With this week’s concerts we usher in the festive season with a musical journey through baroque Europe. We begin our travels in Versailles, with music written to be played at a dinner party hosted by Louis XIV on January 16, 1707 (true “musique de table,” or “Tafelmusik”!). The extant score, copied by the King’s music librarian, credits Jean-Baptiste Lully fils as composer — the second son of the famed court composer of the same name. A posthumous account states that Jean-Baptiste Jr. “knew hardly anything about music,” and that he was given the position of Surintendant de la musique du roi only “out of consideration for his father’s talent.” It is entirely possible that all he contributed to the various compositions credited to him was his name. The 1707 suite for the king’s dinner may well have been written by Michel Richard de Lalande, the composer who “shared” the job of Surintendant with Lully fils. Elisa Citterio has selected a few movements from this charming suite to open our concert.
We travel south to Rome, the birthplace of the concerto grosso — works for string orchestra that contrast a small solo group (called the “concertino,” or “little consort”) with the full orchestra (the “ripieni,” meaning “padding or stuffing”). Corelli’s final publication was a carefully prepared selection of twelve concerti grossi, his Opus 6, and quickly became famous throughout Europe. Shortly before the publication appeared, the young violinist Pietro Antonio Locatelli arrived from Bergamo to study in Rome with Corelli and his followers. Locatelli’s first publication mirrored Corelli’s last: a set of twelve concerti grossi in a format and style that pays homage to the master. This is particularly evident in the eighth concerto: just as Corelli had done in the eighth concerto of his Opus 6, Locatelli adds an optional Christmas pastorale. The opening of the concerto is rich and sombre, with divided viola parts and in the dark key of F minor. The sun comes out in the lilting F-major pastorale.
Shortly after the release of his Opus 1, Locatelli travelled north through Germany, taking posts in various cities and performing as a virtuoso violinist. He may well have encountered Telemann and Fasch, and it is to these composers we turn now. Georg Philipp Telemann stated that he was not a fan of the purely virtuoso solo concerto, and indeed we find that most of his concertos are more “conversational” than “exhibitionist,” and that many feature more than one solo instrument. He also turned to instruments not always featured in solo roles, such as the viola, often overshadowed by the more brilliant violin. Telemann clearly understood the viola’s inherent qualities, and opens his Concerto for two violas with a movement labelled “avec douceur” (“with sweetness”).
Johann Friedrich Fasch and Telemann met as students at the Thomasschule in Leipzig, and although Fasch was younger by only seven years, he nonetheless considered his “most beloved” friend to be his mentor. Like Telemann, Fasch favoured the more “collegial” concerto. His trumpet concerto clearly features the solo trumpet, but the soloist is amply supported in musical “conversations” with two oboes and with the accompanying strings.
We return to France and encounter Michel Corrette: born in Rouen, he enjoyed a long career in Paris, writing music of a light nature, much of it arrangements of popular tunes of the day. Among these are numerous arrangements of Christmas carols. The publication “Six Symphonies en Quatuor” bears the subtitle “containing the most beautiful French and foreign Noëls,” and the instruction that they can be played by a chamber group or full orchestra, in concert or at a church service. The first Symphonie is comprised of arrangements of four traditional French carols: “When Christmas arrives,” “The king of heaven has just been born,” “Here is the solemn day,” and “Adam was a wretched man.”
We cross the channel to England, but with a musical detour to Iberia. Organist and composer Charles Avison directed a concert series in his native Newcastle, establishing a broader reputation through his writings on music, and through his publications of sonatas and concertos. Among his most popular publications was a set of twelve concerti grossi consisting of arrangements for string orchestra of harpsichord sonatas by Domenico Scarlatti. Scarlatti wrote over 500 harpsichord sonatas while employed at the royal courts in Lisbon and Madrid. A few dozen of these sonatas were published in London and enjoyed great popularity, inspiring Avison’s arrangements. Each of Scarlatti’s sonatas is a single-movement work, so Avison combined them to create four-movement concertos. There are relatively few slow movements in Scarlatti’s keyboard oeuvre, so Avison had to get creative. He claimed that several slow movements were drawn from a manuscript of Scarlatti sonatas that only he had seen, but the truth is that most of the slow movements were composed by Avison himself. In the Fifth Concerto, the opening Largo is of Avison’s invention, and the remaining three movements are arrangements of Scarlatti sonatas K.11, K. 41, and K.5.
After discovering all these new treasures, we return home, musically speaking, to familiar ground with Johann Sebastian Bach and the Second Brandenburg Concerto. Like his friends, Telemann and Fasch, Bach liked the idea of the ensemble concerto, and explored it in his collection of concertos dedicated to the Margrave of Brandenburg titled “Six concerts avec plusieurs instruments.” The variety of instrumentation in these concertos is their trademark feature, and the solo group of the second concerto is the most disparate: trumpet, recorder, oboe, and violin. Particularly noteworthy is the uncommonly brilliant trumpet part, written for a trumpet in F. All of Bach’s trumpet parts are demanding, but most are written for trumpets in C and D. Bach obviously had a trumpet player capable of playing the solo passages in the higher key of F, but already by the middle of the eighteenth century such players were rarities. A copy of the score by C.F. Penzel made c.1760 suggests substituting a horn and transposing the part down an octave. A later copy suggests a flute, and 20th-century performances have substituted various instruments, among them clarinet, piccolo-heckelphone, and sopranino saxophone! We are delighted to have David Blackadder join us to perform Bach’s original scoring.
Directed by Elisa Citterio
David Blackadder, trumpet soloist
November 21–25, 2018
Jeanne Lamon Hall, Trinity-St. Paul’s Centre
Jean-Baptiste Lully fils, 1665–1743 Concert donné au souper du Roi (Versailles, 1707) Ouverture – Passacaille – Loure – Rigaudons
Pietro Antonio Locatelli, 1694–1764 Concerto grosso in F Minor, op. 1, no. 8 “Christmas” (Rome, 1721) Largo – Grave – Vivace – Grave – Largo andante – Andante – Pastorale
Georg Philipp Telemann, 1681–1767 Concerto for 2 violas in G Major, TWV 52:G3 (Hamburg, c.1740) Avec douceur – Gay – Largo – Vivement Brandon Chui & Patrick Jordan violas
Johann Friedrich Fasch, 1688–1758 Concerto for trumpet in D Major (Anhalt-Zerbst, c.1750) Allegro – Largo – Allegro David Blackadder trumpet
Michel Corrette, 1707–1795 Symphonie de Noëls no. 1 in D Minor (Paris, 1781) A la venue de Noël – Le Roy des cieux vient de naître – Voici le jour solennel – Adam fut un pauvre homme
Charles Avison, 1709–1770 Concerto no. 5 in D Minor after Domenico Scarlatti (Newcastle/London, 1744) Largo – Allegro – Andante moderato – Allegro
Johann Sebastian Bach, 1685–1750 Brandenburg Concerto no. 2 in F Major, BWV 1047 (Cöthen, 1721) Allegro – Andante – Allegro assai Alison Melville recorder John Abberger oboe David Blackadder trumpet Julia Wedman violin
The intriguing biography of Agostino Steffani is unique amongst musicians: he was a gifted singer and keyboardist, composer, diplomat, courtier, politician, priest, and had a distinguished ecclesiastical career. He was clearly an intelligent man, well spoken in several languages, well read, and widely respected in all the various fields in which he worked. Letters suggest that he was an ambitious and somewhat arrogant youth, but he quickly learned the manners and politesse of courtly life, and the discretion and tact essential in his diplomatic work. He was an industrious and principled worker and advocate. His employers placed great trust in his abilities and in his character, and he enjoyed many close and long friendships.
