for the oboe is inimitable--a melodic invention of such enamoring beauty that it has lured an unchallengeably sober commentator into conferring upon it the attribute of "sublimity." Though perhaps "sublimity"--a shy bird, even on Olympus--is to be found not here, but elsewhere in this symphony.

The third movement (the foco allegretto e grazioso which takes the place of the customary Scherzo) is beguiling in its own special loveliness; but the chief glory of the symphony is the Finale.
Here--if need be--is an appropriate resting place for that diffident eagle among epithets, sublimity. Here there are space and air and light to tempt its wings. The wonderful C-major song of the horn in the slow introduction of this movement (Piit andante, 4-4), heard through a vaporous tremolo of the muted strings above softly held trombone chords, persuaded William Foster Apthorp that the episode was suggested to Brahms by "the tones of the Alpine horn, as it awakens the echoes from mountain after mountain on some of the high passes in the Bernese Oberland." This passage is interrupted by a foreshadowing of the majestic choralelike phrase for the trombones and bassoons which later, when it returns at the climax of the movement, takes the breath with its startling grandeur. And then comes the chief theme of the Allegro--that spacious and heartening melody which sweeps us onward to the culminating moment in the Finale: the apocalyptic vision of the chorale in the coda, which may recall to some the exalted prophecy of Jean Paul: "There will come a time when it shall be light; and when man shall awaken from his lofty dreams and find his dreams still there, and that nothing has gone save his sleep."
Max Kalbeck sees in the whole symphony, but more particularly in the first movement, an image of the tragedy of Robert and Clara Schumann in which Brahms was involved.
Friday Evening, May 7 Overture to "Oberon"............ Weber
Carl Maria von Weber was born at Eutin, 1786; died at London, 1826.
"Finished April 9th, 1826, in the morning, at a quarter to twelve, and with it the whole opera 'Oberon.' Soli Deo Gloria!!! C. M. v. Weber." is the entry made by Weber in the autograph score of "Oberon" which was completed in the city of London.
Because of the great vogue for his music in England Weber had been asked by Charles Kemble, in 1824, to write an opera for the Theatre Royal, Covent Garden, and in spite of a serious illness of long duration (tuberculosis), he undertook the task on January 23, 1825. Fearing that death would overtake him before he had completed it, Weber worked with feverish energy upon the score. During the rehearsals he was so ill he could scarcely stand, but he carried through the premiere at Covent Garden, April 12, 1826. "By God's Grace," he wrote his wife, after the performance, "I have had tonight such a perfect success as never before." Two months later he died, having been unable to reach his native land and to see again his wife and children.
Seventeen years after Weber's burial in London, his body was removed and interred in his native German soil. On that occasion, Richard Wagner, giving the valedictory address over Weber's grave, voiced the deepest feelings of his countrymen.
Never was there a more German composer than thou; to whatever distant fathomless realms of fancy thy genius bore thee, it remained bound by a thousand tender links to the heart of thy German people; with them it wept or smiled like a believing child, listening to the legends and tales of its country. It was thy childlike simplicity which guided thy manly spirit like a guardian angel, keeping it pure and chaste; and that purity was thy chief quality. Behold, the Briton does thee justice. The Frenchman admires thee, but only the German can love thee! Thou art his own, a bright day in his life, a drop of blood, a part of his heart.
Thus was the first of the great romanticists in music venerated by the man who was to fulfill his artistic revelation!
The libretto of "Oberon," or the "Elf-King's Oath" was written by James Robinson Planche, and was founded on Villeneuve's story "Huron de Bordeaux" and Sotheby's English translation of Wieland's poem, "Oberon."
Weber's music pulsed strongly in sympathy with the romantic revolt in literature. He was one with that movement in literature which produced Victor Hugo, Scott, Byron, Goethe, Schiller, and Rousseau. With his music, he awoke the dormant soul of Germany to the true German spirit full of heroism and mystery, and love for nature.
The overture is descriptive of the main elements in the drama. It is written in the sonata form, its material derived from the music in the opera. After a slow introduction (adagio sostenuto, D major, 4-4 time) in which a theme representing the magic horn of Oberon is heard, the main movement (allegro con fuoco, D major, 4-4 time) is introduced by a brilliant theme taken from a quartet in the opera. The subsidiary subject in A major, heard in the clarinet, is taken from an important aria. After the customary development section and recapitulation of themes, the work closes with a brilliant coda.
Aria of the Queen of the Night, from "The Magic Flute" . Mozart
On the seventh of March, 1791, Emanuel Schikaneder (1751-1812), a brother Freemason, brought to Mozart his libretto of a fairy opera in which were incorporated many of the mysteries of Freemasonry. As Schikaneder was in financial distress, Mozart, always too generous for his own good, gladly undertook its composition. The work was performed on September 30, 1791, in Vienna. The house program of that date shows the name of Emanuel Schikaneder in capitals at the top, while the name of Mozart as the composer of the music and conductor occurs in fine print at the bottom. It was a successful performance, but the presumptuous librettist stated at the time that "it would have been more successful had Mozart not spoiled it." The first twentyfour performances brought Schikaneder over eight thousand guldens, and Mozart, nothing. Subsequent years, however, have brought Schikaneder a few lines in musical dictionaries and Mozart immortality.
In the whole field of opera there is not a more incomprehensible libretto than that of "The Magic Flute"; yet the score is Mozart's masterpiece. Produced in Vienna in 1791, only two months before his death, "The Magic Flute" is the quintessence of Mozart's genius. Over a ludicrous and fantastic plot and a combination of preposterous characters, Mozart poured his marvelous music and transformed this monstrosity into a living, breathing masterpiece. The story describes the wonder of Tamino's pipes, which had the power to control men, animals, birds, reptiles, and the elements. As the flute is continFOURTH CONCERT
uously playing throughout the work, the result need only be imagined! But the magic of Mozart's music obliterates the ridiculous incidents, and creates from puppets characters of distinct being and personality. Truly the magic of Tamino's flute passed into the pen of Mozart. In the Words of Richard Wagner: "What Godlike magic breathes throughout this work. What many-sidedness, what marvelous variety! The quintessence of every noblest bloom of art seems here to blend in one unequaled flower."
The Queen of the Night, who is always unexpectedly arising from the earth and appearing out of darkness, confronts her sleeping daughter, Pamina, and gives her a dagger, admonishing her to kill Sarastro, the High Priest of Isis, who has been instrumental in uniting Pamina with her lover, Tamino. Pamina hesitates, and the Queen in rage threatens all with death and destruction.
The pangs of hell are raging in my breast. Carry my vengeance to Sarastro or I cast thee from me forever. Oppose me, and through you, Sarastro will perish. Hear me, gods of vengeance, hear my vow.
In 1778, Mozart wrote a set of twelve variations for the piano on the air, "Ah, vous dirai-je, maman" (K. 265). The melody was arranged into a set of variations for the voice and orchestra by Adolph Adam, and was introduced into his opera "Toreador" in 1849. n tnls version, the so-called Mozart--Adam "Bravura Variations" are often interpolated in Rosina's lesson scene in Rossini's "Barber of Seville."
All the themes in this composition are taken from the Mozart piano variations.
Espaiia--Rhapsody for Orchestra .... Emmanuel Chabrier
Born September 13, 1841, Ambert; died January 18, 18 94, Paris.
"The prodigious liveliness," wrote Bruneau of Emmanuel Chabrier, "which individualizes to such a high degree the works of Chabrier was the distinctive mark of his character. The exuberance of his gestures, the solid frame of his body, the Auvergnian accent of his voice which altered the most varied remarks .... the boldness of his hats, the audacity of his coats, gave to his picturesque person an extraordinary animation. He played the piano as no one
?Alfred Bruneau, Musiques de Hier et de Detnain, p. 30. Paris: E. Fasquelle, 1900.
ever played before him and as no one will ever play again. The spectacle of Chabrier stepping forward in a parlor thick with elegant women, toward the feeble instrument, and performing "Espana" in the midst of fireworks of broken strings, hammers in pieces, and pulverized keys, was a thing of unutterable drollery, which sometimes reached epic proportions."
The reputation of this popular figure of Parisian drawing rooms, as a composer, grew slowly; but with the performance of "Espana" at a Lamoureux concert given at the Chateau d'Eau, Paris, November 4, 1883, his name was known throughout the city, and before long throughout France. Today the world knows him best by this vividly colorful work, popularized by many. transcriptions. But in French music, Chabrier is a far more important figure than this one popular work would signify; he was the unquestioned pioneer in a progressive type of music in France. Gallic to the core, he endowed French music, weighed down by eclecticism, with a new spirit of independence and uniqueness. Originality and personality exerted itself once more and French music sounded a militant revolt against stifling tradition.
In I.883, passages of Espana were startlingly novel and even bizarre. Although today they sound conventional enough with their Wagnerian overtones, to Chabrier's period they were exciting in their gorgeously coloristic style, their occasional use of the whole tone scale and series of seventh chords, devices expanded later by Claude Debussy. To a Parisian wit of the time, Chabrier revealed "exquisite bad taste." To us today, he appears to have been the source of inspiration for a generation or more of French composers who impressed the world with their vital originality.
Les Roses d'Ispahan.............Faure
Gabriel Faure was born at Pamiers, Ariege, May 13, 1845; died at Paris, November 4, 1924.
Gabriel Faure and Emmanuel Chabrier were by far the most fruitful figures in the progress toward a French nationalistic independence. Chabrier's music, in its assertive uncompromising and combative way, drew the attention of native Frenchmen and the world to the fact that France was once more a leader and not a docile follower in music. Faure's art, persuasive, ingratiating, and subtle, insinuated itself into national consciousness with no less effect than Chabrier's bombast.
Faure is a dramatic exception to the adage that a prophet is unsung in his own country. In his case, France recognized her son handsomely, not only in making him a member of the Academie des Beaux Arts (1909), a Commander in "Legion d'Honneur" (1910), but in paying him a national homage at the Sorbonne (1922), such as no other Frenchman, except Louis Pasteur, has ever received.
As a song writer (Faure composed relatively little for the orchestra), he ranks among the greatest in the world. The unusual literary discrimination he exerted in the choice of his texts, led to a compilation of the best French poetry in the last century. But Faure is never a slave to the poet. Through distinctive melodic invention and highly individual harmonic progressions which were always simultaneously projected, he created in his hundred or so songs, a music that was, in its sheer lyricism, sensitive yet eloquent and always exquisitely intimate. This "melodic-harmonic" character of his vocal line, resulted in an eminently seductive expression, not at all unlike the effects of certain glittering colors of the Impressionistic painters.
£mile Vuillernioz, eminent Parisian critic, wrote this of Faure: . . . "To love and understand Faure, constitutes a privilege from which it is difficult not to derive a sort of innocent pride. It is the mark of a subtle ear, the flattering indication of a refined sensibility."
The mystic exoticism of "Les Roses d'Ispahan" is typical of Faure's nature songs.
A translation follows:
The rose of Ispahan in its cradle of mosses,
The jasmin of Mossoul, the orange blossom wreath,
They have a sweet less sweet, less grateful is their fragrance,
Oh, fairest Leila! than thy lips' lightest breath.
Thy lips are coral red, and thy laughter is light,
Running water it seems, yet is the sound far sweeter;
Sweeter than playful airs 'mid orange blossoms bright,
Softer than bird that sings, and calls her mate to meet her.
O Leila! since ev'ry kiss has taken flight,
Nor e'en one single kiss on thy sweet lips reposes,
All the fragrance is gone from the orange-buds bright,
All the perfume of heav'n has left the mossy roses.
