The Voice of Children in Art Song: A Study of Six Cycles Involving a Child’s Perspective

A document submitted to the Graduate Thesis and Research Committee of the University of Cincinnati

in partial fulfillment of the degree requirements for the degree of

DOCTOR OF MUSICAL ARTS in VOICE

in the Performance Studies Division of the College-Conservatory of Music

by

Rachelle M. Woolston

BA, Brigham Young University, 2002 MM, University of Cincinnati, 2004

Committee Chair: Dr. Stephanie Schlagel, PhD Abstract

This document explores the often overlooked and undervalued song cycle repertory containing children’s themes. This genre includes music written and performed by adults that offers elements of a child’s world within the poetry. Various modes of communication are possible in songs with children’s themes, depending on whether the poet is an adult or child, whether the poet acts as an adult or child, and whether the intended audience consists of adults or children. The document compares six song cycles using each of these modes of communication.

Poems written by children are set in A Garland for Marjory Fleming by Richard Rodney Bennett and Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104 by Robert Schumann, while adult poets act as children in Theodore Chanler’s The Children and Leonard Bernstein’s I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano, and children are the poetic audience in La courte paille by

Francis Poulenc and A Charm of Lullabies by Benjamin Britten. This document uses these three modes of communication as an analytical lens through which to view the poetic and musical techniques used in creating a child’s world in song. The analysis searches for specific messages conveyed by the poets and composers and gives suggestions to performers in highlighting these childlike aspects on stage.

ii iii Acknowledgements

I would like to thank the incredible faculty and family members who made this document possible. First and foremost, my advisor Dr. Stephanie Schlagel has seen me through this process from the very beginning. She helped me to develop this project from its origins as a lecture recital in Cincinnati, and patiently worked with me through a cross-country move and the birth of my second, third, and fourth children. She has been an invaluable resource, guiding my research, helping me to organize and present my thoughts in a meaningful way, and providing excellent feedback on numerous drafts. I am extremely grateful for her expertise, encouragement, and support. I am also indebted to my readers, Professors Mary Henderson Stucky and Barbara Paver for their time they spent reviewing my document and their willingness to provide suggestions for how to improve it.

I am also thankful to my wonderful family for their unwavering support. My husband helped me find the motivation to see this project through to its completion, and spent countless hours fulfilling the household responsibilities and care of our growing family so I could make the time to research and write. I want to acknowledge my four children for serving as the inspiration for this topic of study, and for challenging me to become a better person every day. They give my life fullness and richness that I never before dreamed of obtaining. I hope to be an example to them of finishing what you start, no matter how long or difficult the process.

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS

Introduction ...... 1

Purpose ...... 3

Literature Review...... 4

Methodology ...... 7

Scope ...... 10

Chapter 1: Child Poets ...... 12

A Garland for Marjory Fleming ...... 12

Marjory Fleming ...... 13

Richard Rodney Bennett ...... 17

Analysis of A Garland for Marjory Fleming ...... 19

For Performers ...... 31

Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104 ...... 31

Elisabeth Kulmann ...... 32

Robert Schumann ...... 36

Analysis of Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104 ...... 43

For Performers ...... 58

Conclusions ...... 58

Chapter 2: Adult Poet Acting as a Child ...... 60

The Children ...... 60

Leonard Feeney ...... 61

Theodore Chanler...... 65

Analysis of The Children ...... 71

v For Performers ...... 90

I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano ...... 91

Leonard Bernstein ...... 91

Analysis of I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano ...... 97

For Performers ...... 107

Conclusions ...... 108

Chapter 3: Adult Poet Addressing a Child ...... 110

La courte paille ...... 110

Maurice Carême ...... 111

Francis Poulenc ...... 113

Analysis of La courte paille ...... 119

For Performers ...... 130

A Charm of Lullabies ...... 131

Benjamin Britten ...... 132

Analysis of A Charm of Lullabies ...... 138

For Performers ...... 154

Conclusions ...... 154

Conclusion ...... 156

Textual Characteristics...... 156

Musical Characteristics ...... 158

Modes of Communication...... 160

Messages ...... 161

Legitimacy ...... 165

vi Summary ...... 166

Bibliography ...... 168

Secondary Literature ...... 168

Poetry and Scores ...... 175

vii Introduction: Children’s Themes in Art Song

Most scholarly criticism of song cycles focuses on “serious” works that are usually earnest in nature, meriting the label of “art music.” According to Shirlee Emmons and Stanley

Sonntag, authors of the standard singers’ reference book, The Art of the Song Recital, “Musicians tend to view the song cycle as possessing certain requisite attributes—lengthiness, solemnity, and gravity.”1 However, every performing musician understands the need for music of a humorous or fun-loving nature, particularly when constructing a recital. Performers often seek for a contrasting set of art songs to balance a recital program, and music with brevity, lightheartedness, and wit fills that requirement perfectly. One such example of cheery, witty repertoire worthy of study and programming is song cycles with themes of children.

Writing music containing children’s themes is not a new phenomenon. Several composers have found childhood to be an inspiration for works involving the voice as well as all combinations of instruments. As musicologist Keith Clifton notes, “Musical depictions of the childhood experience have attracted a wide spectrum of composers, reaching an apex in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. Since such music generally makes limited technical demands and features accessible melodies, diatonic harmonies, and periodic (often ternary) formal structures, the appeal is logical.”2 Examples of such compositions include music illustrating children’s stories or nursery rhymes, such as Maurice Ravel’s Ma mere l’oye, Engelbert

Humperdinck’s Hänsel und Gretel, and Sergei Prokofiev’s Peter and the Wolf. Some large-scale works with an adult cast include parts for children to perform, such as Benjamin Britten’s War

Requiem or Alban Berg’s Wozzeck. Other compositions were written with the intent of furthering children’s education, either for children’s recital performance, as in Robert Schumann’s

1 Shirlee Emmons and Stanley Sonntag, The Art of the Song Recital (New York: Schirmer, 1979), 269. 2 Keith E. Clifton, “Beyond Childhood: Poulenc, La courte paille, and the Aural Envelope,” College Music Symposium 49 (2009): 333.

1 Liederalbum für die Jugend, or for adult performance, like Britten’s The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra. This document focuses on examples of art songs for voice and piano that are performed by adults.

Song cycles with children’s themes are defined primarily by their childlike topics, often overtly stated in their titles, such as Modest Mussorgsky’s The Nursery or Theodore Chanler’s

The Children. Subject material for these art songs may include holiday songs, songs about the outdoors, lullabies, songs about animals and birds, songs about people and their activities, songs of greeting, chants and games, nonsense songs, Mother Goose rhymes, hymns, nursery songs, and fairy tales.3 Most importantly, these songs express children’s experiences and emotions.

Though labeling this subject material as “light” may insinuate simple, unrefined music, many art songs involving children’s themes are not merely fluff. In the hands of capable poets and composers, quite complex, intricate, and delightful creations often result. These sophisticated songs are best suited for adult audiences, appealing to their nostalgia of youth and childhood, combined with their appreciation for musical subtlety and sophistication.

Crucial to the study of songs with children’s themes is the manner in which the perspectives of children are conveyed by the poet, the composer, and the performer. The poet plays a fundamental role in determining the poetic voice, choosing to write from either the perspective of a child or of an adult. This choice of perspective can be described as a “mode of communication.” The mode of communication depends on 1) whether the poet is an adult or a child, 2) whether the poet is acting as an adult or a child, and 3) whether the intended audience is made up of adults or children. Musicologist Ian Sharp categorizes these various modes of communication into eight “Routes of Musical Experience.” They are:

3 Alice G. Thorn, Music for Young Children (New York: C. Scribner’s Sons, 1929), 12–13.

2 1. Adults assume a mode of childhood to relate to children. 2. Adults retain a mode of adulthood to relate to children. 3. Adults assume a mode of childhood to relate to adults. 4. Adults retain a mode of adulthood. 5. Children retain a mode of childhood to relate to adults. 6. Children assume a mode of adulthood to relate to adults. 7. Children retain a mode of childhood to relate to children. 8. Children assume a mode of adulthood to relate to children.4

Upon determining a poem’s mode of communication, whether adult, child, or adult acting as a child, the composer shapes the work by responding to its point of view with his musical setting.

He establishes the musical tone and creates specific sounds to effectively illustrate the childlike qualities of the text. The performers then interpret the intentions of both the poet and composer in bringing the literature to life on the stage.

Purpose

There is relatively little research on the topic of children’s themes in art song, and the subject matter deserves further exploration. The purpose of this document is to study three pairs of song cycles involving a child’s perspective, whether real or manufactured. Each pair uses a different mode of communication. The cycles studied in chapter one, A Garland for Marjory

Fleming by Richard Rodney Bennett and Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104, by

Robert Schumann, have poetry written by children. Chapter two analyzes Theodore Chanler’s

The Children and Leonard Bernstein’s I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano, with poetry written by adults acting as children. Songs in which adults address children appear in chapter three’s discussion of La courte paille by Francis Poulenc and A Charm of Lullabies by

Benjamin Britten. This document utilizes these three modes of communication as an analytical lens through which to view the poetic and musical techniques used in creating a child’s world in

4 Ian Sharp, Classical Music’s Evocation of the Myth of Childhood (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 2000), 31.

3 song. These observations generate suggestions to performers of ways to in feature these childlike aspects on stage. Examining these cycles through the mode of communication reveals common themes and subtle aspects of the poetry and music, with more richness achieved by comparing pairs in the same modes of communication. By bringing attention to some works that are not widely performed, this document also hopes to benefit fellow musicians in their performing and teaching careers.

Literature Review

Musicological reference materials guided the choice of song cycles to include in this document. The Art of the Song Recital by Emmons and Sonntag contains a representative list of

“songs having in common thoughts by and about children,” 5 in a section of the book devoted to programming song cycles. The vocal literature reference book Song: A Guide to Style and

Literature by Carol Kimball has a large section with lengthy discussions of selected works by several composers organized by nationality, as well as an index of composers and selected works at the end of the book.6 Sergius Kagen’s Music for the Voice lists selected works of significant composers, organized by pre-nineteenth-century and post-nineteenth-century songs of different nationalities. The lists include vocal range and appropriate voice type, with minimal remarks.7

Both Kimball and Kagen catalog the children’s songs of prominent composers along with their more serious output. These reference materials, designed to further familiarity with various composers’ works, served as invaluable resources in choosing repertoire for this study.

5 Emmons and Sonntag, 267. 6 Carol Kimball, Song: A Guide to Style and Literature (Seattle: Pst…, 2000). 7 Sergius Kagen, Music for the Voice: A Descriptive List of Concert and Teaching Material rev. ed. (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1968).

4 Few musicological sources address specific poetic or musical criteria by which the childlike nature of text and music can be analyzed. The most comprehensive analyses exist in

Gloria Shafer’s book Origins of the Children’s Song Cycle8 and Ian Sharp’s Classical Music’s

Evocation of the Myth of Childhood.9 Shafer examines and describes the children’s song cycle repertoire, considering the textual and musical features distinctive in the genre. She concludes that the primary factor distinguishing children’s song cycles is the subject matter chosen, a statement based on Dwight E. Nofzinger’s dissertation, “A Study of Selected Song Literature for

Children.”10 In an article for Music Educators Journal, Shafer states that instead of formulating their childlike conceptions from underlying psychological approaches, “composers work from their intuitive perception of a child’s world.”11 She concludes that children’s song cycles “tend to display similar rhythms and melodies, repeated phrases, extensive musical coloring, are about subjects that employ textual imagery relevant to the child’s world and evocative of a child’s interest. These employ textual coloring such as alliteration and onomatopoeia as well.” 12 Her findings aided the search for common poetic and compositional techniques among the chosen repertoire. The present study goes beyond her work by considering the cycles in light of a child’s perspective, and by entertaining the question of what messages about children these songs convey.

Ian Sharp’s book Classical Music’s Evocation of the Myth of Childhood explores musical images of the phenomenon of childhood, analyzing both vocal and instrumental music. He divides children’s music into categories involving sources of creation and performance (children

8 Gloria Shafer, Origins of the Children’s Song Cycle as a Musical Genre with Four Case Studies and an Original Cycle (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1989). 9 Sharp. 10 Dwight E. Nofzinger, “A Study of Song Literature for Children” (EdD diss., University of Northern Colorado, 1967). 11 Gloria Shafer, “Children’s Song Cycles Are for Everyone,” Music Educators Journal 67, no. 9 (May 1981): 33. 12 Shafer, Origins of the Children’s Song Cycle, 71.

5 or adults), character (childlike or adult like), and intended audience (children or adults).13 His discussion of modes of communication serves as a foundation for this analysis, as I apply his theories to repertory he did not consider.

Biographical details concerning the poets and composers included in this study contextualize these song cycles within their lives and output. Among the biographical sources consulted were Lachlan Macbean’s Marjorie Fleming: The Story of Pet Marjorie Together With

Her Journals and Her Letters,14 John Daverio’s Robert Schumann: Herald of a “New Poetic

Age,”15 and Pierre Bernac’s Francis Poulenc: The Man and His Songs.16 These biographies pointed out relevant details in the poets’ and composers’ lives that informed their works.

Including biographical elements such as Schumann’s interest in the musical education of children, Feeney’s radio addresses regarding children and God, Bernstein’s “Young People’s

Concerts,” and Britten’s fascination with the corruption of innocence brings added meaning to the song cycles considered in this document.

Explorations of poetic and musical collections, such as Mother Raspberry by Maurice

Carême,17 We Are the Children of God by Leonard Feeney,18 and The Collected Songs of

Theodore Chanler19 aided in gaining familiarity with the poets’ and composers’ style and output.

Mention of other vocal repertoire such as Chanler’s Four Rhymes from Peacock Pie20 and

13 Sharp, 31. 14 Lachlan Macbean, Marjorie Fleming: The Story of Pet Marjorie Together With Her Journals and Her Letters (New York: G. P. Putnam’s, 1904). 15 John Daverio, Robert Schumann: Herald of a “New Poetic Age” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997). 16 Pierre Bernac, Francis Poulenc: The Man and His Songs trans. Winifred Radford (New York: W. W. Norton, 1977). 17 Maurice Carême, Mother Raspberry (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1969). 18 Leonard Feeney, We Are the Children of God (Huntington, IN.: Our Sunday Visitor, 1942). 19 Theodore Chanler, The Collected Songs of Theodore Chanler: Medium/High Voice and Piano (New York: G. Schirmer, 1994). 20 Chanler, The Collected Songs.

6 Schumann’s Mädchenlieder,21 a setting of additional poetry by Elisabeth Kulmann, reveals these composers’ continuing interests in children’s themes.

Musicological sources examining these song cycles’ melodic, harmonic, rhythmic, textural, dynamic, and formal structural content or discussing their place in the development of art song aided in the analyses. Among these sources are Rebecca Scharlene Ringer’s dissertation

“Beyond the ‘Year of Song,’ Text and Music in the Song Cycles of Robert Schumann After

1848,”22 as well as Yugo Sava Ikach’s document “A Study of Selected Songs by Leonard

Bernstein Which Reflect His Contribution to the Evolution of Art Song in America,”23 and

Annette Nicolai’s thesis “Benjamin Britten’s ‘A Charm of Lullabies’: Historical Survey,

Analysis and Performance.”24

Methodology

This document examines the poetry and music of six song cycles from the nineteenth and twentieth century that incorporate a child’s perspective. Each chapter discusses of a pair of cycles that share the same mode of communication, searching for nuances that emerge from analyzing them together. The poetic analysis focuses on such aspects as word choice, sentence structure, and recurring images or themes that contribute to the childlike quality of text. Musical techniques such as sing-song melodies or syllabic text setting are considered with reference to the composers’ individual styles to determine how they illuminate the childlike traits in the text.

Where applicable, the document includes an investigation of any personal beliefs or values about

21 Robert Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke. Serie VI: Lieder (Mainz: Schott, 2009). 22 Rebecca Scharlene Ringer, “Beyond the ‘Year of Song,’ Text and Music in the Song Cycles of Robert Schumann After 1848” (PhD diss., University of North Texas, 2007). 23 Yugo Sava Ikach, “A Study of Selected Songs by Leonard Bernstein Which Reflect His Contribution to the Evolution of Art Song in America” (DMA doc., West Virginia University, 2003). 24 Annette Nicolai, “Benjamin Britten’s ‘A Charm of Lullabies’: Historical Survey, Analysis and Performance” (MA thesis, California State University, Long Beach, 1992).

7 children that the poets and composers instill in their works. Each cycle receives an interpretation regarding how the specific mode of communication affects their musical development as well as their resulting themes or teachings. The document also offers suggestions as to what performers might do to enhance these childlike qualities and intended messages.

Chapter one considers song cycles with poetry written by children. They fit Sharp’s fifth and sixth Routes of Musical Experience because children either retain a mode of childhood or assume a mode of adulthood to relate to adults. Richard Rodney Bennett (b. 1936) composed A

Garland for Marjory Fleming in 1969. Marjory Fleming (1803–1811) wrote these texts between the ages of six and eight in 1809–1811. In them she relates her observations about various family members, friends and animals, all with a sense of youth and innocence. Robert Schumann

(1810–1856) composed Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104 in 1851, setting selected texts of child poet Elisabeth Kulmann (1808–1825), published in 1835. Elisabeth describes her life’s circumstances, complete with her childhood joys and hardships, culminating in the anticipation of her imminent death.

Both cycles’ texts come from a true child’s perspective, but at times the child poets behave in an adult manner, thus altering the mode of communication to a child acting as an adult and instigating a shift in the composers’ and performers’ responses. At times, Marjory imitates the adults surrounding her, but the bulk of her poetry remains youthful, naïve and simple, due to her death at such an early age. Bennett’s musical setting consequently focuses on illustrating her immaturity and genuine childlike nature. Elisabeth lived nearly a decade longer than Marjory, and her poetry reflects the maturation process she underwent during those formative years. A comparison of these two cycles reveals how Schumann’s setting enhances the idea of Elisabeth’s

8 growth and development, as he deliberately creates a musical portrait intended to describe this idyllic woman.

Chapter two analyzes song cycles with poetry by an adult who assumes a child’s identity, corresponding to Sharp’s third Route of Musical Experience. American composer Theodore

Chanler (1902–1961) collaborated with the American Jesuit priest Leonard Feeney (1897–1978) to create a cycle of childlike songs entitled The Children in 1945. Feeney’s poems use children as the collective narrator, describing their observations and feelings, but also including a didactic element in which the children instruct adults regarding the proper way to treat them. The cycle results in a symbolic or archetypal figure of childhood that serves to teach or set an example as opposed to imitating genuine children. American composer, conductor, and pedagogue Leonard

Bernstein (1918–1990) wrote both the text and music for I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid

Songs for Soprano in 1943. These songs are written from the point of view of a ten-year-old child named Barbara, relating her musings and opinions about science, music, and life in general.

