Songs of Farewell

The October issue of the BBC Classical Music Magazine included a disc with Hubert Parry's Songs of Farewell. And these performance notes  by John Bawden explain:

By the time Parry was composing the Songs of Farewell he knew that he had not long to live. Though they are Parry’s own valediction – he died two years after their completion – they can also be seen as his farewell to the rapidly vanishing world of his youth. Common to all the texts are the contrasting themes of the transitory nature of life and the redeeming power of faith. The motets are to a large extent expressions of personal belief rather than orthodox liturgical works; only the final setting has a recognised sacred text.

The six individual motets are arranged in a carefully organised scheme of developing length and complexity. The first two, for just four vocal parts, are quite short and rhythmically and harmonically relatively straightforward. Here and elsewhere Parry’s liberal use of rests to punctuate phrases and emphasise (sic) aspects of the text is both effective and original. "Never weather-beaten sail" and "There is an old belief" are in five and six parts respectively, and introduce a degree of counterpoint into the texture. The final pair of motets, "At the round earth’s imagined corners" and "Lord, let me know mine end", are significantly longer and call for seven and eight voice parts. The harmony now becomes much more chromatic, the rhythmic figuration more intricate, and the counterpoint more audacious. This treatment of the set as a single, organic entity gives it an intensity and power considerably greater than the sum of its six individual parts. Not surprisingly, Parry’s Songs of Farewell are widely acknowledged as masterpieces of unaccompanied choral writing.

The second song is by Sir John Davies, who was an attorney and poet, according to the History of Parliament:

In later years, Davies prospered as a lawyer but he never succeeded in obtaining a permanent post in London. In March 1603 he accompanied Lord Hunsdon to the Scottish court. King James, on hearing that the author of Nosce Teipsum had come, is said to have ‘embraced him and conceived a considerable liking for him’. Preferment followed and Davies embarked on a career in Ireland. In 1619 he returned to England to practise as a serjeant-at-law. He published legal works, including digests and reports specifically adapted for Ireland, and made an abridgment of Coke’s reports, published in 1615. Appointed chief justice of the King’s bench in November 1626, he died on 8 Dec., before he had entered upon his new office.

In his later years, he lived at Englefield, Berkshire. His wife, says Aubrey, ‘was a prophetess, or rather witch’ who afterwards published several fanatical works which led to her imprisonment in the Tower for sedition. She foretold Davies’s death by three years, insisting on wearing mourning in the interim. A daughter married Ferdinando Hastings, Lord Hastings, 6th Earl of Huntingdon.

Man, by Sir John Davies. 1569–1626

I KNOW my soul hath power to know all things,
Yet she is blind and ignorant in all:
I know I'm one of Nature's little kings,
Yet to the least and vilest things am thrall.

I know my life 's a pain and but a span;
I know my sense is mock'd in everything;
And, to conclude, I know myself a Man—
Which is a proud and yet a wretched thing.

Even more than John Davies, John Donne struggled to find secure employment and success, especially after he married Ann More clandestinely:

Throughout his middle years he and his wife brought up an ever-increasing family with the aid of relatives, friends, and patrons, and on the uncertain income he could bring in by polemical hackwork and the like. His anxious attempts to gain secular employment in the queen’s household in Ireland, or with the Virginia Company, all came to nothing, and he seized the opportunity to accompany Sir Robert Drury on a diplomatic mission in France in 1612. From these frustrated years came most of the verse letters, funeral poems, epithalamiums, and holy sonnets, as well as the prose treatises Biathanatos (1647), Pseudo-Martyr (1610), and Ignatius his Conclave (1611). . . .

Donne took holy orders in January 1615, having been persuaded by King James himself of his fitness for a ministry “to which he was, and appeared, very unwilling, apprehending it (such was his mistaking modesty) to be too weighty for his abilities.” So writes his first biographer, Izaak Walton, who had known him well and often heard him preach. Once committed to the Church, Donne devoted himself to it totally, and his life thereafter becomes a record of incumbencies held and sermons preached.

His wife died in childbirth in 1617. He was elected dean of St. Paul’s in November 1621, and he became the most celebrated cleric of his age, preaching frequently before the king at court as well as at St. Paul’s and other churches. 160 of his sermons have survived. The few religious poems he wrote after he became a priest show no falling off in imaginative power, yet the calling of his later years committed him to prose, and the artistry of his Devotions and sermons at least matches the artistry of his poems.

