INSPIRATIONS: FAMOUS MUSICIANS WHO TRIUMPHED OVER DISABILITY feat. Did You Know?

Today’s installment of Inspirations draws not from external sources of muse-ical influence - such as through the lives and exploits of famous monarchs or through nail-biting moments in revolutionary history – but rather from the musicians themselves.

From composers to conductors and celebrated chanteurs, to musicians and musically gifted veterans of war, this inspirational edition presents to the reader a cornucopia of malady and misery, ultimately triumphed by an indomitable sense of passion and an optimistic perspective.

Without further ado, Unraveling Musical Myths presents some of Western Classical Music’s most gifted and perseverant masters of the musical arts:


THE UNSEEN BEAUTY IN BLINDNESS:

We all know Beethoven first began to experience the symptoms auditory paracusia whilst still in his productive years – a pre-cursor to a total loss of hearing which left the composer entirely deaf by the time he expired in late March of 1827.

What few remember is that two more famous composers of iconic stature – both Johann Sebastian Bach and George Frederick Händel – both fell victim to total sensory deprivation – in the form of blindness. In fact, Bach would tragically lose his eyesight – and his life - shortly after the master of the baroque attempted to remedy his failing vision by allowing the Quack “eye surgeon” (the Chevalier John Taylor) to operate on him – twice. Taylor's questionable methods left Bach completely blind after the first “surgery.” Four months after the second ‘operation’ the composer was dead – the victim of a stroke - allegedly directly caused by the botched operation and complications experienced during a very much delayed period of healing. Shockingly, Taylor would perform the exact same procedure in 1791 on Handel…who he also blinded.

Bach and Handel aren’t the only famous icons of classical music to have been stricken with blindness. One of the modern era’s most famous musical figures to share the same affliction is a household name – even in homes whose inhabitants may be unfamiliar with the musical genre.

Crossover tenor Andrea Bocelli is slated to
perform at the 2017 Presidential Inauguration
of President-Elect Donald Trump alongside
former television vocal contest participant-
turned-recording artist Jackie Evancho.
UPDATE: As of December 19 2016, New
York Post's Page Six is reporting Bocelli to
have "pulled out" from the Inauguration due
to "backlash." [Article]

That notable figure is the Italian tenor Andrea Bocelli. About to be born into this world one 1958 eve at a hospital in Lajatico, Italy, young Bocelli would have been completely unaware of the unfolding life-and-death drama surrounding his very existence as he lay safely within the confines of his mothers womb. His doting mother would have to make the most important decision of her – and her child’s - life: suffering from an acute state of appendicitis and being treated with the application of ice at the site of inflammation, the mother Bocelli was warned by physicians that the child presently in utero would almost certainly be born bearing a congenital defect – they persisted in pressuring Ms. Bocelli to undergo an abortion procedure.

She refused.

Bocelli, who would grow up to become one of classical music’s most popular crossover artists of all time – and who was born with congenital glaucoma, leading to eventual blindness in 1970 (after he was hit in the head by a football) – famously thanked his mother during a live television performance in 2010, professing both her bravery and optimism before a crowd of his adoring fans - telling the audience:

"The doctors had to apply some ice on her stomach and when the treatments ended the doctors suggested that she abort her child.

They told her it was the best solution because the baby would be born with some disability..but the young brave wife decided not to abort, and the child was born.

That woman was my mother, and I was the child… maybe I'm partisan, but I can say that it was the right choice and I hope that this could encourage many mothers who sometimes might find themselves in difficult situations but want to save the life of their baby."

Then there is the case of the famous blind pianist who conquered 18th century musical Europe – and perhaps even the heart of a little known composer by the name of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Maria Theresia von Paradis

Her name was Maria Theresia von Paradis. She performed before such esteemed characters as King George III and the Prince of Wales, and even received tutelage from maestros Antonio Salieri, Abbé Vogler, and Vincenzo Righini (for singing).

After briefly meeting – and performing with – Herr Mozart at the premiere of the then-12 year old’s opera Bastien and Bastienne – held at the home of the noted (and sometimes reviled, depending on which 18th century notable you would have asked) physician Dr. Franz Anton Mesmer (who had developed a close relationship with the child Paradis, then only 14), a lasting friendship between the two pubescent musical wunderkinds had officially been struck.

Mesmer, who sought a hefty payday by introducing the talented young pianist to Mozart and who then attempted to “cure” Paradis of the affliction of blindness which he felt was “psychosomatic” in nature – or “dictated by the unconscious” as he called it - would be instrumental in launching the girls' meteoric rise to fame.

There remains some debate about the etiology – perhaps even the legitimacy – of young Maria Theresia’s blindness. Paradis herself would add to the rumor mill with a rather ominous portent of her own, when she claimed to experience flashbacks of some suffocating force when required to reminisce upon on the onset of her loss of eyesight.

In any event, Paradis’ blindness – alleged or real – did not deter the young virtuoso. Mozart remained an ardent admirer of the young pianist, composing a concerto for piano, pianoforte and orchestra – allegedly for Maria Theresia – in 1784, which he titled Piano Concerto No. 18 in B-flat major, KV. 456.  Listen to a performance of the concerto below, performed by the reverent Murray Perahia:




POLIO MEETS AN UNSTOPPABLE FORCE IN VIOLINIST ITZHAK PERLMAN

Israeli virtuosic sensation Itzhak Perlman – the modern era’s pre-eminent master of the violin, was destined for musical infamy – in spite of all odds that threatened to stack themselves against him...