Born in Castelfranco, near Venice, Agostino Steffani left for school in Padua and there received his first musical training. He was employed as a treble in the choir of the Basilica del Santo from age ten to thirteen. His talent was evidently exceptional, and at age eleven and twelve he appeared in operas in Venice during Carnival. When he was just thirteen, his abilities were noticed by the Elector Ferdinand Maria of Bavaria during a visit to Padua; the Elector took Steffani with him to the court in Munich, where he was to remain for 21 years. He was given harpsichord and organ lessons, and before long seems to have largely given up singing. In 1672, at age eighteen, he was sent to Rome to study composition, and a few years later was sent to Paris to learn the French style which was increasingly popular at the Munich court. Throughout Steffani’s travels, he was praised for the deftness and delicacy of his harpsichord playing.
With the accession of Maximilian II Emanuel in 1680, Steffani’s career in Munich blossomed. He was named Director of Chamber Music, a new post created just for him, and his first operas were produced. He also undertook his first diplomatic mission: to negotiate the marriage of the elector to Princess Sophie Charlotte of Hanover. The marriage did not come to pass, but Steffani’s diplomatic skills were noted, and the Hanoverian court held him in high regard.
It was in Hanover in 1668 that Steffani took his next post, as Kapellmeister and director of the court opera. Shortly after his arrival a striking new opera house was completed, and the gala opening featured the premiere of Henrico Leone, one of several Steffani operas based on German history (in this case, the twelfth-century duke Henry the Lion). Steffani remained in Hanover for fifteen years, though increasing demands on him as a diplomat led to a significant decrease in his involvement in music at the court. He spent time in Vienna and Brussels negotiating the elevation of Hanover to an electorate, and was involved in the machinations that led to the War of the Spanish Succession. He turned to music on occasion, seemingly often as solace when politics proved frustrating or disappointing.
In 1703 Steffani moved to Düsseldorf, entering the service of the Elector Palatine, Johann Wilhelm, for a period of six years. Here his duties were mostly political: positions included privy councilor and president of the Spiritual Council for the Palatinate, general president of the Palatine Government, and curator of Heidelberg University. It was here too that his activities with the church increased. He had been ordained a priest in 1680, at age 26. In 1706 he was elected Bishop of Spiga, and in 1709 was appointed Apostolic Vicar in northern Germany, returning to Hannover. This prestigious post carried the responsibility of establishing and maintaining missions and building churches, and generally of gaining acceptance and tolerance of Catholicism in the Protestant north, encompassing Brunswick, the Palatinate, Prussia, and Saxony. Steffani retired to Padua in 1722, at age 68, but was pressured by the church in Rome to return to work in Hanover in 1726.
It was at the end of his life that Steffani turned once again to music, perhaps in part returning to his first love, and in part because of growing interest in his works in England. His former employer in Hanover had assumed the British throne as George I, and took several Steffani scores with him. The Academy of Vocal Music (later known as the Academy of Ancient Music) named him honorary president, and in return, he sent them a number of old and new compositions: among the latter, a setting of the Stabat mater. Steffani himself described the Stabat mater as his last and greatest work; it can be seen as a musical representation of his faith and devotion.
Steffani died in 1728, but his renown as a composer lived on, as evidenced in the publication of a biography in England in 1750, written by John Hawkins. Hawkins cites Handel and Pepusch as his primary sources in recounting memories of this “great genius.” Handel met Steffani in both Hanover and Rome, and freely “borrowed” from his operas and chamber duets.
Steffani’s musical style is marked by a natural vocality and a compelling expression of the text, in both his sacred and secular works. The German writer and composer Johann Mattheson noted that Steffani carried around the librettos of his operas for some time, carefully considering the words before conceiving the music. The influence of France is strong in the instrumental movements in his operas, which owe much to Lully.
We have greatly enjoyed getting to know the music of this fascinating man, and hope that our concerts will encourage you to explore more of his music, or to read his remarkable life story.
In finding the Steffani manuscripts from which we made the editions used this week, we had assistance from several people. We would like to thank Fra Carlo Bottero, Director of the Biblioteca e Centro di documentazione francescana del Sacro Convento di San Francesco in Assisi, for generously providing images of the manuscript of the Beatus vir. We are grateful to Emma Darbyshire of the Fitzwilliam Museum and Prof. Colin Timms of the University of Birmingham for providing scans of several manuscripts. Prof. Timms is a renowned expert on the life and music of Steffani: his book Polymath of the Baroque: Agostino Steffani and His Music was invaluable in researching this program, and he has been very generous in answering questions and providing material.
Directed by Ivars Taurins
Krisztina Szabó, mezzo-soprano
Tafelmusik Chamber Choir
November 8–11, 2018
Jeanne Lamon Hall, Trinity-St. Paul’s Centre
Agostino Steffani 1654–1728
Beatus vir a 8 (Assisi or Munich, 1676)
Stabat Mater (Hannover, 1728)
Aria “Non prendo consiglio” from La superbia d’Alessandro (Hanover, 1690)
Overture to La lotte d’Hercole con Acheloo (Hanover, 1689)
Aria “Morirò fra strazi e scempi” from Henrico Leone (Hanover, 1689)
Entrée des ombres [The shadows] from La libertà contenta (Hanover, 1693)
Sinfonia to Niobe (Munich, 1688)
Aria & Chorus “Tra la guerre e le vittorie” from La superbia d’Alessandro
Chaconne from Henrico Leone
Duet “T’abbraccio” from Niobe
Sarabande from I trionfi del fato (Hanover, 1695)
Recitative & Aria “Deh non far colle tue lagrime” from Tassilone (Düsseldorf, 1709)
Air tendre from La superbia d’Alessandro
Accompagnato & Aria “Sfere amiche” from Niobe
Chorus “Non si parli” from Marco Aurelio (Munich, 1681)
Aria “Ogni core può sperar” from Servio Tullio (Munich, 1686)
Duet & Chorus “Timore, ruine” from Le rivale concordi (Hanover, 1692)
The most popular composer for the violin, as well as player on that instrument, during these times, was Don Antonio Vivaldi . . . if acute and rapid tones are evils, Vivaldi has much of the sin to answer for.
— Charles Burney, A General History of Music (1789)
The famous Vivaldi, whom they call the Prete Rosso [the Red-Haired Priest], very well known for his concertos, was a topping man among them at Venice.
— Mr. Wright, in his Travels through Italy (1720–22)
Such contemporary accounts show us that the appeal of Vivaldi’s music in his own time was comparable with its great popularity today. Vivaldi was born in Venice in 1678, and received his early education from his father, a violinist employed at St. Mark’s. In 1703 Antonio was ordained a priest, and in 1704 was appointed as a violin teacher at the Ospedale della Pietà. A few years later he was also named maestro de’ concerti and took over direction of the Pietà orchestra.
The Pietà, founded in 1346, was one of four Venetian institutions for children who had been orphaned, or whose parents were unable to care for them. At some point during the history of the Pietà, its charges became exclusively female. Musical education became an important part of the curriculum, and by the end of the seventeenth century, the Pietà had virtually become a sort of conservatory of music, its concerts enjoying enormous prestige and popularity.
Vivaldi was to remain an employee of the Pietà until his death in 1741, and during his tenure supplied the orchestra with a wealth of instrumental concertos, several hundred in all. Many of the concertos were published by Roger in Amsterdam for circulation throughout Europe; others were circulated in manuscript form by travelling musicians. As his fame spread, Vivaldi started to receive commissions for works from abroad: he wrote many works for the brilliant court orchestra at Dresden, and had close ties with musicians in Vienna. Equally renowned as an opera composer, his many opera sinfonias complete his orchestral output.
