Eternal Mozart
Hector Berlioz 1805-1869
Hector Berlioz
1805-1869
Hector Berlioz
Le nuits d'ete (Summer Nights)

Hector Berlioz’s father was a physician of some prominence, a man of liberal outlook and broad intellectual interests who undertook most of his son’s education himself. He frowned, however, on a musical career for his son and sent young Hector to Paris to study medicine. To his father’s chagrin, Hector gave it up at 21 to pursue a career as a composer and conductor. He became, in addition, a prolific – though prejudicial – writer on music, musicians, conducting and orchestration. Most of his life he had to make his living by serving as cultural critic for Paris newspapers. As one commentator said, “Berlioz’s career shines like an untidy comet over the commercialism and mediocrity around him.”

Berlioz was a gifted and innovative orchestrator. He freed the brass from its role as mere accompaniment, making it the equal of the other orchestral sections. He experimented with such new instruments as the bass clarinet and the valve trumpet. And he virtually put the English horn on the map as the quintessential solo instrument for conveying musical melancholy. He was equally innovative in musical form and in stretching the limits of classical tonal harmony.

One of the foremost advocates of the idea of program music, he developed it as a natural outcome of his belief in the intrinsic unity of music and ideas. For him music and literature were inextricably connected as expressions of the human imagination and affect. Every one of his compositions is programmatic, either as the setting of a text, or as musical depiction of a story or literary idea.

Although best known for large works with grandiose orchestration, Berlioz’s first published works were songs. In 1840 he set to music, for mezzo-soprano or tenor and piano, six poems by French Romantic poet, dramatist and critic Théophile Gautier (1811-1872). He gave the collection the title Le nuits d'ete. Berlioz did not consider them as a cycle, and as far as is known they were never sung as such during his lifetime. He orchestrated No.4 in 1843 for his singer and mistress – and later his second wife – Marie Recio, for a tour of Germany, and the rest in 1855-56 before publication. Surprisingly, the work is regarded as a forerunner of the orchestrated song cycles of the end of the century, such as those by Gustav Mahler and Richard Strauss. The six songs of Le nuits d'ete in no way tell a story but reflect the swings of mood that troubled the composer himself. They are related insofar as they reveal the various circumstances and emotions of the lover, but more so because they all contain exquisite images of nature.
1. “Villanelle” is by far the most positive in tone as the lover invites his beloved to enjoy the beauties of spring. Example 1

2. "Le spectre de la rose," (The Ghost of the Rose) is the lament of the dead flower, plucked and then discarded by the beloved after a ball. Example 2

The next three songs are melancholy meditations on lost love:

3. “Sur les lagunes (Lamento)” (On the Lagoons) is one of the mostly heart-wrenching laments in the vocal repertory, in which the cooing of a lone dove mirrors in sound the poet's pain; Example 3

4. "Absence" continues the lament, Example 4

5. "Au cimetiére (Clair de lune)" (At the Cemetery (in Moonlight)), expands upon the dove imagery with a more elegiaic view of death. Example 5

6. The final song, “L’isle inconnue” (The Unknown Island,) an invitation to the beloved to an idyllic land of love, ends the group on a less depressing note but also indicates clearly the non-cyclic nature of the group. Example 6

Berlioz did not confine himself to the formal structure of the poems, all of which are strophic. Only in “Villanelle” does he adhere to the strict strophic form, repeating the music exactly for each verse. In the other five songs, he allows the emotional meaning of the words to determine the musical structure, a practice in which he was a true innovator in his operas as well.











Vilanelle
Quand viendra la saison nouvelle,
Quand auront disparu les froids,
Tous les deux nous irons, ma belle,
Pour cueillir le muguet aux bois.

Sous nos pieds égrenant les perles
Que l'on voit, au matin trembler,
Nous irons écouter les merles
Siffler.

Le printemps est venu, ma belle;
C'est le mois des amants béni;
Et l'oiseau, satinant son aile,
Dit [ses]1 vers au rebord du nid.

Oh! Viens donc sur ce banc de mousse,
Pour parler de nos beaux amours,
Et dis-moi de ta voix si douce:
Toujours!