RARELY STAGED OPERA BY GOUNOD, WITH NEVER BEFORE HEARD RECITATIVES BY SATIE TO HOLD ITS BOSTON PREMIERE FRIDAY: "LE MÉDECIN MALGRÉ LUI"

Charles Gounod

Lucky opera-goers residing in or traveling to Boston this week will have the rare opportunity to attend a production of Le médecin malgré lui (The Doctor in Spite of Himself), a 3-act opéra comique by the 19th century French composer Charles Gounod (with libretto by Jules Barbier and Michel Carré.)

Based on the 1666 play by the same name by famed playwright Molière, this comedic satire of 17th century French medicine follows the drunken exploits of an abusive wood-cutter (Sganarelle) and his vengeful wife (Martine), who hatches a plot with two brutish servants of a wealthy bourgeoisie (Géronte) to pummel the lout into accepting a new identity as a practising "physician” - forcing him in the process to work out the kinks of the unhappily betrothed daughter of Géronte (presently feigning a bout of hysteria to escape her fate), only to have their collective plans foibled when Sganarelle is offered a small fortune for the job at hand, becoming a rogue doctor 'in spite of himself.'

Gounod's opera would experience initial hesitation by the Comédie-Française (a major state theatre in France famous for hosting its own troupe of actors), who objected to the use of borrowed spoken dialogue and verse from troupe leader Molière's original play - notwithstanding the perceived slight of the memory of Molière himself, who both wrote and starred in his own production – and attempted to block all future performances of the opera.

 Le médecin malgré lui would be successfully revived in 1872 at the Opéra-Comique and would go on to travel far beyond the Parisian stage from where is first premiered (at the Théâtre Lyrique, on 15 January 1858), appearing before enthralled audiences in Hamburg, Stockholm and Warsaw.

Le médecin malgré lui, in spite of itself, would prove to be a smashing success – it would mark its 100th staging back in France from whence it was first revived - at the Opéra-Comique under maestro Sylvain Cambreling on November 25 1978. Both the opera and its composer would earn public and critical acclaim – with shouts of high praise from the likes of Igor Stravinsky, Richard Strauss and Hector Berlioz, who referenced a recent production of the opera as "Gounod is at his best!"

Russian impresario of Serge Diaghilev was so taken by Le médecin, he commissioned French composer Erik Satie to compose recitatives to replace the spoken dialogue, thereby transforming the work into an entirely sung opera in June 1923. Satie accepted the commission, and the reworked version of Gounod's opera would premiere seven months later, in Monte Carlo on January 5, 1924.

Le médecin, like so many great operas before them, would gradually fade into relative obscurity. It has rarely been performed on stage in recent years, however there have been infrequent, sporadic radio broadcasts of the opera which have been heard over the airwaves – notably by the BBC in the 1950's and on French radio in the 1970's.

The upcoming, fully-staged production by Odyssey Opera, set to premiere at Boston's Huntington Avenue Theatre this Friday, November 9th at 7:30 PM (with an encore performance being held on the 11th at 2:00 PM) promises to introduce to lucky attendees “never before heard” recitatives by Satie.

The production will feature baritone Stephen Salters (Sganarelle), mezzo-soprano Tascha Anderson (Jacqueline), tenor Piotr Buszewski (Leandre) who will be making his Boston debut, and a full orchestra and chorus conducted by Gil Rose, with stage direction by Daniel Pelzig.

Tickets can be purchased at Odysseyopera.org or by calling the number displayed at the end of the teaser shown below:

BONUS VIDEO:

Listen below to the charming sérénade “Est-on sage dans le bel âge,” from Gounod's Le médecin malgré lui, performed by tenor Michel Cadious and l'Orchestre de la RTBF, under Tony Aubin. Recorded at Brussels. 1959



- Rose.

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HISTORY MADE? ALLEGED, THIRD KNOWN ‘PHOTOGRAPH’ OF COMPOSER FRÉDÉRIC CHOPIN DISCOVERED IN “PRIVATE HOME” feat. Did You Know?

Newly discovered "daguerreotype" of Frédéric Chopin

*An important update (19 October 2017) concerning this likeness of Chopin has been issued by The Fryderyk Chopin Institute. All information detailed by Unraveling Musical Myths in the article below contains information that was presented by the same institute and the Institut Polonais as accurate at the time of posting). Click here to view the latest update. -Rose.

The Institut Polonais in Paris has announced the exciting arrival of a c.1847 potential daguerreotype featuring the likeness of famed 19th century Polish Romantic composer Frédéric Chopin, which was recently discovered by Swiss physicist and “Chopin connoisseur” Alain Kohler in what the Institute’s website claims was a “private home.”

The alleged daguerreotype – only one of three known live portraits of the composer in existence – displays a pensive, perhaps even somber–looking Chopin, and is believed to have been captured at the studio of French photographer Louis-Auguste Bisson, the very same cameraman who shot the iconic seated (and weathered-looking) portrait of the composer in 1849, just months shy of Chopin’s death in October of that year of what physicians at the time believed was consumption (tuberculosis).^{[fig. II]} That diagnosis and cause of death has since been ruled inconclusive.