Bernstein’s set creates a more realistic child narrator and presents a less overt agenda than

Feeney’s. Remaining much more playful and fun-loving in approach, Bernstein still includes the subtle teaching that children are people too, a yearning for legitimacy echoed in Bernstein’s personal life. Examining the two cycles together provides the opportunity to compare the different methods the poets and composers use to convey a child’s perspective, as well as the different messages presented by their songs.

Two cycles in chapter three with children as a poetic audience conclude this discussion of children’s themes in art song based on modes of communication. These cycles match Sharp’s first and second Route of Musical Experience, in which adults either assume a mode of childhood or retain a mode of adulthood to relate to children. French composer Francis Poulenc

9 (1899–1963) wrote the cycle La courte paille setting texts by Belgian poet Maurice Carême

(1899–1978) in 1960. The poetry can be analyzed from the point of view of an adult talking to a child, addressing him either in a direct way or through telling him silly or magical stories. The cycle begins with a mother keeping a nighttime vigil at her ill child’s bedside as he struggles to fall asleep. She retains a mode of adulthood in this first song, as well as the rest of the odd- numbered songs, as she calms and soothes her child with magical stories, or reflects on the world she envisions for his future. She alters her mode of communication in the even-numbered songs as she assumes a more childlike mode of communication to tell silly, nonsensical fairy tales and stories. Englishman Benjamin Britten (1913–1976) selected a diverse group of five texts each by a different British poet to create the cycle A Charm of Lullabies in 1947. Each poem is a lullaby of one sort or another, and as such, has the perspective of an adult addressing a child. The adults in the cycle always retain a mode of adulthood in their lullabies. Their themes include soothing and rocking a child to sleep, threatening a child with punishments for disobedience, and envisioning the child’s bright future. Exploring the various themes and images that the adults use in addressing children throughout both cycles illuminates how these two modes of communication evoke a consistent combination of love and tenderness, frustration, and anticipation of the future.

Scope

This document does not attempt to provide an exhaustive formal or harmonic, stylistic, or literary analysis of these song cycles. The focus remains examining childlike qualities of the texts and music, while incorporating relevant biographical details from the poets’ and composers’ lives that may have shaped their works. Though related to the topic of children’s

10 themes, this document also does not pursue any investigation of child psychology that existed during the different time periods in which these works were composed. Too broad and impractical for a study of this size, such research would nevertheless benefit the topic of art songs with children’s themes by exposing any reason or potential bias behind the messages conveyed.

Ideas for subsequent researchers who may be interested in analyzing these cycles in a psychological context might involve comparing the Bernstein and Chanler cycles, two contemporary American works created at the height of World War II, investigating how children were regarded during this Post-Freudian environment. Other avenues for study include detailed stylistic analyses of various composers’ “lighter music” (encompassing songs with children’s themes) in comparison with their more “serious” works, with an eye toward identifying compositional inconsistencies or alterations that correspond with their subject material and mode of communication.

11 Chapter 1: Child Poets

Reading a child’s own writings gives unrestricted access to their thoughts and feelings.

Such is the case in two song cycles each with poetry written by a child, Richard Rodney

Bennett’s A Garland for Marjory Fleming and Robert Schumann’s Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth

Kulmann, Op. 104. Marjory Fleming and Elisabeth Kulmann, both highly accomplished young poets, utilize their skill with words to describe their childhood experiences, ranging from family relationships to interactions with animals and thoughts on death. Composers Richard Rodney

Bennett and Robert Schumann set these children’s words to music, creating vivid portraits of their subjects. The Fleming cycle produces a snapshot of a sweet, pure pre-adolescent girl who tries to emulate her elders, often with comic results. Schumann’s setting of Kulmann’s poetry reveals an imaginative child who grows through adversity into a thoughtful, mature young woman. Using the mode of communication of a child’s perspective allows composers to emphasize the unique perceptions offered, resulting in a sense of gentle wistfulness, humor, or admiration and esteem.

A Garland for Marjory Fleming

This short cycle of five songs contains the poetry of a young girl named Marjory

Fleming, penned between her sixth and ninth birthdays. Most of Fleming’s writings reveal her innocent, precocious, fun-loving personality, as she describes the people and animals surrounding her. This quality of her narration corresponds to Ian Sharp’s fifth Route of Musical

Experience, wherein a child retains a mode of childhood to relate to adults.1 At times Fleming alters her mode of communication by acting in a more grown-up manner, imitating the adults

1 Ian Sharp, Classical Music’s Evocation of the Myth of Childhood (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 2000), 31.

12 around her. When this occurs, her poetry fits Sharp’s sixth Route of Musical Experience because she assumes a mode of adulthood to relate to adults. Bennett’s setting exposes Fleming’s youthful nature, emphasizing her affectionate, exuberant personality, while illuminating the moments where she attempts to act with maturity beyond her age. The result is a realistic portrayal of this captivating young girl.

Marjory Fleming

Marjory (sometimes mistakenly spelled “Marjorie”) Fleming was a child writer and poet, born in Kirkcaldy, Fife, Scotland in 1803. She died at the age of eight of meningitis, which had developed from the measles, and is best remembered for her diaries that she kept for the last few years of her life. As her third editor, Lachlan Macbean, put it,

her little span of life covered barely nine years. It was a brief career, and yet in those few seasons Marjorie became “The Immortal Child” of all literature. . . .” Her artless writings have been classed with the wonders of the world, though indeed she was often but a merry, inconsequent babbler, as every real child must be.2

Though she did not travel more than thirty miles from home during her lifetime, Fleming’s published journals have transported her thoughts and personality to readers across the world.

Fleming lived her short life surrounded by educated, literate people who fostered her early schooling and hearty appetite for reading. Marjory’s father, James Fleming, descended from a family of ministers and worked as a successful accountant. Her mother’s family included many prominent surgeons who moved in the cultured circles of Edinburgh.3 The Flemings lived in a three-story building above a book-seller’s shop. Her parents loved books, and instilled the

2 Lachlan Macbean, Marjorie Fleming: The Story of Pet Marjorie Together with Her Journals and Her Letters (New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 1904), 1–2. 3 Frank Sidgwick, ed., introduction to The Complete Marjory Fleming: Her Journals, Letters & Verses, by Marjory Fleming (New York: Oxford University Press, 1935), xiii.

13 same love in their children. Mr. Fleming had a well-stocked library, and when the children performed their daily chores well, he rewarded them by reading aloud extracts from the best authors. Marjory was given free access to any books she wanted to read, and she not only read them, but often memorized many long passages.4 Marjory would often sit in the drawing room and read, even before turning five years old. A hundred years after her death, Mark Twain commented on Marjory’s love of reading, saying, “this wee little child has a marvelous range of interests. She reads philosophies, novels, baby books, histories, the mighty poets—reads them with burning interest, and frankly and freely criticizes them all. . . .”5 This familiarity with a wide range of literature finds expression in her journals, as she includes various historical and literary anecdotes in her prose and poetry.

The highlight of Marjory’s short life occurred when her cousin, Isabella Keith, visited from Edinburgh in the summer of 1808 when Marjory was just five-and-a-half years old. Isabella was extremely fond of Marjory, who, in turn, practically worshipped her cousin. This warm relationship between the two girls resulted in Marjory spending most of her sixth, seventh, and eighth years away from her home, under the care of her aunt, Marianne Keith, and the tutelage of her seventeen-year-old cousin Isabella.6 Working together, Isabella instructed Marjory in a variety of subjects including French, math, history, and the Bible.7 As part of Marjory’s education, Isabella encouraged her young pupil to take more care with her handwriting, and with this in mind gave her the first of several journals in which to write whatever thoughts came into

4 Macbean, 15. 5 Mark Twain, “Marjorie Fleming, The Wonder Child,” in The Complete Essays of Mark Twain, ed. Charles Neider (Cambridge: Da Capo Press, 2000), 460. 6Sidgwick, xv. 7 Alexandra Johnson, “The Drama of Imagination: Marjory Fleming and Her Diaries,” in Infant Tongues: The Voice of the Child in Literature, eds. Elisabeth Goodenough, Mark A. Heberle, and Naomi Sokoloff (Detroit: Wayne State University Press, 1994), 87.

14 her “wise little head.”8 These journals cover nearly three years of her life, from the winter of

1808–09 to mid-summer 1811. They reveal her thoughts and reading habits, and quite often, her misbehaving. As Macbean summarizes, all her writings reveal a “fond, impulsive, affectionate creature; frank and artless in her innocence, yet unconsciously showing signs of a generous richness of nature.”9 With the unguarded nature of a child, Marjory candidly writes about her community and gives her opinions and judgments on all aspects of her life.

Marjory discloses her childlike nature through her choices of subject matter and her guileless manner of expression. She devotes numerous pages of her journal to her idol, her beloved cousin Isabell, praising her beauty and good nature. She also makes human-like descriptions of the animals in her midst, finding joy in their silly antics and sorrow in their tragedies. Void of any hidden “agenda” or underlying purpose in her writings, Marjory merely describes her experiences and surroundings, as one would only expect from such a young author.

She often strings together “ideas in amusingly random ways,”10 as evidenced in an excerpt from her first journal: “Miss Potune is very fat she pretends to be very learned she says she saw a stone that dropt from the skies, but she is a good christian.”11 Making such judgments without regard for social improprieties reveals her innocent obliviousness to tact and discretion. Her comments do not seem critical or mean-spirited, however, for she habitually describes people as

“fair” or “good Christians.” She simply has not learned to refine her observations through a socially acceptable filter.

From a technical standpoint, Marjory’s writings also reveal her immaturity, especially in her childish “forced” rhymes and inconsistent phrasing. The poetry of the entire cycle (and the

8 Macbean, 20. 9 Ibid., 134–35. 10 Christine Heppermann, “Training Wheels,” The Horn Book Magazine 80, no. 5 (2004): 536. 11 Marjory Fleming, The Complete Marjory Fleming: Her Journals, Letters & Verses, 98.

15 majority of her poetic output) consists of groupings of rhyming couplets, with no variation. Her common references to people as being “fair” and having “good hair” most likely results from a desire to find an appropriate rhyme, rather than stemming from a true observation. Multiple spelling mistakes and grammatical inconsistencies add to the mechanical flaws that indicate her youth.

There are times, however, when all children aspire to be adults, and Marjory does this in a few of her poems. Macbean describes this phenomenon, noting, “It is always interesting to watch children trying to wield the words of the adult world, much as a new apprentice wields the tradesman’s tools with a kind of amateur originality. But no one ever produced quainter effects with common English words than does our Marjorie.”12 She often includes religious terminology more suited to adult expression than that of a young child. This habit probably reflects Marjory’s strong spiritual upbringing, stimulated by the stern Calvinistic Puritanism of Scottish theology of that period.13 Marjory parrots moral lessons from her elders, such as in her journal entry stating

“if people do not check their passion when they are young it will grow worse and worse when they are old so that nobody will love them or obey them.”14 Such instances of moralizing and acting in an adult manner can be found in the song cycle as well.

Shortly after Marjory’s death, Isabella Keith delivered Marjory’s manuscripts to her mother, but they remained unknown for nearly half a century. Then in 1858, a London journalist and opera librettist named H. B. Farnie published the first booklet about the young author entitled “Pet Marjorie: A Story of Child Life Fifty Years Ago,” and quoted approximately an eighth of her prose and a quarter of her poetry.15 Thus began a series of more complete

12 Macbean, 42. 13 Ibid., 12. 14 Fleming, 129. 15 Sidgwick, xvii.

16 publications of Marjory’s words, several with misspellings and omissions, along with the growing legend of her close friendship with Sir Walter Scott, detailing how she would recite

Shakespeare on his knee. Her second editor, Dr. John Brown, included as a preface to her writings a vivid sketch of Scott coming to the Fleming household nearly every day, shouting for his friend Marjory. Brown recounts, “In a moment a bright, eager child of seven was in his arms, and he was kissing her all over.”16 This delightful story brought fame to Marjory’s name, but their distant family connection (Scott was Marjory’s aunt’s husband’s first cousin’s son)17 as well as a lack of mentioning each other in their journals, suggests more likely a mere possible meeting at a family gathering.

Regardless of whether she had strong associations with fame during her lifetime, little

Marjory Fleming has captivated the hearts and minds of men and women over the past two hundred years who revel in witnessing “a child literally and figuratively finding her voice” through her words.18 Her words clearly affected Bennett enough to choose to set them in this song cycle, providing another avenue for audiences to come to know and love this remarkable young girl.

Richard Rodney Bennett

Knighted in 1998 for his services to music, Sir Richard Rodney Bennett is a versatile modern musician, equally well-known for his classical and popular styles of composition. His talents and accomplishments had their origins in the musical atmosphere of his home. Bennett’s father wrote children’s books and lyrics for songs, some of which were set by English composer

Eric Coates. Bennett’s mother studied composition with Gustav Holst as a young woman, and

16 John Brown, Rab and His Friends (Philadelphia: Henry Altemus, 1863), 55. 17 Sidgwick, xviii. 18 Johnson, 91.

17 specialized in composing lyrical chamber music influenced by Claude Debussy and Maurice

Ravel in the early 1920s. After marrying Bennett’s father she worked as a music reviewer and accompanist.19 With such an artistically talented family, Bennett’s musical skills were naturally cultivated at a young age, and he began composing as a child. He grew up listening to contemporary early twentieth-century English music as well as popular show tunes, eventually becoming interested in avant-garde music. After studying at the Royal Academy of Music for three years, Bennett received a scholarship from the French government to study with Pierre

Boulez from 1957 to 1959 in Paris.20 His compositional style never quite took on the complex manner of that of Boulez, but according to commentator Anthony Burton, Bennett retained elements of “a neo-Romantic serialism closer to Berg than Webern.”21

Bennett used this distinctive compositional style in his most famous opera, The Mines of

Sulphur, in 1963. Though he abandoned writing opera after 1970, Bennett continues to compose in many other genres, including orchestral and choral works, instrumental solos, song cycles, and film scores, bringing his melodic gift and ability to powerfully create a mood to them all.22 His most famous film score, Murder on the Orient Express earned him an Academy Award nomination in 1974.

Throughout his career Bennett’s style evolved from serialist to more of a crossover or jazz style. Beginning in the 1990s he developed a solo cabaret-style show with himself as pianist and singer.23 Earlier in his career he favored French coloristic harmonies, but now he writes

19 Stewart Craggs, Richard Rodney Bennett: A Bio-bibliography, Bio-bibliographies in Music (New York: Greenwood Press, 2002), 3. 20 Susan Bradshaw, “Bennett, Sir Richard Rodney,” Oxford Music Online, http://www.oxfordmusiconline.com:80/subscriber/article/grove/music/02705 (accessed March 26, 2012). 21 Anthony Burton, “Richard Rodney Bennett,” Chester Music Novello Co, 44 (2005), http://www.chesternovello.com/Default.aspx?TabId=2431&State_2905=2&composerId_2905=100# (accessed March 31, 2012). 22 Ibid. 23 Bradshaw.

18 freely tonal works, characterized by extensive chromaticism, sophisticated simplicity, or soaring lyricism, appealing more to the general public.24 His Garland for Marjory Fleming cycle, written in 1969, fits chronologically into his serialist compositional time, but stylistically it belongs to his later, tonal style, while still retaining elements of rhythmic complexity and extensive use of chromaticism.

Perhaps because of his father’s vocation as a children’s author, Bennett has chosen the subject of children for several of his compositions. He has written at least fifteen works intended for children to perform. Among these are an opera for young people entitled All the King’s Men in 1968, many songs, solo piano works, as well as solo instrumental, chamber and orchestral compositions. Bennett wrote a group of songs for children’s performance to accompany the narrated story The Midnight Thief, for the televised BBC series “Making Music.” He also arranged several nursery songs for the Oxford Nursery Song Book in 1963.25 Most recently, his song cycle of nursery rhymes, Songs Before Sleep, composed for baritone and piano in 2002, resembles the Marjory Fleming cycle as it is a sophisticated piece intended for adults to perform.

Analysis of A Garland for Marjory Fleming

A Garland for Marjory Fleming consists of five short songs recounting Marjory’s family and childhood surroundings, and lasts approximately nine minutes in performance. “In Isas Bed” begins the set, depicting Marjory’s admiration for her favorite cousin Isabella. “A Melancholy

Lay” follows, in which Marjory describes the death of three turkeys, presumably killed for the family’s food. The third song, “On Jessy Watsons Elopement” expresses Marjory’s astonishment and dismay at the folly of such an improper deed. “Sweet Isabell” follows, with Marjory

24 Burton. 25 Craggs, 96–104.

19 extolling her cousin’s virtues in contrast to the flawed Jessy Watson. “Sonnet on a Monkey” finishes the cycle with a rousing poetic depiction of her aunt’s pet.

From the collection of poems at his disposal, Bennett chose five that clearly outlined

Marjory’s personality: her love for her cousin, her humorous observations of animals, and her attempts at putting on adult airs in chastising an older girl’s choice of marriage. Bennett includes a note in the title page of the cycle, stating that the original spelling has been retained except where it would affect the correct pronunciation of the words: “christain,” “Etenity,” etc.26

Preserving her childlike misspellings demonstrates his desire to allow Marjory to present her authentic self with minimal alterations. Bennett recognized that the power of her diaries lay in witnessing a child in the process of self-expression, “while resisting the stuttering corrections of self-consciousness.”27 Clearly, Bennett’s interests lay in creating a true rendering of this gifted and unintentionally funny young girl. As a whole, the poems create a sketch of an innocent, precocious child making observations about her world.

In the first song, “In Isas Bed,” Marjory outlines their sleeping arrangements, describing how she lay at the foot of the bed in order to read Arabian Nights, consequently disturbing Isa’s rest. As Marjory herself observed, “. . . I disturbed her repose at night by contunial [sic] figting and kicking but I was very contunialy [sic] at work reading the Arabin Nights entertainments which I could not have done had I slept at the top.”28 Marjory knows she should not bother her cousin, and says “of my follies [I] am repented.” The obviously strained rhyme of “lilys” with

“pillies” (pillows) and “lie” with “luxury” create a humorous effect, exposing this young poet’s unintentional wit.