The constant demand for concertos inspired Vivaldi to turn to instruments not usually given solo roles in the orchestra. Included in his worklist are, for example, no fewer than 40 concertos for bassoon, and several for one or two oboes. For his own instrument, the violin, he wrote over 250 solo concertos, and numerous concertos for two, three, and four violins. Occasionally Vivaldi added descriptive titles, such as the violin concertos “L’amoroso” and “Amato bene,” which inspired our own title of this week’s concerts. The form and spirit of Vivaldi’s concertos were to provide the model for the late baroque instrumental concerto both in Italy and abroad, and to delight listeners far and wide.
Directed by Elisa Citterio
October 10–14, 2018
Jeanne Lamon Hall, Trinity-St. Paul’s Centre
October 16, 2018 George Weston Recital Hall, Toronto Centre for the Arts
Antonio Vivaldi 1678–1741
Sinfonia to Ottone in villa, RV 729 Allegro – Larghetto – Allegro
Concerto for violin in C Minor, RV 761 “Amato bene” Allegro – Largo – Allegro Elisa Citterio violin
Concerto for bassoon in D Minor, RV 481 Allegro – Larghetto – Allegro molto Dominic Teresi bassoon
Concerto for 2 oboes in C Major, RV 534 Allegro – Largo – Allegro John Abberger & Marco Cera oboes
Concerto for violin in E Major, RV 271 “L’amoroso” Allegro – Cantabile – Allegro Elisa Citterio violin
Concerto for lute in D Major, RV 93 Allegro – Largo – Allegro Lucas Harris lute
Concerto for 4 violins in B-flat Major, RV 553 Allegro – Largo – Allegro Elisa Citterio, Cristina Zacharias, Patricia Ahern & Geneviève Gilardeau violins
Concerto for 2 oboes & 2 violins in D Major, RV 564a Allegro – Adagio non molto – Allegro John Abberger & Marco Cera oboes
Elisa Citterio & Julia Wedman violins
Elisa and the orchestra will be heading to Humbercrest United Church later this month to record the music from this week’s concerts. The resulting CD, Vivaldi con amore, will be our first with Elisa as Music Director. Stay tuned for news of its release later this season.
If you would like to sponsor a concerto, or learn more about how you can support this recording project, please contact Ania Kordiuk at (416) 964-9562 x 223 or firstname.lastname@example.org.
Mozart’s childhood travels had left him with a hunger for making his mark in more cosmopolitan circles than offered in his native city of Salzburg. His father’s ambitions for him played no small part in this. We therefore tend to associate his time in Salzburg with a general discontentment, but some of this association is arguably misplaced. He formally entered the employment of the Archbishop of Salzburg, Count Colloredo, in 1773, at the age of seventeen. He was appointed Konzertmeister, and the post allowed him time and space to hone his craft as a composer. The next few years saw an outpouring of compositions, including a range of chamber and orchestral works. His first “mature” symphonies date from this time (including the first of the two G-Minor symphonies, no. 25, which we will be performing later this season [The Hunt: Mozart and Haydn, April 25–30, 2019]). His very first piano concertos appeared, as did his first concerto for a wind instrument, the delightful Concerto for bassoon in B-flat Major, presumed to have been written for one of the bassoonists at the Salzburg court. Many have noted that the young Mozart perfectly captured the instrument’s inherent qualities, an early example of his tremendous skill at writing for winds as witnessed in his later symphonies and operas.
All five of Mozart’s violin concertos were written in Salzburg in a six-month period in 1775. He undoubtedly would have performed them himself (he was an accomplished violinist, and leader of the orchestra), though in what context is not known: possibly at church, possibly at informal public events. In the concertos he eschews the pyrotechnics championed by many violinists at the time in favour of a more natural, elegant, and often witty style. After hearing a performance of a violin concerto by Ignaz Fränz, Mozart wrote to his father, “I like his playing very much. You know I am no great lover of difficulties. He plays difficult things, but his listeners are not aware that they are difficult; they think that they could at once do the same themselves. That is real playing.”
The cadenzas performed by Elisa Citterio in this program have been written by her brother, the composer Carlo Citterio.
We precede the concerto performances with a short Symphony written at the same time. The first two movements formed the Overture to the Italian comic opera La finta giardiniera, commissioned for the Munich Opera and premiered in January 1775. Shortly after returning to Salzburg, Mozart added a Finale to create a stand-alone work, and it is a spirited little piece, befitting the comedy of disguise and mistaken identity which inspired it.
By the end of the 1770s, Mozart’s need to expand his horizons beyond Salzburg reached the breaking point. He found his opportunity in 1781, when Archbishop Colloredo included Mozart in his retinue while in residence in Vienna for celebrations of the accession of Emperor Joseph II. Mozart was increasingly resentful of his position as a servant (considered lower in station than the valets, though above the cooks!), and also increasingly enthusiastic about the prospect of earning his own living in Vienna. When his request to be released from service was refused, his behavior was such that in a few short weeks he was summarily dismissed. Count Arco, the Archbishop’s steward, was given the task of sending him packing, and admonished Mozart: “here [in Vienna] a man’s success is of short duration — at the outset one reaps all possible praises and earns a great deal of money as well. That is true, but for how long? — after a few months the Viennese want something new again.”
If Mozart’s fortunes looked bright during his first years in Vienna, they indeed soon turned. By 1788 Mozart was in serious debt, as attested by a series of heartrending letters to his fellow Mason, Michael Puchberg, pleading for money. In all, Puchberg lent Mozart 1,415 gulden, a significant sum. His wife Constanze’s health was suffering from the strain of repeated pregnancies, and on June 29 the Mozarts’ fourth child, Theresia, died at the age of six months.
Three days earlier Mozart had completed Symphony no. 39 in E-Flat Major. Symphony no. 40 in G Minor followed four weeks later, and Symphony no. 41 in C Major two weeks after that. They were to be his last three symphonies, and were apparently composed neither on commission, nor with any concrete plans for performance. It is possible that Mozart directed performances of the works during his travels to Prague, Dresden, Leipzig, and Berlin, undertaken in search of renewed fame and fortune outside the confines of fickle Vienna.
The three symphonies are remarkable works, widely contrasting, and together a comprehensive summary of the classical symphony. Of the three, the one that has drawn the most attention is the arresting Symphony no. 40. In 1793, two years after Mozart’s death, it was advertised by the Viennese music dealer Johann Traeg as “one of the last and most beautiful of this master.” The work was widely known and performed, and was very influential. The Mozart scholar Neal Zaslaw suggests that its essence can be heard again in Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto, and Bruckner symphonies. The slow movement is quoted by Haydn in his oratorio The Seasons. The quotation appears in the aria where winter is compared to old age, following the words “exhausted is the summer’s strength” — Haydn’s gesture a commemoration of the loss of his younger colleague as well as a reflection of the approaching end of his own career. Schubert made a copy of the Minuet and used it as a model for the G-Minor Minuet of his Fifth Symphony.
Early nineteenth-century critics already described the symphony as “romantic,” and although it is a near-perfect exemplar of the classical style, it is also a deeply personal, original, and intense work. Much has been written about its significance as a link between musical classicism and romanticism. Zaslaw describes it as “perhaps even a mournful hint at what Mozart might have composed had he lived a normal lifespan.”
“One must hear Mozart’s deep, artful, and emotion-filled Symphony in G Minor [no. 40] several times to be able to completely understand and enjoy it.”