The newly discovered portrait was authenticated as a true likeness of the composer following what the Institute describes as a “thorough investigation,”   co-headed by Kohler and musician Gilles Bencimon of Radio France International.

According to the Institute’s news feed, the historic discovery of a previously unknown artifact by Kohler was not an isolated incident. Back in 2015, the scientist was lauded with discovering a grand piano in Germany, which coincidentally, is also linked to Chopin - the maestro's Pleyel Grand Piano no 11265. 

The instrument is noted as having been played by Chopin himself: it was this on this very piano that the composer taught his aristocratic students from within the confines of his living room in apt #9, 80 rue Taitbout at Paris’ Square d'Orléans during the winter-spring stretch in 1844/45. It is believed Chopin may have also worked on preliminary sketches for his Sonata for cello and piano, his 65th opus, on the instrument.

View the now three-strong "photographs"* of Chopin below: 

*figs. 1 & 2 are photographic reproductions of since-lost daguerreotypes. The medium / technique used to produce the newly discovered portrait (fig.3) remains under investigation at the time of this posting, however it was presented by Kohler as a "probable" daguerreotype.

Further reading (external links):

• Institut Polonais press release (en Français)

• A history of Les Pianos Pleyel and Chopin during the 1844-45 stretch (en Français)
  
• Pleyel discovery - press (Kohler, in English; PDF)
  

• BBC's modern research and scientific perspective regarding the cause of death of Chopin (excellent read, in English) 

Chopin's Sonata for Cello in Piano in G Minor, Op. 65,  movement III (Largo); Jacqueline du Pré /Daniel Barenboim:

A (different) third photograph (alleged), said to showcase the likeness of Chopin in post-mortem repose, “surfaced” in March 2011 courtesy of Polish photographer and collector Wladyslaw Zuchowski, who claimed to have purchased the daguerreotype from the hands of a private collector in Scotland in December of that year.

According to Zuchowski, the funereal photo, which the photographer believes was shot just moments after the composer’s untimely demise at age 39 in Paris, bears an imprint of the year 1849 – the year of Chopin’s death – and the name of the aforementioned photographer Louis-Auguste Bisson.

Zuchowski’s claim of possessing what would have been the third known live capture of the composer in existence was largely debunked by photography/Chopin experts and curators later that year.
View the purported photo, and read more about the ill-fated ‘discovery’ here.

-Rose.

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A RARE OPPORTUNITY TO VIEW FOR THE FIRST TIME ON AMERICAN SOIL THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT OF DVOŘÁK'S CELLO CONCERTO IN B MINOR FOLLOWING ITS RECENT HISTORIC JOURNEY “HOME” TO NEW YORK CITY (feat. Did You Know?)

Antonín Dvořák

Visitors to the American cultural center in New York presently have the rare opportunity to view for the first time on American soil,* the celebrated Cello Concerto in B minor of 20th century Czech composer Antonín Dvořák, composed some 123 years ago from the iconic musician's U.S. home (since demolished) located in the heart of New York city at 327 East 17th Street - the very same house in which the temporary emigré composed his famous "From the New World" symphony.

Dvořák first arrived on U.S. soil on the 27th of  September 1892 following negotiations with the now defunct American National Conservatory of Music's founder and patroness Jeannette Thurber to take over the post of Director, which had begun one year earlier while the composer was still residing in Czechoslovakia.

He would begin his new position to the handsome salary of 15,000 USD (35,000 gulden) – thirty times the amount offered to him by the Conservatoire at Prague, and more than enough to ensure a lifetime of financial stability for the composer and his young family. Half of the salary was to be paid before Dvořák headed West, with the rest of the annual sum slated to be doled out in installments, with each installment scheduled to be paid and received by the composer one month in advance.

It would be toward the end of Dvořák's time in America that the now internationally celebrated composer would pen the cello concerto – moreover, it would be the last composition of the musician to have been completed in the country, and the last solo concerto he would compose.

Dvořák's 104th opus was written at the behest of the cellist Hanuš Wihan, who had repeatedly pressured Dvořák to compose a concerto for the instrument, requests that were consistently rejected. Dvořák had previously opposed the idea of a writing a solo concerto for the instrument, citing it's “nasal” high register and “mumbling bass:” (“it whinges up above, and grumbles down below.” )

Upon the completion of the work's first movement, the composer famously reflected upon his own bewilderment that he would have given in to Wihan, considering his distaste for the idea of composing such a piece for the instrument. In a letter to confidante Alois Gobl, Dvořák humorously quipped:

“I’ve just finished the first movement of a concerto for the cello!! Don’t be surprised; I was surprised myself, and I still wonder why I chose to embark upon something like this.”

It is quite likely that Dvořák had made the decision to relent following the successful run of the Cello concerto in E minor of fellow professor at the Conservatory, Victor Herbert, of which Dvořák had heard two satisfactory performances in 1894.

Hanuš Wihan would introduce
the idea of a cello concerto to
Dvořák - many of his attempts
were made in vain.

