PROGRAM NOTES
Adagio
for Strings, Opus 11 (1937)
Samuel Barber was born in West Chester,
Pennsylvania, on March 9, 1910, and died in New York on 23 January 23, 1981. The first performance of the Adagio for Strings took place in New
York on November 5, 1938, with Arturo Toscanini conducting the N.B.C. Symphony
Orchestra. The Adagio for Strings is scored first and second violins, violas,
cellos, and double-basses.
Approximate
performance time is eight minutes.
Samuel
Barber’s Adagio for Strings is one of
the most familiar and beloved pieces in American concert music. The work actually exists in three
versions. Initially, it formed the
second movement of the composer’s 1936 Quartet for Strings. The following year, Barber transcribed the
work for string orchestra. In 1967,
Samuel Barber once again made an arrangement of the Adagio, this time as an Agnus
Dei, for a capella mixed chorus.
Barber
made his famous string orchestra transcription in response to a request from
Arturo Toscanini. The immortal Italian
maestro was seeking to perform new American orchestral works with his N.B.C.
Symphony Orchestra. On November 5, 1938,
Toscanini and the N.B.C. Symphony performed the world premiere of the Adagio for Strings, as well as Barber’s First
Essay for Orchestra. This concert, broadcast nationwide, did much
to raise the consciousness of American concert audiences about one of their
most talented young composers.
Since
the time of its premiere, the hauntingly beautiful Adagio for Strings has become not only a concert favorite, but a
part of our cultural landscape as well—often serving to commemorate the passing
of a dignitary, or other tragic event.
It has earned the affection of audiences and musicians alike, including Aaron
Copland, who remarked: “The sense of continuity, the steadiness of the flow,
the satisfaction of the arch that it creates from beginning to end…makes you
believe in the sincerity which he obviously put into it.”
Requiem
in D minor, K. 626 (1791) (completed, Süssmayr)
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was born in Salzburg, Austria, on
January 27, 1756, and died in Vienna, Austria, on December 5, 1791. The Requiem
is scored for solo soprano, alto, tenor and bass, mixed chorus, two basset
horns (clarinets may replace basset horns), two bassoons, two trumpets, three
trombones, timpani, organ and strings.
Approximate performance time is fifty-five minutes.
In
the early summer of 1791, Mozart received a visit at his Vienna home from “an
unknown messenger.” The individual,
acting on behalf of another who wished to remain anonymous, requested Mozart to
compose a Requiem Mass. According to
Mozart’s early biographer, Franz Xaver Niemetschek, the messenger cautioned the
composer not to try “to find out who had given the order, as it would assuredly
be in vain.” A few months later, Mozart
received another visit from the messenger, who “appeared like ghost,” and
inquired about the status of the commission.
As
Mozart’s physical condition deteriorated, he desperately attempted to complete
the Requiem. In fact, Mozart continued to work on the Requiem until almost the very moment of
his death. The horrible irony of the
situation was not lost upon the composer.
On more than one occasion, Mozart remarked that he was writing his own
Requiem. When Mozart died, just a few
minutes before 1 a.m. on December 5, 1791, the Requiem was unfinished.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was 35 years old.
Over
time, much of the Requiem’s lore and mystery
have been superseded by fact. For
example, we now know that the “unknown messenger” was representing Count Franz
Walsegg, a nobleman who resided in Lower Austria. Count Walsegg was an amateur musician who
played both the flute and cello. One of
the Count’s hobbies was to commission, anonymously, works by various prominent
composers, and then try to pass the music off as his own. The Count’s wife died on February 14,
1791. It is quite possible that Walsegg
commissioned the Requiem from Mozart
with the intention of presenting it on the first anniversary of her passing.
The
image of Mozart—deathly ill, and racing against time to complete the Requiem—certainly makes for a compelling
story. In the case of Peter Shaffer’s Amadeus (1979), it even makes for
compelling theater. But in truth, during
a considerable portion of the time Mozart was involved in the creation of the Requiem, he was in reasonably good
health and spirits.
However, by the middle or end of
October, Mozart began to feel ill.
Mozart was convinced that he had been poisoned. He told Constanze: “I know I must die…someone
has given me acqua toffana and has calculated the precise time of my death—for
which they have ordered a Requiem, it is for myself I am writing this.” Constanze, fearful that the Requiem was the cause of her husband’s
morbid thoughts, convinced him to put the work aside.
A few weeks later, Mozart told
Constanze: “Yes I see I was ill to have had such an absurd idea of having taken
poison, give me back the Requiem and I will go on with it.” But on November 20, Mozart became stricken
with the illness (perhaps, rheumatic fever) that would kill him in a few weeks’
time.
Nevertheless, Mozart continued his
work on the Requiem. On the eve of his death, Mozart sang the
music with his friends, Benedict Schack, Franz Xaver Gerl (the first Sarastro
in Mozart’s opera, Die Zauberflöte)
and Josepha Weber Hofer. However, when
the group arrived at the Lacrimosa
(“On this day full of weeping”), Mozart “began to weep violently and the score
was laid aside.”
Shortly before his passing, Mozart
spoke with his student, Franz Xaver Süssmayr, concerning the completion of the Requiem.
Constanze’s younger sister, Sophie, recalled that when she rushed back
to the house, she found Mozart speaking to Süssmayr, “explaining to him how he
thought he should finish it after his death…The last thing he did was to try to
mouth the sound of the timpani in his Requiem;
I can still hear it now.”
Constanze’s final conversation with
her husband occurred when she tried to reassure Mozart that his physician had
offered an optimistic diagnosis. Mozart
responded: “It isn’t true. I shall die,
now when I am able to take care of you and the children. Ah, now I will leave you unprovided
for.” And with those words, Mozart died.
After Mozart’s death, Constanze
entrusted Joseph Eybler with the task of completing the Requiem. Eybler was a pupil
of Johann Georg Albrechtsberger, and a composer Mozart esteemed as “a young
musician of whom it is to be regretted only that so few are his equal.” Eybler began work on the Requiem, but ultimately found that he did not have sufficient time
to devote to the project. Constanze then
approached several other composers before deciding upon Süssmayr.
Debate continues as to the specific
contributions of Mozart and Süssmayr to the Requiem. But in any event, Süssmayr’s efforts allowed
Constanze to receive the remainder of Count Walsegg’s commission fee. On December 14, 1793, Count Walsegg presented
the Requiem in Wiener-Neustadt. The subsequent revelation of Mozart’s
authorship of the work caused him no small embarrassment.
By the very
nature of its creation, Mozart’s Requiem
has inspired considerable debate—not to mention several performing
editions. And while it is fascinating to
speculate on what Mozart might have accomplished with the Requiem had he been given more time on this earth, what remains is
a work of haunting eloquence, beauty, and power. Perhaps it is only fitting that a sublime
genius, taken far too soon, would bequeath as his valedictory statement a
glorious work that, nonetheless, leaves us yearning for more.