Holy Sonnet 7, by John Donne. 1572-1631

At the round earth's imagin'd corners, blow
Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise
From death, you numberless infinities
Of souls, and to your scatter'd bodies go;
All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow,
All whom war, dearth, age, agues, tyrannies,
Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you whose eyes
Shall behold God and never taste death's woe.
But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of thy grace
When we are there; here on this lowly ground
Teach me how to repent; for that's as good
As if thou'hadst seal'd my pardon with thy blood.

The other poems/selections are "My soul, there is a country" by Henry Vaughan (1622-1695); "Never weather-beaten sail" by Thomas Campion (1622-1695); "There is an old belief" by John Gibson Lockhart (1794-1854), Sir Walter Scott's son-in-law, and Psalm 39, "Lord, let me know mine end".

Tu Es Petrus on September 18, 2010

Martin Baker, the Master of Music at Westminster Cathedral, is featured in the monthly Rewind column in the Christmas issue of BBC Music Magazine, in which "Artists talk about their past recordings". He highlights "My finest moment": the recently released recording of William Byrd's Masses for three, four, and five voices; "I'd like another go at . . .": Victoria's Missa Ave Regina caelorum and other choral works, and "My fondest memory":

James Macmillan's Tenebrae Responsories & other choral works, in which he discusses the great liturgical event of Pope Benedict's visit to Westminster Cathedral for Mass on September 18, 2010. Macmillan's setting of the Introit, Tu es Petrus, was arranged to have maximum impact: the Choir singing from the East, the Organ from the West, "a wall of brass to the North and battery of percussion to the South", so that the "effect in the building was cataclysmic"! Indeed, the Gramaphone review of the subsequent recording highlighted Macmillan's Tu es Petrus: "The combination of Westminster Cathedral Choir and MacMillan is irresistible. We are drawn immediately into their complicity by the jaw-dropping Tu es Petrus … its simultaneous celebratory character and clear rootedness in liturgical tradition make it far more than a one-off firework."

You can hear the original performance at the beginning of Mass during the procession:

Pope Benedict also prepared a homily that reflected on the great occasion while reminding the congregation of eternal verities:

Dear Friends in Christ,

I greet all of you with joy in the Lord and I thank you for your warm reception. I am grateful to Archbishop Nichols for his words of welcome on your behalf. Truly, in this meeting of the Successor of Peter and the faithful of Britain, "heart speaks unto heart" as we rejoice in the love of Christ and in our common profession of the Catholic faith which comes to us from the Apostles. I am especially happy that our meeting takes place in this Cathedral dedicated to the Most Precious Blood, which is the sign of God’s redemptive mercy poured out upon the world through the passion, death and resurrection of his Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. In a particular way I greet the Archbishop of Canterbury, who honours us by his presence.

The visitor to this Cathedral cannot fail to be struck by the great crucifix dominating the nave, which portrays Christ’s body, crushed by suffering, overwhelmed by sorrow, the innocent victim whose death has reconciled us with the Father and given us a share in the very life of God. The Lord’s outstretched arms seem to embrace this entire church, lifting up to the Father all the ranks of the faithful who gather around the altar of the Eucharistic sacrifice and share in its fruits. The crucified Lord stands above and before us as the source of our life and salvation, "the high priest of the good things to come", as the author of the Letter to the Hebrews calls him in today’s first reading (Heb 9:11).

It is in the shadow, so to speak, of this striking image, that I would like to consider the word of God which has been proclaimed in our midst and reflect on the mystery of the Precious Blood. For that mystery leads us to see the unity between Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross, the Eucharistic sacrifice which he has given to his Church, and his eternal priesthood, whereby, seated at the right hand of the Father, he makes unceasing intercession for us, the members of his mystical body.

Read the rest here.

"100 Years; 100 Legacies': More on WWI from the WSJ

The Wall Street Journal continues to explore the legacy of World War I, with an on-line examination of one hundred legacies of the Great War to End All Wars, including music and literature. Fiona Matthias looks at the classical music inspired by conflicting impulses of patriotism and sorrow:

The emotional wounds of war as well as patriotism resonate through the music of many of the most influential composers of the early 20th century.