Much scandal world precipitate the premiere of Dvořák's Cello concerto in B minor prior to its debut in England on 19 March 1896. 

Antonín had wanted Wihan to perform the works' public debut as he had privately one year earlier in Lužany, however Francesco Berger, Secretary of the London Philharmonic Society, who had agreed to stage the world premiere in London, refused to postpone the concert to coincide with Wihan's downtime from touring with the Bohemian Quartet, of which the latter was contractually bound. The English cellist Leo Stern was to be hired in his stead.

A defiant Dvořák initially refused to attend the premiere, much to the “great embarrassment” and frustration of Berger. By now, word of the Czech composer's success in the USA had spread to Europe, and the news of an impending world premiere staged on English soil had led to much public anticipation. Placards and advertisements promoting the upcoming event, and of Dvořák's presence in London were abundant.

It was only at the (once more) behest of Wihan that Dvořák (again) relented. The composer agreed to supervise rehearsals with Stern in Prague until such time as Antonín felt assured of a successful performance.

By early March, all was settled, and the scheduled premiere was given the green light by the composer. Dvořák himself would conduct at the works' debut from London's Queen's Hall.

Two months following the successful premiere, Dvořák would leave New York for good – returning to Bohemia on the 27th of April, 1895.^[1]

The much valued original manuscript of Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor, presently housed at the Czech Center on New York's 321 E 73rd St., is a great boon to the city which the composer once called home. 

The preservation - or lack thereof - of historical artifacts related to the composer's tenure in the city has been a source of some conflict in the not too distant past.

A row between the Beth Israel Hospital and city's Landmarks Commission, backed by a coalition which included the President of Czechoslovakia Vaclav Havel, "Amadeus" director Miloš Forman, German conductor Kurt Masur and French-born Chinese-American cellist, Yo-Yo Ma famously ignited in the Big Apple in 1991 following the decision to redact the composers home on East 17th street from its Landmark status in order to build in its place a hospice for those suffering from AIDS.

The front facade of the since demolished
New York residence ofAntonín Dvořák,
who lived in the home from 1892-1895.

The decision to demolish the (albeit renovated) structure divided both the health and arts communities, many of whom belonging to the latter group felt themselves in a state of shock. For them, and for the Czech-American community, the home represented more than just a location in which a beloved icon composed his most celebrated works - to them, it also served as a symbol of resistance and a model of revolutionary spirit: just days after the silent attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941, a solemn ceremony was held in the home in which domestic and foreign dignitaries, in addition to esteemed members of the musical arts community (including Bruno Walter, Fritz Kreisler and Arthur Judson) had gathered to voice an impassioned stance on progression in politics.

New York's residing mayor, Fiorello LaGuardia introduced the event, invoking the spirit of Dvořák:

“[he] produced much that will live forever, and his music will be played and his name will be honored when the names of Hitler, Mussolini, and the Mikado [sic] will be found only by referring to the criminal[s] ... of history.” 

These opening remarks were followed by a powerful testament by Jan Masaryk, Foreign Minister of the Czech Government-in-Exile and son of Czechoslovakia's first President, Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk:

“We Czechoslovakians and Americans of Czechoslovakian descent swear by the memory of Dvořák that we will do everything in our power to help the new world, because by so doing we will help to compose the real 'new world symphony' of free people."

Masaryk's presence at the ceremony was no small matter: it was his father, alongside American President Woodrow Wilson who succeeded in establishing Czechoslovakia as an independent nation following WWI. Dvořák's home, and his success in America was very much symbolic of these endeavors. 

Dvořák's very presence as Director of Thurber's National Conservatory of Music - an elite institution that dared to celebrate the music of both women and African Americans was (and remains today) justly considered revolutionary for its time. His success in New York helped place Czech music (and as a result, Czechoslovakia itself) on the musical world map, and his public championing for the inclusion of "negro music" in the West effectively changed the color palette of Western classical music, and opened doors for composers of color and for the initiation of progressive, race and sex-tolerant discussion.

For Czech-Americans and fans of Dvořák, the return of the Cello Concerto to ground zero may serve as a reminder of the composer's legacy, both at home and abroad.

The manuscript will be on display at the Czech Center Gallery until November 9. It serves as the focal point of the month-long celebration at the institution of the founding of Czechoslovakia as an independent nation in 1918.^[2] 

*This will mark the first time in its history for the manuscipt to be viewed by the public. An early manuscript of the concerto made a quiet appearance in 2014 for a reserved audience of scholars and selected American cellists at the Czech Center.


Listen below to a breathtaking performance of Czech composer Antonín Dvořák's prized Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, B. 191. Cellist Jacqueline du Pré performs under Barenboim:

Did You Know?

London's Queen's Hall, where Dvořák's Cello Concerto in B minor held it's world premiere in 1896 was a forerunner of the English capital's renowned Royal Albert Hall.

It was the original home of the famous Proms concerts, and served as home base for both the BBC Symphony Orchestra and the London Philharmonic. Celebrated as the "musical centre of the Empire," it housed performances of major movers and shakers of late 19th and 20th century western classical music, including performances by Debussy, Elgar, Ravel and Richard Strauss.

