transfigured night

Tomorrow night (Saturday) I’m joining OSO colleagues former and current for a concert at a wonderful venue in Yakima, Washington called The Seasons.  The concert is entitled Classically Romantic, and features three blockbuster works from three different eras of music history.  The first work on the program is J.S. Bach’s magnificent and incomparable Chaconne from the Partita for Solo Violin in d minor, played by Denise Dillenbeck.  The chaconne is a baroque form in which a series of variations are made over a repeated bass line or chord progression [the fine line between the chaconne and the passacaglia remains a gray area for musicologists, at least according to this wikipedia article].  This particular chaconne is a world-encompassing piece, spanning every possible mood and emotion, as well as nearly every technical hurdle violinists of the 18th century might have expected to overcome in the process.  It is literally a cathedral of music, constructed by one performer on one instrument, one measure at a time.

The second work on the program is the String Quartet No. 1 of Peter Ilyich Tchaikovsky.  It is famous for the beautiful Andante cantabile second movement, which can stand on its own as an encore or occasional piece, but it really is a wonderful composition for string quartet that gives a more intimate view of a composer more known for huge ballet and symphonic scores that are full of color and bombast.

The final work on the program is a very early work of Arnold Schoenberg, his string sextet tone poem Verklärte Nacht (Transfigured Night), Op. 4.  Based upon the eponymous poem of Richard Dehmel concerning two lovers walking in moonlit woods and a startling revelation from one to the other, ending in acceptance and deepened commitment:

Zwei Menschen gehn durch kahlen, kalten Hain; der Mond läuft mit, sie schaun hinein. Der Mond läuft über hohe Eichen; kein Wölkchen trübt das Himmelslicht, in das die schwarzen Zacken reichen. Die Stimme eines Weibes spricht:		Two people are walking through a bare, cold wood; the moon keeps pace with them and draws their gaze. The moon moves along above tall oak trees, there is no wisp of cloud to obscure the radiance to which the black, jagged tips reach up. A woman’s voice speaks:
„Ich trag ein Kind, und nit von Dir, ich geh in Sünde neben Dir. Ich hab mich schwer an mir vergangen. Ich glaubte nicht mehr an ein Glück und hatte doch ein schwer Verlangen nach Lebensinhalt, nach Mutterglück		“I am carrying a child, and not by you. I am walking here with you in a state of sin. I have offended grievously against myself. I despaired of happiness, and yet I still felt a grievous longing for life’s fullness, for a mother’s joys
und Pflicht; da hab ich mich erfrecht, da ließ ich schaudernd mein Geschlecht von einem fremden Mann umfangen, und hab mich noch dafür gesegnet. Nun hat das Leben sich gerächt: nun bin ich Dir, o Dir, begegnet.“		and duties; and so I sinned, and so I yielded, shuddering, my sex to the embrace of a stranger, and even thought myself blessed. Now life has taken its revenge, and I have met you, met you.”
Sie geht mit ungelenkem Schritt. Sie schaut empor; der Mond läuft mit. Ihr dunkler Blick ertrinkt in Licht. Die Stimme eines Mannes spricht:		She walks on, stumbling. She looks up; the moon keeps pace. Her dark gaze drowns in light. A man’s voice speaks:
„Das Kind, das Du empfangen hast, sei Deiner Seele keine Last, o sieh, wie klar das Weltall schimmert! Es ist ein Glanz um alles her; Du treibst mit mir auf kaltem Meer, doch eine eigne Wärme flimmert von Dir in mich, von mir in Dich.		“Do not let the child you have conceived be a burden on your soul. Look, how brightly the universe shines! Splendour falls on everything around, you are voyaging with me on a cold sea, but there is the glow of an inner warmth from you in me, from me in you.
Die wird das fremde Kind verklären, Du wirst es mir, von mir gebären; Du hast den Glanz in mich gebracht, Du hast mich selbst zum Kind gemacht.“ Er faßt sie um die starken Hüften. Ihr Atem küßt sich in den Lüften. Zwei Menschen gehn durch hohe, helle Nacht.		That warmth will transfigure the stranger’s child, and you bear it me, begot by me. You have transfused me with splendour, you have made a child of me.” He puts an arm about her strong hips. Their breath embraces in the air. Two people walk on through the high, bright night.

(English translation by Mary Whittall)

It’s a sprawling work which pushes the boundaries of tonality to near their breaking point, but it’s also a staggeringly dramatic and beautiful composition, one with which all Schoenberg haters should be acquainted.  I prefer it in its original sextet version, but the orchestral version (also by Schoenberg) is quite satisfying in its own way as well.