– Allgemeine musikalische Zeitung, 1804
Tafelmusik first performed Symphony 40 in 2001 at the Klang und Raum Festival in Irsee, Germany, conducted by Bruno Weil, and again on tours of the US and Europe the following season. This season marks our third performances of the symphony here in Toronto.
Directed by Elisa Citterio
Sept 20–23, 2018
Koerner Hall, TELUS Centre
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Overture to La finta gardiniera, K.196 + 207a (1774/75) Allegro molto Andantino grazioso Allegro
Concerto for violin in D Major, K.218 (1775) Allegro Andante cantabile Rondeau: Andante grazioso – Allegro ma non troppo
Elisa Citterio, violin soloist
Concerto for bassoon in B-flat Major, K.191 (1774) Allegro Andante ma adagio Rondo: Tempo di Menuetto
Dominic Teresi, bassoon soloist
Symphony no. 40 in G Minor, K.550 (1788) Molto allegro Andante Menuetto & Trio Allegro assai
The year 1806 was particularly fruitful for Beethoven, when numerous masterpieces including the Fourth Symphony, Fourth Piano Concerto, “Rasumovsky” Quartets, and two of the Leonore overtures, were completed. Having already transformed and expanded the symphony, piano concerto, and string quartet, Beethoven finally turned his attention to the violin concerto. Although he had himself played violin and viola in Bonn, and written extensively for them in chamber music, so far he had produced only an unfinished sketch for a violin concerto in C major and the two Romances with orchestra. The occasion for the new work was a benefit concert to be given on December 23 at the Theater an der Wien by and for Franz Clement (1780–1842), a Viennese violinist and leader with whom Beethoven had been friendly for a number of years. Beethoven’s new concerto was completed only two days before the premiere, so Clement must have had formidable sight-reading abilities. Works by many other composers also appeared on the program, and between movements of the concerto Clement treated the audience to a work of his own, played on one string with the violin upside down. You will not hear such fare tonight; authenticity has its limits!
New trends in violin technique and execution were sweeping Europe, particularly from France, where Tourte developed a more powerful bow and players such as Viotti and Kreutzer espoused a robust style. Beethoven was aware of these developments, and his “Kreutzer” Sonata three years earlier embraced this dramatic approach, and even carried the subtitle “in uno stile molto concertante come d’un concerto.” But Clement was not of this avant-garde school of playing. He used the older style bow, and was noted above all for his sweet, singing sound and his flawless command of the upper registers. These lyrical qualities are perhaps what most influenced Beethoven’s violin writing in the concerto.
Standard practice in Beethoven’s time was for performers to improvise or write their own cadenzas. He did not leave one for his Violin Concerto—except for an example found in the piano transcription, involving, oddly enough, timpani—and over the years the most commonly performed cadenzas, written by the likes of Kreisler and Joachim, have become so familiar that many do not realize that they are not part of the original work. In keeping with original practice, Elisa Citterio is providing her own cadenzas.
Four simple timpani strokes launch the concerto, in classical sonata form and on a symphonic scale. Typically of Beethoven’s middle period works, a large pattern is needed to honour and elaborate upon formal traditions while featuring a soloist as well as an orchestra. Indeed, the length of the first movement is unprecedented, roughly equivalent to an entire Mozart concerto. When struck on a dissonant D-sharp by the violins, the four-note motive asserts itself not just as an introduction to the principal theme, but as a key structural element and harmonically transforming device throughout the movement. Although the violin part demands great virtuosity, the overall effect is serenity and lyricism, rather than display.
Strings are muted for the Larghetto, which unfolds like a loosely designed set of variations. As the orchestra patiently reiterates the theme in an array of instrumental colours, the violin hovers and weaves an intricate fantasy above. An abrupt orchestral fanfare followed by a brief cadenza ushers in the finale. The Rondo is based on a jaunty hunting theme that may have come from Clement, in the 6/8 meter favoured by Mozart. Beethoven avoids the danger of repetitiveness by infusing an element of sonata development and a variety of violinistic effects. At the keystone of the rondo form is an interlude in G minor where the violin and bassoon engage in a singing dialogue. In Beethoven’s time, virtuoso violinists most often preferred their own compositions, and his Violin Concerto only received sporadic performances for several decades. It was an acclaimed performance by 13-year old Joseph Joachim with Felix Mendelssohn conducting in London in 1844 that cemented the work’s reputation, and it has maintained its iconic place in the repertoire to this day.
SYMPHONY NO. 6
In the same venue almost exactly two years later, Beethoven presented his own benefit concert, or Akademie, on December 22, 1808, unveiling the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies, as well as other works. These sibling symphonies, although written concurrently, show two distinct sides of Beethoven’s character. Before hearing the opening of the Sixth Symphony, remember the dramatic and arresting start to the Fifth: its terse, four-note motto developed throughout the movement, and the work’s symbolic struggle with destiny culminating in glorious victory. Consider the “Pastoral” Symphony the antidote to the drama of the Fifth, and savour the symphony’s opening, the composer’s expression of his love of nature: “Awakening of cheerful feelings upon arrival in the countryside.” With soft dynamics, droning fifths in the bass, and simple harmonies, Beethoven invites us to relax from the outset, as if taking us by the hand and sharing his delight. The bucolic atmosphere is further enhanced by the use of constantly repeating melodic and rhythmic patterns instead of motivic development—without ever feeling monotonous—while fulfilling the architectural requirements of sonata form. Beethoven’s avowed intention was “more an expression of feeling than painting,” to distinguish this from program music conjuring specific images and events.
Beethoven’s earliest sketches for the Sixth Symphony included a fragment entitled “Murmuring of the brooks,” depicting flowing water. The muted strings, in lazy triplets, create a foundation of flowing, meandering water while broad melodies unfold in an unhurried manner. Although birdcalls have been implied throughout the movement, there is, near the end, a kind of cadenza where Beethoven specifically imitates the nightingale (flute), the quail (oboe), and the cuckoo (clarinet), all perfectly integrated into the structure. It’s as if Beethoven, despite claiming not to be interested in “painting,” wants to show—perhaps with tongue in cheek—how perfectly he could do it on a whim.
The Scherzo (“Merry gathering of country folk”) is a rustic dance complete with a village band in the trio section. Beethoven seems to poke fun at amateur country musicians: the merry oboe is elbowed out by the clarinet, while the bassoon struggles to play its three bass notes in the right place. Once the horn joins in, all tumble into a heavy contradance, growing ever louder until a trumpet restores order. The whole sequence is repeated until the coda, when ominous rumblings in the bass interrupt the revelry. A storm approaches …
“Storm. Tempest” introduces a raindrop motive in the violins, as the trembling below grows louder and rises chromatically towards F minor. Then full orchestral violence breaks out, augmented by piccolo, trombones, and timpani. Beethoven builds on a longstanding tradition of storm music; he surely found a model in Haydn’s Seasons. The reliable patterns of nature in previous movements are disrupted here with sudden dynamics and the most dissonant harmonies of the symphony. Gradually the storm subsides, as a miraculous musical rainbow emerges from the oboe, a broad tune derived from the initial raindrop motive. The bagpipe drones return, and Alpine yodelling paves the way for “Shepherds’ song: Happy and grateful feelings after the storm.” The leisurely pace of the earlier movements is restored in this serene rondo, until the coda, where the principal theme builds to what the Beethoven scholar Donald Francis Tovey describes as “a grand solemn tutti, glorious as the fields refreshed by the rain.” A muted horn recalls the alpine melody as the movement comes to a gentle close, and we reluctantly return to our urban reality.