The concert hall was destroyed by an incendiary bomb during WWII by German forces in an offensive strike that has become known as the London Blitz. Despite public outcry for the hall to be rebuilt, the English government declined. The annual Proms celebration would henceforth be moved to the Royal Albert Hall, with the general concert season being held at the Royal Festival Hall.

Footnotes:

^[1] A myriad of factors may have played a role in Dvořák's decision to leave the US. The composer is believed to have become homesick over his beloved Bohemia - greatly missing his children, who, with the exception of son Oskar who had traveled with Dvořák and his wife to New York, visited only on holidays.

Compounding Dvořák's already increasing anxiety was the unsettling news of the ill state of health that had befallen Josefina Kaunitzová – the composers sister-in-law and the former object of his romantic inclinations – who was in the final days of her life. Dvořák would honor the one time recipient of his courtship by inserting into the concerto a quotation from Kaunitzová's favorite song “Kéž duch můj sám” (Leave me Alone) from his Four Songs cycle (op. 82, no 1).

To make matters worse, America was bowing under the weight of its first major economic crisis to affect financial institutions (dubbed "The Panic of 1893"), the effects of which reached even the Conservatory board. As long term sponsors began to file out, so too did the remaining funds of Dvořáks salary.

In a series of letters written to confidante Emanuel Chvala in January 1895, Dvořák expressed his frustration over his situation and his yearning for more familiar ground:

“I will thank God when I am among my own people once more and perhaps sitting somewhere in the woods of Vysoka...In short, the best thing is to sit somewhere in Vysoka, it is the best place to recoup my energy, I’ll be able to rest and my happiness will be complete...We miss our children and we can’t wait to set sail again. Time goes slowly for us now, we go from day to day, counting how many of them we must strike off the calendar.”

^[2] Czechoslovakia, formerly under the clutch of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was officially proclaimed an independent entity in Prague on 28 October 1918 in the Smetana Hall of the Municipal House, to much patriotic sentiment.

 External links:

• News Article on manucript's return to New York - Radio Praha
• Archival material concerning "Dvořák House" from The New York Preservation Archive Project
• Archived article from the New York Times: "Dvorak doesn't Live Here Anymore," 7 March, 1991
• Pre-war footage of London's Queen's Hall, with post-war commentary (YouTube)
  

- Rose.  

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TRIVIA & HUMOR: Did You Know? (Fun Opera Facts part II)

It’s time for another installment of fun (and macabre) facts related to Classical music and Opera!
 

La Danse Macabre, Michael Wolgemut

From naughty schoolboys receiving their just desserts in the end, to rivaling musicians and those whose talents were a gift – or curse – from the darkest depths of hell, and the ancient Latin hymn later set to the Requiem Mass in the hope of guiding a recently deceased soul peacefully into the great beyond (the work itself being a depiction of the placement of souls on the Biblical "Last Day of Judgment") that would become associated with terror, morbid delirium and horrific respite in the coming centuries - to masterpieces composed by drunkards and drug addicts.

 
The reader is sure to find in this months’ Trivia Post something for his or her every sinful curiosity.


*Featuring grave robbers and missing body parts.

FUNNY RIVALS VS. TEMPORARY AMNESIA

A Rival throws coffee into the face of a "frenemy";
from Vulgus Brittanicus, 18th century.

There is something to be said about getting old. Nothing seems to work like it used to, even with strenuous and extensive efforts. The memory is no exception to the laws of aging. Sometimes we walk into a room and forget why we walked into it in the first place. Sometimes we lose focus mid-sentence and completely lose our train of thought. And sometimes, as in the case of megalithic late 19th (and early 20th century) romantic composer Giacomo Puccini, we forget we are in a full blown battle with our on-again, off-again “frenemy.”

It was on one very festive Christmas in the 19th century that composer Giacomo Puccini was struck by the giving spirit of the season. Thinking of his friend and frequent musical collaborator, the iconic living legend, conductor Arturo Toscanini, Puccini at once sent for a surprise gift of Panettone (a delicious Italian bread and traditional holiday gift of the era) to his ‘brother’ in music. It was only after the gift had been duly dispatched that the absent-minded composer remembered that he and the maestro were fully engaged in one of their all-too-frequent quarrels and weren’t actually supposed to even be speaking to one another!

Daunted, but not too mortified to deliver one last punch, the hapless Puccini at once telegrammed his nemesis Toscanini, declaring in the exchange his error in but five simple words:

“PANETTONE SENT BY MISTAKE. PUCCINI.”

Toscanini, the wry little devil, seized upon the opportunity with a one-two punch of his own, when he sent a return telegram to Puccini in the same vein:

“PANETTONE EATEN BY MISTAKE. TOSCANINI.”

BEETHOVEN VS. NEIGHBORS

Many a great composer had equally robust reputations that seemed to precede them in their heyday. 18-19th century German composer Ludwig van Beethoven was no exception. Even in the years prior to the famed pianists’ descent into total deafness, Beethoven was engaged in war with his landlords and neighbors, who complained about everything from the composer’s hygienic habits (he was said to have lived in near squalor, with rotting food on spoiled dishes piled up in stacks and strewn about the abode, causing ungodly stenches that would permeate through the walls and into the streets) to being unceremoniously serenaded by Beethoven’s late night practice sessions on his piano, which he would play loudly into the wee hours of the morning. He was also becoming increasingly paranoid, a symptomatic condition that would only see an increase after the composer experienced the first onset of auditory paracusia (a precursor to deafness), in the few years to come.

