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73852 results in Boydell & Brewer

Page 1367 of 3693

  • 8 - From a Foreign Correspondent: The Parisian Chronicles of Alejo Carpentier

  • Edited by Barbara L. Kelly, Christopher Moore
  • Book:
    Music Criticism in France, 1918–1939
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 193-218

  • Summary

    While critical debates in the French musical press reflected the spirit of innovation that characterised Parisian musical life during the interwar years when commentators sought to assess the recent past in relation to contemporary trends, new French music and the activities of the Parisian avant-garde provided a potent model for advocacy of the progressive in Latin America, notably Cuba. Among the most influential figures asserting such advocacy was the Cuban writer Alejo Carpentier (1904–80). His music criticism of the interwar period promoted European modernism, in particular new music from Paris, not only as a means of countering the entrenched conservatism of contemporary concert life in Havana, but also as a metaphor for the struggle for political and ideological freedom that was part of his quest to engender a new Latin American identity at a time when the Cuban regime was becoming increasingly oppressive and more than pandering to creeping US imperialism. This essay explores Carpentier's music criticism of the interwar years against a background of his musical involvements and political activities, and considers how, and why, his writings about the Parisian musical milieu were intended to inform and influence the Latin American vanguardia for whom Paris was the centre of European refinement and culture.

    Although Carpentier is best known for his novels and essays exploring his seminal concept of ‘the marvellous real’, an idea that lit the fuse that led to the explosion of Latin American literature often described as ‘El boom’, he began his literary apprenticeship writing music criticism. Developing his own aesthetic ideals through his commentaries on the work of the Paris-based composers he most admired, Carpentier later drew on music both as a structural device and narrative theme in his literary writing. While El reino de este mundo (The Kingdom of this World, 1949) juxtaposes musical references to underpin confrontations between African-originated and European traditions during the Haitian Revolution, Los pasos perdidos (The Lost Steps, 1953) concerns a composer's quest for creative rediscovery on a journey in space and time to the depths of the South American jungle. Specific musical works trigger chains of involuntary memories, similar to the effect of Vinteuil's Sonata in Proust, both in Los pasos perdidos and El acoso (Manhunt, 1956); the latter, like El siglo de las luces (Explosion in a Cathedral, 1962), is also supposedly constructed according to the principles of sonata form.

  • Introduction: The Role of Criticism in Interwar Musical Culture

    • By Barbara L. Kelly, Director of Research and Professor of Musicology at the Royal Northern College of Music., Christopher Moore, Associate Professor of Musicology at the University of Ottawa.
  • Edited by Barbara L. Kelly, Christopher Moore
  • Book:
    Music Criticism in France, 1918–1939
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 1-16

  • Summary

    Music Criticism in France, 1918–1939: Authority, Advocacy, Legacy examines the aesthetic battles, discursive strategies and cultural stakes that animated and informed French music criticism during the interwar period. Drawing on a rich corpus of critical writings and archival documents, the primary goal of its twelve essays is to uncover some of the public debates that emerged around classical music at this time. As such, it provides significant new insights into the period's musical priorities and values while also highlighting some of the challenges confronting this war-bound generation. The book examines the ways in which influential critics played prominent roles in promoting the careers and defending the reputations of both young and established composers. It considers the efforts that critics took to shape the history of France's musical past. Finally, it questions how critics used their professional and social affiliations as a means of better buttressing their own aesthetic and political agendas.

    The interwar period in France is often described as problematic, more famous for the deaths of major figures including Claude Debussy, Gabriel Fauré and Camille Saint-Saëns than the achievements of its living composers. Until fairly recently it has been marginalised, in contrast to the ‘golden’ generation of Debussy and his circle on the one hand and the ‘renewal’ of French musical life with Olivier Messiaen on the other. Yet the ‘Années Folles’ are distinctive in several respects. Having inherited the pre-war musical aesthetics of Debussy and Fauré, but also confronted with the iconoclastic works of a new generation (including Les Six) who used the press to reject the aesthetics of its forebears, interwar French music critics were drawn into an acute battle over conservative and progressive musical trends. Whereas critics including Henri Collet (1885–1951), Paul Landormy (1869–1943) and Henry Prunières (1886–1942) energetically supported the works and aesthetic paradigms of the younger generations, figures such as Émile Vuillermoz (1878–1960), Léon Vallas (1879–1956), Dominique Sordet (1889–1946) and Lucien Rebatet (1903–72) frequently denounced the avant-garde and attempted to influence a musical climate for which they felt a fair measure of dissatisfaction. As a result, the period is characterised by often fraught debates around what it meant to be avant-garde and modern.

