Music of Spirit and Hope
Third Annual Benefit for The Hospice of Cambridge
Saturday, June 1, 1996 at 8:00 pm. First Church Congregational, Cambridge, Massachusetts
Mozart: Mass in C, K 317, "Coronation"; Sonata in C, K 328
Schubert: Stabat Mater in f, D 383; Magnificat in C, D 486
Texts and translations
Review from The Boston Globe
Program Notes
That Schubert and Mozart when still so young could create compositions of the quality we hear tonight is a continuing source of wonder and joy for musicians and music lovers alike. Yet for all the "youthful" energy apparent in the C-major works we'll perform, there is a special poignancy and sense of introspection in the f-minor Stabat Mater of Franz Schubert.
Of genuine interest is the larger question of Schubert's musical response to the Church and its liturgy. In recent years the popular critical response to Schubert's church music is a patronizing generalization that this body of work is not equal in stature to the composer's other works, that the larger Masses are "too long" and harbor fugues that are simply "academic" rather than "inspired," and while there are moments of greatness they are few and far between.
One wonders if such opinions stem from an incomplete acquaintance with these works. A close examination of the entire corpus of Schubert's religious music handsomely rewards the curious. There is far more wonderful music than merely "interesting." And yes, there is much that is truly inspired -- the Mass in G and Psalm 23 which we performed last season among them.
Having taken this stand so strongly, how do the Magnificat and Stabat Mater fare? Quite well, it turns out. Skeptics may feel that "uneven" is a fairer description. Well, perhaps, but give us unevenness of this caliber any day over much of what passes as significant and original today!
The f-minor Stabat Mater was completed February 22, 1816, a significant milestone in Schubert's maturation. In the period of 1815-1816 his songs first confronted death as subject matter. The dark c-minor "Tragic" Symphony, D. 417, also stems from this time. Together, these works give evidence of a period of serious introspection for the composer.
That this Stabat Mater is unusual is indisputable. Its text is a "paraphrase," putatively by F. G. Klopstock, of the reverent and moving 13th century Stabat Mater Dolorosa of Jacopone da Todi. The Latin poem has understandably attracted the attention of many great composers before and since Schubert's time. The imagery of the poem is powerful and memorable, ideal for dramatic musical portrayal such as Pergolesi, Scarlatti and Verdi have offered. The composer had set an abbreviated version of this Latin poem to music in g minor in early April of 1815. So why his choice of Klopstock's very different German version less than a year later?
There is no definitive answer to this, but consider the following exegesis. Each of Schubert's settings of the liturgy of the Roman Catholic Mass omits the language referring to "the Holy Catholic church," as well as several references to life in the hereafter. Are these simply omissions which follow local church practice in Schubert's community, as has been suggested by some, or does this reveal something very personal about Schubert's feelings about the Church and several of its central tenets? If we accept the latter, then the choice of Klopstock's -- and perhaps a bit of Schubert's own -- German paraphrase of the strongly Roman Catholic Latin poem becomes more comprehensible. The Latin poem's focus is, quite understandably, on the Virgin Mary and her reactions to witnessing her son crucified. The Klopstock paraphrase shifts the focus almost entirely to Jesus. Is this shift of attention from the Holy Mother, so beloved and central to the Roman Catholic religion, to her son, emphatically central to German Protestant religion, a key to Schubert's possible ambivalence of religious convictions and therefore his choice of text?
A work of striking contrasts, the Stabat Mater begins with a portentously slow orchestral and choral movement which sets an appropriately tragic tone for the expected subject matter. But note that the very first text uttered names "Jesus Christus," and not the Virgin Mary as in the Latin prototype. The ensuing soprano aria tells of the sword piercing both the soul of the Mother and the body of her son. Thereafter, every subsequent movement holds a musical or textural surprise. Among them are the dialogue between the divisi women and men of the chorus and the orchestral wind band in the No. 5 chorus, the very slow and heartfelt tenor aria that follows, and the generally upbeat remaining movements whose collective optimism would seem to be at odds with their serious subject.
