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Madison Symphony Orchestra Program Notes
April 8-9-10, 2022
96th Season
Michael Allsen
Haydn composed this
concerto for the private orchestra of his patron, Prince
Esterházy. A work of subtle virtuosity, it is set in the
standard three-movement Classical form: an expansive
opening, a songlike slow movement, and a fast-paced finale.
Franz
Joseph Haydn
Born:
March 31, 1732, Rohrau, Austria.
Died:
May 31, 1809, Vienna, Austria.
Concerto
No. 4 in G Major for Violin and Orchestra
·
Composed: 1760s.
·
Premiere: Unknown,
though probably at the Eszterházy court in the 1760s.
·
Previous MSO
Performances: This is our first performance of the work.
·
Duration: 20:00.
Background
In 1761,
Haydn took a position in the court of the fabulously wealthy
Hungarian Prince Paul Anton Esterházy. For
the next 30 years, Haydn—who rose to the rank of Kapellmeister
(chief musician) in 1766—was employed exclusively by the Esterházy family
and his work schedule and what he composed were almost
entirely determined by the court.
For example, the court divided its time between the Esterházy palace
in Eisenstadt, near Vienna and the magnificent country
estate known as Esterháza, 30 miles east, across the
Hungarian border—meaning a biannual move for all of the
hundreds of servants, including musicians. Haydn seems to
have thrived in this environment, and composed hundreds of
works for the Esterházies, from operas and symphonies to
chamber music. The court had its own small orchestra,
generally no more than 15 players, but including several
fine musicians. One of these was the concertmaster, Alois
Luigi Tomasini. Tomasini had initially been hired as a
valet, but the Prince, knowing of his musical talent, sent
Tomasini to Venice to study violin. (Tomasini probably
studied with Leopold Mozart as well, and later took
composition lessons from Haydn.) When Haydn joined the court
in 1761, Tomasini was the principal violinist, and all four
of Haydn’s violin concertos were likely written for him.
What You’ll Hear
Though it is
conventionally listed as his Violin Concerto No. 4,
this work may be the earliest of the four, written
relatively soon after Haydn joined the Esterházy court.
Scored for strings only, it is laid out in the conventional
three-section form, beginning with a fast movement (Allegro moderato).
The orchestra lays out a pair of relaxed, genial themes,
which are then picked up in decorated form by the solo
violin. The solo line develops these themes with several
surprising turns to the minor, before a full recapitulation,
and a solo cadenza. The movement ends with a short coda. The
Adagio is simply
lovely, with a lyrical theme and gentle accompaniment laid
out by the orchestra before being taken up and embellished
by the solo violin. The middle section begins with a brief
moment of uneasiness, and culminates in a short solo
cadenza, before the orchestra returns to the opening music.
The good-humored finale (Allegro) is tied together by a lively theme
heard at the beginning, this alternates with contrasting
material, including some brilliant passages for the soloist.
Beethoven’s
Missa Solemnis
(Solemn Mass) the last and largest of his sacred works, is a
massive setting of the Latin mass, though Beethoven’s music
for these deeply traditional texts often reflects his own
distinctive spirituality.
Ludwig van Beethoven
Born:
December 17, 1770 (baptism date), Bonn, Germany.
Died:
March 26, 1827, Vienna, Austria.
Missa Solemnis, Op.
123
·
Composed: Between 1818 and
1823.
·
Premiere: April 7, 1824, St.
Petersburg, Russia.
·
Previous MSO
Performances: 1947, 1948, and 2003.
·
Duration: 72:00.
Composing
“a grand sacred work”
Though, unlike his onetime teacher Haydn,
he was never employed by an aristocratic patron, Beethoven
benefited throughout his career by his friendships with
members of the Viennese nobility. One of his most faithful
supporters was Archduke Rudolph, a member of the Hapsburg
dynasty, and brother of the reigning Austrian Emperor. He had
first come to Beethoven for piano lessons when Rudolph was a
teenager, and their relationship remained close for nearly 25
years. Rudolph granted financial backing, but also remained
personally friendly and supportive to the composer, even as
Beethoven became more eccentric and withdrawn. For his part,
Beethoven composed several works dedicated to Rudolph: two of
his piano concertos, the piano sonatas “Les Adieux” and
“Hammerklavier,” the “Archduke” piano trio, the Grosse Fugue for
string quartet and other works. When it was announced that
Rudolph would be raised as a Cardinal and enthroned as
Archbishop of Olmütz (Olomouc), Beethoven immediately offered
to compose a mass for the occasion. In June 1819, he wrote to
Rudolph: “The day when a solemn mass by myself is performed as
part of the ceremonies for Your Imperial Highness will be the
happiest day of my life, and God will inspire me, so that my
poor gifts may contribute to the glorification of this solemn
day.”