Beethoven writing to his friend Therese Malfatti in 1810 about his forthcoming holiday in the country:
“I look forward to it with childish excitement. How delighted I shall be to ramble for a while through bushes, woods, under trees, through grass, and around rocks. For surely woods, trees, and rocks produce the echo which man desires to hear.”
Bruno Weil guest conductor Elisa Citterio violin soloist Jeanne Lamon concertmaster
May 3–6, 2018, Koerner Hall, TELUS Centre for Performance and Learning
Concerto for violin in D Major, op. 61 (1806)
Allegro ma non troppo
Symphony no. 6 in F Major, op. 68, “Pastoral” (1808)
Allegro ma non troppo Erwachen heiterer Empfindungen bei der Ankunft auf dem Lande (Awakening of joyous feelings upon arrival in the countryside)
Andante molto moto Szene am Bach (Scene by the brook)
Allegro Lustiges Zusammensein der Landleute (Merry gathering of country folk)
Allegro Gewitter. Sturm (Storm. Tempest)
Allegretto Hitengesang. Frohe und dankbare Gefühle nach dem Sturm (Shepherd’s song. Happy and thankful feelings after the storm)
In the last years of his life, Johann Sebastian Bach set about composing and compiling a series of works that would represent a summation of his life’s work. The works were written, not for specific occasions, but rather as a testimonial to his achievements, and include The Musical Offering, The Art of the Fugue, The Goldberg Variations, and the eighteen chorale preludes. The last to be composed was the Mass in B Minor. Much has been written as to why Bach, a devout Lutheran, would have chosen a setting of the Roman Catholic Ordinary as a testament to his choral work. A plausible explanation is that Bach wished to leave to posterity a great Latin mass, a centuries-old symbol of Western culture, and a musical form that had challenged generations of composers. The tradition and the architecture of the Roman mass gave him the opportunity to write a complex, highly structured work, with a formality and on a scale not permitted by the Lutheran cantatas and Passions. Like those of the other great cyclical works mentioned above, the score of the Mass in B Minor can be seen almost as a “text book.” It was, in fact, never performed in its entirety in Bach’s lifetime. Bach’s score was inherited by his son Carl Philipp Emanuel, who performed the Symbolum Nicenum at a charity concert in Hamburg in 1786. Forkel and Haydn had copies, and Beethoven made two unsuccessful attempts to procure a score. The Berlin Singakademie apparently rehearsed the work in the second decade of the nineteenth century, but the first performance of the complete work, translated into German and “modernized,” took place in Leipzig in 1859, more than a century after it was written.
One of the most astonishing features of this work is that, despite its elaborate symmetry and complexity, it is largely a compilation of works written much earlier. The first section to be composed was the Sanctus, first performed in 1724 as part of the Lutheran Christmas service. Manuscript parts of the Kyrie and the Gloria accompanied Bach’s petition in 1733 for a court title to the new Elector of Saxony in Dresden. Two new sections, the Credo and the movements from the Osanna to the end, contain large-scale reworkings of earlier works, including movements from several of Bach’s German cantatas. Only a few choruses were newly composed. It does not seem, however, that early models were chosen in order to facilitate or hasten the compositional process, a practice that was common in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries as composers struggled to meet deadlines. Bach’s reworkings were extensive and detailed: even details of text accentuation and resulting changes in articulation have been fully considered. It seems rather that Bach’s use of early material was carefully planned, so that this “text book” score could preserve a vast range of styles and genres. It is a remarkable demonstration of Bach’s great skill at reworking and restructuring existing works. It was also a testament to the tradition of the parody mass: parody is the term used to describe the extensive reuse of existing material, and this technique was widely used in mass composition during the renaissance. Parody masses form a large proportion of the masses of such composers as Gombert, Victoria, Lassus, and Palestrina. Bach’s use of the renaissance stile antico in several movements of the mass is a further nod to the long tradition of mass composition, here ingeniously coupled with movements written in high baroque style, and others in a “modern,” galant musical language.
From this diverse material Bach created a coherent and balanced work, each of the four main parts presented in a symmetrical design complete unto itself, and yet all parts intricately interconnected. This complex work, which both challenges and satisfies on countless levels, is perhaps the ultimate expression of Bach’s belief that “the aim or final goal of all music shall be nothing but the honour of God and the recreation of the Soul.”
The autograph manuscript score of the Mass in B Minor is in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin Preußischer Kulturbesitz (Mus. Ms. Bach P180), and can be viewed on their website. After Bach’s death, the score was inherited by his son, Carl Philipp Emanuel, and then by CPE’s daughter, Anna Carolina. Hans Georg Nägeli, a composer and music publisher in Zurich, acquired the score from her estate in 1805, and in 1818 announced his plans to publish the score and sell it by subscription:
ANNOUNCEMENT of the Greatest Work of Art of All Times and Nations
The incomparably great Johann Sebastian Bach has now, in our own time, been accorded a degree of recognition that makes it possible to proceed toward the publication of the work that, in content and length alone, but above all in grandeur, style, and wealth of invention, surpasses his works hitherto printed, to the same extent that these, without considering the vicissitudes of taste and the contingency of art forms, surpass those by all other composers. This is a Mass in five voices with full orchestra.
Directed by Ivars Taurins
April 5–8, 2018, Jeanne Lamon Hall, Trinity-St. Paul’s Centre
April 10, 2018, George Weston Recital Hall, Toronto Centre for the Arts
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
Mass in B Minor
Dorothee Mields soprano Laura Pudwell mezzo-soprano Charles Daniels tenor Tyler Duncan baritone
J.S. Bach: The Circle of Creation is a celebration of the genius of Johann Sebastian Bach, with an emphasis on the instrumental music which he created for his family, his students, and his colleagues. Using words and images, the performance also honours the artisans and tradespeople whose labor and expertise made the performances of Bach’s music possible, both in his own time and in the 21st century.
The project was born in June of 2014, when the members of Tafelmusik were invited to live in the city of Leipzig for two weeks as orchestra-in-residence at the city’s famous annual Bach Festival. Immersed in the atmosphere of the composer’s hometown, we were able to explore the craft of Bach’s own artisans under the guidance of our generous partners and advisors at the Bach Museum, who have provided many of the images for the project.
Since that time, the orchestra has taken the concert across Canada and the US, and to South Korea and China. Over years of this kind of touring, there is tremendous artistic growth in the performers’ understanding of the music and in a deepening rapport amongst themselves and with the actor on stage. Before we embark on a seven-city tour of Australia this May, we wanted to share with our Toronto audience the version which concertgoers on the other side of the world will experience.
The concert begins and ends with poetry about the honorary patrons of Bach’s city of Leipzig — the Roman god of music, Apollo, and his brother Mercury, who made a glorious musical instrument from the shell of a tortoise and seven strings of sheep gut.
Two millennia later, the instrument makers of the eighteenth century still used materials from the natural world — bird feathers for the quills that pluck harpsichord strings, maple and spruce for the bodies of stringed instruments, and boxwood for oboes. Sheep intestines were still used to create strings for Bach’s instruments, and brass strings were made by hand for his harpsichords.
Centuries-old methods are still used today for the making of historical strings for period instruments. Because the guild members of early modern Europe were obliged to guard their trade secrets, modern makers have had to be detectives, using forensic evidence from scraps of old strings and sources such as Diderot’s eighteenth-century encyclopedia to determine the materials and techniques that would have been used for Bach’s instruments.