Ah! let thy sweet young love, a butterfly, alight,
Here to my empty heart on soft, swift wing returning;
Let it perfume once more the orange blossom bright,
The rose of Ispahan, midst her mosses a-burning.
fimile Vuillernioz, "Gabriel Faure," La Revue Musicale, October, 1922.
OFFICIAL PROGRAM Air du Rossignol, from "Parysatis"......Saint-Saens
Camille Saint-Saens was born at Paris, October 9, 1835; died at Algiers, December 16, 1921.
Camille Saint-Saens was not only a composer; he was also a distinguished pianist, organist, conductor, and author. During his long life of eighty-six years, he was the recipient of many honors. In 1868 he was admitted to the Legion d'Honneur and in 1913 won the Grand Croix. Cambridge University conferred upon him the Mus.D. in 1892. His literary productions were considerable and of a high quality. He published a book of poems, three comedies, and several scientific studies.
As a composer, he displayed a command of the technical processes of expression, including every aspect of form, extreme readiness of thematic development, and a superb orchestration. His genius, great and varied as it was, falls short of the highest achievements in profound feeling and conviction, however.
Saint-Saens wrote the incidental music for Dieulafoy's "Parysatis" in 1902. In this song, which is without words, the nightingale declares his love for the rose. " .
Aria: "Una voce poco fa" from "The Barber of Seville" . Rossini
The role of Rosina was originally written for contralto, in a day when the art of singing was such that vocal pyrotechnics were not the sole possession of so-called "coloratura" sopranos. Since Rossini's time, however, it has been identified with the soprano rather than with the contralto voice.
Rosina's part was first sung by Madame Giorgi-Righetti, a famous and greatly loved singer in Rome. When she made her appearance in the balcony, she was, in the character of Rome's favorite singer, applauded, but having no aria assigned to her, the audience thought they were robbed of the expected "Cavatina" and uttered murmurs of disapprobation. The brilliant and melodious duet for Almaviva and Figaro was sung in the midst of hisses and derisive shouts. When, however, Rosina appeared and sang the first notes of "Una voce poco fa," the audience became silent--a chance had been given by the composer to the singer!
Dr. Bartolo, guardian of the fascinating Rosina, wishes to marry her. The Count Almaviva on a visit to Seville has seen her and loves her also. She, ignorant of his name, knows him only as Lindoro. The Count has prevailed upon Figaro, the town-barber, to aid him, and it is upon Figaro's advice that
See notes on Rossini and the "Barber of Seville," page 17.
he enters Dr. Bartolo's home disguised as a drunken soldier. Rosina enters the library and sings the famous aria "Una voce poco fa" in which she tells of her love for Lindoro.
A little voice I heard just now;
Oh, it has thrill'd my very heart! I feel that I am wounded sore;
And Lindor 'twas who hurled the dart. Yes, Lindor, dearest, shall be mine!
I've sworn it, and we'll never part.
My guardian sure will ne'er consent;
But I must sharpen all my wit; Content at last, he will relent,
And we, O joy! be wedded yet. Yes, Lindor I have sworn to love!
And, loving, we'll our cares forget.
Symphony No. 5 in E minor, Op. 64.....Tchaikovsky
Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky was born May 7, 1840, at KamskoVotinsk; died November 6, 1893, at St. Petersburg.
"Our yearning sets for home, And yet we know not whither . . . ."
"No, that is nothing like me, I am far unhappier than that" cried Byron when he beheld in Rome the bust made of him by the sculptor, Thorwalsen. Goethe described Byron in the fine phrase, "His being consists in rich despair," and in fact, fame, love, wealth, and beauty left him sick with satiety--a despiser of the world. The real vulnerable spot of this hero lay not in his heel, but deep in his soul. Like Faust, he pined in enjoyment, and like Hamlet in "to be," he constantly sensed "not to be." The soul-life of the age bore the stamp of this man for whom "sorrow was knowledge,"--he was in truth, the eponymous hero of an epoch. "Wisdom is power," was the ringing triumph-cry of Bacon three hundred years before, and between Bacon and Byron lay the path of knowledge in modern Europe.
Just as a famous picture distributes itself among mankind in thousands of reproductions expensive and cheap, fine and coarse, exact and careless, so Europe was populated with innumerable copies of Byron who, with more or less success, tried to reproduce the essence of this extraordinary creature. The age was literally infected with Byronisrn. Already Chateaubriand in France, who gave such fluent and beautiful expression to the emotional ideas originated by Rousseau, had created the type of the "esprit romanesque" in his "Rene." At odds with himself and the world, sensitive and disillusioned, full of yearning for love
and faith but without the strength for either, he saw in every fruit for which he reached--the worm. "All," says Rene, "preaches to one of dissolution--everything wearies me, painfully I drag my boredom about with me and so my whole life is a yawn."
In the art of Chateaubriand and Byron, literature tended to become decadent, a "splendid greeny-gold growth, glittering and seductive, but filled with intoxicating saps that corrode." Byron's soul was incarnate in his "Manfred," who reflected an increasing egoism in the expression of melancholy. Goethe's "Werther" too, had this romantic desire to feel and suffer uniquely from an unhappiness caused by hidden, indefinable longing. This mixture of egoism and sensibility is found as basic stuff in the heroes of the literature of the time. Their philosophy was that of another "spokesman" of their age, Leopardi, who reflected that "sorrow and ennui is our being, and dung the earth--nothing more; whereever one looks, no meaning, no fruit." Slavonic literature too, stated the "superfluous" theme. Pushkin, the "Russian Byron," in his "Eugene Onegin" and Lermantov in "The Hero of our Time" created dramatic young men, who wrapped themselves in Byron's dark mantle, and stalked from one anguish to another. This universal and self-cultivated melancholy had the whole world in its grip. "It was," said Immerman, "as though humanity, tossed about in its little bark on an overwhelming ocean, is suffering from a moral sea-sickness of which the outcome is hardly to be'seen."
The sources for this world sickness can be found in a measure in the effects the Industrial Revolution had upon the lives of men. As a result of this tremendous reorganizing force with its consequent power and wealth, a new attitude toward life was created. The growth of a rationalistic materialism destroyed suddenly the comforting old beliefs, in the Bible. It gave rise to a period of doubt and disillusionment; it seemed as though the old culture were to disappear completely. Strong spirits like Carlyle, John Stewart Mill, and Ruskin fought valiantly for the "revenge instinct," and the composers like Verdi and Brahms tried to strengthen the flaccid spirit of their time by sounding a note of courage and hopefulness.
Less fortified minds, however, fell before the onslaught of industrialism and its materialism, sank into mental and spiritual apathy, and decayed. With decay came disease and the contagion struck deep into men's souls. From an overfertilized emotional soil grew a decadent school of art. Chopin's supersensitive soul cried.out its longing in his languorous nocturnes, Berlioz in his "Fantastique Symphony" pictured the narcotic dreams of a young artist who, because of an unrequited love, had attempted suicide by opium. Wagner, expressing one side of the Industrial Revolution in the imperious force and merciless drive of his
See notes on Brahms, page 49.
music, nevertheless allowed his desire-sick soul to long for death as the only release from the world. The Renunciation motive is the basis of his great dramas. Senta renounces life for the salvation of the Dutchman, Elizabeth dies for Tannhauser, Briinhilde throws herself upon the funeral pyre of Siegfried to redeem the race, and Tristan and Isolde live only for the night and long for death to unite them forever. Heine characterized this feeling in Germany. "People," he said, "practiced renunciation and modesty, bowed before the invisible, snatched at shadow kisses and blue-flowered scents." This unnatural and unhealthy mental attitude led to a great deal of self-contemplation and introspection which tended to substitute futile or morbid imaginings for solid realities of life. The overintrospective and supersensitive artist cuts himself off from a larger arc of experience and is prone to exaggerate the importance of the more intimate sentiments, and when, as in the nineteenth century, such a tendency is underspread, a whole school may become febrile and erotic.
Tchaikovsky, like Byron, was a child of his age. It is truly said of Byron that he had but one subject--himself, and that saying is equally true of Tchaikovsky. If his personality is less puissant and terrible than that of Byron, his artistic instincts are reflected none the less forcibly in his self-cultivated and exhibitionistic art. His persistent penchant for melancholy expression, his feverish sensibility, his revulsions of artistic feeling, and his superficial emotions which sink him into morbid pessimism, deadening depression, and neurotic fears on the one hand, or raise him to wild hysteria on the other--picture him in the framework of his age.
"And if bereft of speech,
Man bears his pain,
A god gave me the gift
To tell my sorrow,"
wrote Tasso. Of this gift, Tchaikovsky had his share.
A Russian to the core, Tchaikovsky was nevertheless criticized severely by those self-styled "Nationalists," "The Five," for being too strongly influenced by German and French methods and styles to be a true exponent of Russian music. Tchaikovsky, on the other hand, found much to admire in their art, and was very enthusiastic in his praise of Rimsky-Korsakov in particular. Nevertheless, he resented the assumption of superiority and the canons of judgment laid down by this coterie. He turned rather to Beethoven and to the scholarly technique exhibited in the construction of his symphonies; at the same time he was not immune to the charm of Italian music. Although he depreciated its superficial treatment of the orchestra, he did sense in the music of Italy the eternal value of pure melody, which he brought to fullest beauty through his superb
and unequaled knowledge of instrumental effects. From Beethoven, Tchaikovsky no doubt gained his superior sense of architectural design and unity of style, but so intent was he on the fascination and charm of the single episode, and so aware of the spell of the immediate melodic beauty and the particular suggestive power of the orchestral coloring, that he never gained the superb structural heights or the completely epic conception of the symphony found in Beethoven.
Tchaikovsky himself spoke of his symphonic works as "showing the seams" and revealing "no organic union between the separate episodes." But such is the ¦ beauty and power of his themes, so fine is their general architectural construction, and above all so masterful and effective is the use he makes of the orchestral palette that we do not consider it a discrepancy to find so thoroughly a lyric conception encased in so epic a form. In fact, Tchaikovsky's faults enhance his virtues, and this is the enigma of genius.
The dates, frequently given for the composition of the Fifth Symphony (1886-87) are incorrect, according to Tchaikovsky's letters; for in one to his brother Modeste (May 15, 1888) he writes: "I am hoping to collect the materials for a symphony." On June 10, 1888, he says in a letter to Madame von Meek: "Have I told you that I intend to write a symphony The beginning was difficult; now, however, inspiration seems to have come. We shall see!" Again he writes (August 26, 1888), "I am so glad that I have finished my symphony (No. 5) that I can forget all physical ailments." This would seem to establish the date of its composition.
Tchaikovsky was not pleased with the effect of his new score. After two performances in St. Petersburg, and one in Prague, he felt the work to be a complete failure. In December, 1888, he wrote to Madame von Meek:
. . . After two performances of my new symphony in St. Petersburg and one in Prague I have come to the conclusion that it is a failure. There is something repellent, something superfluous, patchy, and insincere, which the public instinctively recognizes. It was obvious to me that the ovations I received were prompted more by my earlier work, and that the symphony itself did not really please the audience. The consciousness of this brings me a sharp twinge of self-dissatisfaction. Am I really played out, as they say Can I merely repeat and ring the changes on my earlier idiom Last night I looked through our symphony (No. 4). What a difference! How immeasurably superior it is! It is very, very sad!
But, in the following spring, the work had great success in Moscow and in Hamburg, where Tchaikovsky himself conducted it. The orchestra men liked it, and Tchaikovsky, with renewed spirits, wrote to his friend Davidov, "I can again boast of a great success. The Fifth Symphony was excellently played, and I have come to love it again."