Loin, bien loin égarant nos courses,
Faisons fuir le lapin caché,
Et le daim, au miroir des sources
Admirant son grand bois penché;

Puis chez nous, tout heureux, tout aises,
En paniers, en laçant nos doigts,
Revenons, rapportant des fraises,
Des bois.
Vilanelle
When verdant spring again approaches,
When winter's chills have disappeared,
Through the woods we shall stroll, my darling,
The fair primrose to cull at will.

The trembling bright pearls that are shining,
Each morning we shall brush aside;
We shall go to hear the gay thrushes
Singing.

The flowers are abloom, my darling,
Of happy lovers 'tis the month;
And the bird his soft preening its wing,
Sings [carols sweet]1 within his nest.

Come with me on the mossy bank,
Where we'll talk of nothing else but love,
And whisper with thy voice so tender:
Always!

Far, far off let our footsteps wander,
Fright'ning away the rabbit in hiding rabbit,
While the deer at the spring is gazing,
Admiring his reflected horns.

Then back home, with our hearts rejoicing,
And fondly our fingers entwined,
Lets return, let's return bringing fresh wild berries
Wood-grown.
Le spectre de la rose
Soulève ta paupière close
Qu'effleure un songe virginal!
Je suis le spectre d'une rose
Que tu portais hier au bal.
Tu me pris encore emperlée
Des pleurs d'argent de l'arrosoir,
Et, parmi la fête étoilée,
Tu me promenas tout le soir.

Ô toi qui de ma mort fus cause,
Sans que tu puisses le chasser,
Toute la nuit mon spectre rose
À ton chevet viendra danser;
Mais ne crains rien, je ne réclame
Ni messe ni De Profundis.
Ce léger parfum est mon âme,
Et j'arrive du paradis.

Mon destin fut digne d'envie,
Pour avoir un trépas si beau,
Plus d'un aurait donné sa vie;
Car j'ai ta gorge pour tombeau,
Et sur l'albâtre où je repose
Un poète avec un baiser
Écrivit: "Ci-gît une rose,
Que tous les rois vont jalouser."
The Ghost of the Rose
Open your closed eyelid
Which is gently brushed by a virginal dream!
I am the ghost of the rose
That you wore last night at the ball.
You took me when I was still decked with pearls
Of silvery tears from the watering-can,
And, among the sparkling festivities,
You carried me the entire night.

O you, who caused my death:
Without the power to chase it away,
You will be visited every night by my ghost,
Which will dance at your bedside.
But fear nothing; I demand
Neither Mass nor De Profundis;
This mild perfume is my soul,
And I've come from Paradise.

My destiny is worthy of envy;
And to have a fate so fine,
More than one would give his life
For on your breast I have my tomb,
And on the alabaster where I rest,
A poet with a kiss
Wrote: "Here lies a rose,
Of which all kings may be jealous."
Sur les lagunes (Lamento)
Ma belle amie est morte,
Je pleurerai toujours;
Sous la tombe elle emporte
Mon âme et mes amours.
Dans le ciel, sans m'attendre,
Elle s'en retourna;
L'ange qui l'emmena
Ne voulut pas me prendre.
Que mon sort es amer!
Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer!

La blanche créature
Est couchée au cercueil;
Comme dans la nature
Tout me paraît en deuil!
La colombe oubliée
Pleure et songe à l'absent;
Mon âme pleure et sent
Qu'elle est dépareillée.
Que mon sort est amer!
Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer!

Sur moi la nuit immense
S'étend comme un linceul,
Je chante ma romance
Que le ciel entend seul.

Ah! comme elle était belle,
Et comme je l'aimais!
Je n'aimerai jamais
Une femme autant qu'elle
Que mon sort est amer!
Ah! sans amour s'en aller sur la mer!
S'en aller sur la mer!
On the Lagoons (Lament)
My beautiful love is dead,
I shall weep always;
Into the tomb, she has taken
My soul and my love.
Without waiting for me,
She has returned to heaven.
The angel which took her there
Did not want to take me.
How bitter is my fate!
Ah! without love, to go to sea!