  • 3 - Free Thought and the Musician: Ernest Walker, the ‘English Hanslick’

  • Edited by Jeremy Dibble, Julian Horton
  • Book:
    British Musical Criticism and Intellectual Thought, 1850–1950
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 64-83

  • Summary

    TOGETHER with Ernest Newman and Edward Dent, Ernest Walker (1870–1949) was one of the most prolific critics of his generation. The little we know of Walker's life is contained in the somewhat sketchy, hagiographical account by his loyal disciple, Margaret Deneke, published by Oxford University Press two years after his death in 1951. A university man through and through, Walker remained wedded to the intellectual world of Oxford and Balliol College for his entire career; Balliol both shaped and nurtured his profession as a writer, commentator, composer and pianist for more than sixty years. Entering the College in 1887, he read Classics before devoting himself to musical study in the 1890s, taking his BMus (1893) and DMus (1898) degrees at the University. After his studies, he was appointed assistant organist at Balliol to the college's Director of Music, John Farmer, and became organist after Farmer's death in 1901.

    Continuing Farmer's pioneering work of establishing a Sunday Concert series at Balliol (which attracted the ire of strict Sabbatarians in Oxford), Walker raised the Concerts’ profile to a national level, took part in them and featured his own compositions in the programme. Walker held the Directorship of Music at Balliol until 1925, when he gave up the position to devote himself to composition. He resigned the organistship of the chapel in 1913, however, when he clearly underwent a major crisis of religious faith. For Walker this event proved to be of major significance, for it steered his attitudes to musicology in a new direction and shaped his views towards music and its relationship to religion with a more radical, vituperative edge.

    Together with his work as a practitioner, and his participation in the Oxford University Musical Club, Walker was also a teaching member (and for a few years Choragus) of the Music Faculty during the times of Parry, Parratt and Allen. His work, consequently, contributed in a significant way to musical life in Oxford, but more importantly to the recognition of music as an academic discipline, an independent faculty of which was founded at the University five years before his death in 1949. At this juncture Walker had contributed hundreds of articles, columns and reviews to newspapers and journals (many of them unsigned).

  • 2 - A Triumphant Old Age

  • Noble Jonathan
  • Book:
    That Jealous Demon, My Wretched Health
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    05 September 2018
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 43-66

  • Summary

    Old age is the most unexpected of all things that happen to a man Leon Trotsky, Diary in Exile,1935

    We have seen both the pathos and the tragedy of young deaths, and yet there was an extraordinary body of work from that group and the eternal question as to what might have been had they lived longer. So what happened with those who survived beyond their seventh decade? Was it all autumnal contentment? But perhaps the key question is whether some may have just laid down their pens because they ran out of ideas and, if they did, were there underlying medical reasons for that or did they just reasonably retire? In relating health to composition, old age, not least today with its anxieties about senile degeneration, is an important condition to consider. It has become a clinical entity and takes people in diverse ways.

    Life levels all men; death reveals the eminent

    George Bernard Shaw, Man and Superman, 1903

    On Haydn's seventy-sixth birthday in 1808, Antonio Salieri conducted The Creation. In the audience was a former pupil, who tearfully came forward to embrace the equally lachrymose Haydn. That pupil was Beethoven. By 1808 Haydn was the doyen of composers, to whom Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert had variously paid their obsequies. His long career as Kapellmeister to the Princes Esterházy at Eszterháza, rather than his probably loveless marriage, was the bedrock of his security. His wife, Anna Maria, was barren, to his eternal sadness, as well as being unsympathetic to music, especially Haydn's, whose manuscripts she used to roll pastry upon. He may have fathered a child with his mistress, an Italian singer, Luigia Polzelli. The Swedish composer Johan Fredrik Berwald suggested that his unhappy marriage was why he composed so much. Haydn was not only a stable personality, but he was agreeable, pragmatic and with his wits about him.