It was during one of those late night sessions at the piano that Beethoven roused the neighbors from their slumber when the composer flew into a rage, flipping over furniture, tapestries, carpets - and everything else in reaching distance - whilst shouting obscenities over a maid who he was sure had stolen from him his prized golden penny. That incident would go on to become a grand tale of popular folklore when it was discovered that the enraged Beethoven had been composing the Rondo e Capriccio on that very evening, just prior to his total meltdown. The locals dubbed the Rondo “Rage Over the Lost Penny,” ^[1] a delightfully comical pseudonym that is still used by fans of the temperamental composer to this day.

The Rondo (or 'Rage'):


Footnote:

^[1]"Rage Over the Lost Penny" is actually a shortened translation of a quotation which first appeared on Beethoven's "Rondo e Capriccio" autograph (manuscript), which had been auctioned off some seven months after the composer's death in November of 1827 by Diabelli & Co. 

The original quote:"Die Wuth über den verlornen Groschen, ausgetobt in einer Caprice" is translated into English as "Rage at the loss of a Groat (a penny) stormed out in a caprice (a huff)." It's authorship is unknown, however what is certain is that the scrawl was not from the hand of Beethoven (there is some evidence to suggest the afterthought may have originated from the hand of biographer and confidante to the composer Anton Schindler.

The Rondo manuscript also guarded one more secret: it would later be revealed that the work was an incomplete project. It is said Anton Diabelli (of Diabelli & Co.) himself completed the fragmented work before putting it up for auction.

MAJOR WORKS WRITTEN 'UNDER THE INFLUENCE' & MAJOR DISASTERS CAUSED BY DRINK

As we have already seen in my post on Suicides, Schizophrenia & Syphlitics, the use of drugs and drink amongst many of the most prolific composers, librettists and musicians of their day would rob from the stage and theatre many a talent well before their time (a trend that is still going strong today, most notably in the genres of pop and rock music).

Below we look at some of Western Classical Music’s most beloved compositions - works that continue to dominate the symphonic and operatic repertoire to this very day - all of which were composed ‘under the influence’.

LA SYMPHONIE FANTASTIQUE

This grandiose symphony of unrequited desire has been mentioned frequently here at unravelingmusicalmyths.blogspot.ca. The masterpiece - in particular it’s final movement - however, deserves further discussion, as it not only sets the tone for the entire work, but Berlioz’ morbid manipulation of sacred music into something one hears in their worst nightmares would go on to not only influence an entire genre of dark music in modern film, the final movement itself would personify it’s manipulateur, Hector Berlioz, as the tortured, love-crazed, slightly sadistic psychopath he was known to morph into during one of his famous self-harming episodes.

Named the “fantastical symphony” with good reason, La Symphonie Fantastique’s final and horrific ‘scene’ is best enjoyed alongside the works’ penultimate movement, "Marche au supplice" (the march to the scaffold). While the works’ fifth and final movement is set in a hellish enclave during a witches’ Sabbath, the fourth movement sets the tone for the terrifying scene to come.

Troubled French composer Hector Berlioz

In the Fantastique's fourth, the love-sick protagonist that inspired the piece (believed to be an autobiographical character), downs a large amount of Opium in an attempt to commit suicide, so distraught is he at being the object of unrequited romance. His idée fixe, much like in the composers’ real life, didn’t seem to know he was even alive from romance's perspective – and the only solution for such a miserable fortune was for the brokenhearted to paint the final brushstroke on that dismal painting, and simply..not exist. Unfortunately for the pieces’ character (again, much like the symphony’s own composer) the overdose failed to kill the lovelorn, and, as the drug’s soporific effects began to take hold of its host, the protagonist steeps in and out of a brew of lucid deliriums – which display themselves in a cruel mélange of abundant love and a morbid delusion of marching toward a scaffold – a punishment to fit the crime of homicide (the condemned becomes convinced he has slain his beloved) – with the hallucination and the movement itself finally culminating in a horrific orchestral display of it’s protagonists head, rolling off the scaffold and bouncing down the steps after being unceremoniously hacked off by the sharp blade of the guillotine.

The movement ultimus is where things really get ‘trippy’ (Berlioz was said to have composed the entire work under the influence of Opium, a drug of which he proudly propitiated).

In this movement, the protagonist finds himself in his own twisted version of hell: a Witches’ Sabbath, complete with such grotesquery as can be found in every child’s hidden-under-lock-and-key mental vault of ghosts and goblins – all of whom have arrived as guests at the protagonists’ (Berlioz’) own funeral. Amongst the witches, shades, and monsters, who are collectively engaged in a sadistic orgy, is the shade of the protagonists idée-fixe (based on Berlioz’ own, one Harriet Smithson): formerly represented in the symphony’s earlier movements by a placid, pleasant, dream-like melodic theme - now grotesquely shrieking as an ominous series of funeral bells begin to toll, and a creepishly slow moving and bastardized version (Berlioz describes it as a "burlesque parody") of the Dies Irae, a 13th century Latin hymn depicting the "Final day of Judgment" horrifically repeats itself before engaging in it’s own twisted musical orgy with the dance of the witches, probably focusing on the hymns darker themes of souls uninvited into heaven and cast into the fires of hell.