The white creature
Is lying in the coffin;
How all in Nature
Seems bereaved to me!
The forgotten dove
Weeps and dreams of the one who is absent;
My soul cries and feels
That it has been abandoned.
How bitter is my fate,
Ah! without love, to go to sea!

Above me the immense night
Spreads itself like a shroud;
I sing my romanza
That heaven alone hears.

Ah! how beautiful she was,
And how I loved her!
I will never love
Another woman as much as I loved her;
How bitter is my fate!
ah! without love, to go to sea!
To go to sea!
Absence
Reviens, reviens, ma bien-aimée,
Comme une fleur loin du soleil,
La fleur de ma vie est fermée,
Loin de ton sourire vermeil.

Entre nos cœurs tant de distance;
Tant d'espace entre nos baisers!
Ô sort amer! Ô dure absence!
Ô grands désirs inapaisés!

D'ici là-bas que de campagnes,
Que de villes et de hameaux,
Que de vallons et de montagnes,
A lasser le pied des chevaux!
Absence
Come back, come back, my dearest love!
Like a flower far from the sun,
The flower of my life has closed up,
away from the charm of your smile.

Between our hearts how long a distance!
What a wide space our kisses divide!
O bitter fate! O cruel absence!
O longing desire, unsatisfied!

From here to there, what lands lie between
What towns and villages,
What valleys and mountains,
to tire the horses’ hooves!
Au cimetiére (Clair de lune)
Connaissez-vous la blanche tombe,
Où flotte avec un son plaintif
L'ombre d'un if?
Sur l'if une pâle colombe,
Triste et seule au soleil couchant,
Chante son chant:

Un air maladivement tendre,
À la fois charmant et fatal,
Qui vous fait mal
Et qu'on voudrait toujours entendre;
Un air comme en soupire aux cieux
L'ange amoureux.

On dirait que l'âme éveillée
Pleure sous terre à l'unisson
De la chanson,
Et du malheur d'être oubliée
Se plaint dans un roucoulement
Bien doucement.

Sur les ailes de la musique
On sent lentement revenir
Un souvenir.
Une ombre, une forme angélique,
Passe dans un rayon tremblant,
En voile blanc.

Les belles de nuit demi closes
Jettent leur parfum faible et doux
Autour de vous,
Et le fantôme aux molles poses
Murmure en vous tendant les bras:
Tu reviendras!

Oh! jamais plus près de la tombe,
Je n'irai, quand descend le soir
Au manteau noir,
Écouter la pâle colombe
Chanter sur la pointe de l'if
Son chant plaintif.
In the Graveyard (Moonlight)
Do you know the white tomb
Where floats with plaintive sound,
The shadow of a yew?
On the yew a pale dove,
Sad and alone under the setting sun,
Sings its song:

An air sickly tender,
At the same time charming and ominous,
Which makes you feel agony
Yet which you wish to hear always;
An air like a sigh from the heavens
of a love-lorn angel.

One would say that an awakened soul
Is weeping under the earth in unison
With this song,
And from the misfortune of being forgotten,
Moans its sorrow in a cooing
Quite soft.

On the wings of the music
One feels the slow return
Of a memory.
A shadow, a form angelic,
Passes in a trembling ray of light,
In a white veil.

The beautiful flowers of the night, half-closed,
Send their perfume, faint and sweet,
Around you,
And the phantom of soft form
Murmurs, reaching to you her arms:
You will return!

Oh! never again near the tomb
Shall I go, when night lets fall
Its black mantle,
To hear the pale dove
Sing on the limb of the yew
Its plaintive song!
L’Île Inconnue
Dites, la jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
La voile enfle son aile,
La brise va souffler.

L'aviron est d'ivoire,
Le pavillon de moire,
Le gouvernail d'or fin;
J'ai pour lest une orange,
Pour voile une aile d'ange,
Pour mousse un séraphin.

Dites, la jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
La voile enfle son aile,
La brise va souffler.