    Like other allegedly triumphant old ages, Haydn's was less easy than popular supposition might have us believe. From 1803 until his death in 1809, Haydn composed almost nothing, and Neumayr believes he was ill for his last ten years.

  • 4 - On the Oddness of Brahms’s Five-Measure Phrases

  • Edited by Scott Murphy
  • Book:
    Brahms and the Shaping of Time
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    21 May 2021
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 110-140

  • Summary

    In a letter dated August 10, 1893, Clara Schumann expresses her approval of Brahms's Rhapsody in E-flat, op. 119, no. 4 in a somewhat cryptic manner: “But now to return to the allegro, how powerful the first motif is and how original and I suppose Hungarian, owing to the five-measure phrases. It is strange, but otherwise this five-measure arrangement does not disturb me here at all—it just has to be so.” While five-measure organization is hardly a defining feature of style hongrois, Schumann's depiction of it as “strange” and demonstrative of exoticism highlights the entrenched music-theoretical postulate that irregular phrase lengths—especially odd-numbered ones—are exceptional, or even deformational.

    Despite, or maybe because of, this view, composers and theorists of Western art music have for centuries been fascinated by these irregular constructions, and have explored their use in practice. Heinrich Koch shows in Versuch einer Anleitung zur Composition (Rudolstadt and Leipzig, 1782–93) that five-measure phrases may be derived from four-measure basic phrases (by adding a one-measure extension to a four-measure phrase, for example), or may alternatively be understood as basic phrases when combining two- and three-measure incises. Nineteenth-century writers, generally more concerned about symmetry and organicism than their eighteenth-century counterparts, are rather more circumspect in their approach. For instance, while advocating the use of irregular phrases, François-Joseph Fétis nevertheless warns that five-measure phrases are “the weakest for the ear” because of the asymmetrical juxtaposition of two- and three-measure units. He mandates that five-measure phrases must be organic, not merely as a sum of disparate components, but also as one seamless construction that conceals its intrinsic asymmetry. Anton Reicha echoes this sentiment, positing that a five-measure phrase is legitimate only when it is an inevitable manifestation of the musical idea. Both theorists thus advise that five-measure phrases should be “true” rather than derived, and their inherent imbalance must be remedied by a larger sense of periodicity that arises from their repeated occurrences. In other words, as Clara Schumann says of the opening of Brahms's Rhapsody, a five-measure phrase “just has to be so.”

  • 5 - ‘Making Symphony Articulate’: Bernard Shaw's Sense of Music History

    • By Harry White, University College Dublin, and a Fellow of the Royal Irish Academy of Music.
  • Edited by Jeremy Dibble, Julian Horton
  • Book:
    British Musical Criticism and Intellectual Thought, 1850–1950
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 102-122

  • Summary

    Wagner was the literary musician par excellence … he produced his own dramatic poems, thus giving dramatic integrity to opera, and making symphony articulate. A Beethoven symphony (except for the articulate part of the ninth) expresses noble feeling, but not thought: it has moods, but no ideas. Wagner added thought and produced the music-drama.

    As a music critic, Bernard Shaw (1856–1950) was nothing if not honest in his appraisals. He was also scathing, cantankerous and wilfully given to a hectoring and didactic strain of pronouncement which made him the bete noir of Victorian musical culture and – in some respects – its most implacable adversary. Between 1876 and 1898 (when he published The Perfect Wagnerite) he produced numerous columns for the London press (especially The Star, where he wrote from February 1885 under the pseudonym Corno di Bassetto, and The World, where he wrote from May 1890 as ‘GBS’), columns which now amount to an invaluable (if idiosyncratic) record of English musical life at the close of the nineteenth century. Thereafter, as his career as a dramatist took hold and made him famous, Shaw wrote much less frequently on musical matters, but he continued to publish essays and correspondence on music (including two notable exchanges with Ernest Newman) throughout his long lifetime. His last such publication appeared nine days after his death in November 1950.