26 Richard Rodney Bennett, A Garland for Marjory Fleming: Five Songs for Soprano and Piano, (London: Novello, 1986), i. 27Johnson, 85. 28 Fleming, 24.

20 I love in Isas bed to lie O such a joy and luxury The bottom of the bed I sleep And with great care I myself keep Oft I embrace her feet of lillys But she has gotton all the pillies.

Her neck I never can embrace But I do hug her feet in place But I am sure I am contented And of my follies am repented I am sure I’d rather be In a small bed at liberty

Bennett uses clear melodic contours and mischievously unpredictable piano writing to skillfully accentuate the childlike aspects of the text. He highlights Marjory’s youthful exuberance for her beloved cousin with the opening octave jump in the vocal line with its unrestrained declaration “I love in Isas bed to lie,” combined with the merry, jaunty F Major piano accompaniment in a dotted sing-song rhythm. These lively staccato rhythms, marked mezzo forte and forte depict Marjory’s fidgeting and squirming in bed, as well as her fun-loving, capricious personality. The next section (mm. 7–11) changes to a secco, even eighth-note pattern at a piano dynamic and much lower register as Marjory attempts to remain quiet to avoid waking her cousin. She cannot stay quiet for long as she forcefully complains about Isabella having all of the “pillies” (pillows). The opening motives return in the piano and vocal part, beginning in m.

12, as Marjory describes enthusiastically hugging Isabella’s feet instead of her neck, then suddenly repents of this outburst at m. 18 in the same soft, eighth-note pattern in the low register as before. She finishes her song with an espressivo statement (m. 21) about her desire to be in her own bed, at liberty to do as she wishes. The musical setting, with its sudden shifts from unreserved expressions of love or frustration to the quiet, restrained fervor of trying to control

21 herself for Isabella’s sake, clearly demonstrate the impulsive personality of this young, energetic child.

Marjory has a knack for creating an almost human description of animals. In the second song, “A Melancholy Lay,” she chronicles the death of three turkeys, while in the final song,

“Sonnet on a Monkey,” she recounts the antics of her aunt’s pet. Marjory characterizes all her subjects as “fair,” whether they are men or women or turkeys. Twain notes that, “she adores animals, adores them all; none is too forlorn to fail of favor in her friendly eyes, no creature so humble that she cannot find something in it on which to lavish her caressing worship.”29 Animals become equals as friends and companions in Marjory’s view, and she treats them as such through her poems.

“A Melancholy Lay” expresses Marjory’s belief that animals are all swayed by the same feelings as her readers by including the statement, “they sigh and weep as well as you.” Marjory creates human-like relationships between the turkeys, imagining the parents mourning for their beloved offspring, and the turkeys’ peers not despising their grace and beauty. She seems taken aback that the departed turkeys’ mother emitted no sigh or let a single tear roll down her beak at their death, and considers this callousness one of the saddest parts of the tragedy.30

Three Turkeys fair their last have breathed And now this worled [sic] for ever leaved Their father and their mother too Will sigh and weep as well as you

Mourning for their offspring fair Whom they did nurse with tender care Indeed the rats their bones have cranch’d To Eternity are they launched

Their graceful form and pretty eyes Their fellow fowls did not despise

29 Twain, 460. 30 Macbean, 113.

22 A direful death indeed they had That would put any parent mad

But she was more than usual calm She did not give a single dam Here ends this melancholy lay Farewell poor turkeys I must say.

Marjory maintains a childlike mode of expression through the majority of the poem. Her fascination with animals and habit of treating them like people exposes her youth. Surely she had encountered many fables and stories where animals speak, live in houses, wear clothes, and generally act like humans. Marjory’s childlike imagination would easily extend to the real animals in her own environment, giving such storybook-like characteristics to their descriptions.

Her immature writing style appears with the rhymes “breathed”/“leaved,” and

“launched”/“cranch’d” (crunched). Marjory briefly adopts an adult-like manner of expression when she makes a religious reference in her description of the three turkeys’ fate with “to

Eternity are they launched.” Using such religious terminology in dealing with simple matters demonstrates her propensity for mimicking the conversation of the adult world surrounding her.

Bennett creates an appropriately morose musical setting for the three turkeys in “A

Melancholy Lay” with its minor key and slow tempo. The sustained and harmonically static piano accompaniment with dissonant tone clusters at the beginning sets the somber tone, fitting the allegretto con dolore marking. The piano clearly establishes G Minor as the key, but the lyrical vocal line floats above on the dominant, ultimately arriving on tonic at m. 15 at the final note of the downward portamento on the word “mourning.” This hovering vocal line creates a hushed, mournful, almost reverential tone, illustrating Marjory’s sincere pain at the death of these three creatures. Marked mf and solenne, the line “Indeed the rats their bones have cranch’d

/ To Eternity are they launched” shifts down to a low register, setting off this unintentionally

23 humorous statement. Rests appearing in the vocal line, and (for the first time) in the piano part, between the words “are they launched” give the text added emphasis without mocking their sentiment.

The song returns to the original harmonically stationary piano motive with hovering vocal line at m. 27, growing in intensity and volume (mm. 34–38) as Marjory discusses the turkeys’ parents’ feelings of anger. The piano becomes molto espressivo as the poetry reaches its climax at m. 42, observing the mother turkey refraining from uttering “a single dam (damn)” for her dead offspring. The tonality shifts to D Minor, which originally served as the dominant of G

Minor, for the post-script “Here ends this melancholy lay / Farewell poor turkeys I must say.”

The piano postlude concludes in D Minor, giving an open-ended quality to the song, perhaps sending the turkeys off to another world. Throughout this sincere tribute, Bennett does not ridicule the child and her earnest expressions of sadness, but rather gives them a fitting musical voice.

Isa had given Marjory her journals for the purposes of improving her penmanship as well as writing down the “moral guidelines that a well-mannered girl should follow.”31 Perhaps this instruction explains why Marjory chooses to voice her scorn at the elopement of a servant girl in the poem “On Jessy Watsons Elopement.” Marjory depicts Jessy, with her rash and unwise decisions, as the antithesis of saintly Isabella. Even amidst this criticism, the guileless child

Marjory cannot help but positively illustrate Jessy’s physical characteristics as well, revealing her youthful priorities by including praise for Jessy’s sparkling eyes and “good hair.”

Run of[f] is Jessy Watson fair Her eyes do sparkle she’s good hair But Mrs Leath you now shal be Now and for all Eternity

31 Ibid., 37.

24 Such merry spirits I do hate But now it’s over and to late For to retract such vows you cant And you must now love your gallant But I am sure you will repent And your poor heart will then relent

Your poor poor father will repine And so would I if you were mine But now be good for this time past And let this folly be your last

This seven-year-old girl certainly changes her mode of communication as she puts on a mature persona to reprove Jessy Watson of her elopement. One can almost hear her echoing adult criticisms and opinions as she lectures, “Your poor poor father will repine, and so would I if you were mine.” She uses a somewhat condescending tone with the reprimand, “I am sure you will repent.” Marjory ultimately instructs Jessy to “go and sin no more,” bestowing forgiveness by concluding, “be good for this time past, and let this folly be your last.” In so doing, Marjory takes on the role of a spiritual advisor or confessor by counseling Jenny to not repeat her sins.

This image of a young girl acting as an adult, believing she possesses the ability to forgive sins, creates a delightfully comical moment for those observing her behavior.

The sharp rhythmic structure of this setting contrasts markedly from the other songs, perhaps to convey how Marjory tries to act adult-like in shaming a transgression, instead of merely behaving as her happy childish self. The song opens with brusque, accented, angular dotted rhythms, showing Marjory’s contempt for Jenny running off to get married. The second line describing her sparkling eyes and good hair seem to function as an aside in this musical surrounding, as if Marjory needed a rhyme for the first line, even though the text feels out of character for her emotional outburst. The generally E Minor key shifts every few measures, and contains so many chromatic alterations that it almost gives the impression that Marjory cannot

25 find her bearings in this “adult” world. She continually modulates freely through a series of unrelated keys as she searches for a suitable way to express herself.

A contrasting middle section begins with a mezzo piano rising sequential passage made up of even rhythms in the vocal line over a repeated tone cluster centering on C-sharp in the piano. The soft dynamic level and tension grow with Marjory’s mounting advice, describing how

Jenny cannot “retract such vows” and must love her husband, though she will surely repent of her actions. Her lecture builds to an unexpectedly soft, high lyrical moment where she sorrows for Jenny’s poor father with a portamento, much like the one highlighting the sadness of the parent turkey in “A Melancholy Lay.” A subito forte statement marked con fuoco immediately follows, in which Marjory declares she would treat Jenny the same way if she were her own daughter, returning to the harsh, accented, dotted rhythms from the opening.

The final admonition to be good from now own musically depicts forgiveness as

Marjory’s wrath subsides to a lower tessitura, with a gradual fading in the piano postlude to repeated low, soft final chords evocative of the opening measures. This song distinctly shows

Bennett’s musical tools used to shift the mode of communication to a child acting as an adult.

She self-righteously stomps through multiple keys, quietly deigns to give advice, lyrically imitates the sorrow of a parent, followed by more dotted-rhythm indignation, and finally offers a stern reproach with ultimate forgiveness through the piano conclusion.

Love for Isa, the one changeless theme of Marjory’s thoughts, returns in the fourth song,

“Sweet Isabell.” As Mcbean describes, “Isa is always the beloved, the ‘learned witty and sensible,’ . . . the benefactress whose services can never be repaid, the Venus de Medici, fair as a

Greek statue.”32 In this poem, Marjory exalts Isabella’s physical and emotional characteristics, including her soft skin, fair face, pretty hair, neat nails, white teeth, and bright eyes. This pure

32 Ibid., 107.

26 and unabashed love for Isabella truly epitomizes Marjory’s youth and wholesomeness. She has not yet learned how to cloak her feelings or sense any sort of embarrassment or shame in making such effusive statements about her cousin.

Here lies sweet Isabell in bed Wearing a nightcap on her head Her skin is soft her face is fair And she has very pretty hair

She and I in bed lie nice And undisturbed by rats or mice She is disgusted by Mister Worgan Although he plays upon the organ

A not of ribans [ribbons] on her head Her cheak is tinged with concious red Her nails are neat her teeth are white Her eyes are very very bright

In a conspicuos town she lives And to the poor her money gives Here ends sweet Isabellas story And may it be much to her glory

A post-script to the poem appears in Marjory’s journal, stating “all this is true and a full description.”33 This detail shows that Marjory was not trying to create an artistic treatment of her subject as much as to do it complete justice, omitting nothing from the picture.”34 She does not attempt to embellish or persuade others to her point of view as an adult might do, but rather merely observes and reports.

Bennett contrasts Marjory’s negative portrayal of Jessy with her saintly cousin Isabell by setting the poem with an almost music-box-like accompaniment in a high register, made up of even quarter-notes, marked dolce semplice. This musical setting could also suggest a return to the wide-eyed, adoring, innocent, childlike nature that Marjory resumes after putting on airs as a

33 Fleming, 103. 34 Macbean, 39.

27 scornful adult. Unlike the flighty, impulsive, ungrounded Jessy Watson who cannot remain in a single key for more than two measures, Isabell’s music begins firmly rooted in F Major, clearly outlining the tonic, where it remains for ten measures. The sequentially rising vocal line enumerating Isabell’s desirable soft skin and pretty hair modulates to D Major. Some chromaticism creeps into Marjory’s description of Isabell’s disgust for Mr. Worgan who “plays upon the organ.” The plagal cadence inserted here wittily mimics the church organ player, while simultaneously reinforcing the saintly nature of Marjory’s idol.

The middle section repeats similar melodic and structural ideas of the first section, though now in E Major, finally cadencing back in F Major in m. 49 as Marjory finishes her praise for Isabell’s charity in giving to the poor. Her final two lines, “Here ends sweet Isabellas story / And may it be much to her glory” finish with the same music-box like accompaniment from the introduction. Bennett’s starkly contrasting accompaniment between this song and the previous one shows Marjory’s true nature as she happily and simply describes her idol, using childlike rhythms, easily discerned rising sequential patterns, and clear harmonies. Sweetness, purity, and a desire to emulate her cousin come through the musical setting of Marjory’s words.

The final song, “Sonnet on a Monkey,” revisits Marjory’s childlike fascination with animals. The monkey receives eloquent and human-like descriptions such as “lovely,”

“charming,” “graceful,” and “divine.” He is “a great buck and a bow [beau]” with teeth “whiter than the snow,” cheeks “like the rose’s bloom” and “hair like the raven’s plume,” as well as having a classically Roman nose and eyes that are “more like a Christian’s than an ape.”

O lovely O most charming pug Thy graceful air and heav’nly mug The beauties of his mind do shine And ev’ry bit is shaped so fine Your very tail is most devine

28 Your teeth is whiter than the snow You are a great buck and a bow [beau] Your eyes are of so fine a shape More like a christians than an ape

His cheeks is like the roses blume Your hair is like the ravens plume His noses cast is of the roman He is a very pretty weoman

I could not get a rhyme for roman And was oblidged to call it weoman

Marjory’s immature writing style appears again in this poem. She admits in the final couplet of the poem that she “could not get a rhyme for roman, and was oblidged to call it weoman.” Apparently Marjory thinks the joke is a good one, because she uses it again in another poem (not included in this cycle). An additional instance of convenient rhyming such as this occurs in her journals when describing James II of England being killed at Roxburgh. She says,

“He was killed by a cannon splinter / Quite in the middle of the winter. Perhaps it was not at that time / But I can get no other rhyme!”35 Marjory seems to care more about preserving her rhyme scheme than the historical account of James II’s death. Inconsistencies in narrative perspective, such as referring to the monkey alternately as “you” and “he,” demonstrate her childish lack of editorial skills, while simultaneously creating a thorny task of memorization for the performer!

Bennett’s musical setting of “Sonnet on a Monkey” heightens Marjory’s young, impulsive nature. The constantly changing compound meter from 7/8 to 2/4 to 5/8 and 3/8 highlights Marjory’s breathless enthusiasm at describing such an energetic and captivating creature, while simultaneously conveying the unpredictable antics of the animal under her scrutiny. Marked allegro giocoso like the opening song, Marjory’s true nature appears once again. She has tried on different emotions, such as sorrow/grief, righteous indignation and

35Fleming, 151.

29 scholarly observer, but returns to her most natural state—a happy, excited child full of wonder and awe.

The song begins in G Major for the introduction and first four measures of the vocal line, and then modulates approximately every four measures, returning again to tonic at the beginning of every section. The changing keys serve to heighten Marjory’s excitement at describing this amazing animal, while providing a constancy of character as it returns to tonic over and over.

The ending admission that Marjory chose to describe the monkey as a “weoman” because she could not find another rhyme for “roman” is highlighted by the accompaniment changing to long, sustained chords for the first time in this song. The final word is set off by a rest on the downbeat, bringing emphasis to this sweet, funny childish confession: a subtle yet effective way of capping the entire cycle.

A Garland for Marjory Fleming aptly gives musical life to the imaginative writings of this remarkable child poet. Through this cycle, listeners come to know Marjory as a smart, sensitive, witty, precocious child who loves life and struggles with obedience. Due to the relatively brief time that her writings span, she remains the same through the cycle, with little apparent growth or maturity. She comes across as a unique child whose most notable characteristic may not be that what she said was particularly profound, but that she recorded these typically childish pronouncements.36 Reading her journals prompted Twain to describe her as an “intensely human little creature,” exclaiming,

how vividly she lived her small life; how impulsive she was; how sudden, how tempestuous, how tender, how loving, how sweet, how loyal, how rebellious, how repentant, how wise, how unwise, how bursting with fun, how frank, how free, how honest, how innocently bad, how natively good, how charged with quaint philosophies, how winning, how precious, how adorable—and how perennially and indestructibly interesting!37

36 Heppermann, 536. 37 Twain, 455.

30

Such a powerful response can result from experiencing a child’s perspective; and when paired with a fitting musical setting, there exists the potential to produce compelling feelings of sweet nostalgia, comic relief, and evocative wonderment.

For Performers

In performing these songs, the singer and pianist should try to enter the mind of this young poet and express themselves as honestly as she does, attempting to encapsulate the wide- eyed, unabashed love so characteristic of Marjory. The performers should certainly not mock or poke fun at this little child genius, but they should show proper concern at the fate of the turkeys, and treat the “grown up parts” with sincerity, no matter how funny they may seem to an adult audience. In the final two lines of the cycle, however, the performers might indulge in laughing at the rhyming joke in a self-satisfying manner.

Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104

Music with poetry from a child’s perspective can serve to teach lessons gleaned from the child’s life. Robert Schumann accomplishes this in his setting of seven poems by Elisabeth

Kulmann, a young poetess of German and Russian descent who died at the age of seventeen.

Unlike the Fleming cycle where the poetry remains simple and naïve because of the poet’s youth,

Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann grows in maturity as the poet ages. With texts written by a child who at times acts youthful and carefree, then subsequently expresses herself as the mature young woman she has become, the cycle correlates with Sharp’s fifth and sixth Routes of

Musical Experience. Where Bennett’s musical setting of Fleming’s words creates a humorous, candid snapshot of a sweet and innocent child, Schumann’s portrait of Kulmann highlights the

31 young girl’s admirable qualities, demonstrating her wisdom and emotional progression from the first to the last song.

Elisabeth Kulmann

Elisabeth Kulmann lived a fairly quiet life of obscurity. She was born in St. Petersburg,

Russia, on the July 17, 1808. Her father served as an officer in the Russian army, and her seven brothers all followed in his career path. 38 The youngest brother died in battle when Elisabeth was five years old, and her father and six other brothers all succumbed to tuberculosis at some point, including three brothers who died before she was born.39 As her remaining brothers and only sister had already left home when Elisabeth was a child, her German mother remained her closest companion. They lived together in poverty on Vasil’evskii Island in a dilapidated house which had been rented for them by a relative.40 Elisabeth’s mother taught her accurate German along with Russian, and helped her to maintain a cheerful outlook on life, regardless of their severe financial hardships and other difficulties.41

At an early age, Elisabeth’s linguistic talents attracted the attention of a kindly, idealistic tutor named Dr. Karl Friedrich von Grossheinrich, a young lawyer who had been brought to

Russia from Germany to teach the children of a local Count. He gave Elisabeth her first book,

Baumgarten’s World of Animals when she was five, encouraging her to learn all of the animals’ names in five languages. At the age of six she mastered German grammar and began writing at

38 E. Andrews, “Elisabeth Kulmann: Poet and Linguist,” in Good Words for 1883, ed. Donald Macleod (London: Ibister, 1883), 465. 39 Thomas Dormandy, The White Death: A History of Tuberculosis (London: Hambledon, 1999), 88. 40 Bonnie Marshall, “Kulmann, Elizaveta Borisovna,” in Dictionary of Russian Women Writers (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1994), 344. 41 Andrews, 465.