That Tchaikovsky had a program in his mind when he composed his later symphonies is reasonably certain. In the case of the Fourth (F minor) we know that he wrote to Madame von Meek a long explanation of its meaning--that he endeavored to represent in tones the inexorableness of fate--"a power which consistently hangs over us like the Sword of Damocles and ceaselessly poisons the soul; a power overwhelming and invincible." We know also that the Sixth Symphony ("Pathetic") was originally to have been entitled "Program Symphony" and that, although its import was never vouchsafed to the world by the composer, its significance was so fraught with meaning to himself that Tchaikovsky could write, "Often during my wanderings, composing in my mind, I have wept bitterly." But he never even suggested that the Fifth Symphony bore a program. And yet it is impossible to suppose that this work is without an underlying tragedy and hopeless fate.
Mr. Newman has persuasive reasons for thinking that the Fifth Symphony "bears the strongest internal evidence of having been written to a programme." He explains:
The feeling that this is so is mainly due to the recurrence, in each movement, of the theme with which the symphony begins (the opening theme, for clarinets, Andante, E minor, 4-4). This produces a feeling of unity that irresistibly suggests one central controlling purpose. The theme in question is peculiarly sombre and fateful. It recurs twice in the following Andante, and again at the end of the waltz that constitutes the third movement. In the finale, the treatment of it is especially remarkable. It serves, transposed into the major, to commence this movement; it makes more than one reappearance afterwards. But this is not all the thematic filiation this symphony reveals. One of the themes of the second movement--the Andante--also recurs in the Finale, while the opening subject proper of the Finale (following the Introduction) is plainly based on the opening subject of the whole symphony. Lastly, the first subject of the allegro of the first movement reappears in the major, on the last page but two of the score, to the same accompaniment as in the allegro. So that--to sum the matter up concisely--the fourth movement contains two themes from the first and one from the second; the third and second movements each contain one theme from the first. No one, I think, will venture to assert that so elaborate a system of thematic repetition as this is due to mere caprice; nor is it easy to see why Tchaikovsky should have indulged in it at all if his object had been merely to write a symphony in four movements. Nothing can be clearer than that the work embodies an emotional sequence of some kind. It is a great pity that we have no definite clue to this; but even on the face of the matter as it now stands the general purport of the symphony is quite plain.
The gloomy, mysterious opening theme (the "motto-theme" in the clarinets) suggests the leaden, deliberate tread of fate. The allegro, after experimenting in many moods, ends mournfully and almost wearily. The beauty of the andante is twice broken in upon by the first sombre theme. The third movement--the waltz--is never really
gay; there is always the suggestion of impending fate in it; while at times the scale passages for the strings give it an eerie, ghostly character. At the end of this also there comes the heavy, muffled tread of the veiled figure that is suggested by the opening theme. Finally, the last movement shows us, as it were, the emotional transformation of this theme, evidently in harmony with a change in the part it now plays in the curious drama. It is in the major instead of in the minor; it is no longer a symbol of weariness and foreboding, but bold, vigorous, emphatic, self-confident. What may be the precise significance of the beautiful theme from the second movement that reappears in the finale it is impossible to say; but it is quite clear that the transmutation which the first subject of the allegro undergoes, just before the close of the symphony, is of the same psychological order as that of the "fate" motive---a change from clouds to sunshine, from defeat to triumph.
All-Russian Program Saturday Afternoon, May 8
Oriental Fantasy, "Islamey".........Balakireff
Orchestrated by Alfred Casella
Mily Alexajevitch BalakirefF was born January 2, 1837, at Nishnij-Novgorod; died May 30, 1910, at St. Petersburg.
Immediately following the period of the emancipation of the serfs, Russian intellectual life was keynoted by the desire for individual liberty. In music this desire soon manifested itself in the establishment of a school of composers whose chief aim was nationalistic expression. The musical source of inspiration was the composer, Michael Ivanovitch Glinka, whose operas "The Life for the Czar" and "Rousslan and Loudmilla," had established, because of their truly Russian characteristics, models for zealous national composers.
In 1855, Glinka met the young Balakireff for the first time, and in a letter to his sister he wrote: "He alone has, in all that concerns music, those ideas I have. Be sure that he will follow in the footsteps of your brother--in time he will be a second Glinka."
BalakirefF was moved by a genuine passion for Russian folk music to carry the musical torch, lighted by Glinka, to his people. He seemed destined, through his extraordinary gifts and his intense enthusiasm for the nationalistic ideal, to fulfill the prophesy of the "father of Russian music." From 1861 on he became the center of a new and vigorous musical activity centering around the creative minds of Cesar Cui, Moussorgsky, Rimsky-Korsakoff, and Borodin. Balakireff, not too original himself, inspired originality in others, and he never inflicted his own prejudices upon his young prodigies. Of him Borodin once wrote, "So long as we were laid by one hen we were more or less alike, but when the young birds appeared, each was clad in different feathers and flew off in different directions." Balakireff's influence upon others was perhaps more significant than his own creations. His musical ideas were seldom his own, but in his treatment of them they lost their familiar associations and glowed with a wealth of sound into a warm and exuberant expression that revealed an individual musical imagination of the first order.
The "Oriental Fantasy" is admittedly a "tour de force" but it is all essentially and legitimately musical.
The Fantasy is built upon three themes, the first (allegro agitato, D-flat major, 12-16 time), oriental in character, is stated at the outset and receives some development. The second (un poco meno mosso) is announced in the English horn and four cellos, after which the first theme returns and is heard in an extended passage. This marks the end of the principle section. It is followed by a Trio announced by four measures of Introduction, after which the theme of the Trio (andantino espressivo, A major, 6-8 time) is heard in the English horn, supported by sustained harmonies in the strings. This theme continues to be stated in solos for the cello, violin, and viola. The time changes to 12-16 and there is heard a return to the material of the first section, now quite freely treated, and included in its restatement is the subject matter of the Trio. There is a brilliant coda (presto furioso, 2-4 time).
Symphony No. 5, Op. 47.........Shostakovich
Dmitri Shostakovich was born September 16, 1906, at St. Petersburg (now Leningrad); still living.
A fair and sane estimation of an artist who is creating under violent conditions of social upheaval and war, is difficult in the extreme. In times of stress like ours, criticism, attempting to evaluate an artist such as Shostakovich, must guard against the intrusion of temporary and false standards of judgment. More than ever, it must seek to penetrate beyond the artist's reactions to the events of his period to the artistic significance of the art work itself--to those eternal verities which neither time, nor place, nor condition can alter. It must carefully distinguish between historical interest and aesthetic value. The former is conditioned by all manner of extraneous and fortuitous circumstance which cannot possibly be foretold; the latter exists outside of time and is subject only to laws which are external and to conditions which are changeless.
It is a question among critics today whether the unprecedented success of Dmitri Shostakovich is due to historical circumstance or to the intrinsic beauty of his music. Certainly no composer in the history of the art has enjoyed such sudden, such universal acceptance and acclaim. It was only a year or so ago when the Finnish composer, Jean Sibelius, held a comparable position in the affections of the world. His works crowded the air waves, conductors built their programs around his symphonies, record shops dispersed them in albums to an avid public. Our current magazines and papers, for several years, noted every
anniversary of the birth of the Finnish master and continuously carried "human interest" stories of his personal fortitude and spiritual strength; he had become the symbol of his country's courage, and his music sounded the proud defiance of a great people and the sure confidence in their ultimate victory over a ruthless aggressor.
But with the recent turn of events, Sibelius has disappeared from our concert halls (even the German Wagner, hero of our Nazi enemies, is heard with greater frequency), and a new sensation has arrested our attention--the spectacle of a heroic Russian youth, who, in the midst of his country's frightful struggle for survival, is creating a music that epitomizes the heroism, the dauntless courage of the Russian people. Music that not long ago was considered dangerous to the best interests of our society, is now receiving the same approbation we so generously heaped upon that of Sibelius. These false qualities, which the changing events of history can give or take away from an artist, make it exceeedingly difficult, but all the more necessary, for criticism to make an objective analysis of the genuine and permanent values which alone can bring, in the future, either distinction or oblivion to Dmitri Shostakovich. '
Nicolas Nabokov has attempted such an analysis. He contends that the young Russian composer, although talented in the extreme, is a symptom of anew era in art, an era of utility, in which the purely artistic worth of a work of art is far less important than its immediate appeal to the masses, or its purpose in serving a political, social, and educational ideal. He refers to the rise of an impersonal and practical art for the common man, an "eclectic collectivistic art" which is placing the individual artist in a completely subservient position to the state and society. Shostakovich is, to Nabokov, a victim of this ideal, and the eclectic and impersonal character of his music signifies, to him, the arrival of a new and dangerous era for art.
It is perfectly true that Shostakovich, from the first, has conscientiously, and with unquestioned sincerity, stated his artistic aims and purposes which are derived from the dialectical teachings of Tolstoy, Engels, Marx, and Stalin. Concerning the function and meaning of music in relation to the Soviet State he writes:
Music is not merely a combination of sounds arranged in a certain order, but an art capable of expressing, by its own means, the most diverse ideas or sentiments. This conviction I did not acquire without travail. . . .
Working ceaselessly to master my art, I am endeavoring to create my own musical style, which I am seeking to make simple and expressive. I cannot think of my
?Nicolas Nabokov, "The Case of Dmitri Shostakovich," Harfer's Magazine, 1114: 4.22-31, March, 1943.
further progress apart from our socialistic structure, and the end which I set to my work is to contribute at every point to the growth of our remarkable country. There can be no greater joy for a composer than the inner assurance of having assisted by his works in the elevation of Soviet musical culture, of having been called upon to play a leading role in the recasting of human perception.
Another time, he reiterates:
I am a Soviet composer, and I see our epoch as something heroic, spirited, and joyous . . . music cannot help having a political basis, an idea that the bourgeois are slow to comprehend. There can be no music without ideology. The old composers whether they knew it or not were upholding a political theory. Most of them, of course, were bolstering the rule of the upper classes. We as revolutionists have a different conception of music. Lenin himself said that music is a means of uplifting broad masses of people, not a leader of masses perhaps, but certainly an organizing force. For music has the power of stirring specific emotions in those who listen to it. Good music lifts and heartens and lightens people for work and effort. It may be tragic, but it must be strong. It is no longer an end in itself, but a vital weapon in the struggle." f
On the eve of the first anniversary of the Russo-German war, Shostakovich wrote, "My energies are wholly engaged in the service of my country. Like everything and everyone today, my ideas are closely bound up with the emotions born of this war. They must serve with all the power of my command in the cause of art for victory over savage Hitlerism, that fiercest and bitterest enemy of human civilization. This is the aim to which I have dedicated my creative work since the morning of June 22, 1941." Shostakovich has, on another occasion, briefly but definitely restated his creed: "I consider that every artist who isolates himself from the world is doomed. I find it incredible that an artist should want to shut himself away from the people, who in the end, form his audience. I think an artist should serve the greatest possible number of people. I always try to make myself as widely understood as possible. And if I don't succeed, I consider it is my fault."