    The three stout volumes of Shaw's collected music criticism published in 1981 as Shaw's Music (and edited by his indefatigable bibliographer and scholarly advocate, Dan H. Laurence) give due notice of the formative role and abiding presence of music in Shaw's development as a writer. They also attest a striking and pervasive relationship between Shaw's perhaps unrivalled experience of British public musical life and his own convictions about musical meaning. Shaw's journalism extends from reviews of Clara Schumann's performances in London and Wagner's visits there in the 1870s to appraisals of Richard Strauss and Arnold Schoenberg shortly before and after the First World War. As late as 1923 (in his preface to the fourth edition of The Perfect Wagnerite) he was still chiding the British public because of its failure to recognize the sea-change that had occurred in English music over the course of his career.

  • Elizabeth Nevile's Wedding Entertainments: A Yorkshire Family Celebration in 1526 and its Contexts

  • Edited by Sarah Carpenter, Gordon Kipling, Meg Twycross
  • Book:
    Medieval English Theatre
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 141-157

  • Summary

    Among the papers of the Strickland-Constable family of Wassand Hall in the East Riding of Yorkshire, now lodged at the East Riding Archives and Local Studies in Beverley, is a modest little booklet measuring only 20 cm x 15 cm, of paper bound in a piece of recycled parchment, which is listed in the ERA catalogue as ‘Sir John Nevile's memoranda book. 1595’.

    The booklet, containing only twenty-eight (unnumbered) folios, in fact appears to be a compilation of memoranda and accounts made mainly for the weddings of Sir John Nevile's children in the 1520s and 1530s, prefaced by a pedigree of the family (Nevile of Chevet, West Riding) up to 1595, which occupies the first half of the booklet; the cover is marked ‘H.N.’ for Henry Nevile, the great-grandson of Sir John. It is not immediately clear how this manuscript ended up in the records of the East Riding family of Strickland-Constable, but it is likely that it passed from family to family when Rosamond Estoft, the granddaughter of this Henry Nevile's grandson Sandford Nevile, married Yarburgh Constable of Wassand (1676–1731).

    The Nevile family settled in the West Riding on the marriage of Sir John Nevile in the early sixteenth century to a West Riding heiress, the widowed Lady Tempest, née Elizabeth Bosvile, and Sir John seems to have largely rebuilt the family house at Chevet, which his wife had inherited from her own family. They are known also to have owned property at Mile End in Stepney, Middlesex, but Chevet was evidently the family seat, where it is most likely that family celebrations, including the weddings detailed in the Memoranda Book, took place.

    The manuscript contains expense accounts for food and clothes for four Nevile weddings between 1526 and 1533: those of Sir John's daughters Elizabeth (to Roger Rockley, 14 January 1526), Anne (to Thomas Drax) and Mary (to Gervase Clifton), and of his son Henry to Dorothy Dawney, as well as notes on his considerable expenses on a number of other special occasions from 1520 to 1529. All these notes are of interest for what they tell us about Sir John and his sense of the lavish output appropriate to his status, and will be discussed later. However, it is an extra note in the account of Elizabeth's wedding that is the most interesting in the context of entertainment.

  • 8 - Broken Hearts

  • Noble Jonathan
  • Book:
    That Jealous Demon, My Wretched Health
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    05 September 2018
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 219-256

  • Summary

    But his flaw'd heart

    Alack, too weak the conflict to support!

    William Shakespeare, King Lear, Act V scene iii, 1606

    Introduction

    The very phrase ‘broken hearts’ is a flexible expression for many sources of inner anguish, bereavement or disappointment, and it can also mean what it says. The heart is a mechanical pump, and pumps break. The ancients held that the heart was the seat of the soul, so a broken spirit became a broken heart. This distinction will be vital when we try to comprehend the last years of Gustav Mahler, but first let us consider the workings of this complex organ (see Fig. 3).