32 seven.42 Elisabeth had made good progress in French and Italian before the age of ten, following

Grossheinrich’s unique teaching methods, described as follows:

He gave her a short manuscript grammar containing only the outlines of the declensions and conjugations. When she had leaned these thoroughly, he read to her a translation of some work with the contents of which she was already familiar, making her repeat the words after him. After she had acquired the pronunciation of the language, he encouraged her to discover the meaning of as many words as possible by their resemblance to those in a kindred language. Where she failed, he translated the passage, rarely allowing the use of a dictionary, but explaining carefully the grammatical construction. He made his pupil modify the sentences by varying the moods and tenses of the verbs, and changing the prepositions and pronouns.43

Following these techniques, Kulmann was usually able to converse in a modern language after three months’ study, though the grammatical difficulties of Latin and Greek required more time to master. She enjoyed studying English, acquiring it with ease, and translating portions of

“Paradise Lost” and “Paradise Regained” into German. She added Spanish and Portuguese to her repertory at the age of fourteen.44

When the relative who had been paying their rent died, family friend Petr Meder, the director of the local mining college, came to their rescue. With Meder’s blessing, Father

Abramov, the college’s military chaplain, allowed Elisabeth and her mother to move into an empty room in his house at the school. There, Elisabeth had access to Meder’s extensive library and joined his two daughters in studying music and dance, as well as physics, drawing, astronomy, botany, mineralogy and mathematics.45

Kulmann familiarized herself with the best German authors and set her mind to becoming a poet after writing her first German verses at age ten. She intended to use her poetry to describe the world and mankind, adding that “my world consists of the sky overhead, my own and our

42 Marshall, 344. 43 Andrews, 465. 44 Ibid., 465–66. 45 Marshall, 345.

33 landlord’s garden, the courtyard, and the road, while of mankind, I hardly know thirty people.

Now, may I not give speech and life to the objects around me, and make birds, trees, flowers, and stones talk, each of course after its own fashion?”46 Her poetry reflects this view, not attempting to create moral fables, but rather literally delivering her own simple thoughts about her humble living situation as well as meditations on God and the afterlife. Kulmann’s poetry contains incredible accuracy and beauty, as well as purity and depth of thought. “Purity, industry, and prayer” could be considered the motto of her life. She excelled at creating poetical descriptions of scenery in every part of the world, though she did not physically travel to these exotic locations. European and Russian folk tales, Greek myths and legends, and poetry on scriptural subjects rounded out her extensive output.47

Though Kulmann is little-known today, her poetry did gain the attention and admiration of important figures during her lifetime. Dr. Grossheinrich made a selection of thirty of

Elisabeth’s German poems, along with several in French and Italian, and sent them to the great

German masters Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Jean Paul Richter in order to obtain their opinions of her works. These poems met with great praise from both men. Goethe even ventured to “prophesy for her an honorable rank in literature, in whichever of the languages known to her she chooses to write.”48 Her poetry also gained recognition from the court. At age thirteen,

Kulmann sent translations of several odes of Anacreon into five and then eight languages to the

Empress Elisabeth, for which she received a diamond necklace and a yearly pension of two hundred rubles for her incredible achievements.49 Unfortunately, Kulmann’s fame did not last

46 Kulmann, quoted in Andrews, 466. 47 Marshall, 345. 48 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, quoted in Marshall, 345. 49 Hendrik Clemens Muller, Lectures on the Science of Literature: Partly Delivered in Edinburgh (Summer Meeting, 1898) (Haarlem: Vincent Loosjes, 1904), 186.

34 long after her lifetime. In reference to her current underrated value as a poet, Bonnie Marshall states

Kulmann’s dedication to classical perfection of form and content earns her an honorable place in the history of Russian literature. After her death, her work was published in Russia and Germany, thanks to the tireless efforts of her mentor Grossheinrich. She captured the attention of Russia mainly as a rare child genius and was actually better received in Germany. . . . It cannot be denied that both the quantity and quality of her writings were amazing for her years, that she was clearly a genius, and that she has been sadly underrated in her native land.50

Kulmann’s current lack of popularity does not result from poor quality in her work, as evidenced by the acclaim she received from literary and political figures during her life.

Having experienced so much death in her young life, Kulmann was intimately familiar with the concept of her own mortality. She maintained a positive attitude even after falling ill, making the most of every minute she had. Her fatal battle with consumption resulted from cold and exposure occurring during the extensive flooding of the Neva River in St. Petersburg on

November 7, 1824. By the end of the year, physicians feared for her life. Even in her weakened state she produced an epic work, The Magic Lamp, set in Persia and loosely based on Arabian

Nights.

Kulmann had aspirations to “shed new luster on her native land and sing the deeds of its mightiest heroes” and desired to complete her unfinished work and achieve her dreams of fame.51 She hoped to travel to Italy to improve her health, but she did not have enough money for the journey, even with her stipend from the court.52 With difficulty, she put aside future ambitions and made peace with leaving the friends and mother she loved, succumbing to her early death, requesting “let no murmuring, no ungrateful thought disquiet my last hour.”53

50 Marshall, 345–46. 51 Andrews, 468. 52 Marshall, 345. 53 Kulmann, quoted in Andrews, 468.

35 Kulmann died on November 19, 1825 at the age of seventeen. The Empress Alexandra

Fedorovna and the Grand Duchess Helena Pavlovna had an impressive marble monument erected at her grave in Smolensk Cemetery in St. Petersburg, with an inscription in ten languages stating, “The first Russian female to learn Greek, know eleven languages, and speak eight of them, and though but a young girl, was nevertheless an excellent poetess.”54 These impressive qualities attracted Schumann not only to her writings, but to her life. His song cycle illuminates her desirable attributes and strives to teach others to emulate her character.

Robert Schumann

Schumann’s life and work epitomize the aesthetics of Romanticism. Among the

Romantic ideals was the concept of childhood, viewed as a symbolic return to the natural, poetic, and sublime soul of man. This idolization of childhood permeated Schumann’s personal life and artistic inspiration. His own childhood, his interest in children’s literature, his close relationship with his children, and his desires to create music both for children’s musical instruction as well as for adults’ nostalgia all contributed to Schumann’s output of music with children’s themes. As

Dong Xu observes,

[Schumann] ventured repeatedly into the world of childhood as a source of inspiration, demonstrating his delight in fantasy and sympathy with childlike imagination. Schumann’s compositions for and about children, both musical and literary, are examples of his inner reflections of his personal life, and they are Schumann’s personality that animates them. By depicting the childhood emotions musically Schumann must have recognized himself after all still a child at heart.55

Exploring the sources of inspiration in Schumann’s personal life helps to better understand his compositions involving childhood.

54 Gerhard Dietel, liner notes from Schumann: Frauenliebe und –leben; Gedichte der Königin Maria Stuart, trans. Neil Coleman, Sibylla Rubens, Soprano, Uta Hielscher, Piano, Naxos CD, 2008. 55 Dong Xu, “Themes of Childhood: A Study of Robert Schumann’s Piano Music for Children” (DMA doc., University of Cincinnati, 2006), 19.

36 Memories of Schumann’s happy youth served as a motivation for including childhood themes in his music. Born on June 8, 1810 in beautiful and tranquil Zwickau, Germany,

Schumann enjoyed a comfortable upbringing as the youngest of five children. His bookseller father, August Schumann, encouraged Robert’s musical and literary talents and carefully watched over the development of his favorite son.56 His mother, Johanne Christiane, devoted herself with tenderness to him. She loved to sing, and when she realized that music would calm her son, she would persuade young Robert to sing back to her, which he did with remarkably accurate pitch and rhythm.57 When his mother became ill with typhus, Schumann had to leave home and live with the Ruppius family between the ages of three and five. He held great affection for Elenore Ruppius, whom he later described warmly as a second mother.58 Later in life, Schumann described his childhood in idyllic terms, remembering how happy he was then, playing the piano, picking flowers, and writing poetry and prayers.59

The fascination with childhood in German Romanticism gained strength through a revival of children’s literature. Des Knaben Wunderhorn, a collection of old German folk songs and verses, as well as many children’s songs written by the editors Achim von Arnim and

Clemens Brentano, became quite popular during the Romantic Era. These collections helped to renew Germany’s rich folk heritage and stimulated compositions by many German Romantic musicians.60 Fairy tales, or Märchen, with their imaginative character and supernatural atmosphere matching the philosophies of the Romantic age, also developed and flourished in

56 John Worthen, Robert Schumann: Life and Death of a Musician (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), 8. 57 Peter Otswald, Schumann: The Inner Voices of a Musical Genius (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1985), 15–16. 58 John Daverio, Robert Schumann: Herald of a “New Poetic Age” (New York: Oxford University Press, 1997), 21. 59 Otswald, 137. 60 Clayton Koelb and Eric Downing, eds., German Literature of the Nineteenth Century, 1832–1899 The Camden House History of German Literature, vol. 9 (Rochester: Camden House, 2005), 52–53.

37 Germany during Schumann’s lifetime.61 German Romantics often turned to Märchen as a way to

“immerse themselves in the child’s simplicity and refresh themselves at the source of the child’s primitive innocence.”62 They sought to bring poetry and song together into one art form as had existed in Greek and medieval cultures, inspiring the use of the term “poet-musician” for song composers.63

Schumann’s extensive familiarity with literature certainly qualified him as a “poet- musician,” and his love of children’s literature influenced compositions incorporating their stories and themes. Given Schumann’s father’s profession, literary pursuits were strongly encouraged at home. Schumann enjoyed reading the classics, lives of poets, dramatic works, and contemporary poetry and fairy tales. He read the tales of the Grimm brothers, Hans Christian

Andersen, Ludwig Tieck, Novalis (Friedrich von Hardenberg), E. T. A. Hoffmann, and von

Arnim, both for his own enjoyment and later to entertain his children. These stories inspired him to produce many musical counterparts, such as the Märchenbilder for viola and piano, Op. 113;

Märchenerzahlungen, Op. 132, for clarinet, viola, and piano; and Waldszenen, Op. 82, a series of eerie forest pictures for piano, recreating in music their enchanted, fairy-tale mood.64

Another source of inspiration for Schumann’s music with children’s themes came from his experiences raising his own children. Robert and Clara Schumann had eight children in their nearly fourteen years together, and he was a loving and devoted father. As biographer Eric

Jensen describes,

Schumann enjoyed spending time with his children. He read to them, went on walks with them, picked flowers with them, and accompanied them on sledding

61 Gillian Rodger, “The Lyric,” in The Romantic Period in Germany, ed. Siegbert Prawer (New York: Schocken Books, 1970), 147. 62 Xu, 15–16. 63 Linda Siegel, trans. Music in German Romantic Literature: A Collection of Essays, Reviews and Stories (Novato, CA: Elra, 1983), 40–41. 64 Eric Frederick Jensen, Schumann (New York: Oxford University Press, 2012), 324.

38 expeditions. While this may not seem all that unusual by modern standards, it would not have been common for fathers in the Germany of Schumann’s day to participate so actively in their children’s lives.65

When their eldest child, Marie, celebrated her first birthday, Schumann gave her a booklet in which he had documented the events of her life. A few years later he created one collective album for all of his children, entitled A Little Book of Memories for Our Children, wherein he recorded their births, characteristics at various ages, as well as their childlike thoughts and experiences. This booklet describes Schumann’s life with his children and his immersion in their world, demonstrating an intuitive understanding of their minds. Through observing his children,

Schumann was able to relive his own happy childhood, recapturing and retaining for himself the essence of an idealized childhood that served as a source of inspiration for his music.66

Several of Schumann’s compositions involving childhood themes were written with the intent of teaching musical skills. A gifted pedagogue, in 1848 Schumann recognized the critical need for well-written, entertaining piano music for children to play.67 Motivated by his oldest daughter, Marie, who was seven at the time, Schumann composed a group of forty-three short piano pieces titled Album für die Jugend, Op. 68, with each piece addressing a problem of technique or musical expression. Encouraged by the success of the Album, Schumann composed a vocal counterpart the next year, called Liederalbum für die Jugend, Op. 79. Other music

Schumann composed for children’s instruction include the solo piano pieces, Drei Klavier-

Sonaten für die Jugend, Op. 118, and the three sets of piano duets: Zwölf vierhändige

Klavierstücke, Op. 85, Ballszenen, Op. 109, and Kinderball, Op. 130.

Though clearly associated with childhood, Schumann’s Kinderszenen, Op. 15 for piano, are “poetic and retrospective views of childhood by a grown-up person, but by no means pieces

65 Ibid., 318. 66 Ibid., 320. 67 Ibid., 221.

39 for children.”68 Schumann created musical tone pictures to depict events and occurrences in the world of children in a simple, unpretentious manner. In the Kinderszenen, he nostalgically produced “a loving and insightful representation of childhood for adults.”69 Using his ability to place himself in a child’s mind, Schumann expressed his yearning for childhood through his music.70

Schumann once again delved into the world of a child in his song cycle Sieben Lieder von

Elisabeth Kulmann, Op 104, in which he attempted to musically convey the life and admirable qualities of this young poetess. The trajectory of outlining a woman’s life through song can be found in two other Schumann cycles, namely Frauenlieben und –leben, Op. 42 and Gedichte der

Königin Maria Stuart, Op. 135. The Kulmann songs are similar to Schumann’s Kinderszenen in that they convey an adult’s sentimental portrayal of a child and almost all require accomplished and artistic performers.

In 1851, Schumann discovered the poetry of Elisabeth Kulmann through Grossheinrich’s publication of 1835, and became completely absorbed by her works.71 He urged his friends and colleagues to discover her talents and share in his enthusiasm.72 Not only was Schumann attracted to Kulmann’s poetry, but he was also so fascinated by her life that he kept a portrait of her in a special place by the desk in his home in Düsseldorf. 73 Part of his interest in Kulmann stemmed from a cultural fascination with the death of children or young women that extended

68 Wilhelm Joseph von Wasielewski, Life of Robert Schumann, trans. A. L. Alger (Detroit: Information Coordinators, 1975), 123. 69 Jensen, 162. 70 Daverio, 166. 71 Olga Lossewa, who has studied the life and works of Elisabeth Kulmann extensively, questioned how much of the poetry had been heavily edited, completed, or simply fabricated by Grossheinrich. See Olga Lossewa, “Neues über Elisabeth Kulmann,” in Schumann und seine Dichter, Schumann Forschungen, ed. Mathias Wendt (Mainz: Schott, 1993), 4:78. While this controversy may be important to acknowledge, Schumann had no reason to doubt the veracity of Kulmann’s poetry or of her life’s story when he set her words to music in 1851. 72 von Wasielewski, 170. 73 Jensen, 326.

40 from the Romantic era into the early twentieth century, as evidenced by Gustav Mahler’s settings of Friedrich Rückert’s poetry in his Kindertotenlieder.74 Schumann considered Kulmann a

“wonder child” whose appeal was even more compelling because of her premature death and her significant output.75 She embodied the Romantic ideals of prodigy combined with tragedy, and personified a private ideal of Schumann’s: a child acting as poet.76 He published a total of eleven songs on her texts: four duets as the Mädchenlieder, Op. 103; and seven songs for solo voice as

Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104. Schumann’s intention for his cycle to teach values delivered by the mouth of a child while chronicling her growth and maturation motivated him to include epigraphic inscriptions and dedications about Kulmann before each of the seven songs of Op. 104.

Some critics have claimed that Schumann’s later compositions, including the Elisabeth

Kulmann songs, are not up to par with his earlier works because of Schumann’s declining mental state. They cite his interest in Kulmann’s poetry as the “result of failing powers of judgment,”77 and consider his musical stylistic shifts as evidence of deteriorating creative capabilities. This criticism reflects a stigmatization of mental illness as well as misunderstanding of Schumann’s intentions during this later period of his life. More recently, however, biographers and musicologists have attempted to change this perception. Lindsay Ann Moore defends his choice of setting obscure poets such as Kulmann by asserting:

Schumann’s choice to showcase the work of lesser-known poets cannot be attributed to the failing of his faculties. Perhaps Schumann felt he had exhausted the work of the major poets in his younger days, and sought inspirational verse from minor poets. Whatever the reason, Schumann cannot be faulted for

74 Jon Finson, Robert Schumann: The Book of Songs (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2007), 215–16. 75 Rebecca Scharlene Ringer, “Beyond the ‘Year of Song,’ Text and Music in the Song Cycles of Robert Schumann After 1848” (PhD diss., University of North Texas, 2007), 125. 76 Jensen, 327. 77 Martin Cooper, “The Songs,” in Schumann: A Symposium, ed. Gerald Abraham (London: Oxford University Press, 1952), 118.

41 exhibiting the works of these poets. He had been successful earlier in his life at revealing the works of unknown composers to the music-loving population through the Neue Zeitschrift füer Musik; the same principle also applies to his choice to set the poems of lesser-known poets in his late Lieder.78

Refuting the claim that Schumann’s creative powers were failing, Rebecca Scharlene Ringer examines Schumann’s songs across all periods of his life that demonstrates a consistent level of compositional skill, noting a conscious shift in the musical style of his latter works.79 Schumann composed for a specific audience of amateur singers and pianists during this final stage of his life, and deliberately created accessible music that made it possible for him to communicate his desired messages.80 Singer and pedagogue Richard Miller argues that this late Schumann cycle deserves more attention, stating:

His Kulmann settings have simplicity and childlike grace many removes from the expansive Mignon Lieder of the same period. These gentle Lieder prove that in his last creative years the composer flexibly bent an always intense sensibility to poetic sources by devising an aptly diverse compositional mode for each. Classification of these Lieder as the product of “a mind in deterioration” is unacceptable.81

Understanding the purposes Schumann had in setting Kulmann’s poetry can help audiences enjoy the simple, childlike words of the narrator. Through following the mode of communication of a child, they can participate in her journey to maturity, while learning from her experiences along the way.

78 Lindsay Ann Moore, “Robert Schumann’s Illnesses and the Stylistic Shifts in his Lieder” (MA thesis, University of Victoria, 2002), 40–41. 79 See Moore, “Robert Schumann’s Illnesses,” for a thorough discussion of stylistic musical analysis from Schumann’s early, middle, and late Lieder. 80 Rufus Hallmark, German Lieder in the Nineteenth Century (New York: Schirmer, 1996), 103. 81 Richard Miller, Singing Schumann: An Interpretive Guide for Performers (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999), 198.