There seems to be common agreement among the critics of Shostakovich that he is an extremely well-schooled and gifted composer, and a craftsman of the first order. Their concern for his future is based on the fear that the dictates of propaganda are reshaping his natural expression, that a rigid submission to political doctrine is reducing an exciting talent to the commonplace. They point out that in his deliberate attempt to make music comprehensible to the masses and to serve the Soviet State, he has restrained his individuality and forsaken the principles of absolute beauty. They speak of the clarity and logic of his
Dmitri Shostakovich, "Autobiographic," La Revue Musicale, 17: +32-33, December, 1936.
fThe New York Times, December 3, 1931.
themes but also of their tendency to be ordinary and trivial; they acknowledge his rhythmic vitality, but regret his predilection for banal marches; they maintain that the acknowledged brilliance of his stunning orchestration does not always conceal the paucity of his ideas, and they all refer to his eclecticism, which is, in truth, his most apparent weakness. The synthetic and retrospective moments in his works are disconcertingly frequent, but the borrowings are done with an almost naive unawareness. Tchaikovsky haunts his pages, instrumentations unique to Sibelius occur intermittently; formulas familiar in Berlioz appear bereft of their novelty, and Beethoven's culminations to climax are sounded without motivation or impulsion, often resulting in noise without meaning, and conflict without tension. There is an irritating awareness that the musical memory rather than the human soul is being probed.
The virtues of his last symphony, the Seventh, so highly publicized and so frequently performed of late, are not such as to necessitate any modification in this critical opinion. Perhaps Shostakovich must wait until his beloved Russia and the world are at peace, until society has been reshuffled into a greater equity, before his indubitable genius can restore just values of beauty and universality to his music. Sincere as his intentions are, it takes more than these to assure the creation of great art. Beethoven and Wagner also were profoundly moved by the conditions of their times and were stimulated by powerful social ideologies, but these forces moved them to the creation of significant, powerful, and original music, which has survived long after the conditions, which inspired its inception, have been swept away. Their music has lived not merely because Beethoven was profoundly moved by the idea of Democracy and the French Revolution, or because Wagner believed passionately in the doctrine of Renunciation, but because the music they created possessed intrinsic value as music, and became thereby infinite, not finite, in its expression; and universal, not local, in its appeal. Great music, after all, is not merely a medium to arouse emotions; if it were, it would assume a position inferior to some of the daily events in ordinary life. It represents rather, a sublimation of emotion; a sublimation which is achieved through the very process of artistic creation, when, without intrusion of outside forces, there is a molding, a fusing, and distillation of the emotions, aroused by an outside stimulus, into an artistic expression which bears no relation to the realistic aspects of life. This is a process which casts inspiration into permanent soundforms and shapes which are beautiful by virtue of the imaginative and original manipulation of the medium of music, and not because that medium had been forced into the confining service of expressing the finite and concrete. Shostakovich, it seems, has not learned to "contemplate emotion in tranquillity"; he shapes his expression too directly out of experience as lived, and in his eagerness to make his music symbolize political ideas, he does not permit the stuff of life to undergo the necessary transformation into significant forms of beauty.
Ernest Newman has touched the fallacy in the art theories of Shostakovich, and all those who maintain with him that the function of music is to lift and hearten, and lighten people for work and effort, or that its purpose is simply to re-present feelings and emotions aroused by the events of life. He writes in the London Times concerning the Seventh Symphony:
To the man Shostakovich, writing with the boom of German guns in his ears, or any other artist in any other country working under conditions of similar dire distress, our hearts go out in sympathy and brotherhood; but let us, for heaven's sake, keep clear of the crude fallacy that a work written, conceived, and carried out in such conditions thereby acquires an aesthetic virtue of its own. The contrary is the case.
. . . That the world could have dreamed, believed, that it could ever have been supposed, that great music is simply profoundly felt emotion poured out under the immediate impact of the events that generated the emotion, is merely due to the fact that most people have only the crudest notion of what a great piece of music really is in its roots and all its fibers. People can be genuinely fond of music without any understanding of the psychical processes by which great music comes into being.
Shostakovich wrote his first symphony (op. 10) in 1925, when he was nineteen years of age. This work revealed a creative genius of such outstanding talent, and a craftsman of such extraordinary ability, that it won immediate world-wide recognition. The "October Symphony," his second, written in commemoration of the tenth anniversary of the Bolshevik revolution, and the "May Day Symphony," his third, composed in honor of the working classes' holiday on May the first, in which he envisaged a world socialism, did not, in spite of their programmatic intentions, repeat the success of the First. A conflict which had begun to appear between the artist's natural expression and Soviet official sanction, came to a climax when he produced his opera "Lady Macbeth of Mzensk" (1935). This opera, according to the critics in Pravda, the chief paper of the communistic party, was "founded upon formalistic ideas and bourgeois musical conceptions," and was "a concession to bourgeois taste." The Union of Soviet Composers and other official, but nonmusical organizations, placed Shostakovich in disfavor, and his career as a composer was definitely jeopardized for a period. After completing the Fourth Symphony, he himself withdrew it from performance believing it would not please the State. The Fifth Symphony played on this afternoon's program was composed on the basis of the criticism that had been leveled against him, and was performed in celebration of the twentieth anniversary of the October revolution (1937). With it Shostakovich was officially restored to grace, for according to the critic, Andrew Budyakovsky, in the Moscow Daily News, "The composer, while retaining the originality of his art in this new composition, has, to a great extent, overcome the ostentatiousness, deliberate musical affectation and misuse of the
grotesque which had left a pernicious print on many of his former compositions. His fifth symphony is a work of great depth, with emotional wealth and content, and is of great importance as a milestone in the composer's development. The fetters of musical formalism which held the composer captive so long, and prevented him from creating works profound in conception, have been torn off. He must follow up this new trend in his work. He must turn boldly toward Soviet reality. He must understand it more profoundly and find in it a new stimulus for his work."
This criticism seems curious in the extreme, for in this symphony, Shostakovich, meek and penitent after his official chastisement, had created a completely traditional and abstract symphony. Heeding the admonitions he had received for his "October" and "May Day" symphonies, he had returned, in the Fifth, to conventional structural forms and methods, to those "formalistic ideas and bourgeois musical conceptions," and had now pleased his critics!
The Fifth Symphony is formed with classic simplicity and orchestrated with the utmost clarity. The themes for the most part are broadly melodic, their treatment plastic, and their development logically and, in some instances, ingeniously carried out.
"The first movement," writes Schneerson, "unfolds the philosophic concept of the work, the growth of the artist's personality with the revolutionary events of our time." This farfetched idea, so typical of the "utility" school, contributes nothing to the understanding of the music. The principal theme, marked by strong, wide intervals, is stated in the lower strings and immediately answered in the upper strings. From this theme as an embryo, there grows, in the violin, an extensive and broadly melodic section, after which the first theme returns in the brass (horns and trumpets), and over a triple rhythmic figure it dies away in the violins. The tempo increases, the rhythms grow more incisive, and the melody, heard in the brass, becomes more buoyant and animated. The return of the first slow tempo marks the beginning of a telescoped recapitulation of the principal theme, very broadly sung. The strings and brass recede to a gentle mood, and the woodwinds, fully exploited, bring the movement to its close.
The second movement is cast in the very conventional Song and Trio design. In style a Scherzo with traditional triple rhythm and repeated sections, it is not unlike any of the familiar Beethoven Scherzi in spirit, although the themes are unabashedly simple and often trite.
The third or slow movement, like the first, is gradually culminative, growing from a theme in the strings (not unlike the first theme of the first moveOFFICIAL PROGRAM
ment), to a fruition in the woodwinds, accompanied by tremolo strings. At its climax, the movement gains in tension and sonority, but without the aid of the brass choir.
The final movement is again cast in a traditional classical form, the Rondo. The marchlike theme, so characteristic of Shostakovich is direct and propulsive. After a slow digression, in which reminiscences of the first movement are heard, the energetic first section returns and, the tempo constantly increasing, brings the symphony to a moving conclusion.
Concerto No. I in B-flat minor, Op. 23, for Piano
and Orchestra........... Tchaikovsky
Though Tchaikovsky displays little inspiration or ingenuity in what he wrote for piano solo, his handling of the capacities of the instrument rises to a much higher level when he treats it in combination with other instruments. Of the three concertos, the popular verdict has been unqualifiedly in favor of the first, in B-flat minor. For a composer who had no special pianoforte technique, either in performance or in composition, this concerto is a distinct achievement.
At the age of nineteen, Tchaikovsky graduated from the School of Jurisprudence in St. Petersburg and entered the Ministry of Justice as a first-class clerk. His parents entertained no thoughts of his possessing unusual musical talent, much less any ideas of his pursuing an artistic career. He had had a few piano lessons and his creative faculty had developed as far as improvising valses and polkas. But the emptiness of his daily life was disturbing him, and music was beckoning, timidly at first perhaps, but with increasing intensity. He began the serious study of theory and composition, and, becoming more and more absorbed, finally made the great decision; he resigned his position in the Ministry of Justice and, for the sake of his art, entered upon the uncertain struggle for existence and recognition.
It was while living and teaching in Moscow that the first concerto for pianoforte was conceived and completed. "I am now completely absorbed," he writes to his brother Anatol, December 13, 1874, "in the composition of a pianoforte concerto. I am very anxious that Rubinstein [he refers to Nicholas, not Anton] should play it at his concert. The work progresses very slowly, and does not turn out well. However, I stick to my intentions, and hammer pianoforte passages out of my brain; the result is nervous irritability." On Christmas
See note on Tchaikovsky, page 59.
Eve the composer played the work for Rubinstein at the Conservatory; after listening in silence until the end, Nicholas gave vent to his feelings in a torrent of abuse. To him the concerto was "vulgar, trivial, altogether bad, awkward to play, ineffective and utterly worthless." Rubinstein offered to perform the work if certain changes were made, but Tchaikovsky was deeply wounded and adamant. "I shall not change a single note," he answered, "and the concerto shall be published as it now is." And it was. The name of Hans von Biilow, who was about to depart for his first concert tour of America, was substituted in the dedication for that of Rubinstein, and the work received its initial performance by von Billow in Boston on October 25, 1875.
To complete the record it should be added that the second edition (1889) shows numerous alterations in the piano part, which were due to suggestions the composer received from the English pianist, Edward Dannreuther, who, in the first performance of the work in England, had made certain modifications of the awkward passages, which resulted in greater facility of execution. In reply to Dannreuther's letter, Tchaikovsky expressed his appreciation of his friend's interest: "You may be sure that I shall follow your suggestions as soon as there arises a question of a second edition of the concerto."
After three statements by the horns of a one-measure figure--B-flat minor, 3-4 time, Andante non troffo e molto maestoso--accompaniment by full chords in the orchestra, the solo instrument enters in the fourth measure with a series of chords, while the violins and cellos develop from the original figure a melody which, after several measures, is taken up by the piano and expanded into a broad and impassioned movement in which the soloist has ample opportunity to show his power. This division ends quietly in a beautiful phrase for the piano, coming to a close in the dominant of F minor. The chord of F major is sustained fianissimo by the orchestra for six measures, followed by a pause---a beautiful touch--after which the solo instrument gives out-¦piano--the principal subject of the first movement proper 3-4 time, Allegro con sfirito. This subject, based on an agitated figure in triplets, is developed at considerable length and with great ingenuity in the contrast of the solo instrument and orchestra, until, after a stormy passage interrupted toward the end by two statements of the figure on which the second subject is based, this most beautiful theme appears. It is first stated by the orchestra, then by the piano, then broadening out it is given such fullness of exposition and appears in so many transformations that it would seem as though the composer had a special fondness for it. We cannot wonder at this for it is one of the most charming melodies in the work. The involved and scholarly forms the themes take on as the movement proceeds cannot be fully pointed out in this analysis, but nowhere has Tchaikovsky shown himself more the master than in this division of the work. After the second appearance of the second subject (in B-flat) a difficult cadenza--Quasi adagio--and ending fianissimo, finally merges into a statement of this theme with an accompaniment of the solo instrument that gradually asserts itself until, in a fortissimo rushing octave passage, the movement comes to an end.