The images seen in this concert portray artisans from Bach’s time as well as modern instrument builders who use historical techniques to create instruments for the Tafelmusik Baroque Orchestra. Film footage and still photographs created specially for this performance feature Toronto builder and restorer Quentin Playfair, who made a cello inspired by an instrument from the Stradivarius workshop in 1726; English harpsichord and string maker Malcolm Rose; American oboe maker Harry vas Dias; German bassoon maker Peter Wolf; Toronto bow maker Stephen Marvin; and the artisans of the Aquila String factory in Italy.
Much of the music on the program is typical of the works which would have been performed at Zimmerman’s Coffeehouse in the center of Leipzig. In 1695, the merchants’ guild of Leipzig had petitioned the town council for “street lanterns that would, as in Vienna and Berlin, burn all night to prevent incessant nocturnal crime.” On Christmas Eve of 1701, 700 oil-fuelled streetlights were installed in the city, making it safe for the first time for all citizens to walk freely at night, transforming coffeehouses into venues for recreation and music.
Bach directed an ensemble which performed on Friday nights at the cafe for which the owner, Gottfried Zimmerman, acquired a set of musical instruments. The orchestral suites BWV 1066 and 1068, the Third Brandenburg Concerto, the Trio Sonata BWV 1039, the Goldberg Variations, and the shorter solos for harpsichord, violin, or cello are typical of music which Bach would have performed with members of his family, university students, and amateur players of the ensemble known as the Collegium Musicum. Professional players from the Leipzig town band also participated in these performances.
These municipal musicians had responsibilities for outdoor performances from balconies at City Hall or one of the church steeples in town. Gloria laus et honour and Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme are well-known hymn tunes which would have been played instrumentally by these performers. They were given salaries, clothing, music, instruments, and housing for themselves and their families in the Stadtpfeiffer Gässchen (City Pipers’ Lane), which was also the traditional street for the city’s midwives.
In 1746, the Dresden official court painter Elias Gottlob Haussmann painted a portrait of the 61-year-old Bach holding, as was customary, an emblem of his art. Rather than being pictured with a keyboard, the famous virtuoso chose instead to hold a small piece of paper with three short lines of music — the first eight notes of the bass line of the Goldberg Variations with a six-part canon written in code. It was a powerful symbol of Bach’s roles as composer, performer, and teacher. Like the instrument makers who made his violins and harpsichords, Bach regarded himself as a craftsman who had inherited much from the guild musicians who were his forebears.
The concert ends with a reflection on human hands and the thousands of hours it takes to master the use of a violin bow or a chisel. In the long hours of labour, musicians, and artisans are sustained by the beauty of materials, the artistry of their tools, the guidance of inspiring mentors, and the exhilaration of exploring
the art of a great genius. We share with our audiences around the world an abiding love for the music of J.S. Bach, and it is a privilege to be able to perform it in celebration of his art and in recognition of the artisans, scholars, tradespeople, and music lovers who have made our own performing lives possible.
The Banff Centre for its generous support of film editing for the project. Film editor Jane MacRae and Alison Mackay were able to work at Banff as recipients of Paul D. Fleck fellowships.
Ivars Taurins for his beautiful rendering in calligraphy of the bass line of the Goldberg Variations.
Quentin Playfair and Sue Dickin for the creation and photography of a new cello commissioned by cellist Sandra Bohn.
Jean-Marc St. Pierre of maj productions in Montreal for permission to use his footage of the Aquila factory. We also warmly thank Paul Lewis, and Elizabeth Brown of the Discovery Channel, and Tafelmusik Board of Directors member Trina McQueen for facilitating our use of this footage.
Timothy Barrett, Director of the Iowa Centre of the Book, and filmmaker Avi Michael, creator of the film Chancery Papermaking, for the footage of paper being made as in the time of Bach.
Dr. Daniel Geiger, Microscopist and Curator of Malacology at the Museum of Natural History, Santa Monica, California for his stunning magnified images of materials from Bach’s world.
The Bach Museum, Leipzig for facilitating photography at the museum and permission to use images from the collection.
Production designer Glenn Davidson for creating the photo sequences of hands and Saxon sheep.
Conceived, programmed, and scripted by Alison Mackay
Directed by Elisa Citterio Blair WilliamsNarrator Marshall Pynkoski Stage Director Glenn DavidsonProduction Designer Raha JavanfarProjections Designer Jane MacraeFilm Editor
March 14–18, 2018, Jeanne Lamon Hall, Trinity-St. Paul’s Centre
JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH
Sinfonia to Cantata 249a
Sonata for 3 violins in C Major, after BWV 1005: I. Adagio
Orchestral suite no. 1 in C Major, BWV 1066: Ouverture
Chorale tune “Gloria laus et honor”
Orchestral suite no. 1 in C Major, BWV 1066: Bourrée & Forlane
Sinfonia in G Minor, BWV 797, for solo harpsichord
Prelude in C Major, BWV 933, for solo harpsichord
Suite no. 3 for violoncello in C Major, BWV 1009: Sarabande
Brandenburg Concerto no. 3 in G Major, BWV 1048: I. Allegro
Performances of odes on November 22, the feast day of the patron saint of music, St. Cecilia, were a regular feature of the concert season in London at the end of the seventeenth century. John Dryden’s ode, Alexander’s Feast, or the Power of Musick, was written for the occasion in 1697, set to music (now lost) by Jeremiah Clarke. From 1700 the tradition died out, but composers continued to write settings of St. Cecilia odes as concert works. Handel composed two such odes, the first being Alexander’s Feast in 1736. (The second, From Harmony, from heavenly Harmony, followed three years later). The premiere of Alexander’s Feast took place at Covent Garden on February 19, a few short weeks after Handel completed the score. Dryden’s text was adapted by Handel’s friend, the Irish playwright Newburgh Hamilton, who “took care not to take any unwarrantable liberties” with Dryden’s original.
The audience at the premiere numbered 1,300, and it was so well received than an additional eight performances were given. Handel remounted it again the following season:
Last Night Mr. Dryden’s Ode, call’d Alexander’s Feast, was performed at the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden, to a splendid Audience, where his Royal Highness the Prince and Princess of Wales were present, and seem’d to be highly entertain’d, insomuch that his Royal Highness commanded Mr. Handel’s Concerto on the Organ to be repeated.
[A London newspaper account, March 17, 1737]
The libretto describes a banquet held by Alexander the Great and his mistress Thaïs in the captured city of Persepolis. The musician Timotheus sings and plays his lyre, inciting various emotions in Alexander until he is roused to burn the city in revenge for his fallen soldiers. Cecilia arrives to turn the barbarity to a more uplifting end through her “loftier” music.
The aim of St. Cecilia odes is to celebrate music, and it is evident here in the range of orchestrations in the airs and choruses, and by the inclusion of two concertos — one for harp, representing Timotheus’ lyre, and one for organ, representing “the divine Cecilia.”
JACOB VAN EYCK We open the concerts with a set of variations for solo recorder by the early seventeenth century Dutch carillonneur and recorder player Jacob van Eyck. He was carillonneur of the Domkerk, Janiskerk, Jacobikerk, and city hall in Utrecht, and director of the city’s bellworks, spearheading refinements in the casting and tuning of bells. In 1649, the sixty-year old van Eyck was offered a salary raise “provided that he would now and then in the evening entertain the people strolling in the churchyard with the sound of his little flute.” That same year he published two volumes of variations on popular tunes for solo recorder, named Der Fluyten Lust-Hof (The Flute’s Garden of Delights), presumably drawn from what he played in the churchyard.