Est-ce dans la Baltique?
Dans la mer Pacifique?
Dans l'île de Java?
Ou bien est-ce en Norvège,
Cueillir la fleur de neige,
Ou la fleur d'Angsoka?

Dites, la jeune belle,
Où voulez-vous aller?
Menez-moi, dit la belle,
À la rive fidèle
Où l'on aime toujours!
Cette rive, ma chère,
On ne la connaît guère
Au pays des amours.
The Unknown Island
Say, young beauty,
Where do you wish to go?
The sail swells itself,
The breeze will blow.

The oar is made of ivory,
The flag is of silk,
The helm is of fine gold;
I have for ballast an orange,
For a sail, the wing of an angel,
For a deck boy, a seraph.

Say, young beauty,
Where do you wish to go?
The sail swells itself,
The breeze will blow.

Is it to the Baltic?
To the Pacific Ocean?
To the island of Java?
Or is it well to Norway,
To gather the flower of the snow,
Or the flower of Angsoka?

Say, young beauty,
Where do you wish to go?
Lead me, says the beauty,
To the faithful shore
Where one loves always!
This shore, my darling,
We hardly know at all
In the land of Love.




Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 1756-1791
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
1756-1791
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Requiem in d Minor, K. 626

Probably no single piece of classical music has generated as much speculation, rumor, mythology and – yes – money as Mozart’s Requiem. And all of it began with the melancholy fantasies of the composer himself, later enhanced by the reports of his widow Constanze.

The true story of the composition of the Requiem, while not a murder mystery, is still a bizarre one. The first part is well known and accurate: in July 1791 an “unknown messenger” approached Mozart with a commission to write a Requiem Mass for his master, who wished to remain anonymous. Mozart – at the time desperately short of money – accepted the lucrative assignment, working on the Requiem intermittently along with some of his greatest music, including The Magic Flute. Overburdened with churning out as many compositions as he could in order to make ends meet for his family, Mozart sank into despondency and dyspepsia, leading to the nagging thought that he was being poisoned and the premonition that he was composing the Requiem for his own funeral. The fact that Mozart met his untimely death a mere six months after the appearance of the mysterious stranger – the Requiem still unfinished – provided grist for scholars and poets alike, culminating in the Hollywood blockbuster Amadeus.

In the early 1960s, however, the musicologist Dr. Otto Erich Deutsch found a report of the history of the Requiem in the archives of Wiener Neustadt by the hand of a certain Anton Herzog. An eye-witness to the whole affair, Herzog, reports that Mozart composed the Requiem for Herr Franz Count von Walsegg, an amateur musician and composer who was in the habit of commissioning works by established composers and passing them off as his own. When the Count’s 20-year-old wife died, he wanted to have two special memorials in her honor: one was a sculpture, and the other was the Requiem, which was to be played annually on the anniversary of her death.

Although von Walsegg even went to the extreme of copying the original scores in his own hand – leaving it to servants to copy the parts – in order to make his claims more credible, Herzog impishly indicates that the Count fooled no one. The fact that no one challenged the Count to his face, however, tells us something about the social mores of the decadent Habsburg Empire.

Obviously aware of the tremendous talent he was hiring, von Walsegg paid well, including a down payment, and gave Mozart free rein in the composition of the Requiem. The superstitious and overworked Mozart, in turn, procrastinated. The same composer who could dash off a string quartet in a single sitting, never managed to finish the work and was dictating portions of it to his student, Franz Xavier Süssmayr, even on the day of his death. Mozart’s final illness, in fact, had nothing to do with the Requiem; it has now been fairly well established that he died from an acute attack of rheumatic fever months after he had conceived of the poisoning theory.

After Mozart’s death, Constanze needed the rest of the money from the unfinished commission. It was left to Süssmayr to finish the manuscript, after a number of other composers turned it down. Claiming to be very familiar with Mozart’s ideas about the work, he finished the missing parts. But since no original manuscript pages of the Sanctus, Benedictus and Agnus Dei have been found, there remains a running argument among scholars as to where Mozart ends and Süssmayr begins.