    The heart is made up of specialised muscle (myocardium). It is divided into two upper, low-pressure and thin-walled chambers (atria) and two lower, thick-walled and high-pressure chambers (ventricles). Huge veins bring stale blood back to the right side of the heart, which then pumps the blood through the lungs, where it is revitalised with oxygen, returning afresh to the left side. The oxygenated blood is then pumped, in systole, through the aorta, whose branches bring oxygen to all other parts of the body. If your blood pressure is 130/70 then the systolic pressure is 130 and the diastolic 70, which is a healthy reading.

    The heart is lined internally by a membrane (endocardium) and surrounded by a membranous sack (pericardium). During our embryonic development, parts of the endocardium specialise to form one-way valves between the chambers. For example, the aortic valve controls the exit from the left ventricle. Like any other big muscle the myocardium itself needs a good blood supply, and that is supplied by the coronary arteries. The heart is an electrically activated pump; accordingly a band of electrical conducting nerve tissue traverses the central septum within the heart. If it activates seventy systolic beats a minute, the pulse rate is seventy.

    So what can go wrong with these excellent arrangements? Th e answer is a lot, of which the following is a very simplifi ed summary.

  • 4 - Syphilis

  • Noble Jonathan
  • Book:
    That Jealous Demon, My Wretched Health
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    05 September 2018
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 97-124

  • Summary

    Beware the dreaded spirochaete

    Anon.

    Introduction

    The aphorism ‘Beware the dreaded spirochaete’ was wise. A spirochaete (Treponema pallidum) causes syphilis, an infection which may manifest itself in many forms. Sir Jonathan Hutchinson, the leading nineteenth- century specialist, described syphilis as ‘the great imitator’, hence the caution in judging case histories preceding the standard blood test. That test (the WR) was an antibody test introduced by Wassermann in 1905, immortalising his name. There can be both false positives and negatives. There are more recent blood tests (e.g. VDRL), which are beyond the scope of this book.

    Few diseases have been implicated more often with past composers, reflecting partly the overall incidence and ubiquity of the condition, but also the enthusiasm and sometimes carelessness with which it has been over-diagnosed retrospectively. The lists below show composers who were definitely syphilitic and those alleged by some to have possibly been so.

    Known Syphilitics

  • Schubert

  • Donizetti

  • Smetana

  • Delius

  • Wolf

  • Chabrier

    • Some Alleged Syphilitics

  • Vivaldi

  • Mozart

  • Beethoven

  • Schumann

  • Tchaikovsky

  • Duparc

  • Ravel

  • Sibelius

  • Gershwin

  • Britten

    • Syphilis is so important in musicology that a short digression into the history of this disease and its clinical pathology follows.

    A Short History of Syphilis

    A night in the arms of Venus leads to a lifetime on Mercury

    Anon.

    Traditionally, syphilis first appeared when the French army invaded Naples in 1494. This may explain its soubriquet, the French pox; it is known in France as the Italian pox. The age-old question is whether Columbus's expedition took the disease to the Americas or whether his crew brought it to Europe. Waivers described a physician in Barcelona, Dr Ruiz Diaz de Isla, who had seen Vincente Pinzon, the captain of Columbus's second ship, the Nina, avowing that he had syphilis, curiously a disease supposedly unrecognised previously in Europe. So how did he recognise it?

    Rothschild gives a definitive account of the history of syphilis. From a medical, archaeological and anthropological viewpoint, syphilis is easier than many other diseases to study retrospectively because it frequently affects the skeleton. Much is known about this disease from the Oslo study of patients with untreated syphilis over several decades. In 1999, the World Health Organization estimated there to be 12 million cases of syphilis worldwide.