42 Analysis of Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104

Schumann selected seven poems spanning Kulmann’s life to comprise his cycle, outlining her growth and development. He includes a written dedication at the beginning, and intersperses texts between each song delineating his purposes in choosing each poem. Such a detailed written program, specifically designed to accompany a song cycle, was atypical for

Schumann. Including these texts demonstrates his strong desire to convey specific concepts to his audience. The seven songs create a sketch of Kulmann’s personal trajectory from innocence to maturity, and their musical settings follow suit by beginning conservatively and simply, growing more intricate and complex as she ages.

The cycle begins with Schumann’s dedication, the English translation appearing in the score as follows:

These unpretentious songs are dedicated to the memory of a girl who departed from us long ago, and whom very few know by name. And yet she was perhaps one of those wondrously gifted beings who appear only very rarely on earth. The most sublime teachings of wisdom, expressed here with the utmost poetic perfection, are found here coming from the mouth of a child; and it is in her poetry that we read how her life, spent in quiet obscurity and the greatest poverty, became richly happy. These few small songs, chosen from several thousand, of which only a few lend themselves to composition, cannot give even an approximate notion of her character. I have been able to select only a few individual moments from this rich existence—an entire life that was poetry. If these songs could help introduce the poetess to some circles where she is still unknown, their purpose will have been fulfilled. Sooner or later she will certainly be greeted in Germany too, as she was thirty years ago by some in the north, as the bright star that will eventually shine forth across every country. Düsseldorf, June 7, 185182

Schumann clearly sets forth his intentions to use poetry “coming from the mouth of a child,” as a mode of communication to teach valuable lessons from her life. He also displays his admiration for Elisabeth Kulmann as a person, someone whose “entire life . . . was poetry.” This desire to

82 The translations of all the added texts and the poetry are found in the score, Robert Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke. Serie VI: Lieder (Mainz: Schott, 2009).

43 examine her personal life fits with biographer John Daverio’s description of Schumann as a

“lyric poet” who focuses on the inner life of his subject instead of merely the words she has written.83

The first song, “Mond, meiner Seele Liebling” (“Moon, My Soul’s Beloved”), describes an episode in which young Kulmann steps outside to pause from caring for her sick mother, seeking comfort by pouring her heart out to the moon. Schumann’s text preceding the song describes her close relationship with her mother in the context of her experiences involving the death of many family members.

The poetess, who was born on 17 July, 1808, in St. Petersburg, lost her father and six of her seven brothers at an early age, the latter on the battlefield during the wars of 1812–14. Only her mother, whom she revered and loved until she died, survived. The following poem has been selected from the many that were addressed to her mother.

Beginning Kulmann’s life story with a poem about sorrow and concern for her mother foreshadows the cycle’s sad ending, culminating in Kulmann’s angst at leaving her mother behind upon her own imminent death. The similar themes of the first and last songs create the opportunity to observe Kulmann’s evolving response to the topic of death and suffering. At the beginning of the cycle she mournfully looks to her companion, the moon, for comfort. By the end, she stoically accepts her fate and focuses her attention on her mother whom she leaves behind.

This poem belongs to Kulmann’s early youth, as evidenced by her childlike friendship with the nature. This relationship with nature flourishes throughout the cycle, developing along with her poetry. Dedication to family relationships is of central importance in this young girl’s life, and she projects this value onto heavenly bodies as well. She speaks to the moon, asking why she looks so pale today. Has one of her children fallen ill? The lonely child gives the moon

83 Daverio, 463.

44 human qualities as she addresses it as a sympathetic friend. She uses a rather naïve poetic image of the moon’s pale countenance resulting from sadness and suggests a human relationship with the sun as the moon’s spouse.84 She derives comfort in her own struggles with caring for her sick mother by recognizing that even one of the world’s rulers cannot always be happy.

Mond, meiner Seele Liebling Moon, darling of my soul Wie schaust du heut’ so blass? Why do you look so pale today? Ist eines deiner Kinder, Is one of your children, O Mond, vielleicht unpass? O moon, perhaps unwell?

Kam dein Gemahl, die Sonne, Did your husband, the sun, come Vielleicht dir krank nach Haus? Perhaps ill to you at home? Und du trittst aus der Wohnung, And you stepped out of your house, Weinst deinen Schmerz hieraus? Weeping your pain out here?

Ach guter Mond, ein gleiches Oh good moon, one similar Geschick befiel auch mich. Fate also befell me. Drin liegt mir krank die Mutter, Indoors lies my mother ill, Hat mich nur jetzt um sich! Has only me around her!

So eben schloss ihr Schlummer Just now in slumber she closes Das Aug’ ein Weilchen zu; Her eyes for a short while; Da wich, mein Herz zu stärken, I left to strengthen my heart, Vom Ort ich ihrer Ruh. The place of her rest.

Trost sei mir, Mond, dein Anblick, Console me, Moon, by your sight, Ich leide nicht allein: I suffer not alone: du bist der Welt Mitherrscher, You’re one of the world’s rulers. Und kannst nicht stets dich freu’n! And can’t always be happy!

Schumann’s conservative musical treatment sets this tender, poignant text in G Minor, with a simple 2/4 meter. To reinforce this aura of simplicity, the voice enters without introduction, with the syllabic text setting using straight-forward rhythms and minimal syncopations. The accompaniment remains economical and bare, rarely calling attention to itself with a steady chordal pattern comprised nearly entirely of quarter notes and eighth notes. As the child describes her mother lying ill with only herself as nurse, Schumann adds a series of

84 Miller, 199.

45 diminished chords (mm. 12–15) within the G Minor context, outlining her grief. A brief move to

D Major occurs when Kulmann describes the moment of peace she experienced as her mother closed her eyes for a short while. The song ultimately moves to the parallel G Major at m. 25 as she finds comfort from her conversation with the moon upon realizing she is not alone in her suffering. These key changes show how this young child is not prone to wallow in melancholy.

With youthful resilience, she cheers herself up and moves forward with renewed energy, buoyed by her invented relationship with nature.

Kulmann again reveals her childlike, imaginative relationship with nature in the second song: “Viel Glück zur Reise, Schwalben!” (“Good Luck On Your Journey, Swallows!”). She addresses a flock of migrating swallows as friends who are about to embark on an exciting journey, bidding them farewell with wishes of good luck on their travels. Kulmann feels a strong sense of wanderlust, as she longs to accompany them to the warm south. As evidenced by her other poetry vividly describing the wonders of the world such as Africa or the Middle East, the poetess dreams of traveling abroad someday, yearning to see with her own eyes the incredible places she has read about in books.85

Along with this desire to travel comes a strong sense of home, as Kulmann concludes that no matter how far she might roam, she would always return home to the fatherland she knows and loves. Schumann chooses to highlight this value of patriotism in the paragraph preceding the song by writing, “Although she was of German origin and wrote in German as well as her mother tongue, the poetess remained an ardent patriot; many passages in her writings praise the beauty of the northern skies, as the following poem illustrates.”

85 Andrews, 467.

46

Viel Glück zur Reise, Schwalben! Good luck on your trip, swallows! Ihr eilt, ein langer Zug, You hurry, a long train, Zum schönen warmen Süden To the beautiful warm south In frohem, kühnen Flug. In bold, cheerful flight.

Gern möchte wohl die Reise Gladly would I undertake Ich einmal thun mit euch, The trip with you one time, Zu seh’n die tausend Wunder, To see the thousand workers, Die darbeut jedes Reich. Present there in each realm.

Doch immerkam’ ich wieder, Still I’d ever come again, Wie schön auch jedes Land However fair each land, Und reich an Wundern wäre, And rich in wonders may be, Zurück in’s Vaterland! Back to the fatherland!

Here Schumann uses similar compositional techniques to “Viel Glück zur Reise,

Schwalben” (no. 1) in portraying Kulmann’s youthful exuberance. He chooses a simple 2/4 meter in the relative B-flat Major, and includes many staccato notes in the simple, direct vocal line and piano accompaniment. The uncomplicated nature of the accompaniment is reminiscent of Schubert’s “Die Forelle,” characterizing the lighthearted, cheery tone of the poetry. Schumann creates a depiction of the flying birds with a jolly, upward-reaching thirty-second note flourish in the piano that recurs throughout the song. Written in ABA’ form, the lilting melody transforms only briefly during the middle section, with a quasi-recitative parlando passage in mm. 11–14 as

Kulmann admits her secret desire to travel with the birds sometime. The excitement returns with an even livelier childlike outburst as she describes the thousand wonders of the world she would like to see, and her strong affirmation that she would always return home to her fatherland of

Russia. Schumann repeats the last two words, “in’s Vaterland” two more times, marked crescendo, to drive home his teaching regarding the nobility of patriotism. The musical setting creates a clear portrait of a young, energetic girl expressing her innermost desires in simple, unpretentious terms.

47 Kulmann and her mother lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of St. Petersburg, and so great was their poverty that they “sometimes found it difficult even to purchase oil for the lamp.

On one occasion a friend asked Kulmann what she had for breakfast. ‘Only bread today, for mother had no tea in the house,’ was the reply.”86 Undoubtedly, poverty posed a significant problem for young Elisabeth. Schumann’s textual addition preceding Song no. 3, “Du nennst mich armes Mädchen” (“‘Poor Girl,’ You Call Me”), illustrates this theme of confronting adversity with the words, “Many uncomprehending children probably reproached her for her poverty; the following song is her reply.” Kulmann does not like to hear others speak of her difficult circumstances, whether in sympathy or teasing, and boldly responds that she is not poor.

Schumann emphasizes the admirable quality of facing adversity by including this poem, perhaps intending to enhance Elisabeth’s emerging maturity resulting from her trials.

Du nennst mich armes Mädchen; You call me a poor girl; Du irrst, ich bin nicht arm. You err, I am not poor. Entreiss dich, Neugier halber, Escape, for curiosity’s sake, Einmal des Schlafes Arm, For once the arms of sleep

Und schau’ mein nied’res Hüttchen, And see my lowly cottage, Wenn sich die Sonne hold When the fair sun rises Am Morgenhimmel hebet: In the morning heavens Sein Dach ist reines Gold! Its roof is purest gold!

Komm’ Abends, wann die Sonne Come evenings, when the sun Bereits zum Meere sinkt, Sinks already toward the sea, Und sieh’ mein einzig Fenster, And see my only window, Wie’s von Topasen blinkt! Gleaming with topazes!

Du nennst mich armes Mädchen; You call me a poor girl; Du irrst, ich bin nicht arm. You err, I am not poor.

As Marshall notes, “even in a world so restricted that it consisted of a small house with windows that looked out onto a poplar tree and two jasmine bushes, a glade, and the sky, nature

86 Ibid., 465.

48 provided material to fire Liza’s imagination.”87 Kulmann invites her critics to come and see her home at sunrise, so they can witness her roof glittering with gold, while her windows that face the sea gleam with topazes at sunset. This magical, fairy-tale like description of her living conditions shows Kulmann’s youthful, optimistic outlook on life, her inspiration derived from nature, and her ability to find joy in the face of hardship. While still retaining these childlike qualities, Kulmann’s maturity begins to emerge in the elegant way she handles adversity. She does not wallow in self-pity or berate those who tease her. This song foreshadows her changing mode of communication as she beings her transformation from a child to an adult.

Schumann creates a simple, conservative tone reminiscent of the first song, which also describes a lonely girl struggling with adversity. Set in the original G Minor key of the cycle, an exposed vocal line enters a beat before the accompaniment. Kulmann’s words recounting the insensitivity of others receive a recitative-like treatment with only minimal, bare chordal accompaniment, enhancing the idea of a young child feeling hurt and alone. Elisabeth ventures into the world of make-believe and magical thinking in the middle section beginning in m. 8 where she imagines her idealized living conditions. The key center shifts to E-flat Major (a key that will hold significance as the cycle unfolds), though with several chromatic alterations. The tempo accelerates, while the accompaniment becomes energetic, upward-running sixteenth-note arpeggios. The tempo relaxes back to the original at m. 21, and the minor key and sparse accompaniment reappear with the restatement of the opening line, “You call me a poor girl. You err, I am not poor.” Schumann gives this repeated text the exact same musical setting as in the first four measures of the song to show her return to reality. Elisabeth comes back from her enchanted rhapsody in which her bejeweled house is portrayed with lyrical melodies presented in a major key underscored by thick, arpeggiated piano music, to her true existence as a simple,

87 Marshall, 344.

49 poor child, defending her meager living conditions. Schumann’s musical setting mirrors

Kulmann’s budding maturity with his lush middle section, highlighting her altering mode of communication as she gracefully responds to her critics. His return to simplicity in the final section shows that she still remains a child at this point in the cycle.

The fourth song, containing the most obviously childlike poem, “Der Zeisig” (“The

Finch”), describes a bird who invites a young child to cast aside her schoolbooks and sing together. The paragraph preceding this fourth song reads, “A song written when she was a young girl, perhaps in her eleventh year. Around a hundred of other poems written at this time are similarly naïve and charming. She always reflects reality in the profoundest way.” Once again, the idea of having a personal relationship with elements of nature appears in this poem. This time

Elisabeth chooses to write from the point of view of the bird. The finch seems almost like a human companion as it calls to the child, inviting her to join in singing. By the second stanza the song becomes a friendly competition between the animal and child to see who sings better.

Referencing May-time and the desire to cast off schoolwork and play outdoors that students habitually feel during that time of year fits neatly into a child’s environment.

Wir sind ja, Kind, im Maie, We are, child, indeed in May, Wirf Buch und Heft von dir! Put aside book and drills! Komm’ einmal her in’s Freie, Come out into the open, Und sing’ ein Lied mit mir. And sing a song with me.

Komm’, singen fröhlich beide Come, let us both sing Wir Einen Wettgesang, In a merry contest, Und wer da will, entscheide, And whoe’er wants to, decide, Wer von uns besser sang! Which of us better sang!

Schumann highlights the joyful reaction the child feels toward the finch’s song contest.

This short, rhythmically and melodically simple song in B-flat Major creates a sense of charm and innocence, indicative of the mode of communication of a child. The staccato sixteenth-note

50 melodies, marked piano are traded between voice and piano in a canonic manner, portraying the small, unthreatening nature of both child and bird. The bird begins the second stanza by deciding that their singing is not just a playful game, but a competition. The harmonies become more complex than the first verse’s tonic-dominant patterns by including a series of dominant seventh chords marked forte, rising in intensity, leading to E-flat Major at m. 17.

The key of E-flat has appeared briefly in the previous song, and will return as the key of the final song of the cycle. This key shift may hold significance, as Rebecca Ringer argues, by encapsulating the idea of competition with nature. She notes that the first six songs are either in

G Minor or its relative B-flat Major, but the last song is in E-flat Major. In this final song,

Kulmann struggles with the angry sea: a metaphor to her struggle with her impending death. This concept of combating nature is foreshadowed by the passage in E-flat, setting the competition with the finch. In “Der Zeisig” the rivalry remains friendly, but by the end of the cycle Kulmann will lose the battle with nature and give in to death.88 Ringer’s analysis does not take into account the brief movement to E-flat Major in “Du nennst mich armes Mädchen,” though one could infer that the conflict she experienced with poverty relates to her overall struggles encapsulated by this harmonic shift.

After this movement to E-flat Major, the accompaniment quickly returns to the tonic of the piece for the final repeated statement “which of us sang better!” in playful, staccato chords, remaining relatively light and carefree. With only a hint of the struggle to come, this song remains firmly in the child’s innocent and untroubled world: a world that will soon change in the next three songs.

The fifth song of the cycle, “Reich mir die Hand, o Wolke,” (“Reach To Me Your Hand,

O Cloud”), acts as a sort of turning point in both the poetry and music. In this poem, Kulmann

88 Ringer, 134–37.

51 introduces the idea of death and a desire to transcend this earthly life, pleading with the cloud to lift her up to the heavens where her father and brothers are. The paragraph that precedes the song emphasizes this theme of impending death. “How often in her poetry, she concerns herself with a visionary depiction of her deceased family. She clings to this world with heart-felt love, to the flowers, the gleaming stars, the noble human beings she met during her brief stay on earth. But she has a foreboding that she will soon have to leave them.” Where Kulmann used to be a child, singing with the birds and dreaming of magical homes or visiting far-distant lands, she now recognizes the brevity of life and feels an ominous premonition that her own time on earth will be short.

The human-like aspects of nature factor in this poem in a similar way as the moon’s family relationships in “Mond, meiner Seele Liebling,” and the bird’s invitations to sing and compete in “Der Zeisig.” In this poem, Kulmann gives the cloud a physical hand and begs it to lift her up to the heavens to see her brothers and father who have died. Jon Finson notes that

“such sentiments consoled the living as much as the mortally ill, since they provided assurances that the person dying would have company on her journey and would reunite with the previously

‘loved and lost.’”89 Just as she had sought comfort by discussing her mother’s illness with the moon in the first song, she now talks about her dead family members with the clouds, combining themes of family relationships with the idea of impending misfortune. She experienced much personal tragedy in her short life, and family relationships were clearly fundamental to her life experience. This rather complex combination of themes gives Kulmann’s writings a sense of maturity not found in Marjory Fleming’s poetry.

89 Finson, 218.

52

Reich’ mir die Hand, o Wolke, Reach me your hand, oh cloud, Heb’ mich zu dir empor! Lift me up to you! Dort stehen meine Brüder There stand my brothers Am offnen Himmelsthor. At heaven’s open gate.

Sie sind’s, obgleich im Leben It is they, although in life Ich niemals sie geseh’n, I never saw them once, Ich seh’ in ihrer Mitte I see in their midst Ja unsern Vater steh’n! Yes, our father standing!

Sie schau’n auf mich hernieder, They look way down at me, Sie winken mir zu sich. They beckon me to them. O, reich’ die Hand mir, Wolke, Oh, reach me your hand, cloud, Schnell, schnell erhebe mich! Quickly, lift me quickly!