Rudolph (as a
cardinal)
Rudolph’s
coronation was planned for March 20, 1820, but Beethoven had
actually been sketching a setting of the mass for some time
before writing his letter to Rudolph. However, the “solemn
mass” was not even close to being finished in March 1820—it
would in fact be three more years before he completed the
score. Composing this enormous work was a clearly a personal
struggle. His friend Anton Schindler, reported that one day in
August 1819, he arrived at Beethoven’s following a noisy
argument between Beethoven and his servants. The servants had
both quit and the neighbors were upset. Schindler and a few
friends entered the house, and “behind a locked door, we heard
the master singing parts of the fugue of the [Gloria]—singing,
howling, stamping. After we had been listening for a long time
to this almost terrifying scene, and were about to go away,
the door opened, and Beethoven stood before us with distorted
features, fearful to behold. He looked as if he had been in
mortal combat with the whole host of contrapuntists, his
everlasting enemies. His first utterances were confused, as if
he had been disagreeably surprised at our having overheard
him.”
This was a trying time for Beethoven. After
the tremendous burst of creativity during what has been known
as the “Heroic Decade” (1802-1812), he composed few large
works over the next six years. Personal problems seem to taken
precedence over composition. By 1812, Beethoven was completely
deaf, and was increasingly isolated. His unsuccessful affair
with the woman known only as his “immortal beloved” (probably
Antonie Brentano) that year, was his last lasting attachment
to a woman, and it seems that he reconciled himself with
remaining a bachelor forever. He was estranged from his
brother Johann, and his brother Caspar Carl died in 1814,
leaving Beethoven co-custodian of his nephew Karl. Beethoven’s
obsessive attempts to gain sole custody of his nephew
dominated the next several years, reaching a peak of nasty
litigation against the boy’s mother at the very time he was
attempting to finish the Missa Solemnis.
The composition of his innovative
“Hammerklavier” sonata in 1818 seems to have been a crucial
turning point: he returned in an active way to composition and
produced a dazzling series of works over the next eight years.
The twin peaks of this late period are the Missa Solemnis and
the Symphony No.9,
completed in 1824. Though he missed the March 1820 deadline
for Rudolph’s coronation, Beethoven continued to work
periodically on the Missa
Solemnis between work on the ninth symphony and other
projects. An autograph score of the Missa was delivered
to Archbishop Rudolph on March 19, 1823, adding the
inscription “From the heart, may it go to the heart.”—nearly
three years to the day after the intended event.
The Missa
Solemnis had grown far beyond a traditional setting of
the Catholic mass, and it proved difficult to get it performed
in Vienna. It was far too big to be sung as part of an actual
church service, and the Catholic authorities in Vienna forbade
the performance of the mass text in a purely concert setting.
One of Beethoven’s aristocratic admirers, Russian Prince
Nicholas Galitzin, arranged for a premiere by the Philharmonic
Society in St. Petersburg, later writing an enthusiastic
account to the composer in Vienna: “The effect on the public
cannot be described, and I have no fear of exaggerating when I
say on my part that have never heard anything so sublime…” In
May of 1824, after another patron, Prince Lichnowsky,
intervened with the Church censors, Beethoven programmed the Kyrie, Credo, and Agnus Dei of the Missa—billed as
“Three Grand Hymns with Solo and Chorus”—on a concert that
also included the premiere of his Symphony No.9. There
was no complete performance in Vienna until 1845, long after
Beethoven’s death.
The
Music—A Personal Vision
There are no texts as steeped in tradition
as the Latin texts of the mass, the central ritual of the
Roman Catholic Church. For more than 1500 years, the texts of
the “Ordinary” of the mass—Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei—have been
sung at Catholic services, and they have been set to music
thousands of times, from plainchant to polyphonic settings to
elaborate versions for chorus and orchestra. Beethoven’s
previous setting of the mass, the Mass in C of 1807 is
a fairly conventional piece, very much in the style of masses
by Mozart and Haydn. In the Missa Solemnis, it is
clear that he set out to do something new.
Beethoven was not a practicing Catholic,
but his religious faith was strong, if unconventional. In
1818, he wrote: “God above everything! For an eternal,
all-knowing Providence guides the fortune and misfortune of
mortal men.” In working on the Missa Solemnis, he
took great pains to make sure that he properly understood
every word of the Latin text. He did not actually change the
texts themselves, but the way he set those texts to music
subtly reflects his personal spiritual vision. Beethoven the
humanist, for example, sets the words et in terra pax hominibus
bonae voluntatis (and on earth, peace towards men of
good will) with a clear stress on homibus (men). In
contrast, Beethoven disposes of Credo in Spiritum Sanctum
(I believe in the Holy Spirit)—one of the foundations of
Catholic belief—with tremendous haste.
The Missa
Solemnis also stands as one of the most strenuous choral
works ever written. The scoring of the work means that choral
voices seldom have a chance to rest in the course of over 70
minutes. Beethoven also uses a rather dense orchestration that
makes constant projection critical, and the parts are often
difficult contrapuntal lines in extreme vocal range. It is
equally challenging for the solo singers—as in the closely
contemporary ninth symphony, Beethoven uses his soloists as an
ensemble, with few lengthy aria-style passages, and relatively
few long stretches of rest.