The next movement--D-flat major, 6-8 time, Andante' semflice--is idyllic in its grace and simplicity. To be sure, it contains an agitated movement--Allegro vivace assai--but this only heightens the effect of the lovely melody when it again appears in its final form.
The spirit of the Cossack animates the last movement--B-flat minor, 3-4. time, Allegro con juoco. There is a suggestion of the wind dancing furiously over the Steppes in the first subject, heightened by a weird two-measure figure introduced as the first subject develops, but evidently only episodical in nature, for it is not developed at all nor hardly dwelt upon as one would desire. There are broad cantilene passages in the second subject, but these and a charming fianissimo figure heard in the middle of the movement cannot sustain themselves against the force of their environment, and they finally rush into the stormy final measures which follow after a noble theme in B-flat that in itself is a stroke of genius.
Saturday Evening, May 8
Requiem Mass...............Verdi
(Composed in memory of Alessandro Manzoni) For Soli, Chorus, and Orchestra
(Fortunio) Giuseppe (Francesco) Verdi was born in Le Roncole, October 9, 1813; died in Milan, January 17, 1901.
The year 1813 was of tremendous importance in the political world, but no less so in the domain of music, for it brought to earth two epoch-making geniuses, Richard Wagner and Giuseppe Verdi. In these two masters, the greatest artistic forces of the entire nineteenth cetury climaxed. In them, the German and Italian opera set up models that seemed to exhaust all the conceivable possibilities of the two cultures. Representing two great musical nations, influenced alike by strong national tendencies, they both assumed the same novel and significant artistic attitude. Wagner, the German, full of the Teutonic spirit, revolutionized the musico-dramatic art; Verdi, the Italian, no less national in spirit, developed, without losing either his individuality or nationality, a style in which the spirit of his German contemporary came to be a guiding principle.
Verdi was not a man of culture like Wagner. Born a peasant, he remained rooted to the soil and his art reflects a like primitive quality. He created music astonishingly frank and fierce, for his time, turning the oversophisticated style of Donizetti and Bellini with its siren warblings into passionate utterances. His genius carried him by fits and starts from majestic dignity and impressive elegance to the depths of triviality and vulgarity; but it always reflected large resources of imagination and amazing vitality. His vitality in fact is exceptional among composers. So enduring and resourceful was it that his greatest and most elaborate works were produced after he was fifty-seven years of age, and his last opera "Falstaff" (by many considered his masterpiece) was written when he was eighty! He was sixty-one when he wrote the "Requiem," and in it there is no hint of any diminution of his creative powers. The consistent and continuous growth of his style over sixty years of his life, displays an incomparable capacity for artistic development and proves a triumphant vitality and a thrilling fortitude of spirit. But these he had in abundance, and they sustained him through a life of sadness and misfortune. As the child of a poor innkeeper, he had slight opportunities for a musical education. He spent his
early youth in deep suffering occasioned by an unusually sensitive nature. Misfortune marked him at the very threshold of his career, and he was constantly thwarted and wounded in his deepest affections. He was refused admittance to the conservatory at Milan because he showed no special aptitude for music! Married at twenty-three years of age, he lost his wife and two children within three months of each other, only four years after his marriage. In the last years, he experienced the bitter loneliness of age. But misfortunes mellowed rather than hardened him. His magnanimity, his many charitable acts, the broad humanity of his art endeared him to his people, who idolized him both as a man and as an artist. Throughout his life and his works, there ran a virility and verve, a nobility and valor that challenges the greatest admiration. At his death D'Annunzio wrote an ecstatic ode which expressed what Verdi meant to the people of Italy and of the world:
He nurtured us, as Nature's hand,
The free, circumambient universe
Of air, sustains mankind.
His life of beauty and manly strength alone,
Swept high above us like the singing seas of heaven.
He found the song In the very breath of the suffering throng,
Let mourning and hope echo forth:
He loved and wept for all men.
The "Requiem" reveals Verdi at the height of his genius for it evidences the maturity of artistic judgment that comes only with the years. The whole work is impressively majestic in its broad melodic sweep. To his mastery of vocal resources, so characteristic of Italian composers, must be added a control of the orchestra which sets him apart from his countrymen. His style here approaches more closely that of the masters of German music. The vivid and fresh devices of rhythm and harmony, energized by an outstanding control of polyphony, and an attention directed to the orchestra, as something more than a mere support for the voice (unusual in an Italian), gives his music a Wagnerian richness and opulence.
A careful study of his treatment of the fugue will clearly reveal that Verdi possessed distinguished power as a contrapuntist. The fact that his themes are so very melodious, that this element is constantly in evidence, has a tendency to draw one's attention away from the constructive skill revealed in this fugue. The "Requiem" approaches the dignity of Bach and the impressive majesty of Wagner, but it is still genuinely Italian in spirit. Every page reveals the imprint of genius, and genius knows no national boundaries.
Verdi--The Man In His Letters. Edited by Franz Werfel and Paul Stefan 5 translated by Edward Downes. New York: L. B. Fischer Publishing Co., 1941.
The production of the "Requiem" at Milan, May 22, 1874 (Wagner's birthday), was the signal for a controversy which has persisted to this day. The Germans, with Bach and Handel in mind, see in it an unfortunate theatricalism and an overwrought sentimentality. They object to an operatic style being carried over into a religious work. And in England also, the memories of Handel and Mendelssohn and the awareness of Elgar are still conditioning factors in their judgment of what a religious work should be. The French and' Italians, especially the latter, find in its idioms a perfect expression of religious emotion. Justice requires that the "Requiem" be criticized with a realization of the racial differences in religious feeling and expression between peoples of the Latin and Teutonic stocks.
Verdi, like Palestrina, Bach, Handel, Beethoven, and Elgar, used the idioms of his day and generation; consequently his appeal is natural and justified. No one who knows the personality of Verdi could accuse him of a lack of sincerity or genuine religious conviction.
The following contemporary estimation of the "Requiem" is taken from an article written by Lawrence Gilman in 1932 for the New York HeraldTribune:
Fifty-seven years ago the Manzoni Requiem with its melodic luxuriance, its dramatic intensity, its vehement utterances of terror, grief, supplication, was a bitter pill for many academic musicians to swallow. They found it lacking in dignity, in austerity; music fit "for the stage and not for the sanctuary."
But why should not a musical setting of the Requiem Mass be dramatic, lurid-even theatrical, if you will Are not the words themselves dramatic, lurid, theatrical enough Are the basic conceptions that underlie the text: the thoughts, visions, prayers of the believer--are these reserved and sober and austere The thought of the Judgment Day when the graves shall give up their dead, when the heavens shall be rolled together like a scroll and the world become ashes; the thought of the trumpets of the Resurrection; the thought of the horror of the everlasting darkness, of the fiery lake, of the agonies of damnation; the thought of universal lamentation, supplication, dread. . . . What music could be too dramatic, lurid, vehement, theatrical, to come within speaking distance of such appalling conceptions
And what of death and lamentation and dread and anguished supplication as they persist in the experience of men--are these things undramatic, calling for reticent dignity of speech
Verdi, the Latin, the Southerner, with his bare nerves and quick responsiveness, has naturally reacted to the implications of his subject with the sensibility, the uninhibited emotions, of his race and his type. And thus his setting of the Requiem has validity and distinction. Who would have wished from him an imitation of Northern reticence and gravity
The music has extraordinary and multiple virtues--a mysticism essentially Latin; compassionate tenderness; purity of feeling; and, above all, an overwhelming dramatic
power. . . . Who can forget the hushed and overwhelming close which sets the crown of beauty and affectingness upon the work: that wonderful decrescendo, with its prayer for security and holy rest and peace at last--as if the music, breathless with awe, remembered that ancient promise of living fountains of waters, and the end of tears, and the city that needed not the sun.
The importance of Verdi's Requiem cannot be minimized; it ranks among the great scores extant of its kind.
Shortly after Rossini's death (November 13, 1868), Verdi suggested that Italian composers should unite in writing a worthy requiem as a tribute to the memory of the "Swan of Pesaro." It was to be performed only at the cathedral of Bologne every hundredth year, on the centenary of Rossini's death. This was a curious proposition to submit to Italian composers who lived for the applause of their countrymen. The only bond of unity was a fixed succession of tonalities determined in advance--possibly by Verdi who took the final number "Libera Me."
The attempt was an absolute failure. However, the power and beauty of Verdi's contribution so impressed his friends that, at the death of the great writer Alessandro Manzoni, he composed an entire requiem in his memory. The inception and fulfillment of his idea can be traced in the following excerpts taken from his letters: f
1873. To Clarina Maffei:
I am deeply moved by what you say of Manzoni--the description you gave me moved me to tears. Yes, to tears--for hardened as I am to the ugliness of this world, I have a little heart left, and I still weep. Don't tell anyone . . . but I sometimes weep . . .
1873. To Giulio Riccordi--May 23
I am profoundly grieved at the death of our Great One. But I shall not come to Milan tomorrow. I could not bear to attend his funeral. However, I shall come soon, to visit the grave, alone, unseen and perhaps (after more reflection, and after I have taken stock of my strength) to propose a way to honor his memory.
1873. To Clarina Maffei--May 29:
I was not at the funeral, but there were probably few people more saddened this morning, more deeply moved than I, though I was far away. Now it is all over. And with him ends the purest, holiest, highest of our glories.
It is difficult to overestimate the position of Alessandro Manzoni in the European literature of the period. His novel Promessi Sfosi (The Promised Bride) made him Italy's outstanding literary figure and secured for him an international reputation.
f Verdi--The Man In His Letters. Edited by Franz Werfel and Paul Stefan; translated by Edward Downes. New York: L. B. Fischer Publishing Co., 1941.
1873. To the Mayor of Milan--June 9:
I deserve absolutely no thanks (neither from you nor from the city authorities) for my offer to write a Requiem Mass for the anniversary of our Manzoni. It was simply an impulse, or better, a heart-felt need that impelled me to honor, to the best of my powers, a man whom I value so much as a writer and honored as a man and as a model of virtue and patriotism. When the work on the music is far enough along, I shall not fail to inform you what elements are necessary to make the performance worthy of our fatherland and of a man whose loss we all lament.
I. Requiem et Kyrie
The Introduction (A minor) to the "Requiem et Kyrie" (Grant them rest) gives us a quiet and mournful theme, developed entirely by the strings. In this portion of the work the chorus is purely an accompaniment to the melody played by the violins, but at the words, "Te decet hymnus" (There shall be singing), it is supreme. After this division (F major, sung a caffella), the introductory theme reappears. At its conclusion the solo parts come into prominence (A major), and the rest of the number is a finely conceived and elaborately executed eight-voiced setting of the words, "Kyrie eleison."
Requiem aeternam dona eis, et lux perpetua luceat eis;
Te decet hymnus, Deus, in Sion, et tibi reddetur votum in Jerusalem.
Exaudi orationem meam, ad te omnis caro veniet.
Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison.
Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine on them.
Thou, O God, art praised in Zion, and unto Thee shall the vow be performed in Jerusalem.
Hear my prayer; unto Thee shall all flesh come.
Lord have mercy! Christ have mercy!