It was this movement that would inspire countless composers to come, including prolific composer and pianist Franz Liszt, who took from from Berlioz’ macabre imagination the idea of transforming the ancient Gregorian melody of the Dies Irae into something both frightening and horrifyingly sinister:

Liszt’s play on this theme was displayed most alarmingly in his gooseflesh-inducing “Totentanz” (“Dance of the Dead”):


Other composers who wrote some of their most erudite masterpieces under the influence of drink and drug include Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, who wrote the Overture for his wildly famous opera Don Giovanni completely in the throes of an alcoholic induced ‘massive hangover’, to Edward Elgar - whose highly prized “Cello Concerto” that made the likes of iconic musicians Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim household names – and whose main theme was first imagined and quickly written down on a napkin immediately upon it’s composer awakening from dental surgery!

When it came to the consumption – and over consumption – of alcohol, even conductors were thrown into the mix – it is said that Russian Composer and Pianist Sergei Rachmaninoff was so horrified by the actions of conductor Alexander Glazunov – who led the orchestra at the composers’ premiere performance of his Symphony 1 in d minor, and who performed his duties whilst completely drunk – that Rachmaninoff refused to compose his next symphony until a full decade later! Needless to say, the premiere of the 1st was a total disaster.

Apparently drink alone wasn’t enough to kill some composers straight off the bat - but when combined with an unfortunate set of fateful happenstances, it’s effects would often contribute to an early visit with the reaper:

Henry Purcell, one of 17th century England’s most famed composers, was such an advocate of drink, he dedicated a not insignificant amount of compositions entirely to his precious liquid gold in a series of bawdy drinking songs (many of them x-rated), in an ode to his much loved pastime of frequenting the town’s inns and public drinking houses - stomping grounds notorious for fellow playboys about town who enjoyed regaling - in the form of song - tales of vast and varied carnal exploits and other raucous debauchery over a pint of ale. 

Perhaps due to an honest mistake, or perhaps fed up with his late hours, Purcell’s wife is believed to have locked her husband out of their abode one particularly frigid evening, directly contributing to the composers’ ultimately fatal case of pneumonia.

PAGANINI & TARTINI’S “DANSE MACABRE”

The 18th century violinist and conman Niccolò Paganini, known for his famous virtuosic talent on the instrument wasn’t the only the musician said to have acquired his skills after a quick tango with the devil. 

Did you know?

Another musician living in the 18th century, composer Giuseppe Tartini, was also known for engaging in a danse macabre with Beelzebub.

Tartini’s most celebrated work, his Violin Sonata in G minor, was famously coined the “Devils’ Trill” after it’s composer was alleged to have experienced a ‘visit from Lucifer’ in the form of a pseudo-nightmare.

Tartini would relate the dream to the French astronomer Jérôme Lalande:

Tartini's Dream - Louis-Léopold Boilly, 1824

"One night, in the year 1713 I dreamed I had made a pact with the devil for my soul. Everything went as I wished: my new servant anticipated my every desire. Among other things, I gave him my violin to see if he could play. How great was my astonishment on hearing a sonata so wonderful and so beautiful, played with such great art and intelligence, as I had never even conceived in my boldest flights of fantasy. I felt enraptured, transported, enchanted: my breath failed me, and - I awoke. I immediately grasped my violin in order to retain, in part at least, the impression of my dream. In vain! The music which I at this time composed is indeed the best that I ever wrote, and I still call it the "Devil's Trill", but the difference between it and that which so moved me is so great that I would have destroyed my instrument and have said farewell to music forever if it had been possible for me to live without the enjoyment it affords me." 

Listen to the "Devil's Trill" Sonata:

While tales of selling one’s soul to the devil were abundant folklore well before the age of poets like Goethe, who made them famous with his epic magnum opus Faust in the beginning of the following century, the dark mystique of the violin itself dates back even further. The piercing ranges capable of the instrument had long been assumed to be a product of something unearthly (and therefore devilishly sinister) for many centuries previous across the European continent.

THE MYSTERIOUS CASE OF MISSING TEETH & FRANZ JOSEPH’S SKULL PLAYING HAYDN SEEK (Yep, I said it!)

The obsessive Anton Bruckner

It seems Anton Bruckner may not have been the only one with an (alleged) morbid fascination with the decayed body parts of composer’s past. Anton, who was present at pianist Franz Schubert’s exhumation (he famously embraced the deceased’s skull at the first opportunity he could seize - or sneak), before proclaiming Schubert ‘the master’ (poor Wagner, Bruckner had attached the same honorific to his living hero Richard backstage at an opera theatre immediately following one of the German composers’ titanic operatic productions, embarrassing the stout Wagner by falling to his hands and knees, grasping his idols hands into his own and declaring Wagner to be his “Meister”); Bruckner was also present at the exhumation of yet another ‘master’ to the obsessive composer: Ludwig van Beethoven (as previously mentioned in my post on mental health here on unravelingmusicalmyths.blogspot.ca).
 Little did Bruckner know, that in the name of science, Beethoven’s skull would have become so damaged, dissected and exchange so many hands through the coming centuries that the latest fragments of the composers’ skull were believed to have been discovered in the present century and were even curated into the Ira F. Brilliant Center for Beethoven Studies at California's San Jose State University in 2005! (This finding, unfortunately, was later debunked through vigorous and modern DNA testing nearly a decade later). The story, nonetheless stirred up great public interest and renewed admiration for the late German composer (allegedly, the skull fragments were even considered for a possible trip to the famed Christie's auction block in 2010).