Schumann reflects the shift in Kulmann’s mode of communication from childlike to mature through his musical setting. Where transparency, simplicity, and calmness once reigned, now complexity and tension abound. This song and the final “Gekämpft hat meine Barke,” are the most technically demanding of the set. In startling contrast to the conservative chordal accompaniment of the first four songs, the forte-marked, quickly oscillating sixteenth notes in the right hand of the piano cause an agitated, constant motion not previously heard. Schumann creates unrest by avoiding the tonic, beginning instead in C Minor, and not cadencing on G

Minor until m. 5. A harmonic struggle between G Minor and G Major occurs throughout the song, further strengthening the feeling of unrest. This struggle mirrors Kulmann’s personal battle between remaining on earth (G Minor) and yearning to transcend this life and join her family in heaven (G Major).90 The song resolves in G Major, foretelling her fate and untimely passing. The sweeping vocal line reinforces the idea of yearning and reaching for the heavens as several opening phrases begin on high, long pitches, such as on the words “reach” and “lift.” The piano postlude completes this idea of reaching with expressive leaps up an octave marked sforzando,

90 Ringer, 143.

53 striving for the clouds. The final cadence in the parallel G Major suggests that Kulmann did indeed achieve her goal of transcendence, leaving this earthly life and, at least symbolically, resting in another world.

The final two songs of the cycle have a strong air of inevitable doom about them, though manifest in different ways. In the sixth poem, “Die letzten Blumen starben,” Kulmann equates herself with nature; specifically the dahlias, poplars, and roses. Schumann includes the following description: “A poem full of the presentiment of death, probably dating from the last year of her life. Next to her ‘hut’ there was a little garden, in which she grew flowers year after year. There was also a poplar nearby.” Kulmann philosophically recognizes in this poem that she is mortal, just as all nature is, and that she will die like the flowers and trees of her garden. Where she once looked to nature as a source of comfort or play, now it becomes a symbol of her death.

Die letzten Blumen starben, The last flowers have died, Längst sank die Königin Long since faded the queen Der warmen Sommermonde, Of the warm summer months, Die holde Rose hin! The fair, sweet rose away!

Du hehre Georgine, You noble dahlia, Erhebst nicht mehr dein Haupt! Lift up your head no more! Selbst meine hohe Pappel Even my tall poplar Seh ich schon halb entlaubt. I see half stripped of leaves.

Bin ich doch weder Pappel, Yet I am neither poplar, Noch Rose, zart und schlank, Nor rose, tender and slim, Warum soll ich nicht sinken, Why should I too not perish, Da selbst die Rose sank? As even the rose perished?

Written in G Minor and marked langsam, mit tiefer Empfindungen (slow, with deep emotion), this delicate song returns to the stark, hollow accompaniment evocative of “Mond, meiner Seele Liebling,” the first song of the cycle. Covering the range of a tenth, the pianissimo vocal line lies in a low tessitura, and consists of haunting, other-worldly, repeated notes reminiscent of the final song of Frauenliebe und –leben, “Nun hast du mir den ersten Schmerz

54 getan.” If Kulmann has indeed transcended to another world in the previous song, her voice here could be seen as ghost-like or at essentially untethered from this world. The shortest of the cycle, this song acts as structural upbeat to the final song, with very little harmonic activity occurring.

The tonality moves briefly through E-flat Major, foreshadowing the key of the final song, as

Kulmann remarks that she should perish even as the rose did. The last three measures of the accompaniment are identical to the opening three, creating a sense of the cycle of life, where ashes indeed return to ashes and dust to dust.

The theme of impending death continues in the final song, Gekämpft hat meine Barke”

(My barque has struggled), as Kulmann recognizes that she cannot avoid death and, furthermore, that she has no choice in the matter. The introductory paragraph preceding the song reads,

“Probably written shortly before her death. She seems certain of her imminent end; only the thought of the mother she leaves behind causes her profound pain.” The value of strong family relationships persists as Kulmann’s main concern about dying is not fear for herself, but rather involves the pain and suffering her mother will feel after she is gone. She wishes that her mother will not feel too oppressed by grief, and promises that upon reaching the other side of the sea of death, Elisabeth will keep a vigilant watch for her mother and welcome her when she arrives.

The mature seventeen-year-old who wrote this poem handles the concepts of death and family relationships in a much more elegant, refined way than the younger, weaker version of herself who wrote the first poem about her mother’s illness.

Gekämpft hat meine Barke My barque has struggled Mit der erzürnten Fluth. With the angry waters. Ich seh’ des Himmels Marke, I see heaven’s marker, Es sinkt des Meeres Wuth. The raging sea abates.

55

Ich kann dich nicht vermeiden, I cannot avoid you, O Tod nicht meiner Wahl! O death, not my choice! Das Ende meiner Leiden The end of my suffering, Beginnt, der Mutter Qual. Begins mother’s anguish.

O Mutterherz, dich drücke O mother’s heart, may pain Dein Schmerz nicht allzusehr! Not oppress you too much! Nur wenig Augenblicke Only a few moments Trennt uns des Todes Meer. Parts us from the sea of death.

Dort angelangt, entweiche Arriving there, I will be Ich nimmermehr dem Strand, Leaving the strand nevermore, Seh’ stets nach dir und reiche Ever looking for you and Der Landenden die Hand. Giving you my hand on landing.

Nature has become the adversary as Kulmann struggles with the angry waters and the

“sea of death.” Where “Die letzten Rosen starben” dealt with nature as a symbol of death in an almost inhuman, detached, and emotionless way, “Gekämpft hat meine Barke,” approaches that same subject with much more force and vibrancy. Gone is the simple, folk-like, chordal accompaniment of childhood found in the first four songs. Schumann has developed his musical language to replicate the growth and maturity of his human subject. Composed in the previously foreshadowed key of E-flat Major, melodic and harmonic ninths, as well as augmented intervals abound, as if Schumann is trying to create appropriate harmonic space and grandeur befitting this epic struggle with death. The piano part regains the sense of energy and movement heard in song number five as the first three measures of chords occur on off-beats, continuing with pulsing eighth-notes. The waves that Kulmann contends with are not rocking or lilting, but rather they relentlessly pound her boat through this firm rhythmic figure.91

The vocal line rises and swells with the unfolding melodrama as Kulmann describes the struggles her boat has had with the raging ocean as she tries to outwit death. Her promise to

91 Miller, 200.

56 remain on the shore, looking for her mother after reaching heaven receives the same soaring setting as the beginning, showing Kulmann’s determination to ease her mother’s sorrows, even in her last moments. The vocal line ends rather unsettlingly on the third scale degree instead of on the tonic, as if the ending came too quickly for Elisabeth. Schumann’s piano line finishes in the postlude what the poet could not, resolving to the tonic at the last possible moment, on the second beat of the last measure, as if delaying the inevitable as long as possible, and finally coming to terms with her death.

The journey from childhood to maturity found in the cycle’s poetry receives a musical setting reflecting this same trajectory. Contrasting with the simple and straightforward settings of the first four songs, the sophisticated, lyrical nature of Kulmann’s final “swan song” with its graceful melodic shapes and expressive harmonies, serves as a theatrical culmination of her growth and development. Following the last song, Schumann includes this epilogue:

She died, being creative and writing poetry to the very end, on November 19, 1825, in her 17th year. Among her late poems is the remarkable “A Vision after my Death,” in which she describes her own death. It is perhaps, one of the most sublime masterpieces in all of poetry. Thus she departed from us, as gently as an angel passing from one shore to the other, but leaving behind her in luminous strokes, the traces of a heavenly vision.

As Schumann selected the poems for this cycle from a larger collection, he did so with the intention of teaching his audience specific lessons that he felt Kulmann’s life represented. He used the mode of communication of a child developing into an adult to elucidate the values of strong family relationships; patriotism; strength through adversity; nature as a source of comfort; friendship and identity; and selfless compassion for the suffering of others. He arranged the poetry in such a way as to show youth and naivety progressing towards maturity and sophistication. The musical setting of the entire cycle emulates Kulmann’s growth, moving from simple, transparent music toward increasingly complex, refined songs.

57

For Performers

Performers of this cycle should pay attention to the shift in poetry and music that occurs at the fifth song, “Reich mir die Hand, o Wolke.” Prior to this song, the characterization of the piano and voice are youthful, innocent, and naïve, and the texts are concerned with typical childhood matters. A sense of purity and simplicity will aid the appropriate performance of these first four songs. The final three songs show Kulmann’s maturity and journey towards acceptance of her fate. The vocal color should become appropriately fuller and richer, while the piano accompaniment develops in a proportionally supportive and intense manner. If performers can

“grow” along with the poet in these final songs, then Schumann’s intention of creating a portrait of a child genius who life embodied admirable qualities will come to fruition.

Conclusions

A Garland for Marjory Fleming and Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann both set poetry written by highly achieving young girls. The modes of communication of these two children diverge slightly because Fleming occasionally imitates the actions of the adults around her, while Kulmann grows and develops into a mature young woman. Their poetry shares some thematic characteristics, especially in terms of strong relationships with family members and nature, as well as their purity and innocence. The extensive differences between the two cycles, however, occur because of the contrasting tones of the poetry, and the particular purposes each composer had in creating the cycles. Bennett took a handful of delightful poems from the pen of a young girl who made comical observations of the world around her while trying to put on airs of a grown-up, and created a sweet, funny cycle intended to entertain. Marjory never had the

58 chance to show real growth and maturity in her poetry, which is perhaps reflected by the consistent style of the musical setting. Bennett points out her comical turns of phrases befitting her young age, as well as her imitations of the adult world surrounding her. His musical language remains constant through the cycle. He found a way to remain true to Marjory’s youthfulness and genuine feelings without belittling her, patronizing her, or making her seem forged or false.

Schumann selected seven poems by an accomplished young woman that would highlight her various qualities such as her awareness of mortality, her desire to comfort others, and her struggles against adversity, attempting to recreate in song her “entire life [that] was poetry.”92

Initially, Kulmann reveals her thoughts and feelings in a childlike manner, but becomes increasingly more adult-like throughout the cycle. Schumann’s dedication indicates his intention to introduce her to the world and help his audience to appreciate her as he did. For this reason, her development and progress play a more prominent role in the cycle, forming an entirely different picture than the snapshot of a child’s mind created in A Garland for Marjory Fleming.

The apparent inconsistencies in tone and style of Schumann’s cycle might be cause for criticism if analyzed alone. But in viewing the cycle through the lens of mode of communication, and placing it alongside Bennett’s, one can see Schumann’s wisdom and sensitivity in altering the music to fit the developing persona of this maturing young woman.

92 Quoted from the dedication paragraph of the score. Schumann, Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke.

59 Chapter 2: Adult Poet Acting as a Child

When a poet writes from the point of view of a child, he has a specific purpose in selecting that particular poetic voice. He may want to create a silly, juvenile text that would seem more genuine or appropriate coming from a child’s mouth. Perhaps he wishes to portray a certain level of innocence and purity more commonly found in children’s thoughts and speech. A desire to instruct readers regarding various topics that would carry more weight when introduced by a child may influence his choice of narrator. Among the many song cycles that contain poetry by an adult who assumes a child’s identity are Theodore Chanler’s The Children and Leonard

Bernstein’s I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano. Both composers seek to portray genuine childlike qualities through the text and music, though their specific messages for their audiences differ.

The Children

The poetic voice of Chanler’s cycle, The Children, contrasts with Bennett’s A Garland for Marjory Fleming and Schumann’s Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann, Op. 104 because the adult poet, Leonard Feeney, adopts the persona of a child. This mode of communication corresponds to Ian Sharp’s third Route of Musical Experience, in which “an adult utilizes a mode of childhood to relate to adults.”1 When this specific route occurs, analysts should consider the purpose the adults have in assuming the mode of childhood. Sharp clarifies, “Childhood can be re-interpreted by adults, who thereby derive vicarious pleasure (or pain) from reliving its real or imagined experiences. From the adult standpoint any conscious decision to relate to children . . . usually represents a calculated position. . . . Their view of childhood is selective and often

1 Ian Sharp, Classical Music’s Evocation of the Myth of Childhood, Studies in the History and Interpretation of Music 78 (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 2000), 31.

60 idealized.”2 Differing from the previous routes of musical experience explored in Chapter One, in which a child merely acts as a child, or a child puts on grown-up airs in order to imitate adults or imagine what the future might be like, adults have already experienced childhood in their own past. In deciding to present their material from the perspective of a child, adult writers hope to achieve a specific goal with their texts. In the case of The Children, the messages of recognizing the transience of life as represented by childhood, finding joy and wisdom through a child’s perspective, and cherishing children as God does, find expression in both the poetry and musical setting. The poet of this cycle, American priest Father Leonard Feeney, wrote and spoke extensively about the importance of treating children with Godly love throughout his life.

Leonard Feeney

As one of America’s most influential Jesuit intellectuals and theologians, Feeney enjoyed a celebrated career as a writer, lecturer, and editor. Born in 1897 in Lynn, Massachusetts, he entered the Society of Jesus in 1914 and was ordained a Jesuit priest in 1928. After completing graduate studies at Oxford, Feeney quickly rose to prominence in the United States. His book

Fish on Friday, containing sketches and stories on Catholic themes, became a national best seller in 1934, finding its way into Catholic households all over America. As a popular author, poet, and speaker, Feeney was often called upon to preach and give lectures. NBC Radio aired a series of his talks on their weekly program, The Catholic Hour.3

Feeney’s teachings became progressively more abrasive and antagonistic throughout his life. In 1942 his superiors assigned him to work at the Saint Benedict Center in Cambridge,

Massachusetts, two years after its founding. The Center provided Catholic literature, discussion

2 Sharp, 23. 3 The Slaves of the Immaculate Heart of Mary, “About Father Leonard Feeney, M. I. C. M.,” http://www.catholicism.org/author/fatherleonardfeeneymicm (accessed July 16, 2012).

61 groups, and lectures for students attending non-Catholic universities in the area. While there,

Feeney focused his efforts on teaching his central message of “no salvation outside the church.”

Intent on promoting this core belief, Feeney’s congregation became the “Slaves of the

Immaculate Heart of Mary,” a strictly conservative Catholic group.4 Using an aggressive method of street-corner preaching, Feeney publicly and forcefully condemned those of other faiths, particularly Jews and Protestants, refusing to soften his position when called upon by his superiors. This behavior caused his alienation from the Catholic Church, culminating with his excommunication in 1953.5 Upon separating with the Church, Feeney established a commune outside the town of Harvard, Massachusetts with approximately fifty of his followers, dubbed

“Feeneyites” by the press. The Vatican ultimately removed its censures from Feeney in 1972, reinstating him as a priest.6 He lived in his cloistered environment with his followers until his death in 1978.

Feeney’s poetry assembled in The Children predates his estrangement from the Catholic

Church, with themes involving much less controversial subjects than “no salvation outside of the church.” He includes ideas of learning from children and treating them with love, and expresses these ideas using the voice of a child. These concepts also appear in a set of radio addresses

Feeney gave in 1942 entitled “We are the Children of God.” Regarding the importance of recognizing our identity as children of God and everything that relationship entails, Feeney taught:

We are the children of God. I say so because God said so first, because it is religion’s first lesson, and because around this central and graceful truth is built up all contact between God and man in the beautiful theology of the Catholic Church. The more effort we make to realize what we are in God’s sight, and to

4 Elliott Alfred Nordgren, “An Analytical Study of the Songs of Theodore Chanler (1902–1961)” (PhD diss., New York University, 1980), 29. 5 James Carroll, Practicing Catholic (New York: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 2009), 69. 6 Dave O’Brian, “Father Feeney: A Heretic Courted By the Church,” The Boston Phoenix, October 8, 1974.

62 act upon it, the dearer we become to ourselves and others, the more bearable to live with, and the more missed and remembered when we die.7

Feeney believes that “our simple status as God’s child is the foundation in us of everything beautiful we know: of friendship and romance and marriage and babies: of art, song, gaiety, and laughter.”8 He affirms that in the deepest part of our soul, “we are always a child, who always knows that all is well. . . . Way down deep there is the very sanctity of our personality, to which religion makes its appeal, and to which God speaks pleadingly when He asks us to call Him ‘Our

Father.’”9 According to Feeney, understanding this identity and connection with a Heavenly

Father is critical to finding faith and hope of a life beyond this one: of an eternity awaiting us with our Father in Heaven.

Another theme that emerges from Feeney’s radio addresses regards children teaching adults valuable lessons. He urges adults to study children, to learn from them, and to become like them in order to find happiness and success in this world, and to reach the ultimate goal of entering the Kingdom of Heaven, as taught in the popular Bible verse Matthew 18:3. Their unspoiled, innocent outlook on life can help adults escape their jaded, cynical tendencies as they

“look around for life’s joyful explanation with the unprejudiced vision of a child.”10 Feeney gave these radio addresses during World War II, at a time when Americans witnessed much death and suffering, and could easily slip into hopelessness. He professed the timely sentiment that children symbolize optimism for the future. Life will go on and the human race will triumph.

7 Leonard Feeney, “The Child in Us,” in We Are the Children of God (Huntington, IN: Our Sunday Visitor, 1942), 6. 8 Feeney, “The Child in Us,” 4. 9 Leonard Feeney, “Our Eternal Childhood,” in We Are the Children of God (Huntington, IN: Our Sunday Visitor, 1942), 11. 10 Feeney, “The Child in Us,” 5.

63 On a related topic, Feeney teaches that children can remind adults of the precariousness of life, and of the wisdom needed in choosing how to spend this precious time on Earth. He states,

There are some days when it is marvelously marvelous just to be alive! But— here’s the rub, and the children know it, and it’s the burden of all their gay-sad songs. Out we go from all this in a few years! And the prospect of death leads us to ask ourselves some desperately pointed questions when we are alone.11

Feeney connects the concept of observing children and the brevity of their youth to the idea of the transience of life, teaching that focusing on mortality will encourage people to make better choices.

Another tenet that Feeney promotes in his lectures avows that “God became a child because the child is the truest reflection of God.”12 Humans can relate to God as a child, and that relationship should teach them the correct way to treat the children surrounding them, an essential aspect of Christianity. Feeney expresses concern about the social war on the home and family that he perceived in the 1930s and 1940s, and urged adults to avoid these tendencies.

If you have a distaste for the child, for his small behavior and the artless ways in which he can be pleased, then it is impossible for Christianity to take hold of you. . . . Much of the anti-Christian sentiment in so-called Christian lands, is due to our dislike, our disdain, and even our dread of the child.”13

He further describes these three cultural problems, dislike, disdain, and dread of children.

Dislike of the child is bound to come where father and mother are not sure of their love, and do not even want to make sure of it. . . . As a possible nuisance he comes into the world, if he comes at all. As a nuisance he is handed over to a nurse, who, not being his mother, cannot always be expected to understand him with a mother’s sympathy. As a nuisance he is sent off to school, not to be educated, but to be gotten out of sight.

11 Feeney, “Our Eternal Childhood,” 9. 12 Leonard Feeney, “God as a Child” in We Are the Children of God (Huntington, IN: Our Sunday Visitor, 1942), 19. 13 Feeney, “God as a Child,” 16.