II. Dies Irae
The "Dies Irae" (Day of Anger) is divided into nine parts, for solo, chorus, and orchestra. The first of these divisions is a very dramatic setting of the text. It is in the key of G minor and introduces vocal and orchestral effects which are startling in their intensity. The second division, "Tuba Mirum" (Hark! the trumpet) (A-flat minor) is preceded by a dramatic treatment of the orchestra, in which the trumpet calls in the orchestra are answered in the distance--until a magnificent climax is reached by the jf chords for the full brass, leading into a fine unison passage for male voices, accompanied by the full orchestra. In quick succession follows No. 3, solos for Bass and Mezzo Soprano. The words "Mors stupebit" (Death with wonder is enchained) (D minor) and "Liber scriptus properetur" (Now the record shall be cited) involve a change of treatment. An abridged version of the first division follows, to be succeeded in turn by a beautiful trio for Tenor, Mezzo, and Bass (G minor). The next division, "Rex tremendae majestatis" (King of Glory) (C minor), is written for solo and chorus. The solo parts to the text, "Salve me, fons pietatis" (Save me with mercy flowing), introduce a melody entirely distinct from that of the chorus, while the ingenious contrasts of the two leading up to the final blending of both in the "Salve me" are intensely interesting and effective.
The sixth number, a duet for Soprano and Mezzo (F major), is thoroughly Italian in spirit, is beautifully written for the voices, and carries out most perfectly the spirit of the word, "Recordare" (Ah! remember). The Tenor and Bass Solos which now follow, the "Ingemisco" (Sadly groaning) (E-flat major) and "Confutatis" (E major), in the opinion of many critics, contain the finest music in the whole work. Be this as it may, this portion is very interesting, and to the musician presents technical points of importance. The "Dies Irae," as a whole, ends with the "Lacrymosa" (Ah! what weeping) (B-flat minor), a tender setting of these words. A wonderful crescendo in the word Amen is to be noted.
Dies irae, dies ilia, Solvet saeclum in favilla, Teste David cum Sibylla. Quantus tremor est futurus, Quando Judex est venturus. Cuncta stride discussurus! Tuba mirum spargens sonum, Per sepulchra regionum, Coget omnes ante thronum. Mors stupebit et natura, Cum resurget creatura, Judicanti responsura. Liber scriptus proferetur, In quo totum continetur, Unde mundus judicetur. Judex ergo cum sedebit, Quidquid latet, apparebit, Nil inultum remanebit. Quid sum, miser! tune dicturus, Quem patronum rogaturus, Cum vix Justus sit securus Rex tremendae majestatis! Qui salvandos salvas gratis, Salve me, fons pietatis! Recordare, Jesu pie, Quod sum causa tuae viae; Ne me perdas ilia die. Quaerens me, sedisti lassus; Redemisti crucem passus; Tantus labor non sit cassus. Juste Judex ultionis, Donum fac remissionis Ante diem rationis. Ingemisco tanquam reus, Culpa rubet vultus meus: Supplicanti parce Deus. Qui Mariam Absolvisti, Et latronem exaudisti, Mihi quoque spem dedisti. Preces meae non sunt dig-nae,
Day of vengeance, lo! that' morning,
On the earth in ashes dawning,
David with the Sibyl warning!
Ah! what terror is impending,
When the Judge is seen descending,
And each secret veil is rending!
To the Throne, the trumpet sounding,
Through the sepulchres resounding,
Summons all with voice astounding.
Death and Nature, 'maz'd, are quaking,
When the grave's deep slumber breaking,
Man to judgment is awaking.
Now the written book containing
Records to all time pertaining,
Opens for the world's arraigning,
See the Judge, his seat attaining,
Darkest mysteries explaining,
Nothing unavenged remaining!
What shall I then say unfriended,
By what advocate attended,
When the just are scarce defended
King of Majesty tremendous,
By thy saving grace defend us;
Fount of piety, safely send us.
Jesus, think of thy wayfaring
For my sins the death-crown wearing;
Save me in that day despairing.
Worn and weary thou has sought me,
By Thy cross and passion brought me,
Spare the hope Thy labors brought me,
Righteous Judge of retribution,
Give, O give me absolution,
Ere that day of dissolution.
As a guilty culprit groaning,
Flushed my face, my errors owning,
Spare, O God, Thy suppliant moaning.
Thou to Mary gav'st remission,
Heard'st the dying thief's petition,
Bad'st me hope in my contrition.
In my prayers no worth discerning,
Sed tu bonus fac benigne, Ne perenni cremer igne. Inter oves locum praesta, Et ab hoedis me sequestra, Statuens in parte dextra. Confutatis maledictis, Flamrnis acribus abdictis, Voca me cum benedictis. Oro supplex et acclinis, Cor contritum quasi cinis, Gere curam mei finis. Lacrymosa dies ilia! Qua resurget ex favilla Judicantus homo reus. Huic ergo parce Deus. Pie Jesu Domine, Dona eis requiem. Amen.
Yet on me Thy favor turning, Save me from Thy endless burning! Give me, while Thy sheep confiding Thou art from the goats dividing, On Thy right a place abiding. When the wicked are rejected, And to bitter flames subjected, Call me forth with thine elected. Low in supplication bending, Heart as though with ashes blending, Care for me when all is ending. When on that dread day of weeping, Guilty man in ashes sleeping Wakes to his adjudication, Save him, God, from condemnation. Lord Jesus, all-pitying, Grant them rest. Amen.
III. Domine Jesu Christe
As a contrast in form and style to the varied and extended "Dies Irae," the composer treats the next division of the mass, "Domine Jesu Christe" (A-flat major), in the manner of a quartet, each of the four solo voices by its unique timbre contributing to the simple beauty of the melodic and harmonic conception.
Domine Jesu Christe, Rex gloriae, libera animas omnium fidelium defunctorum de poenis inferni et de profundo lacu: libera eas de ore leonis, ne absorbeat eas tartarus, ne cadant in obscurum. Sed signifer sanctus Michael repraesentet eas in lucem sanctatn. Quam olim Abrahae promisisti et semini ejus.
Hostias et preces, Domine, laudis offerimus, tu suscipe pro animabus illis, quarum hodie memoriam facimus; faceas, Domine, de morte transire ad vitam; faceas, Domine, faceas de morte.
Lord Jesus Christ, Kingof Glory, deliver the souls of all the faithful dead from the punishment of hell, and from the deep lake:
Deliver them from the lion's mouth; let not hell swallow them, let them not fall into darkness; but let Saint Michael, the standard bearer, bring them into the holy light which once thou didst promise to Abraham and his seed.
Offerings of prayer and praise we bring Thee, O Lord; receive them for those souls whom today we commemorate. Let them go, O Lord, from death to life.
IV. Sanctus et Benedictus
The "Sanctus" (F major) is an exalted inspiration of genius. With its glorious double fugue, its triumphal antiphonal effects at the close leading into a soul-uplifting climax, it would, of itself, make the reputation of a lesser composer.
Sanctus, sanctus, sanctus, Domine Deus Sabaoth. Pleni sunt coeli et terra gloriae tuae. Osanna in excelsis.
Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini. Osanna in excelsis.
Holy, holy, holy, Lord God of Hosts! Heaven and earth are full of Thy glory. Hosanna in the highest!
Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest!
V. Agnus Dei
If the "Sanctus" is sublime in its grandeur, no less so in its pathos is the "Agnus Dei" (Lamb of God) (C major), written for solo voices (Soprano and Contralto) and chorus. A simple melody with three different settings is the basis of this important number, and in originality and effectiveness it is not at all inferior to the inspired "Sanctus" which precedes it.
Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem. Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem sempiternam.
Lamb of God, that taketh away the 6ins of the world, grant them rest. Lamb of God, that taketh away the sins of the world, grant them rest everlasting.
VI. Lux Aeterna
The "Lux aeterna" (Light eternal) (B-flat) calls for no extended notice, written for three solo voices in the style which we find in Verdi's later works.
Lux aeterna luceat eis, Domine, cum Sanctis tuis in aeternam, quia pius es.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Let perpetual light shine on them, O Lord, with thy saints forever, for thou art gracious.
Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.
VII. Libera Me, Domine
The closing number (7), "Libera Me" (C minor), begins with a recitative (Soprano), "Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna" (Lord, deliver my soul from eternal death), interrupted by the chorus, which chants these words, and, introducing a fugue of stupendous difficulty, gives us a repetition of the beautiful introduction to the whole work (B-flat minor). There follows a repetition of the recitative, while the chorus holds out a sustained chord (C major) fff. In the repetition of the introduction to the chorus just alluded to, the solo voice (Soprano) takes the melody i originally played by the violins, with a caffella chorus accompaniment. The ending : of the work is very dramatic. Everything seems to be hushed while the awful significance of the words is impressed upon the mind with irresistible force. (
Libera me, Domine, de morte aeterna, in die ilia tremenda, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra. Dum veneris judicare saeculum per ignem.
Tremens factus sum ego et timeo, dum discussio venerit atque ventura ira, quando coeli movendi sunt et terra.
Dies irae, dies ilia, calamitatis et miseriae, dies magna et amara valde.
Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat eis.
Deliver me, O Lord, from eternal death, in that dread day when the heavens and the earth shall be moved, when thou shalt come to judge the world by fire.
I am full of terror and fear at the judgment that shall come and at the coming of thy wrath, when the heavens and the earth shall be moved.
Day of wrath, dread day of calamity and misery, dread day of bitter sorrow.
Eternal rest give unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine on them.
Founded in 1879 Sixty-fourth Season, 1942-1943 ,
Hardin Van Deursen, Conductor
Glen Kring and Elinor Dean, Accompanists
Leonard Gregory and Charles Matheson, Librarians
Batchelor, Marion Bear, Jacqueline Bradstreet, Lola Capps, Francis Carter, Dagmar Cooper, Gloria Corbin, Horatia Danford, Bernarda Lee Dean, Elinor L. Elliott, Martha Emery, Margaret Fields, Shirley L. Goldberg, Marilyn Goodman, Marilyn Humphrey, Emily G. Jaaksi, Florence
Adams, Henrietta Adams, Jean Allmendinger, Doris Amendt, Dorothy Bazant, Doris Beerup, Ruth Bowman, Margaret E. Cardew, Barbara Chilman, Suzanne Duggan, Cicely Anne Edgar, Marian Metcalf Edwards, Ellen Enns, Vera H. Fairman, Barbara W. Faxon, Nancy P. Fosdick, Marilyn
Johnston, Janet Kelly, Alwilda J. Lock, Inez Longsdorf, Corinne MacLaren, Helen L. MacMullan, Charlotte Mac Neal, Ruth Marcellus, Shirley Means, Dorothy E. Morris, Jo Anne Mullreed, Orel Murray, Winifred Nutting, Helen O'Conner, Edna Parker, Lois M.