ANTONIO VIVALDI The Four Seasons appeared in Vivaldi’s 1725 publication of twelve violin concertos entitled Il Cimento dell’armonia e dell’inventione (Bold Experiments with Harmony and Invention). The Seasons, full of audacious experiments of every kind, were undoubtedly the inspiration for the title. The four concertos are accompanied by four sonnets, giving detailed descriptions of the programmatic elements of the music, which paint a vivid picture of life in the Italian countryside in the eighteenth century. The concertos are dazzling proof of Vivaldi’s skill as a violinist and his ingenuity and inventiveness as a composer. We offer a respite from winter this week with Vivaldi’s wonderful depiction of spring, and encourage you to follow the text of the sonnet below.
Guint’è la primavera e festosetti La salutan gl’augei con lieto canto, E i fonti allo spirar de’ zeffiretti Con dolce mormorio scorrono intanto.
Vengon’ coprendo l’aer di nero amanto E lampi, e tuoni ad annuntiarla eletti; Indi tacendo questi, gl’augellitti Tornan’ di nuovo al lor canoro incanto.
E quindi sul fiorito ameno prato Al caro mormorio di fronde e piante Dorme ’l caprar col fido can’ à lato. Di pastoral zampogna al suon festante Danzan ninfe e pastor nel tetto amato Di primavera all’apparir brillante.
Spring has come, and joyfully the birds welcome it with cheerful song, and the streams at the breath of zephyrs, flow swiftly with sweet murmurings.
But now the sky is cloaked in black, and lightning and thunder announce themselves; when they are silenced, the little birds return to fill the air with their sweet song.
Then on the pleasant flower-strewn meadow, to the gentle rustle of the leaves and branches, the goatherd rests, his faithful dog at his side. To the rustic bagpipe’s festive sound, nymphs and shepherds dance beneath the fair spring sky in all its glory
GEORG PHILIPP TELEMANN
Another prolific composer of baroque instrumental concertos was Georg Philipp Telemann. Telemann stated that he was not a fan of the purely virtuoso solo concerto, and indeed we find that most of his concertos are more “conversational” than “exhibitionist,” and that many feature more than one solo instrument. We feature two of these this week: a Concerto for recorder and bassoon, and a Concerto for 3 violins.
Telemann was an accomplished player of wind instruments, and his writing for winds is wonderfully idiomatic — well crafted and satisfying to play. The dialogue between the recorder and bassoon in the F-Major Concerto is by turns lyrical and playful. Winds are also prominent in the Quartet in G Major, which features the same instruments as the Vivaldi Concerto da camera.
The Concerto for 3 violins appears in the second volume of Telemann’s famous publication titled Musique de table, or Tafelmusik (from which we draw our name!). The title refers to the custom of entertaining guests at ceremonial meals and banquets with music. Each of the three volumes includes an orchestral suite, a concerto for multiple instruments, and a selection of chamber music. The publication was sold on subscription, and the list of subscribers is impressive, including composers, musicians, statesmen, and nobility from all over Europe.
Telemann chooses a different orchestration for each piece in the collection, and explores different styles. The Italianate Concerto for 3 violins shows the clear influence of Vivaldi. All of the music in the three volumes is full of charm, wit, and vivacity, and is designed, ultimately, to entertain.
Safe Haven is an exploration in music, words, and images of the influence of refugee populations on the culture of their adopted countries. From the beginning of human history, war, persecution, poverty, and climate crises have caused people to abandon their homes and seek asylum beyond their borders. The British poet Warsan Shire, who was born of Somali parents in Kenya, has captured the anguish of making the decision to leave one’s own country in her poem called Home:
no one leaves home unless
home is the mouth of a shark
you only run for the border
when you see the whole city running as well
your neighbours running faster than you
you have to understand
that no one puts their children in a boat
unless the water is safer than the land
Religious persecution in early modern Europe caused several waves of migration which profoundly influenced the commerce and culture of host communities. The largest diasporas resulted from the expulsion of Jews and Muslims from Spain in the late fifteenth century and the outlawing of Protestantism in late seventeenth-century France.
For almost a century, the 1598 Edict of Nantes had provided protection for Huguenots, the French protestant followers of the sixteenth-century reformer Jean Calvin. In 1685, Louis XIV revoked the edict, ordering that Protestant churches be destroyed, schools be closed, clergy be deported, and lay people be forced to convert and remain in France. Protestant men caught leaving the country would be sent to the galleys, women would be imprisoned, and children would be confiscated.
In response to these threats, hundreds of thousands of farmers, scholars, bankers, lawyers, artists, and musicians left France in secret, and because they were said to be seeking “refuge,” people began to refer to them as “refugiés,” inspiring the first use of the English term “refugee.” France’s loss of human and economic capital became the gain of Europe’s cities — by 1700, a fifth of the population of Berlin and a quarter of the population of Amsterdam were French asylum seekers. The industries manufacturing Irish linen, Swiss clocks, South African wines, and Dutch paper were founded by refugee entrepreneurs bringing their technical expertise to their new communities.
The magnificence of Louis XIV’s Versailles had already had a strong influence on Northern European taste, and the arrival of French artists and musicians in London, Amsterdam, and Berlin helped to disseminate and solidify the liking for French goods and design. In October of 1685, Frederick William of Brandenburg and Prussia issued the Edict of Potsdam — an invitation to French refugees to make their homes in Germany. Prussian diplomats in Amsterdam arranged for sea transport to Hamburg, where the exiles were met by government representatives and escorted up the Elbe River to their chosen destinations. The newcomers were granted abandoned land and given building materials with which to erect new houses or repair old ones; the original landowners were fully compensated.
At the music-loving court of Celle, refugee actors and musicians were especially welcomed by the Duke’s French wife, Éléonore Desmier D’Obreuse, herself an ardent Huguenot. The Duke and Duchess kept a French orchestra mentioned by C.P.E. Bach in his account of his father’s life and musical influences:
[In 1700, when he was fifteen] Johann Sebastian went to St. Michael’s School in Lüneburg. Here he had the opportunity to listen to a famous orchestra kept by the Duke of Celle, consisting for the most part of Frenchmen: thus he received a thorough grounding in the French taste, which in those regions was at that time something quite new.
Many of the wind players in Lully’s orchestra had been Protestants, and in exile they helped to introduce the oboe, a new French instrument, to Germany. J.S. Bach was the most important composer of baroque music featuring the oboe (his cantatas feature more solos for oboe than for any other instrument), and it is likely that he was introduced to the instrument by the French oboists at the court of the Duke and Duchess of Celle.
French refugees also played a vital part in the dissemination of the music of Louis XIV’s official court composer, Jean-Baptiste Lully. The Huguenot theatre impressario Jean-Jacques Quesnot, who had been imprisoned in Grenoble on the charge of encouraging fellow Protestants to leave France, fled to the Netherlands and recognized a potential market in the new Francophone public in the Hague and Amsterdam. He organized performances of Lully’s Armide, Thesée, and Atys, and may have been the one to send a troupe of players to perform in a highly influential first full production of a Lully opera in London, Cadmus et Hermione.
Even more influential were the French music printers who set up shop in Amsterdam and began to publish the orchestral movements from Lully’s staged works in editions which were sold all over Europe. The most prominent of the Huguenot publishers was Éstienne Roger, who left Normandy as a young man in 1685, immediately after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes. He apprenticed in the printing trade and began to publish grammars and dictionaries. He produced his first beautifully engraved music books in 1696, and by the time of his death in 1722 had published over 500 editions of works by Europe’s most famous composers.
The contract between Arcangelo Corelli and Roger concerning the publication of Corelli’s twelve concerti grossi, Opus 6, one of the most influential publications of the eighteenth century, was discovered in the Amsterdam city archives in the 1990s and reveals fascinating information about the relationship between composers and publishers.