64 Dislike for the child is bad enough, but disdain for the child is devilish— and such a spirit obtains among those who have been taught to put little more than an athletic value on their little ones. . . . The last great emotional refusal of the child in the un-Christian dispensation of Christian lands, is dread; the dread of him as an economic hardship.14

According to Feeney, adults should provide a loving environment for children, being willing to sacrifice their time and money to properly care for their little ones. They should love each child equally regardless of his individual talents or strengths.

Feeney synthesized his themes by affirming that as humans, we all have worth because

We are the children of God. And we are also the children of men. Despite the fact that we are not marvelous physical specimens, neither too good-looking, too brilliant, or even at times, too well—someone once believed in us. We were once welcomed into a mother’s and father’s heart. We were nobody’s nuisance, nobody’s misfit, nobody’s economic bother. Our parents never regarded us as something that arrived annoyingly, and had to be paid for like the gas bill. Is there anywhere in our hearts a remembrance of this charity—a charity extended to us when we were small and silent and sleeping in the cradle—upon that remembrance religion will build, God will come to us, and Jesus, the little Infant of Bethlehem, will be our God.15

As a priest, writer, and public speaker, Feeney sought to teach the world important moral lessons regarding children. His longtime collaboration with composer Theodore Chanler provided yet another vehicle for transmitting these messages.

Theodore Chanler

Chanler (1902–1961) began his studies of music at a time when American composition and pedagogy had shifted from a strong German influence to a preference for a French aesthetic.16 According to Virgil Thomson,

14 Ibid., 17–18. 15 Ibid., 19. 16 Alan Howard Levy, Musical Nationalism: American Composers’ Search for Identity (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1983), 30.

65 As viewed from America, the musical prognosis for Europe was so clearly favorable to France that well before World War I the brighter young Americans had begun to go there for studies. . . . German study had unquestionably been of value to the rise of American musicians into a higher level of artistic behavior. . . . It was through their French contacts, however, that they first tasted freedom.17

Chanler belonged to the generation of American composers who gained valuable instruction in

France and then returned home to pursue their careers. Though he received several prestigious awards and earned the respect of his fellow composers during his lifetime, Chanler’s music has not found a lasting place in the standard American repertory.

Chanler’s path to France followed a rather circuitous route. The youngest of eight children born to Winthrop Astor Chanler and Margaret (Terry) in Newport, Rhode Island on

April 29, 1902, Chanler commenced his musical training at home. Receiving encouragement from his mother, herself a pianist, Chanler began piano lessons at age six and composition at fifteen.18 According to friends and family, though he was talented, bright, and witty, Chanler was a reluctant scholar. After two years studying piano and counterpoint at the New York Institute of

Musical Art, he followed mentor Ernest Bloch to the newly founded Cleveland Institute of Music in 1920. He then traveled to Oxford to continue his studies, spending two unsatisfactory years there before ultimately following in the footsteps of other promising American composers and going to France to pursue composition under Nadia Boulanger.19

Boulanger earned a reputation as a highly sought-after teacher of American composers in the 1920s. A professor of harmony at the Paris Conservatory, Boulanger also taught counterpoint and organ at the École Normale de Musique. Some of her American students during the 1920s included Marc Blitzstein, Elliott Carter, Aaron Copland, Roy Harris, Douglas Moore, and

17 Virgil Thomson, American Music Since 1910 (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971), 3. 18 Bruce Lanier Kolb, “The Published Songs of Theodore Chanler” (DMA doc., Louisiana State University, 1976), 4. 19 Nordgren, 26.

66 Bernard Rogers, and Thomson. Both Copland and Thomson observed that her value to her students lay in giving them instant criticism by quickly identifying a piece’s expressivity.20

At a time when the field of music history was relatively underdeveloped, Boulanger

“possessed an encyclopedic knowledge of musical literature.”21 She believed in the importance of familiarity with music of the past combined with a genuine appreciation for contemporary practices. Boulanger introduced Chanler and her other students to the work of her teacher

Gabriel Fauré, whose influence permanently affected Chanler’s style of composition. Chanler states that he admired “the subtle simplicity of Fauré’s thought, the unexpectedness that is yet always logical, and most of all, how much he could say with a few notes.”22 Contrasting with contemporary innovators such as Schoenberg and Webern, who formulated new ways of creating music, Chanler gained strength not by rebelling against the past, but rather by openly proclaiming Fauré as his master. He emulated Fauré’s techniques of developing rhythm out of a regular pulse, and of writing highly lyrical vocal melodies with restricted ranges and intervals.

Chanler adapted these techniques to his own style by allowing his melodies to contradict the meter more persistently than even Fauré had done.23 Perhaps Chanler’s music has fallen into obscurity because it did not advance new techniques of song composition. However, according to Nordgren, “his contribution to the musical life and heritage of America as a conservative composer in an era largely characterized by radical experimentation has not been fully recognized.”24

20 Ibid., 26–27. 21 Levy, 53. 22 Theodore Chanler, “Gabriel Fauré: A Reappraisal,” Modern Music 22 (March–April 1945): 165–69, quoted in Carol Kimball, Song: A Guide to Art Song Style and Literature (Seattle, Pst…, 2000), 252. 23 Hans Nathan, A History of Song, ed. Denis Stevens (New York, W. W. Norton, 1970), 439–40. 24 Nordgren, 10.

67 Upon returning to the United States in the early 1930s, Chanler’s career as a composer, music critic, and teacher took shape. He made a significant name for himself as a music reviewer, contributing regular articles to the periodical Modern Music until its demise in 1947.25

This quarterly magazine served American composers by providing awareness of what their colleagues were doing, while attempting to create broader public recognition of the creative achievements of American music.26 He also had a short career as a columnist at the Boston

Herald, but was fired after writing several negative reviews of the Boston Symphony. His other accomplishments include receiving a Guggenheim fellowship in 1944, as well as teaching at the

Peabody Conservatory from 1945 to 1947, followed by a position at the Longy School in

Cambridge, Massachusetts from 1949 to 1959.

Chanler’s compositions include a ballet, a chamber opera, a violin sonata, and some organ and piano works, but above all he preferred to write art songs. With less than fifty song compositions to his credit, Chanler nevertheless demonstrated his expertise as a “lyric miniaturist” by achieving a heightening of poetry and music through each one. This inclination towards song contrasted with the prevailing practice among American composers at the time.

According to musicologist Hans Nathan,

The majority of American composers who established their reputation between the late twenties and the forties, channelled their energies into instrumental, chiefly orchestral, and choral works. Among them were Aaron Copland, Roger Sessions, Roy Harris, Walter Piston, and William Schuman. Their neglect of the art-song resulted partly from their hostility towards a form that was a favorite vehicle of the romantic period, partly from the conviction that a professional career in America was possible only with large-scale statements, and, finally,

25 Helen Lightner, Class Voice and the American Art Song: A Source Book and Anthology (Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1991), 104. 26 Eric Salzman, “Modern Music in Retrospect,” Perspectives of New Music 2, no. 2 (Spring–Summer, 1964): 14.

68 from the availability in many American cities, of good orchestras and choral groups.27

Thomson agreed with this assessment of contemporary American composition, and asserted that English-language art song had not yet reached the level of German or

French equivalents. He admonished, “Let us all try very hard to write English songs; by all means let us try. But I have yet to see a break-through in the matter, something as radically alive and different from its predecessors as Schubert’s flexible and flowing songs are from the stiff layouts of Mozart and Beethoven.28 Against this backdrop,

Chanler worked and thrived as a composer of petite miniatures, or art songs.29

Chanler believed song writing consisted of a hierarchy of diverse elements, fusing together to create a single form. He states his philosophy as follows:

The text is the cantus firmus, something given, that we are not responsible for, and that, like fate, we can bend to our will only if we accept its terms. . . . Next, in a descending scale of autonomy, comes the melody. . . . Its length, its rhythmic design, even its general contour, are all in one way or another conditioned by the text. Yet in spite of this, if it is to deserve the name of melody it must have a recognizable and relatively independent musical shape. . . . Next in the hierarchy comes the accompaniment, serving to support the usually frail structure of the melody. Woven into the accompaniment may be ornamental and contrapuntal designs of almost any degree of complexity. But its basic structure should again be clear and solid in itself, having as much autonomy as its doubly conditioned status allows.30

Chanler continued the idea of the primacy of the text by calling the text the “parent of the melody” and the accompaniment “its nurse.” Consequently, either “despite its dependence and frailty—or because of it—the melody draws upon itself the clearest focus of attention.”31 Chanler stated that his purpose in creating this hierarchy was to help song writers avoid composing

27 Nathan, 437. Nathan notes that Roger Sessions suggested to him the idea about a professional career in America being possible only with large-scale statements. 28 Thomson, 88. 29 Kolb, 2. 30 Chanler, quoted from an unnamed source in Robert Tangeman, “The Songs of Theodore Chanler,” Modern Music 22, no. 4 (May–June, 1945): 227. 31 Ibid., 229.

69 “songs that are primarily piano pieces (and bad ones at that) with obbligato voice parts.”32

Fellow composer William Flanagan observed this hierarchy of text, melody, and accompaniment in Chanler’s works, and described the result as “an all-too-rare rightness of poetic inflection

(through correct, but not fussy, prosody), a sense of the inevitability of the musical whole, and a style that, if it is not too striking in itself, is the result of meticulous, honest craftsmanship.”33

This careful attention to poetic inflection and supremacy of melody can be found in The

Children.

Chanler enjoyed poetry with children’s themes, setting many poems by renowned English poet and novelist Walter de la Mare, including one of his more famous cycles, Four Rhymes from Peacock Pie. This cycle was commissioned as part of the League of Composers Town Hall

Award which Chanler earned in 1940. As musicologist Robert Tangeman describes, “the fantasy, humor, and gentleness of Chanler’s gift come to full flower in the Peacock Pie songs. . . .

Assorted animals are included in the cycle with at least one imaginary creature, Tillie, never clearly described, for whom the composer has written an engaging, graceful waltz.”34 Chanler’s short opera, A Pot of Fat, also has ties to children’s themes, with the libretto adapted from a

Grimm fairy tale called “The Cat and The Mouse in Partnership.”

Chanler’s propensity for children’s themes continued with his settings of texts by Feeney, his other preferred poet. Chanler met the priest in the mid-1930s, and consequently became very involved at St. Benedict Center. This friendship and collaboration lasted approximately ten years. Feeney would often write poetry expressly for Chanler’s use, while at other times Chanler would create the music first and ask Feeney to provide a fitting text.35 The artistic collaboration

32 Ibid. 33Flanagan, quoted in Kolb, 19–20. 34 Tangeman, 231. 35 Ibid., 229.

70 between Chanler and Feeney worked well, for Feeney provided Chanler with the very short poetry he preferred for his song lyrics, combining sensitivity, appropriate reserve, musicality and craftsmanship.36

Their personal relationship did not conclude as positively, however. Chanler’s family noticed a decline in his emotional well-being during the decade they worked together, observing that Feeney’s strong personality too easily dominated Chanler’s rather submissive nature.

Chanler ended their friendship when Feeney encouraged Chanler to leave his wife and then eventually became excommunicated from the church.37

Chanler died on July 27, 1961, ending a distinguished career as a composer of small but exquisite works, which Virgil Thomson considered “among the finest of our time in English.”38

Describing Chanler’s style, Flanagan states, “What it lacks in bravery and dimension it makes up for in genuine modesty, probity, and conscientious workmanship. One thing is certain: We have, or have had, no American composer who has produced more indefectibly [i.e., “flawlessly”] idiomatic songs.”39 His song cycle The Children uses such “conscientious workmanship” to illuminate the messages in Feeney’s poetry, as communicated through the voice of a child.

Analysis of The Children

The Children contains nine songs of varying lengths, all of which employ the plural

“children” as narrator. Chanler originally intended for the songs to be sung by a unison children’s choir, but the publishers neglected to mention that fact in the score.40 Currently, the cycle is performed by solo voice (presumably an adult) and piano. Fellow composer Arthur

36 Kolb, 96. 37 Nordgren, 32. 38 Virgil Thomson, American Music Since 1910 (New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1971), 131. 39 Flanagan, 23. 40 Arthur Berger, “Scores and Records,” Modern Music 23 (Spring, 1946): 134, quoted in Kolb, 77.

71 Berger believes that Chanler “has found an excellent solution to the problem of achieving simplicity without sacrificing subtlety. . . Chanler also operates on two levels. The voice parts are clearly for children, but the accompaniments provide many elements a sophisticated public will linger over affectionately.”41 Chanler’s vocal style, modeled after the accessibility of Fauré, lends itself to simplicity and openness required by the text. Combined with an imaginative accompaniment, he produces a cycle that effectively encapsulates the childlike features of the poetry.

The cycle as a whole delivers a comprehensive message of Feeney’s religiously-based lessons about childhood. It is unknown whether Feeney first provided the texts from which

Chanler selected specific poems, or whether Chanler requested that he specifically write them for the set. Given the personal working relationship between poet and composer, they most likely collaborated together on the overall structure, choosing which poems to include and the general architecture of the cycle. If this is the case, then they likely shared the same purposes for using the mode of communication of children’s perspectives to present their messages. Feeney’s notoriously persuasive personality and Chanler’s rather passive demeanor combined to form a cycle espousing many of the values found elsewhere in Feeney’s writings.

The first and last songs present overtly religious or moral teachings, while the middle seven exhibit themes of innocence and joy found in children’s perspectives on nature, family, and silly nursery rhymes. The cycle teaches that fleeting childhood can provide hope for the future, that adults can learn valuable insights from children, and that people should treat children with love and respect as God would have them do. The manner in which the children narrators deliver both the didactic messages and simple observations creates a symbolic, archetypal

41 Ibid.

72 representation of childhood, as opposed to the realistic depiction of a specific child found in the

Marjory Fleming cycle.

The first song of this cycle, also called “The Children,” sets the tone for the group as a whole by establishing the concept of transient childhood. The thought of children growing older and leaving home often fills adults with a sense of loss or sadness. Furthermore, in the context of war (a daily concern during the early 1940s), the continual stream of young men leaving the safety of home to fight, perhaps not to return again, produced a sense of futility and despair. The children narrators offer a measure of hope for the future by reminding the audience that even though they will grow up and leave the home, whether for school, war, or to start their own families, more children will take their places. They also teach that childhood should be cherished because if adults will look to children, they will discover love and laughter.

We are the children who play in the park All the day long from the dawn till the dark; We are the children.

We will grow older, as ev’ryone knows, And when we grow older, what do you suppose Will become of the children?

Will there be children again, When we who are children are women and men? Yes! Surely the world will love children no less;

Children will come when we children are gone, Out of the darkness and into the dawn, Taking our places,

Bearing our brightness and lightness of limbs, And our laughter and love in their faces.

Using children to voice these adult sentiments comes across as rather unrealistic. They articulate mature, adult-like thoughts and feelings about aging and the circular nature of life that would most likely never occur to actual children. By using this mode of communication, Feeney

73 creates a pedagogical representation of children as youth who declare words of wisdom and comfort for adults.

Chanler’s musical setting depicts an idyllic atmosphere of a child’s world. A rollicking, playful, and carefree mood overlays this poignant text about mortality. As these innocent children display wisdom beyond their years, they do so within the context of simplicity and play.

The introduction establishes a skipping rhythmic pattern, a proper backdrop for this playground song. The cheerful tone established by the piano combines with an essentially stepwise eighth- note pattern in the voice, suggesting running children at play. Chanler marks the text, “We are the children!” with a forte dynamic, emphasizing that they will be the speakers for the cycle and will not let themselves be ignored. A melodic fragment from the nursery rhyme “Pop Goes the

Weasel” recurs twice, in mm. 15–18 and mm. 65–68. The only musical reflection of the potentially grave mood of the text occurs when the key briefly changes form bright and happy C

Major to the relative A Minor, with a thinner piano texture, highlighting the words, “Will there be children again / When we who are children are women and men?” C Major immediately returns with the emphatic answer, “Yes!” Hope shall return with the passage of time and more children will fill any perceived void. The song ends with both the vocal line and the upper hand of the piano codetta finishing on the dominant scale degree, resulting in a rather open-ended, fleeting feeling, emphasizing the life-lessons in the poetry. The final bass note of the piano sounds the tonic in the last three measures, bringing the song to a calm resolution.

The next seven songs have a less moralizing agenda as they describe elements familiar to children’s surroundings. Often the children narrators make observations that seem out of character for their age and experience, and sometimes they overtly aim to teach adults how to behave, but on the whole, the tone remains joyful and innocent.

74 The text for “Once Upon a Time” consists of multiple humorous allusions to fairy tales, fables, and historical events that would be common to a child’s storybook repertory.

Once upon a time, Mary went to call the cattle home; Once upon a time, Nero played a fiddle while they burned down Rome; Once upon a time,

Noah built the Ark when it started to rain, Launcelot loved Elaine, Christopher Columbus grew tired of Spain, Once upon a time.

Once upon a time, the dish ran away with the spoon; Once upon a time, the butterfly came from the cocoon, Once upon a time.

There wasn’t any you and there wasn’t any I, But Washington never told a lie, And four and twenty blackbirds were baked in a pie, Once upon a time.

Once upon a time, a turtle beat a rabbit in a race, Once upon a time; ev’rything remarkable always took place Once upon a time;

Someone wrote a song about an old grey mare, Simple Simon met a pieman going to a Fair; Isn’t it unfortunate we couldn’t have been there? Once upon a time.

These familiar references belong to children’s education and experiences, and produce a sense of nostalgia or longing in the adult audience. However, a few lines seem to exhibit a feeling of wistfulness beyond the children’s years, particularly “There wasn’t any you and there wasn’t any

I,” as well as “Isn’t it unfortunate we couldn’t have been there?” Perhaps children would pine for times of fairy tales, but more likely they could imagine themselves participating in the stories without any sense of loss for their actual reality. In these instances, the true adult nature of the poet emerges from behind the mode of communication of his children narrators. His sense of

75 long for the world of make-believe belongs to a more mature awareness than these children possess.

Chanler sets this imaginative text with traditional tonal music, but includes several instances of chromaticism and multiple key changes (ten modulations in sixty-one measures) to accompany the aimlessly wandering thoughts of children. These sudden, brief key changes constitute harmonic vignettes for the various rhymed verses. Pentatonic tonalities in mm. 43–50 suggest a child’s dreamy reflections, generating a sense of other-worldliness. Following natural speech cadences, Chanler repeats the same rhythmic pattern every time the words “once upon a time” appear, building a strong unifying factor in this through-composed song, even as the harmonies constantly change. This technique produces a patter song effect, which supports the choice to not use arching melodies, but rather level or ascending contours. These musical techniques combine to create a spontaneous, stream-of-conscious narrative of youthful stories and nursery rhymes.