Do all these movements "work" equally well? Perhaps not. Have they moments of real inspiration? Definitely. Is this unique composition worthy of performance in spite of its anomalies? Absolutely. The "true" Schubert -- with his mastery of orchestral color and great gift for melody -- is much apparent, and the music gives real promise of the fully mature master whose subsequent music was shortly to achieve the lofty heights of immortality.
The much shorter and energetic Magnificat in C major appropriately sets a bright and festive mood with its opening Paris-Symphony -like upward violin flourishes and spiky trumpet and timpani punctuations. The middle movement, highlighting the solo vocal quartet, is a model of gentle grace with its arresting and unusual voice-leading and lovely lyric color. The finale returns to the energy of the opening movement but leavens its manic intensity with an unusual set of falling, then rising sequences, each beginning on a weak beat of the bar. Trumpets and timpani return to provide a powerful and exhilarating finish.
"Manic intensity" certainly describes much of Mozart's brilliant Mass in C, KV 317. There is hardly a moment of rest for the chorus and orchestra in this brief and ingenious work -- both are kept fully occupied throughout. The moments of repose are all the more impactful for occurring between "brackets" of extraordinary energy. The opening Kyrie reveals Mozart's intentions, which will be heard in similar form throughout the entire composition: contrast between lyric and martial elements. After the energetic but slow-paced and "introductionless" choral Kyrie, the soprano soloist intones a memorable, melodic Kyrie of her own, immediately answered by the other soloists, who later append the Christe . The chorus then returns with its martial reply and the movement ends quietly, but with an orchestral reprise of the soprano soloist's melody at the very end.
The Gloria and Credo which follow offer up so much life-affirming rhythmic vitality that Colin Davis once, in a rehearsal of this work with the Boston Symphony, shook his head and muttered in wonderment "... appalling adolescent energy!" And indeed, these two movements fly with headlong abandon through their texts. One wonders whether Beethoven knew this score -- his Missa Solemnis makes analogous demands of energy and agility of its performers in its parallel movements. The ensuing Et incarnatus stops time in its tracks as, with extraordinary downward spiraling violin figures, Mozart illustrates the descent from heaven of the Holy Spirit to Mary. The Crucifixus which follows is as dramatic as one might hear in any of this composer's great operas, with its pulsing low trombones and double-basses and the chorus's spat-out "Pontio Pilato ." The benign violin figure just heard has suddenly become dark and threatening. The oboe weeps disconsolately with the chorus's description of Christ's suffering. And finally, with a whisper, the chorus tells of His entombment. This verbal description may seem a bit "purple," but listen to the music -- it's all there.
The resurrection abruptly interrupts -- another possible model for Beethoven's Missa ? -- and this remarkable Credo proceeds to its conclusion with one more dramatic surprise -- the temporary darkening of mood at the text referring to the resurrection of the dead, which in turn is instantly brightened as immortal life is promised. And at the very end, as a final "exclamation point" for further emphasis, Mozart repeats the Credo's opening text: "I believe in one God."
No rest here, as a brilliant Sanctus and Osanna call once again for full energy from the chorus and orchestra. Even the charming Salzburg music box-like Benedictus for the solo quartet is twice interrupted by the exuberant chorus as if it simply can't contain its exultation.
At last, repose is achieved in the exquisite Agnus Dei for soprano solo. Perhaps the best-known music from this Mass, much of its consoling melodic material will later be heard in Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro as the famous aria Dove Sono . At a dramatic fermata , the soprano reprises her opening Kyrie melody but with "Dona nobis pacem ." The chorus, which has quietly savored these beautiful moments, reappears, demands a quicker tempo, and proudly affirms with trumpets and drums that Peace indeed shall be given and prevail.
Copyright (c) 1996 by John W. Ehrlich
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