  • 6 - Famous Clothiers

  • John S. Lee
  • Book:
    The Medieval Clothier
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    02 June 2021
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 226-271

  • Summary

    This chapter focuses on four famous clothier families, whose members amassed huge fortunes and left lasting legacies to their communities. Thomas Paycocke of Coggeshall in Essex, who came from a family of butchers and cloth-makers, created a magnificent house which is now a National Trust property. The Springs were three generations of clothiers, all called Thomas, whose wealth made Lavenham in Suffolk one of the richest towns in England in 1524, and who were major contributors to the rebuilding of Lavenham parish church. Father and son John Winchcombe I and II of Newbury occupied a substantial house within the town, were large-scale producers of kerseys, and were commemorated a generation later in Thomas Deloney's poem ‘Jack of Newbury’. William Stumpe set up looms in the buildings of the former abbey in Malmesbury, and gave the abbey church to become the town's parish church.

    THOMAS PAYCOCKE OF COGGESHALL

    For his beautiful house still stood in West Street, opposite the vicarage, and was the delight of all who saw it. It stands there still, and looking upon it to-day, and thinking of Thomas Paycocke who once dwelt in it, do there not come to mind the famous words of Ecclesiasticus? ‘Let us now praise famous men and our fathers that begat us …’

    Eileen Power, ‘Thomas Paycocke of Coggeshall’ (1924)

    With the pride and ostentation of a peacock, Thomas Paycocke's ornate timber-framed house at Coggeshall still catches the eye, five centuries after its construction (Plate VIII). The metaphor is apt as the family name Paycocke was variously spelt Peaycocke, Pecock, and Peacock, and this may be the species of bird carved on the exterior of his house. Indeed his merchant's mark, which also decorates the house, although described variously as a trefoil of pearls or berries, a two-stemmed clover, or an ermine tail, might, with a stretch of the imagination, be a stylised representation of peacock feathers (Plate 14). Paycocke's house has attracted generations of admirers, including Noel Buxton, who restored the property to its original timbered appearance and presented it to the National Trust in 1920.

  • 8 - Russia and Eastern Europe

  • Edited by Jeremy Dibble, Julian Horton
  • Book:
    British Musical Criticism and Intellectual Thought, 1850–1950
    Published by:
    Boydell & Brewer
    Published online:
    17 July 2019
    Print publication:
    15 June 2018, pp 174-198

  • Summary

    Empire and Nation

    PUNCTUATED by a series of military and diplomatic conflicts and set against a background of shifting strategic alliances, the reception of Russian and Eastern European music in Britain from 1850 to 1950 vividly illustrates how geopolitical concerns can impinge upon discussion of culture and the arts. In particular, the condition and legacy of empire are at the heart of the relationship between Russia and Britain, whether in the second half of the nineteenth century, or in the first half of the twentieth. Although Russia and Britain found themselves on opposite sides of the Crimean War (1853–6), they were later to become uneasy allies in the major conflicts of the twentieth century. Even when not involved in military conflict, the ideological interaction between the two countries was shaped in the long nineteenth century by territorial rivalries in Central Asia and the Far East (what historians often refer to as the ‘Great Game’), and in the twentieth by revolutionary politics (something that would eventually give rise to the so-called ‘Cold War’).

    Empire shaped the reception of the cultures of Eastern Europe too. Until 1918, many of Eastern Europe's national cultures were part of broader, multilingual and multi-ethnic entities. Poland was divided between Austria, Prussia and Russia; Bohemia, Moravia and Slovakia were subject to Austro-Hungarian rule. The South Slavonic peoples were governed either by Austro-Hungary or the Ottoman Empire, whether directly or through fealty. Even countries seldom considered part of Eastern Europe share the legacy of imperial rule. Between 1809 and 1917, Finland was a Grand Duchy of the Russian Empire, and its nineteenth- and early twentieth-century history was shaped as much by this relationship as it was by that with its Scandinavian neighbours to the west. Long subject to Ottoman rule, Greece won its independence against a backdrop of widespread European philhellenism, something that has masked its cultural affinities with other nations in the Balkans until comparatively recently.

    It is this imperial framework that makes the study of the British reception of Russian and Eastern European music such a complex topic, not least because Britain – like Russia – was itself caught between imperial and national (not to say nationalist) agendas.

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