Gaines, Edith Ann Gilman, Jean Hall, Marjorie L. Hankinson, Lucile Hooker, Ruth Hull, Rose Ivanoff, Elizabeth La Rue, Charlotte Lofgren, Ruth Masson, Helen E. McDaniel, Glenn McLellan, Beth Miller, Katherine Moore, Lois Morehouse, Florence Morgan, Jean
Patton, Beatrice M. Petty, Eleanor Robbins, June Ruch, Marilyn Sacks, Frances Schonwald, Ruth. Smith, Virginia Soper, Bette Steffes, Dorothy Stimson, Miriam Stockwell, Priscilla Summers, Edith R. Tenniswood, Imogene White, Virginia Wilson, Mildred Wright, Mary Elizabeth
Murphy, Margaret Nordquist, Ruth Osgood, Peggy Palmer, Marguerite Richards, Marian Rickert, Marion Sanford, Ruth Sarle, Patricia H. Sass, Freda Scott, Jean F. Scouler, Barbara Selby, Ruth M. Simpson, Faith Spath, Lynette Spore, Patty Storgaard, Lorna
Taylor, Merle E. Tupper, Grace
Anutta, June Bailies, Marian Bogle, Jeanne Brickman, Helen L. Brown, Merian R. Campbell, Phyllis Cook, Ann Crawford, Phyllis Den Herder, Joyce Donnan, Betty Ann Eager, Grace Follin, Betsy Foote, Genevieve E. Foreman, Kathryn lone Genuit, Lucille Griffin, Nancy
Anderson, Helen M. ¦ Ball, Genevieve S. Batchelor, Hazel Baumgartner, Geraldine Beyer, Marion A. Bogart, Gertrude J. Boice, Irene Bostwick, Frances Brockway, Edith Campbell, Carol E. Carter, Betty Lew Cummings, Mary Lou Donnan, Judith Gaffney, Jean
Allen, Don R. Arnau, Henry
Vogel, Ruth Francis Walberg, Helen L. Wantz, Dorothy
Groberg, Nancy J. Hainsworth, Annie Hankinson, Beulah Harris, Helen L. Hodges, Priscilla J. Hoelzer, Helen L. Hollis, Marjorie Jones, Marian Jordan, Ruth B. Kloeppel, Marguerite E. Maltz, Eleanor McOmber, Elizabeth Mendelssohn, Irene Mitchell, Jean Munaretto, Joyce L. Owen, Ruth
Gallup, Janet Gardner, Marion Giles, Betty Harris, Lucille Hibbard, Esther Holtman, Estella Hooper, Ellen Ives, Ruth Jones, Betty King, Katherine E. Kuhlman, Ruby Laine, Hilia McCleery, Dorothy McCracken, N. Florence Mohrmann, Freda
Brown, Harold Dexter, John
Wehner, Ruth Wright, Margaret
Parrish, Mary Pearson, Elizabeth Pierson, Barbara Peterson, Janet Brooks Porter, Harriet Ross, Aline Schultz, Marillyn Sefton, Jane Shook, Thelma A. Shugart, R. Elizabeth Spurr, Nina Unger, Audrey Van Natter, Ruth Vetter, Antonia Wiedman, Louise Worcester, Helen
Mohrmann, Laura Netting, Marcia Peterson, Barbara Phillips, Frances Reany, Erma I. M. Ruettinger, Hazel Semple, Margaret Smith, Barbara Snedecor, Mary Trubey, Dorothy Weinert, Catherine Wilson, Betty Woodworth, Alta H. Zumstein, Marguerite R.
Hall, Arch H. Leek, Joe
Marshal], Kenneth Matheson, Charles D. Mortensen, Sherman
Barber, Joseph Blair, William A. Brockway, Charles Gosling, Robert Jaaksi, B.
Ablin, George Bogle, Robert Davidter, Royal C. Edwards, J. R. Frederick, Julian R. Fries, Charles C. Gould, Dr. Stuart M. Gould, Jr., Stuart Hennes, Allen
Anderson, Carl A. Baxter, Richard Beidleman, Fred Beu, Eric Beu, Karl Boice, Harmon Brown, Judson Bychinsky, Eugene S.
Mount, Frank W. O'Brien, Harrison Richards, Albert G.
James, W. S. Johnston, R. J. Koch, B.
Koppin, Vaughan G. Penoyar, William G. Perdomo, Jose Ignacio
Hildebrandt, Theodore W. Jones, Paul Kiteley, Robert Kring, Glen Liechty, George F. McCormick, Harry Ohlsen, H. Woodrow Quinlan, Cornelius
Campbell, Douglas E. De Boer, John C. Edmonds, Stuart L. Goodwin, Roger Heyn, Arno Hiett, Edward E. Hurd, Louis C. Janke, Robert Koernke, Albert
Torrey, Owen L. Vroman, Clyde Wagner, Herbert P.
Sell, Richard Taylor, Jay Wheatley, B. E. Williams, Sylvester Hillary Witheridge, John
Shelley, Robert O. Smetana, John F. Staebler, Walter P. Striedieck, Werner F. Terrell, James Raymond Tourkow, Lawrence Townsend, James Warner, Caleb Yancich, Charles
Malpas, Philip McVean, Robert Poag, Frederick D. Saulson, Daniel Steiner, Wendell Taylor, Stewart W. Teague, David Wilson, Merrill
Eugene Ormandy, Conductor Saul Caston, Associate Conductor Harl McDonald, Manager
Alexander Hilsberg, Concertmaster
David Madison,
Asst. Concertmaster
Alfred Lorenz,
Asst. Concertmaster
Alexander Zenker
Dayton M. Henry
Harry Aleinikoff
Jasha Simkin
Henry Schmidt
Israel Siekierka
Arthur B. Lipkin
Yasha Kayaloff
George Beimel
David Cohen
Louis Gesensway
Julius Schulman
Lois Putlitz
Frederick Vogelgesang Allan Farnham
Sol Ruden
John W. Molloy
Benjamin Sharlip
A. Gorodetzky
Herbert Baumel
D. Bove
Meyer Simkin
Schima Kaufman
S. Dabrowski
Anthony Zungolo
Max Zalstein
Frank Costanzo
Manuel Roth B. Altman
Matthew J. Mueller Emil Kresse Paul C. Shure
VIOLAS Samuel Lifschey Samuel Roens Leonard Mogill Simon Asen Gabriel Braverman Paul Ferguson Wm. S. Greenberg J. K. Bauer Gordon Kahn Gustave A. Loeben Alexander Gray Sam Singer
VIOLONCELLOS Benar Heifetz c Samuel H. Mayesj B. Gusikoff William A. Schmidt Samuel Belenko Emmet R. Sargeant Adrian Siegel Elsa Hilger Harry Gorodetzer Morris Lewin J. Sterin John Gray
BASSES Anton Torello A. Hase
Vincent Lazzaro, Jr. Carl Torello Max Strassenberger Waldemar Giese S. Siani
Heinrich Wiemann Warren Benfield William Torello
Edna Phillips Marjorie Tyre
FLUTES W. M. Kincaid Kenneth B. Emery Harold Bennett John A. Fischer Albert Tipton
Marcel Tabuteau Louis Di Fulvio Adrian Siegel
CLARINETS Bernard Portnoy Jules J. Serpentini N. Cerminara Leon Lester William Gruner Michael Guerra
SAXOPHONE Michael Guerra
BASSOONS Sol Schoenbach John Fisnar F. Del Negro William Gruner
HORNS James Chambers Charles Lannutti Ward O. Fearn Clarence Mayer A. A. Tomei Anton Homer ¦ Mason Jones Herbert Pierson
TRUMPETS Saul Caston Sigmund Hering
In Service.
Harold W. Rehrig Melvin Headman
BASS TRUMPET Charles Gusikoff
Charles Gusikoff Irwin L. Price Paul P. Lotz C. E. Gerhard Fred C. Stoll Gordon M. Pulis
Philip A. Donatelli Heinrich Wiemann
TYMPANIOscar Schwar Emil Kresse
BATTERY Benjamin Podemski James Valerio
Marjorie Tyre Joseph Levine Lois Putlitz Gustave A. Loeben
Charles Gusikoff
LIBRARIAN Marshall Betz
ASST. LIBRARIAN Gabriel Braverman
Organized in 1879. Incorporated in 1881.
Henry Simmons Frieze, 1879-1881 and 1883--1889 Alexander Winchell, 1881-1883 and 1889-1891 Francis W. Kelsey, 1891-1927 Charles A. Sink (Executive Secretary, 1904--1927) 1927-MUSICAL DIRECTORS
Calvin B. Cady, 1879-1888 Albert A. Stanley, 1888-1921 Earl V. Moore, 1921-1939
Thor Johnson, 1940--1942 Hardin Van Deursen, 1943-THE ANN ARBOR MAY FESTIVAL
Founded by Albert A. Stanley in 1894
Albert A. Stanley, 1894-1921 Earl V. Moore, 1922-1939
Thor Johnson, 1940-1942 Hardin Van Deursen, 1943-ORGANIZATIONS
The Boston Festival Orchestra. Emil Mollenhauer, Conductor, 1894-1904
The Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Frederick Stock, Conductor, 1904-1942; Eric DeLamarter, Associate Conductor, 1918-1935
The Philadelphia Orchestra. Leopold Stokowski, Conductor, Saul Caston and Charles O'Connell, Associate Conductors, 1936; Eugene Ormandy and Jose Iturbi, Conductors, 1937; Eugene Ormandy, Conductor, 1938; Eugene Ormandy, Conductor, Saul Caston, Associate Conductor, Harl McDonald and Georges Enesco, Guest Conductors, 1939; Eugene Ormandy, Conductor, Saul Caston, Associate Conductor, Harl McDonald, Guest Conductor, 1940; Eugene Ormandy, Conductor, and Saul Caston, Associate Conductor, 1941-The University Choral Union, Albert A. Stanley, Conductor, 1894-1921; Earl V. Moore, Conductor, 1922--1939; Thor Johnson, Conductor, 1940-1942; Hardin Van Deursen, 1943-The Young People's Festival Chorus (now the Festival Youth Chorus), trained by Florence B. Potter, and conducted by Albert A. Stanley, 1913-1918 Conductors: Russell Carter, 1920; George Oscar Bowen, 1921--1924; Joseph E. Maddy, 1925-1927; Juva N. Higbee, 1928-1936; Roxy Cowin, 1937; Juva N. Higbee, 1938; Roxy Cowin, 1939; Juva N. Higbee, 1940-1942; Marguerite Hood, 1943The Stanley Chorus, trained by Margaret Martindale, 1934 The University Glee Club, trained by David Mattern, 1937 The Lyra Male Chorus, trained by Reuben H. Kempf, 1937
Gustav Hoist (London, England), 1923, 1932
Howard Hanson (Rochester), 1926, 1927, 1933, 1935
Felix Borowski (Chicago), 1927
Percy Grainger (New York), 1928
Georges Enesco (Paris), 1939
Harl McDonald (Philadelphia), 1939, 1940
1894. Manzoni Requiem, Verdi
1895 Damnation of Faust, Berlioz
1896 Lohengrin, Act I, Finale from Die Meistersinger, Wagner
1897 Arminius, Bruch; Stabat Mater, Rossini
1898 Manzoni Requiem, Verdi
1899 German Requiem, Brahms; Samson and Delilah, Saint-Saens
1900 Lily Nymph, Chadwick; Hora Novissima, Parker
1901 Elijah, Mendelssohn; Golden Legend, Sullivan
1902 Orpheus, Gluck; Faust, Gounod; Tannhauser, Wagner
1903 Caractacus, Elgar; A'ida, Verdi
American premiere at the May Festival Concerts.