The Requiem was finally performed in memoriam for the Countess von Walsegg’s on December 14, 1793, but not before it had been performed in January of the same year as a benefit for Constanze Mozart and her sons.

Despite this more pedestrian account of the genesis of the Requiem, the fact that Mozart attached to it such macabre significance clearly affected the emotional intensity of the work. It contains section after section of exquisitely poignant music. Notably absent is any sense of optimism about a better life hereafter.

Given the familiarity of the Requiem and the tendency to hear it as a unified work, it can be disappointing to be reminded that hands other than Mozart's had a significant role in its composition. Süssmayr’s additions included: the orchestration of the “Kyrie,” completion of the “Dies irae”, and the orchestration of the Offertory, based on Mozart’s notes – now lost. Of the composition of the “Sanctus,” “Benedictus” and the “Angus Dei,” perhaps based on sketches or conversations, Süssmayr wrote in a letter to the first publisher in 1800: “The Sanctus, Benedictus, and Agnus Dei were wholly composed by me; but, in order to give the work greater uniformity, I took the liberty of repeating the “Kyrie” fugue at the line “cum sanctis” etc.” For the first part of the Communion ("Lux aeterna"), Süssmayr repeated music from the Introit ("Te decet hymnus") although he doesn’t mention this fact in his letter.

As for the completion of the "Dies irae," there is still some question. It is well known that Mozart had skipped around in his composition of the piece, leaving incomplete, for example, the last four lines of the "Dies irae" – only eight measures of the “Lacrimosa” are in Mozart’s hand. Recent scholarship has suggested, however, that Mozart probably had already composed this movement in his head and proceeded in his haste to the succeeding Offertory, and that Süssmayr, who was with him at the end, probably knew what Mozart had intended for the completion of the "Lacrimosa."

Others have attempted to improve on Süssmayr but have less than he did on which to base their versions. With all its faults – and there are many – his version is the one most often performed and beloved.

The Requiem begins with a short orchestral introduction, the theme, echoed by the chorus in a somber fugal entry – initiated appropriately deep in the range of the basses – on the words: ”Requiem aeternam dona eis, Domine” (Lord, grant them eternal rest). Example 1 The soprano soloist makes a brief appearance on the words "Te decet hymnus," to music that Süssmayr later used for the Communion. Example 2

Mozart’s setting of the "Kyrie" harks back to a not uncommon practice of “stacking” liturgical texts, the chorus sections singing more than one text simultaneously. Normally, the "Kyrie" is set as a standard ABA form with the second invocation, “Christe eleison,” constituting the middle section. In the Requiem, however, Mozart writes a double fugue, the “Kyrie eleison” sung by the basses and sopranos, the second, on the words “Christe elesion,” by the altos and tenors. Example 3 The movement is also a further indication of Mozart's debt to Handel, the first fugue subject being the same as the chorus from Messiah "And with His Stripes We Are Healed."

It is important to examine the centerpiece of Mozart's contribution to the Requiem, the "Dies irae". This section of the Mass for the Dead, known as a Sequentia (Sequence) replaces the Alleluia during Lent and on other particularly serious occasions. It is also the liturgical focus of the Mass for the Dead. The poem, written by Thomas of Celano (ca. 1200-1270), consists of 17 verses of three lines each, with a rhyme scheme of AAB in four feet of trochaic tetrameter. When set to music, like the other text-heavy parts of the Mass, it is traditionally divided into shorter sections whose music reflects the meaning of the specific verses.

Mozart divided the Dies irae into five parts: "Dies irae" (Day of wrath); "Tuba mirum" (The trumpet's wondrous sound); "Rex tremendae" (King of awesome majesty); "Recordare, Jesu pie" (Remember, Jesus, that I am the reason for your journey); "Confutatis maledictis" (Once the damned are sent to the flames) and "Lacrimosa dies illa"    (Day of weeping). Other composers, most notably Giuseppe Verdi, divided the text in nine sections in order to more finely mirror the words in the music. The agnostic and gentle church musician, Gabriel Fauré, left it out altogether.