The modern era, of course, still has a morbid fascination with the cadavers of musical icons past:

In July of 2012, authorities in Austria reported the graves of 19th century Classical giants Johannes Brahms and Johann Strauss II had not only been unceremoniously disturbed but also ransacked by a modern grave robber who made off, bizarrely, only with both composers’ teeth. Why a modern ‘resurrectionist’  would seek to steal from his cadaverous victims only their teeth remains unclear.

For reasons of respect to the dead, the identity of the robber will not be mentioned on unravelingmusicalmyths.blogspot.ca, however he did become known to authorities after posting a series of videos on the internet's video-sharing hub Youtube, showcasing his ‘finds’ and bragging about his stolen ‘relics.' Unfortunately for our beloved composers, the strong arm of Lady Law continues to evade the grave robber: the evidence in question (the videos depicting the body parts) were believed to have been made in 2002, making the crime itself “too old to prosecute” under current Austrian Law.

Phrenology, Princes and Police Chases (oh my).

Franz Joseph Haydn

Finally, we come to the mysterious case of Franz Joseph Haydn, the grandfather and reigning King of the Classical Era.

It was 1820 when Hungarian Prince Esterházy, Nikolaus II, issued an order for Haydn’s remains to be transferred from their burial place in Austria’s Capital of Vienna to Eisenstadt (the seat of the Eszterházy Hungarian noble family). No one was expecting (especially the Prince) what they would find upon exhuming the body and opening the coffin: there lay the skeletal remains of Joseph Haydn…minus the composers’ skull!

After much dismay and a grand amount of sleuthing, it was discovered that the skull of the composer had been lifted from the coffin under the cloak of night and the cunning hand of bribery in the name of the pseudo-science of “phrenology” – another of the many quackeries to be found in medicine of times past.

This bogus “science” was formed on the thesis that the individual characteristics of man such as personality and intelligence were directly related to the proportions and mass of the skull. Two followers of the phrenology cult were Joseph Carl Rosenbaum (who appallingly, had befriended Haydn during his lifetime) and his partner in crime, a thief named Johann Nepomuk Peter.

Haydn's ever illusive skull.

The nefarious pair had almost lost possession of the stolen relic when they fell under suspicion of authorities in the mid-19th century. On one particularly unfruitful visit to the home of Rosenbaum (which he shared with his wife), authorities found the Mrs. curled up in the fetal position on her bed. She couldn’t get up, she informed the officers, because it was “that time of the month”. In reality, it wasn’t a case of crippling cramps doing her in – the lady Rosenbaum, alerted to the presence of the police at her door, had rushed into her bedchamber, stuffing Haydn's skull under the mattress on which she now lay. "That time of the month" was a most formidable excuse by the Mrs. – the bodily functions of ladies, at the time, were considered a topic too taboo for public - or even private - discussion and doing so was considered an assault on decency. The blushing officers simply took the Rosenbaums’ wife at her word, and at once vacated the premises, empty handed, and none-the-wiser for their noble efforts.

Monetary gain did not seem to be the focus of the Rosenbaums in illegally hoarding the skull. The Prince Eszterházy, himself convinced of the couple’s guilty hidden treasure, famously offered a substantial payment to the nefarious duo in exchange for Haydn’s head, with the intent to reunite and re-bury it with it’s host. Rosenbaum did indeed accept the money and in turn offer up a skull to the Prince for reburial – just not the head Eszterházy was hoping for. Unbeknownst to Nikolaus and those attending the reburial ceremony, Joseph Haydn’s body was re-interred into the earth – complete with someone else’s head!

This baffling case of Haydn seek would not see a resolution until the mid-20th century, when, through the hands of centuries worth of inheritors (almost all belonging to the medical sector), Haydn’s skull was finally returned to it’s rightful host in 1954 – but not before a select group of admirers held for the composers’ head a public procession (featuring almost 100 automobiles). The skull had been appropriately dressed in a peony-covered urn for the occasion. 

They say "Two Heads are Better than One": 
 
To add further macabre details to this bizarre story, it is said the skull of Haydn, now peacefully resting, fully intact with it's host cadaver, was re-buried...alongside the bogus cranium, leaving the composer permanently at rest - with two skulls!

Some say the case of Haydn's traveling skull was a comically overzealous retribution of just desserts for the composer, who, as a notoriously naughty young lad was known to taunt the heads of fellow pupils with a sharp pair of scissors - once earning for himself the distinction of being expelled from school after unceremoniously hacking off a student's ponytail! 

Now that is a revenge-filled conclusion of operatic proportions, indeed.

   
Who said classical music was boring?


-Rose.

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