Edward Elgar’s work is infused with both sentiments, including “For the Fallen” (1915-17); “Carillon” (1914) and “Polonia” (1915), in honor of Belgium and Poland, respectively; and “The Fringes of the Fleet” (1917).

While Elgar, in his mid-50s when war broke out, was only able to respond in his music to the carnage taking place on the other side of the English Channel, there were others directly touched by it. . . .

The Great War, of course, claimed millions of lives, among them one of Britain’s most promising writers, George Butterworth, known for “The Banks of Green Willow,” which is now regarded by many as an anthem to unknown soldiers everywhere. A recipient of the Military Cross, Butterworth died at the age of 31 during the Battle of the Somme and his place of burial remains unknown.

The BBC Music Magazine has also been exploring the musical legacy of World War I, with its June issue dedicated to the composers of that era, including George Butterworth, and the July issue featuring a CD of Elgar's The Spirit of England.

Happy Birthday to Edward Elgar

Sir Edward Elgar was born on June 2, 1857. Last year a recording of his oratorio The Apostles by Sir Mark Elder and the Halle Orchestra with soloists and choruses won the best recording of the year award from BBC Classical Music Magazine.

You can, however, listen to the entire work conducted by Sir Adrian Boult, another great Elgar conductor here. While listening to it, you could follow this BBC3 synopsis of the story, as Jesus calls the Twelve Apostles, teaches them, forgives Mary Magdalen, calls Peter the Rock on which He builds His Church--all in Part One. Then in Part Two, the drama of the oratorio is Judas' betrayal, his remorse, Peter's denial--and of course, the Crucifixion. The Apostles concludes, after the Resurrection scenes at the Empty Tomb, with the Ascension, and a great chorus of rejoicing. Elgar continued the story in The Kingdom and planned a third work, The Last Judgement.

Gramaphone reviewed a 1988 re-release of the Boult recording:

Boult's conducting of The Apostles has not quite the fervour of his interpretation of The Kingdom (reviewed in May), nor is the recording always as full of 'presence', but it is wonderful to have the work on CD, although owners of the original LPs will want to retain them because of the sixth side on which Sir Adrian gave an analysis of both oratorios. The faults and failings of the music have often been pointed out, and it would be idle to pretend that there are not some troughs in the level of inspiration. But, my word, the peaks! They are tremendous and deeply moving. It is in the meditative sections, where Elgar's stately sorrow flows like a river of tears, that Boult is at his most impressive and inspires the LPO and Choir to some Read more incandescent playing and singing. His treatment of "Turn you to the stronghold" as if it were a prayer is a piece of masterly insight, and the women's choir's singing after Peter has denied Jesus is truly exquisite.

The six soloists are a well-matched team, with Sheila Armstrong in radiant voice. John Carol Case a devout but mercifully unsanctimonious Jesus and Clifford Grant a baleful, black-voiced Judas (though his intonation is sometimes suspect). The orchestral score points the way to the symphonies and Falstaff, and Boult ensures that no detail is lost within the overall picture.

As the BBC3 programme notes for The Apostles recount, Elgar obviously featured Judas, his betrayal and remorse-though not his suicide--because his actions are dramatic. Elgar was also influenced by some particular ideas about Judas' motives:

But Elgar had been fascinated by some remarks in a book by Archbishop Whately of Dublin. Judas, Whately had said, was a thinker, a man a cut above the others, perhaps with even a touch of the aristocrat. His intention in betraying Jesus was not to bring about his death, but to force his hand – to compel him to show his power by saving himself, so that the Jews (and perhaps the Romans, too) would have had to acknowledge him as King. Judas’s despair and agonising guilt when he realises that his plot has failed, and that Jesus has been brutally executed, is central to the drama of The Apostles. It drew some particularly fine music from Elgar, especially Judas’s confession of guilt before the indifferent priests in the Temple (choral psalm-singing in the background only emphasising his aloneness), or again at the very end of the ‘Betrayal’ section, where a rapid crescendo is suddenly cut off, leaving the chorus to comment quietly, almost unemotionally: ‘He shall bring upon them their own iniquity.’

On my first listening to the Boult recording, I agree with the BBC commentator that The Apostles suffers in comparison with The Dream of Gerontius, but that The Apostles "is full of good music".