The contract, written in French, indicates that Corelli and Roger had exchanged a number of letters about the publication and that Corelli had already sent one batch of concertos to Amsterdam. The others would follow and the entire set of twelve would be engraved and published together entirely at Roger’s expense. No money was exchanged, but it was arranged that Corelli would receive 150 free copies of the partbooks, to be sent over land and delivered to his doorstep. Roger would undertake to print an extra 150 copies to be deposited with Corelli’s Amsterdam agent until the first 150 arrived safely in Rome. Then Roger and Corelli would both be free to offer their 150 copies for sale.
Less than a year after the contract was concluded, Corelli died and the publication was gradually received by his heir, the violinist Matteo Fornari. It was possible at the time for an engraver to create four to six pages on copper plates in a week. There are 202 pages of engraved music divided among seven partbooks in the publication, which would have taken almost a year to produce. The music was sent to Rome in small batches to lessen the danger of accident or theft — probably seven bundles, each containing 150 copies of one part as it was finished. The music is so beautifully engraved that we still use copies of Roger’s editions in Tafelmusik performances today. Safe Haven ends with a joyful Allegro from the fourth concerto of the set, featuring two virtuosic solo violin parts in dialogue.
After Roger’s death, his business was taken over by his daughter Jeanne, and after her death by her sister’s husband, Michel-Charles Le Cène, who published Antonio Vivaldi’s most famous work, The Four Seasons, in 1725. Our concert about the cultural influence of Huguenot entrepreneurs, landing as it does in the January cold, is an appropriate setting for Elisa Citterio’s performance of “Winter,” part of the Four Seasons cycle which runs through our 2017/18 season.
Huguenots were not the only exiles who influenced the commerce and culture of seventeenth-century Holland. In January of 1492, Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castile had conquered Granada, ending an era of Muslim rule in the south of Spain which had lasted for seven centuries. Emboldened to the cause of Christianizing the entire peninsula, Ferdinand and Isabella issued a royal decree that ended a Jewish presence in Spain dating back to Roman times. All Jews had to convert to Christianity or leave Spain by August 2 of that year. Many submitted to an outward conversion to Christianity, and many fled to Portugal hoping for greater freedom of worship. After a few years, Portugal also turned on its Jewish population, and in 1536 the Portuguese Inquisition began to torment descendants of Jewish refugees. “Marranos,” converts who continued to practise Judaism in secret, came under increasing pressure and began to look for new homes in Italy, England, and Holland. After 1600, they were particularly welcomed in the port city of Amsterdam, where they established trading networks which greatly contributed to the prosperity of the city.
The poet João Pinto Delgado (1580–1653), who was of Spanish descent, was born in the south of Portugal and educated in Lisbon. In middle age he fled through France to Amsterdam, where he became a governor of the Talmud Torah Seminary. His autobiographical poetry, published in 1627, describes the experience of leaving Lisbon and arriving in a safe haven where Passover could be openly observed. We have set the Spanish verses from this poetry to music by the seventeenth-century Spanish composer Juan Hidalgo, who in 1633 became the official harp player to the royal chapel in Madrid.
In England, it was steadfast Catholics who were forced into exile by religious persecution. After Elizabeth I succeeded her Catholic half-sister Mary as queen of England, legislation was passed declaring the practice of Catholicism to be high treason, punishable by death. Though Catholic musicians were sometimes tolerated, the brilliant composer and keyboard virtuoso Peter Phillips felt his situation to be dangerous enough to warrant escape to the Continent. For three years he worked for Cardinal Alessandro Farnese in Rome, where he was also engaged as organist at the English Jesuit College. In 1590 he settled in Belgium and began to exert a strong influence on the school of north-European keyboard music. The Amsterdam organist Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck, whom Phillips visited in 1593, composed a set of variations on a famous pavan by Phillips; both the Phillips model and variations by Sweelinck are featured in the second half of our program.
Between the union of Poland and Lithuania in 1569 and the takeover of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth by Russia in 1768, Poland was known as a place of relative religious toleration. The Warsaw Confederation Act of 1573 was the first piece of European legislation to guarantee freedom of worship, and by 1600 about three-quarters of the world’s Jewish population lived in Poland. Catholics from Scotland and Roma families fleeing persecution in the Hapsburg Empire also found new homes there. The Roma became closely associated with musical life in Poland, performing at the royal court, at weddings, and in country inns. Georg Philipp Telemann, who for three years was in the employ of Count Erdmann II at his Polish estates, wrote about having been influenced by the music that he heard at these country inns, and while he was in Poland he notated a number of melodies which he later incorporated into orchestral compositions. The work called “Mezzetin en turc” from his “Burlesque” Suite began life as one of these tunes, called “Polish Dances” in a manuscript in Telemann’s handwriting now found in Rostock.
The development of European musical instruments is closely bound up with the cross-fertilization brought about by the movement of peoples through trade and migration. The design of the early violin in the northern Italian cities of Brescia and Cremona was influenced by Sephardic Jewish luthiers who fled to the north of Italy in the late fifteenth century. A military census from 1520 in Cremona shows Andrea Amati as an apprentice in the household of one of these instrument builders. The European lute was an offspring of the Arabic oud, which had flourished in Muslim Spain for centuries.
Today in Canada the musical scene is enriched by the presence of many players of instruments which flourished around the world during the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, providing us with exciting opportunities for cross-cultural dialogue. One of these instruments is the west African kora, a plucked instrument made from a calabash covered in hide, with a neck bearing 21 strings. The kora was played by members of distinguished bardic families in Mali, where improvised music accompanied epic narratives which were passed down from generation to generation. Our guest artist, Diely Mori Tounkara, is the member of such a family from Mali and now lives in Montreal. He and our other guests, Maryem Tollar and Naghmeh Farahmand, are enriching Canadian musical life through their performing and teaching, passing down ancient traditions to a new generation of Canadian musicians. We are honoured to share our stage with these guests.
The final section of our concert explores some of the rich cultural traditions of West Africa and Mali in particular, traditions which were unknown to the Europeans who profited from the Atlantic slave trade, believing Africans to be somehow less than fully human. By 1700, ancient trade routes had connected the communities around the Niger River with the Mediterranean for a thousand years. Caravans conveying gold and ivory used in exquisite art works in Benin and Ghana travelled north across the Sahara to the coast, and returned with tablets of salt and reams of paper for the great centres of scholarship and manuscript production in the cities of Djenée and Timbuktu. In the eighteenth century, the favoured paper for the manuscripts of Mali came from Venice and was made in the same paper mills which supplied paper to Vivaldi. These fragile sheets of paper have survived the dangers of conflict and climate to bear witness to the common humanity of all who need safety and security to fully express our shared desire for knowledge and beauty.
The long-term effects of the slave trade still play a part in the complex story of human displacement today, for the great waves of refugee migration which occurred in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries are tragically not a thing of the past. The United Nations High Commission on Refugees states that in 2017 there are 65 million people worldwide who have been forced from their homes, including 22 million official refugees who have fled from their countries. In 2016, only 189,000 refugees were resettled worldwide, 46,700 in Canada.
The stories of refugees who arrived here a generation ago reveal the tremendous contributions that they have made to the economy and culture of their new country. Thirty years ago, 155 Tamil refugees came to Canada in dire circumstances. They had been forced into lifeboats in the North Atlantic and were rescued by Newfoundland fisherman Gus Dalton. One of the boats was recently discovered by Canadian filmmaker Cyrus Sundar-Singh (photo left) and we are grateful to him for helping to tell the story with his own images and words: “The boat, which was once a reminder of fear and shame, has become a powerful symbol of hope for a better life in a new land.”