What
You’ll Hear
The Kyrie
is relatively conventional in form: as most composers had done
before him, Beethoven used a three-part form, as suggested by
the form of the text—Kyrie
eleison / Christe eleison / Kyrie eleison (Lord have
mercy / Christ have mercy / Lord have mercy). The opening Kyrie begins with
solemn chords, and polyphonic woodwind lines that blend
seamlessly into the first entrance of the soloists. The Christe is more
plaintive, with contrapuntal lines from the soloists answered
by the chorus. The final Kyrie is a
recapitulation of the opening mood. The calm coda serves as
the perfect counterbalance to the rather dark opening.
The Gloria
is much more complex, in keeping with the complexities of the
text Beethoven set to music. The majestic music of Gloria in excelsis Deo
(Glory to God in the highest) returns at several points as a
kind of motto linking the movement together. This opening
section has a quieter contrasting episode, but builds to a
climactic fugue on glorificamus
te (we glorify You). The next section is generally
quiet and happy, with a couple of brief flourishes on Jesu Christe and filius patris (Son of
the Father). The
lengthy central section is dominated by the soloists.
Beethoven then uses the Gloria
music to set Quoniam
tu solus sanctus (for You alone are holy), and them launches
into a monumental closing fugue on in gloria Dei Patris
(in the glory of God the Father). This seems to work its way
to a conclusion, but then the intensity doubles for the
closing Amen.
Credo—the
Nicene Creed—is the longest text of the mass, and once again
Beethoven uses a multi-sectional form. A forceful theme sung
by the basses at the outset serves as a unifying musical
motto. The entire opening section is carried by the chorus and
remains in this same mood. There is a distinct change of
character and key at Qui
propter (Who for us and our salvation descended from
Heaven)—and a nice bit of musical word-painting with rapidly
descending lines on descendit.
The soloists make
their first entrance on Et
incarnatus, which is not in a major or minor key, but in
a Dorian mode reminiscent of Medieval chant. Beethoven makes
full use of the dramatic break between sepultus est (was
buried) and et
resurrexit (and He rose again) with an exultant choral
phrase. He disposes of a great deal of text—and a great number
of central Catholic doctrines—relatively quickly in a gentle
fugue, beginning on Credo
in Spiritum Sanctum, saving the most exciting moments
for et vitam venturi
saeculi (and the life of the world to come). Amen is a lovely
closing moment for the soloists and orchestra.
The Sanctus
(Holy, holy, holy) begins with a restless and slow orchestral
passage and the intonation of Sanctus above sober
trombone chords. A more excited passage and brief fugue on Hosannah in excelsis
(Hosanna in the highest) round off this brief opening section.
Beethoven titles the section that follows Praeludium. One of
the relatively few long instrumental passages in the Missa Solemnis, it
relates to typical Austrian church practice of the day, where
the organ would improvise a brief prelude as the Host is
elevated before the Benedictus.
There is a beautiful violin solo that extends above a hushed
intonation of Benedictus
(Blessed is he that comes in the name of the Lord) by the
chorus basses, and its expansion by the soloists. Typically,
the first Hosanna
fugue is repeated at the end, but here Beethoven creates an
entirely new fugue from the violin solo’s motives, beginning
with a grave statement by the trombones. This is only a brief
episode, and the violin returns to bring the movement to a
serene conclusion.
Agnus
Dei (Lamb of God), one of the shortest texts of the
mass, is here given a tremendously expansive treatment. It begins in a somber
mood in the lower voices of the orchestra and chorus,
supporting the bass solo. This gradually expands to solos by
the tenor and mezzo-soprano. At Dona nobis pacem
(Grant us peace) the meter shifts to 6/8 and Beethoven begins
a grand double fugue culminating in soaring lines from the
female soloists. There is another break in texture: suddenly
trumpets and drums interject a distinctly military note,
before Beethoven begins a magnificent fugal finale with a long
military “interruption.” In his score, Beethoven wrote “a sign
of peace” as one last series of timpani strokes is finally
pushed aside by the chorus in a final triumphant statement of Dona nobis pacem.
[A
MSO Historical Footnote: One of our previous
performances of the
Missa Solemnis, on May 23, 1948 (pictured here), was one
of the more significant concerts in our history: it was the
farewell concert of our first music director, Dr. Sigfrid
Prager. Prager led the orchestra (then called the Madison
Civic Symphony) from its founding in 1926, and the chorus
(Madison Civic Chorus) from its founding a year later. The
1948 program was in the University Stock Pavilion, which
hosted many of the orchestra’s and chorus’s programs from the
1920s through the early 1970s. A set of recordings of this
performance unexpectedly surfaced in 2013. If you’d like to
read the intriguing story behind these recordings, and hear a
few excerpts from the 1948 concert, click here.]
________
program
notes ©2021 by J. Michael Allsen