Mozart begins the first two verses of the sequentia, its famous words recalling the prophesy of the day of wrath when all souls will be judged, with a violent chorus. Example 4 The next five verses he gives to each member of the quartet of soloists in turn. A trombone solo begins and accompanies the "Tuba mirum," a bass solo – the closest Mozart comes to a true aria. Example 5 The tenor takes up with the two verses beginning "Mors stupebit," which describes how all nature and even death itself will be struck dumb, as the book of judgment will be brought out as testimony of the deeds of all people. The alto, singing "Judex ergo cum sedebit" describes God sitting in judgment. The soprano completes the musical image of the sinner before the throne of judgment with "Quid sum miser" where she is joined by the other three soloists.

"Rex tremendae majestatis" is a plea for mercy from the chorus. Example 6 The quartet of soloists elaborates upon the prayer by appealing directly to Jesus in the four verses beginning "Recordare, Jesu pie." Example 7 The mood shifts briefly, but violently, with a musical depiction of the damned and the saved in two verses beginning "Confutatis maledictis." Example 8 & Example 9  Just as the authentic Mozart ends at this point, some scholars posit that Celano's poem ended here as well. The verse beginning "Lacrimosa" goes back to describing the day of weeping, adding additional supplications, but the verse pattern and rhyme scheme are abandoned. As for the Requiem, on the basis of the sheer elegance of the vocal line alone, there is no doubt in our minds that the "Lacrimosa" is Mozart's, although the orchestration is certainly Süssmayr's. Example 10

The final part of the Requiem composed by Mozart was the Offertory, a standard part of the Catholic mass, the text for which changes according to the day or occasion. Mozart divided it into two musical sections, the first, "Domine Jesu Christe!" Example 11 a plea to free the souls of the faithful in fulfillment to the promise made to Abraham and his descendents ("Quam olim Abrahae promisisti, et semini ejus"). Example 12 The second part, "Hostias et preces tibi," also for the chorus, is the offering of prayers and sacrifices. Example 13  Mozart rounds out the movement with a repeat of God's promise to Abraham. It is at this point that the burden of composing new music passed to Süssmayr.

Among the inadequacies pointed out by Süssmayr's critics is the paltry fugue in the Sanctus movement for the "Hosanna in excelsis." Example 14 The "Benedictus," in its role as centerpiece of the larger Sanctus movement, is a more elaborate piece, scored for the quartet of soloists. Setting this text for one or more soloists follows a standard eighteenth-century tradition. Example 15 Because the "Sanctus" is part of the ordinary of the Mass, Süssmayr would have had virtually hundreds of models – which unfortunately did not prevent him from writing in some incorrect harmonic progressions that continue to dog editors.

The "Agnus Dei," also part of the ordinary – although substituting the text, "dona eis requiem"(grant them rest) for "dona nobis pacem" (Grant us peace) – is also more effective than the "Sanctus." Süssmayr conceived it as a final fervent plea, its minor key giving it more than a hint of fear that it might not be granted. Example 16 As mentioned above, Süssmayr recycled the soprano solo from the Introit and the "Kyrie" fugue for the setting of the Communion, "Lux aeterna, luceat eis" (May eternal light, shine on them). And it is certainly conceivable that Mozart had conveyed to his friend and student that he wanted the entire Requiem to be cyclical in this manner.

Finally, it should be noted that everyone from musical scholars to the general public has been so focused on Mozart's internal drama surrounding the Requiem that little attention has been paid to its place in music history. While there were concerted Requiem Masses starting from the early seventeenth century, many of them commissioned for the funerals and/or memorials of European princes, most of them have been lost to posterity. Those few that remain have never achieved sufficient interest to be championed even by the early music movement. Excerpts from the Requiem Mass were also set to music for large orchestra and operatic soloists – particularly the "Dies irae." Given Mozart's groundbreaking innovations as a musical dramatist, it is probably fair to posit that none of the predecessors had achieved such dramatic coherence and power. Certainly, the great subsequent settings of the Requiem owed much to this fragment and its unfortunate creator.

Copyright © Elizabeth and Joseph Kahn 2009