Fair Ellen, Bruch; Dream of Gerontius, Elgar; Carmen, Bizet
St. Paul, Mendelssohn; Arminius, Bruch
Stabat Mater, Dvorak; A Psalm; A Psalm of Victory, Stanley; A'ida, Verdi
Messiah, Handel; Samson and Delilah, Saint-Saens
Creation, Haydn; Faust, Gounod
Seasons, Haydn; Damnation of Faust, Berlioz
Fair Ellen, Bruch; Odysseus, Bruch; New Life, Wolf-Ferrari
Judas Maccabeus, Handel; Eugene Onegin, Tchaikovsky
Dream of Gerontius, Elgar; Samson and Delilah, Saint-Saens; Chorus Triomphalis, Stanley
Laus Deo, Stanley; Manzoni Requiem, Verdi; Lohengrin, Act I, and Finale from Die Meistersinger, Wagner; The Walrus and the Carpenter (Children), Fletcher
Caractacus, Elgar; Messiah, Handel; Into the World (Children), Benoit
New Life, Wolf-Ferrari j Children's Crusade, Pierne
Paradise Lost, Bossi; Samson and Delilah, Saint-Saens; Children at Bethlehem (Children), Pierne
Dream of Gerontius, Elgar; Ai'da, Verdi; The Walrus and the Carpenter (Children), Fletcher
The Beatitudes, Franck; Carmen, Bizet; Into the World (Children), Benoit
Ode to Music, Hadley; Faust, Gounod; Fair Land of Freedom, Stanley
Manzoni Requiem, Verdi; Damnation of Faust, Berlioz
Elijah, Mendelssohn; AVda, Verdi; Voyage of Arion (Children), Moore
New Life, Wolf -Ferrari; A Psalmodic Rhapsody, Stock; Tannhauser (Paris version), Wagner; A Song of Spring (Children), Busch
B-minor Mass (Excerpts), Bach; fHymn of Jesus, Hoist; Dirge for Two Veterans, Hoist; Samson and Delilah, Saint-Saens
B-minor Mass (Excerpts), Bach; fLa Primavera (Spring), Respighi; fSea Drift, Delius; Excerpts from ATda and La Forza del Destino, Verdi
The Bells, Rachmaninoff; B-minor Mass (Excerpts), Bach; La Gioconda, Ponchielli; Alice in Wonderland (Children), Kelley
Elijah, Mendelssohn; Lohengrin, Wagner; The Lament of Beowulf, Hanson; The Walrus and the Carpenter (Children), Fletcher
Missa Solemnis, Beethoven; fChoral Symphony, 2d and 3d movements, Hoist; Carmen, Bizet; Heroic Elegy, Hanson; Voyage of Arion (Children), Moore
St. Francis of Assisi, Pierne; Marching Song of Democracy, Grainger; Ai'da, Verdi; Quest of the Queer Prince (Children), Hyde
German Requiem, Brahms; New Life, Wolf-Ferrari; Samson and Delilah, SaintSaens; Hunting of the Snark (Children), Boyd
Magnificat, Bach; King David, Honegger; Manzoni Requiem, Verdi; A Symphony of Song (Children), Strong
St. Francis of Assisi, Pierne; Boris Godounov (original version), Moussorgsky; Old Johnny Appleseed (Children), Gaul
Creation, Haydn; Symphony of Psalms, Stravinski; fChoral Fantasia, Hoist; fLegend of Kitesh, Rimski-Korsakov; The Spider and the Fly (Children), Protheroe
Belshazzar's Feast, Walton; Merry Mount, Hanson; Spring Rapture (Children), Gaul
World premiere at the May Festival Concerts, f American premiere at the May Festival Concerts.
1934 The Seasons, Haydn; fEin Friedenslied, Heger; By the Rivers of Babylon, Loeffler;
The Ugly Duckling, English
1935 Songs from "Drum Taps," Hanson; King David, Honegger; Boris Godounov
(original version), Moussorgsky; Jumblies (Children), James
1936 Manzoni Requiem, Verdi; Caractacus, Elgar; Children at Bethlehem (Children),
1937 ATda, Verdi; fThe Seasons, Fogg; Spring Rapture (Children), Gaul; Excerpts
from Parsifal, Wagner
1938 The Bells, Rachmaninoff; Cantata, Paul Bunyan (Children), James; Carmen,
1939 Otello, Verdi; Choral Symphony, McDonald; Psalmus Hungaricus, Kodaly; Onward, Ye Peoples, Sibelius; Alto Rhapsody, Brahms
194.0 Samson and Delilah, Saint-Saens; Cantata, The Inimitable Lovers, Charles Vardell, Jr.
1941 Alleluia, Randall Thompson; Requiem, Brahms; Eugene Onegin, Tchaikovsky;
Saint Mary Magdalene, d'Indy; Songs, M. E. Gillett
1942 King David, Honegger; Ninth Symphony, Beethoven; The Walrus and the Carpenter (Children), Fletcher
1943 Laus Deo, Stanley; A Psalmodic Rhapsody, Stock; Manzoni Requiem, Verdi; A Folk
Song Fantasy, orchestrated by Marion E. McArtor
World premiere at the May Festival Concerts, f American premiere at the May Festival Concerts.
THE UNIVERSITY MUSICAL SOCIETY, in addition to the annual May Festival, maintains other concert series. The programs provided in these concerts during the season of 1942--43 were as follows:
FIRST CONCERT Tuesday Evening, October 20, 1942
Don Cossack Chorus Serge Jaroff, Conductor
Funeral Service (Traditional)............Arr. by C. Shvedoff
Let Christ be Resurrected...............D. BoRTNIANSKY
Of Thy Mystical Supper.................A. Lvoff
O God, Save Thy People...............P. Tchesnokoff
Three Moments from the Don Cossacks' Life..........C. Shvedoff
Song of an Apple
Cradle Song of an Old Don Cossack
Don Cossacks on the Attack
In Praise of Raspberries (New Russian Song)........Arr. by C. Shvedoff
The Plain, the Steppe .(Cossack Song) ............L. Knipper
Two Soldier Songs................Arr. by C. Shvedoff
Lezginka ..................Arr. by C. Shvedoff
Song of the Alesha Popovich, from the Opera
"Dobrynia Nikitich"..............A. GRETCHANINOFF
Cradle Song ....................A. Liadoff
Song of Stenka Razin...............Arr. by I. Dobrovein
Three Cossack Songs . "...............Arr. by S. Jaroff
SECOND CONCERT Thursday Evening, October 29, 1942
Gladys Swarthout, Mezzo-Sofrano Lester Hodges, A ccomfanist
"Lascia ch'io pianga" from "Rinaldo"..............Handel
Come Again Sweet Love..................Dowland
"La Speranza" from "Ottone"............... . Handel
"Connais-tu le pays" from "Mignon".............. Thomas
Two Songs of the Auvergne: Passo pel Prat and
Malurous qu'o uno fenno...........Arr. by J. Canteloube
Cantiga de Ninar....................Mignone
El Mamo Discrete ....................Granados
Romance de Solita...................Pittaluga
Time (suite for voice and piano)...........CLARENCE Olmstead
The Linden Tree....................Griffes
The Pasture......................Naginski
Into the Night.....................Edwards .
Sing, O My Heart..........-.........Kingsford
THIRD CONCERT Sunday Evening, November 8, 1942
Cleveland Symphony Orchestra Artur Rodzinski, Conductor
Symphony No. 2 in D major, Op. 36.............Beethoven
"Spirituals" for String Choir and Orchestra.........Morton Gould
Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op. 74............Tchaikovsky
FOURTH CONCERT Thursday Evening, November 19, 1942
Albert Spalding, Violinist Andre Benoist at the Piano
Sonata in A major.................Corelli-Spalding
Sonata in C minor, Op. 30, No. 2..............Beethoven
First Sonata--Fantasy, "Desesperance"............Villa-Lobos
Nocturne, Op. 27, No. 2..............Chopin-Wilhelmj
Scherzo Valse..................Chabrier-Loeffler
En Bateau ......................Debussy
Caprice (Etude en forme de valse)...........Saint-Saens-Ysaye
Thursday Evening, December 3, 1942
Artur Schnabel, Pianist
Sonata in C minor (Op. posth.) ...............Schubert
Sonata in D major (K.C. 576) ................Mozart
Sonata in A minor (K.C. 310) ................MOZART
Sonata in B-flat major (Op. posth.)..........'. . . . Schubert
Wednesday Evening, December 9, 1942
Boston Symphony Orchestra
Serge Koussevitzky, Conductor
Symphony in G major, No. 88.................Haydn
Symphony No. 7, Op. 60................Shostakovich
Monday Evening, January 18, 1943
Josef Hofmann, Pianist
Theme and Variations in D minor...............Handel
Sonata in C major, Op. 53................Beethoven
Nocturne in B major, Op. 62, No. 1 1
Valse in A-flat major, Op. 42 _
Berceuse ..............CHOTIN
Polonaise in A major, Op. 40 J
Elegy ..................... . . Hofmann
Kaleidoscope .....................Hofmann
Tuesday Evening, February 16, 1943
Jascha Heifetz, Violinist
E manuel Bay at the Piano
Sonata No. 8 (K. 296)...................Mozart
Chaconne (violin alone)...................Bach
Concerto No. 4....................VlEUXTEMPS
Russian group:
Jrt10 {...................Prokofieff
March J
Prelude ....................Shostakovich
Meditation ....................Glazounoff
Scherzo ....................Tchaikovsky
Friday Evening, March 5, 1943
Guiomar Novaes, Pianist
Toccata in D major (Fantasia and Fugue).............Bach
Prelude, Op. 28.....................CHOPIN
Prelude, Chorale and Fugue.................Franck
The Three Mary Stars.................Villa-Lobos
Feux follets.................... IsiDOR Philipp
En auto .......................Poulenc
TENTH CONCERT Wednesday Evening, March 17, 1943
Nelson Eddy, Baritone Theodore Paxson, Pianist
"Lascia ch'io pianga" from "Rinaldo"..............Handel
"Papagena! Cara! Bella Tortorella! from "The Magic Flute"......Mozart
My Native Land..................Gretchaninoff
The Bells of Novogorod..............Russian Folk Song
The Old Corporal..................Dargomizhsky
The Miller....................Dargomizhsky
"The Moon is High" from "Aleko"............Rachmaninoff
Poissons d'or 1
Serenade a la poupee ..................Debussy
Jardins sous la pluie
Theodore Paxson
"As Then the Tulip" from "In a Persian Garden".........Lehmann
You Are So Young!....................Wolff
Frog Went A-Courtin'............Kentucky Mountain Song
Tomorrow .......................KEEL
I Saw You There in the Moonlight.............MacGimsey
Danny Boy...............Arr. by Fred E. Weatherly
Tower of Babel ...................MacGimsey
How Do I Love Thee...................Lippe
"M E S S I A H" Georg Friedrich Handel
Marjorie McClung, Sofrano John Macdonald, Bass
Harold Haugh, Tenor Mabel Ross Rhead, Pianist
Eileen Law, Contralto Palmer Christian, Organist
University Choral Union University Symphony Orchestra Hardin Van Deursen, Conductor
ALEC TEMPLETON, Pianist Thursday Evening, February 25, 1943
Prelude Arioso..................Bach-Templeton
Chorale Prelude: Mortify Us By Thy Grace.........Bach-Rummel
Warum; Aufschwung..................Schumann
Sonata in F-sharp major, Op. 78...............Beethoven
Intermezzo in E-flat {..................Brahms
Intermezzo in C J
Prelude in B minor....................Liadov
Prelude in E-flat minor...................Chasins
Introduction and Allegro . . . '...........Ravel-Templeton
Reharmonized Harmonious Blacksmith (Handel)
Mozart a la mode
Gnats to You (From an orchestra work, "Insect Suite,"
written for and dedicated to Paul Whiteman) Improvisations
Lecture Hall, Rackham Building January 22 and 23, 1943
Roth String Quartet
Feri Roth, Violin Julius Shaier, Viola
Samuel Siegel, Violin . Oliver Edel, Violoncello
FIRST CONCERT, 8:30 p.m.
Quartet in D major, Op. 76, No. 5...............Haydn
Quartet in D-flat major, No. 2................Dohnanyi
Quartet in F minor, Op. 95 ("Quartetto Serioso").........Beethoven
Quartet in D major, No. z.................Borodin
Quartet No. 4 (1931)................Quincy Porter
Quartet in B-flat major (K. 458)................MoZART
THIRD CONCERT, 8:30 p.m.
Quartet in F major, Op. 18, No. 1..............Beethoven
Quartet in C major, Op. 49................Shostakovich
Quartet in F major, Op. 96 (American Quartet)...........Dvorak

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