“Wind” (no. 3) is one of several songs in the cycle, along with “The Rose” (no. 5), and

“Moo is a Cow” (no. 8), that presents childlike portrayals of nature and animals. “Wind” is a breezy, descriptive song that is both humorous and evocative. The text outlines childhood thoughts and experiences with wind:

Wind is to show How a thing can blow, And especially through trees;

When it is fast It is called a blast, And it’s otherwise known as a breeze.

It begins somewhere in the sky, Like a sigh, Then it turns to a roar, And returns to a sigh once more.

76

Wind is the air in your hair When you stand On the sand By the shore.

Wind will shake the lattices late at night, It will make the clouds go by; Anything easy that’s hard to do, It is pretty sure to try:

Blow down a pine, Clothes from a line, Tumble a chimney top.

Wind is the general sound You hear around, That suddenly likes to stop.

Nature receives a blustery musical setting in “Wind,” until the ending when the wind finally dies down. The rapid tempo and fast-moving notes of this through-composed song create a feeling of movement and energy, at times playful and at other times harmful. Chanler uses every possibility of sound—staccato, accents, tenuto, sforzando, diminuendo, slurs, etc.—to highlight the various experiences with wind. He sets the text with longer melodic arch shapes spanning two phrases to carry the listeners along with the wind, and adds several syncopated rhythms to create an appropriately jostling atmosphere. Musical sounds matching the text, such as a sudden decrescendo on “sigh” (m. 31) and crescendo on “turns to a roar,” (m. 34) as well as sixteenth notes in dissonant seconds on the word “blast,” (m. 18) animate the children’s vivid descriptions. The sudden, final halting of wind occurs in the piano postlude (mm. 91–97) with a slowing harmonic rhythm and lento conclusion. The song creates an overall effect of excited children relating their personal experiences with nature in animated tones.

Children assume the role of teachers as they sing a lullaby to adults in the next song,

“Sleep” (no. 4). The text contrasts the attitude of adults with that of children toward sleep. Adults

77 worry, try to figure out how to fall asleep, and use tools such as counting sheep, but children are simply confident, sink easily into sleep, and immediately stop remembering who they are.

Sleep is not something you worry about; Sleep is just something you do. Don’t make resolutions to figure it out, But love it like children and sleep will come true.

We never go to sleep to dream; We go to sleep to go to sleep. Unusual as it may seem, We never spend our time counting sheep.

A little confidence does the trick When we climb into our beds, Instead of filling our heads With a lot of animals and arithmetic.

We love the way we love to go to sleep; To sink into a slumber that is always pretty deep, To go sailing off to a star, To be buried in a field of hay,

To stop remembering who we are When we’re finished with our prayers and our play, After we have given you a good-night kiss And closed our eyes like this:

It’s an awful lot of fun, And it’s restful too; Do you see how it’s done? Do you?

By having children teach adults how to fall asleep, Feeney forsakes a real child’s persona in favor of an archetype or symbol of what children represent. He believes that adults should emulate the less cluttered life of a child in order to find peace and rest. Feeney includes a subtle religious teaching when the children state, “when we’re finished with our prayers and our play,” once again making children the example for adults in how to behave.

78 A dreamlike quality occurs in “Sleep,” with its 6/8 meter and constant rippling sixteenth notes. The undulating arpeggiation of the tonic chord with an added sixth gives the opening measures a tranquil, reflective quality. Within the four-bar introduction, Chanler establishes a trance-like motion of accented first and fourth notes, resulting in an effect both relaxing and reassuring. The mood changes only once, when repeated tritones reinforce the text in the third stanza that refers to arithmetic, as if the children become momentarily distracted from their narrative by this unpleasant topic.

The piano accompaniment fluctuates between its upper line doubling the voice part and moving completely independently of the vocal melody. Throughout the song, whether doubling or acting alone, the piano maintains a strong function as commentator with a character of its own, personifying sleep itself. Three extended piano interludes, atypical of Chanler’s style, occur after the first, third and fifth stanzas of poetry (mm. 20–30, 59–72, and 114–29), with a fourth interlude (mm. 135–45) between the second and third lines of the final stanza. They serve to prolong the trancelike mood between sections of text, while giving the song continuity. A moment of silence occurs in m. 130 after the children have closed their eyes and to demonstrate the ease of falling asleep. The piano changes to a chordal accompaniment for the next five measures when the children re-open their eyes and continue, “It’s an awful lot of fun, and it’s restful too” before resuming its undulating arpeggios representing sleep to the conclusion. The gentle and delicate music carries the message of calm and tranquility, serenity and wisdom offered by the children narrators.

The theme of nature returns with the song “The Rose” (no. 5). This time, however, the rose characterizes more than children’s experiences with the outdoors; instead it becomes a symbol or an allegory. Feeney does not clarify in his poem what he intends the rose to represent,

79 but in the context of the cycle, one can interpret that it involves children in some way. Some insight may be gained from examining a 1939 publication by Feeney entitled You’d Better Come

Quietly, in which he makes a comparison between a rock and a rose. He states,

For here’s what a rose is which a rock isn’t. It is a little unity of being, each part succulently united to another in a way no piece of rock could be to any other piece. It works in the short space of what we are pleased to call its “life,” as a small pseudo-self in the realm of matter. It can grow, nourish itself, reproduce its kind. No rock can do that. . . . All the magnificence and power of the inanimate world packed into one display could not begin to adequate the wonderfulness of performance in one small rose, acting as a unified being, exercising itself in the marvellous functions of growth, nourishment and reproduction, putting forth its little challenge of thorns. Because the time will come when you can say of the rose, “It is now dead!” You cannot say that of any rock that ever existed, from the tiniest pebble on the beach to the Grand Canyon of the Colorado.42

Feeney continues, “I am like a flower in that I nourish myself, grow, and can reproduce my kind.”43 With this comparison in mind, the rose probably represents a person, most likely a child, with Feeney esteeming human life far above the merits of any inanimate object one can possess.

In other words, no matter what the child looks like (“any hues you choose”), or in whatever situation (“amid sunlight and shadows and show’rs”), every child deserves adults’ time and care.

The complicated concepts embodied by the text seem entirely out of the realm of children’s thoughts or imaginations. One cannot truly envision children using such intricate phrases as these:

Superimpose On the petals of a rose Any hues You choose, And see if you can find What a garden has in mind, That’s rose inclined.

42 Leonard Feeney, You’d Better Come Quietly: Three Sketches, Some Outlines and Additional Notes (Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries, 1939), 65, 67. 43 Ibid., 71.

80 Go review your heart’s horticulture, Amid sunlight and shadows and show’rs; Take a book That you took From the library, and look Up the fascinating history of flow’rs.

Forgetfulness You will have to confess, If you placed In haste An insufficient stress On the blossom set above The leaf and thorn of love, On the stem that grows Us a rose.

“The Rose” introduces a deeper level of symbolism and intricate imagery than found in the rest of cycle. Feeney presents the idea of showing love while caring for a child (symbolized by the rose) with phrases such as “your heart’s horticulture” and “the blossom set above the leaf and thorn of love.” In talking about placing “in haste an insufficient stress” on the rose, Feeney warns adults to beware of their rushed, hurried lives that may cause them to not pay enough attention to the children in their care. Because Feeney chose children to deliver this complex comparison, rife with concepts belonging entirely to adults, the poem again achieves the effect of archetypal children narrators as opposed to authentic ones.

Just as audiences might have difficulty imagining a child uttering the text due to the mature nature of the language (i.e. “superimpose,” “horticulture,” and “insufficient”), Chanler’s musical setting also lacks child-like qualities. According to Bruce Kolb,

“The Rose” is more effectively performed as a separate song than as part of The Children. The text seems to contain elements of retrospect and specific intent that is uncharacteristic of a song to be performed by children. Stylistically, the poem and the music are not representative of the cycle as a unit, and the question may be raised concerning whether or not the poem was originally included in the poetic cycle.44

44 Kolb, 85–86.

81

Kolb accurately observes the reflective nature of “The Rose” and its specific purpose to convey a message that seems too mature for children to comprehend. This analysis leads to his conclusion that the song does not fit well in the cycle. However, he does not consider the entire group of songs through the mode of communication of an adult acting as a child. Sharp’s statement, included earlier in this chapter, reveals a common thread that unites several of the songs in this cycle. He affirms that “from the adult standpoint any conscious decision to relate to children . . . usually represents a calculated position. . . . Their view of childhood is selective and often idealized.”45 While the level of complexity and symbolism in “The Rose” distinguishes it from the rest of the songs in this cycle, Feeney’s message of paying sufficient attention to children fits with the other didactic songs, especially “The Children” (no. 1), “Sleep” (no. 4), and “One of

Us” (no. 9). He certainly uses a selective and idealized view of childhood as the vehicle for carrying his explicit messages to his intended audience.

Chanler reflects the deeper, more esoteric imagery of the poetry through his musical treatment of the text. He deviates from his preferred through-composed form by utilizing a modified ternary setting with a slower vocal line and accompaniment, giving the song a defined, measured quality, enhanced by lush chromaticism. The two-measure contrapuntal introduction evokes an image of layered petals, illustrating this symbolic flower. Sevenths, ninths, and elevenths all suggesting the luxury and fragrance of the flower, are used frequently. The subdued, undulating melody starts piano, follows only two crescendo markings, and ends pianissimo, conjuring a hushed atmosphere. The piano accompaniment follows vocal line more closely than any other song, coloring the images set forth in the vocal line, while strengthening the importance of the text. Whatever the precise meaning of this rather enigmatic poem, its

45 Sharp, 23.

82 delicacy and complexity embodied by its vocabulary, the image of a rose blossom, and the relationships between adults and children, are reflected in the elegance and intricacy of the counterpoint and other musical elements.

Family relationships feature as the central concept in the following song, “Grandma.”

The narrator observes a grandmother, describing her likes and dislikes, her appearance, her activities, and her religious teachings. The description proceeds in an objective, almost detached way, focusing on the grandmother as she currently is (old, with white hair and poor eyesight), while revealing childlike obliviousness to her former youth. A change occurs in the last stanza, however, when the child makes a more personal connection with the grandmother, realizing that she was once a child like just the narrator, and that she had her own grandmother too.

Grandma is old And she does not like the cold; She prefers the spring and summer to the fall; And the winter she prefers the least of all.

Grandma’s hair is white; And she loves to sit in her rocking chair, And knit And talk And almost rock, And see you dimly with her poor eyesight.

Grandma says That God is good, But that His ways Are odd And cannot be always Understood.

But after she has taken a cookie from the shelf, And given it to you And smiled, You know that she herself Was once a little child, And had a grandma too.

83 One senses in Feeney’s descriptive verses of the kind, benevolent grandma, the beauty of growing old gracefully. The final stanza teaches that all people are alike, regardless of age, and they should try to find commonalities in their human experience. His message may also be one of respecting the elderly along with children. The text seems genuine and realistic for children’s thoughts and speech.

Chanler demonstrates the child’s analysis of his wise, old grandmother with accented off- beats within a waltz that appeared in his earlier cycle Four Rhymes from Peacock Pie.46 The rhythm establishes a strong rocking feeling in the song, fitting the grandma’s actions. Arching vocal lines again complement the natural speech rhythms of the text. Chanler creates a fitting harmonic color by a fleeting emphasis on major with quick return to minor, suggesting the bittersweet quality of growing old. The word “smiled” occurs exactly at the turning point where the child realizes that grandmas were once young too, and Chanler sets this rather shocking awareness with a subito piano marking. Within this through-composed structure, the final four measures, in which the child realizes that his grandma “had a grandma too,” have a melodic and harmonic progression almost identical to the first statement, “Grandma is old.” This textual and musical connection strengthens the child’s newfound understanding, while simultaneously creating cohesion in the song’s musical architecture.

The following song, “Spick and Span,” has only six lines of text, the preferred length for

Chandler’s miniature settings.47 In general, Chanler favored short poetry, and his style incorporated a gift for economy that Ned Rorem praised for setting “the inevitable minimum of notes” to the right words in the right order, making them sing independent of accompaniment.48

46 Tangeman, 231. 47 Broughton, 15. 48 Ned Rorem, “The American Art Song, 1930–1960: A Personal Survey,” http://www.newworldrecords.org.liner_notes/80243.pdf.

84 Examples of Chanler’s other miniatures include “Ann Poverty” from his Eight Epitaphs cycle, a song requiring only thirty-five seconds to make its pathos and tenderness completely convincing.49 Regarding the five-measure song “A One-Eyed Tailor” from Chanler’s Three

Epitaphs, Rorem states, “Chanler’s genius of brevity was extreme. No one in history, not

Dowland or Satie or Webern, ever more convincingly carried a hearer from doubt through heartbreak to resolution in a span of five bars.”50 Chanler uses this gift of efficiency in “Spick and Span” to illustrate a completely nonsensical poem that would appeal to children’s sense of humor, existing solely for the fun of the rhymes and the fancy of the thoughts.

Spick and Span Is a clean little man Who bumped his head And said: “Black and blue, I know you!”

This tiny, humorous, barely narrative poem receives a fittingly simple musical setting.

The piano introduces the vocal line with a one-measure scale passage. The texture remains light and thin, except when four diminished seventh chords depict the bumping of the little man’s head, surely the children’s favorite moment in the poetry. Too short to merit any formal organization, the little song stays in F Major, with a final forte polychord marked secco. This concluding chord gives the effect of punctuation like an exclamation point at the end of the poem, perhaps also illustrating the children’s laughter at their own silly text.

The cycle’s shortest song is followed by its longest, “Moo is a Cow.” It is also the only song with an optional added vocal line, creating a duet. Feeney’s poetry consists of sounds translated into words, mimicking the way young children often identify objects and experiences by the sounds they create. Children observe nature, family relationships, and other elements in

49 Tangeman, 230. 50 Rorem.

85 their environment, resulting in humorous and sometimes clever interpretations. The poetry evokes images that are at once playful, alliterative, onomatopoetic, and energetic.

Moo is a cow When she makes a bow To a meadowfull of hay; Shoo is a hen When she’s back again And you want her to go away;

Peek-a-boo Is maybe I don’t see you, But I’m sure you can’t see me; Splash is a stone When a big one’s thrown In a river or lake or sea.

Snap is a twig; Grunt is a pig, Baa is the tune of a sheep; There’s a melody hid In the katydid, And the cricket that likes to peep.

Hush is your lip When your fingertip Says you shouldn’t make a sound; Hop is a toad Right across the road, Without stopping to look around;

Pit-a-pat is rain On the windowpane; Buzz-a-buzz a busy bee; Creak is a stair, When you ask “Who’s there?” And there’s no one to say “It’s me.”

Tick is a clock, Click is a lock After you’ve closed the door; And a soft tiptoe Is to let you know You have fallen asleep once more.

86 Bounce is a ball Up against a wall, When you’ve given it a throw. Rip is a tear In a thing you wear, That your mother will want to sew;

Rub-a-dub-dub-dub is a drummer boy, When a band goes marching by, Twinkle’s a bright Little star at night, Or a funny look in your eye.

Ouch is a pain, Toot is a train, Sneeze is perhaps a cold; And a My, oh my Is: I wonder why You will never do what you’re told!

Chanler groups the poem into three strophes, each comprised of three stanzas of text.

Unlike the rest of the cycle, in which the songs are either through-composed or modified ternary forms, “Moo is a Cow” receives a modified strophic setting. The vocal lines for each strophe remain practically identical, with only a few minor deviations of rhythms or pitches to highlight details in the text. The piano accompaniment maintains a similar character and harmonic progression in each strophe, yet with more pronounced differences underlining and reinforcing the spirit of specific words.

Examples of altered accompaniments include a rolled chord on “splash” in m. 18, and an imitation of a drum and a bugle call in mm. 82–83 after the text “rub a dub dub dub is a drummer boy as the band goes marching by.” The only two measures where Chanler eliminates the second optional voice occur on the text, “Creak is a stair when you ask ‘who’s there?’” (mm. 49–50), magnifying the feeling of fearful isolation created by that image. These two measures are further enhanced by a minor ninth progressing to a tritone in the piano accompaniment at “who’s there?”

87 showing the anxiety inherent in that question. The only meter change also occurs in m. 50 (from

2/4 to 5/8) as Chanler adds a beat while the child waits for the response in the stillness, creating an eerie mood. “Ouch” (m. 89) uses a dissonant F major seventh interval to depict pain, and the piano musically “sneezes” with a high minor second played sforzando in m. 91 on the words

“sneeze is perhaps a cold.” Through expressive, madrigalistic musical details such as these,

Chanler brings to life the feeling of childlike delight in sounds of ordinary experiences.

The cycle ends with a correspondingly didactic quality as it began, with the children narrators resuming the role of examples and teachers for adults. The sentiments from Feeney’s radio addresses regarding beliefs about God and children appear prominently in the final song,

“One of Us.” Feeney begins the poem by addressing “husbands and wives” and “fathers and mothers” with a series of rhetorical questions in the first stanza. He then makes statements about

God as a child that span the second stanza and beginning of the third, concluding with more questions intended for these adults to ponder.

Husbands and wives! Are we not your little lives? Fathers and mothers! Who but we will be your others? Why do you fear us, freeze us Out of your heart?

One of us was Jesus; He played our part, In His little manger, Smiling in His smallness, To protect us from the danger Of nothing-at-all-ness.

One of us was God. Has this not been told abroad, To some by song, To some by star? Then when will we be known For what we are?

88

Feeney’s poem asks why childhood and individual children are not accepted, respected, and treated with dignity, since God was willing to identify with childhood to the extent of becoming a child. The poem describes how Christ came to earth as a child to protect all children from this wretched position of disdain or dread. Feeney stated in a radio address, “When God assumed our human nature, as He did nineteen hundred years ago, in order to help us solve the problem of our aloneness. . . . [He] became a child because the child is the truest reflection of

God.”51 Perhaps Feeney chooses to deliver his adult words through the persona of harmless children in hopes that his audience would more likely heed them. However, such adult gestures as asking “husbands and wives, are we not your little lives?” do not ring true, and Feeney creates an element of artificiality or perhaps even manipulation, striving to sway his listeners’ emotions by having innocent children voice his fervent opinions.

Chanler sets the most overtly religious song in the cycle like a hymn, written in the style of a four-part chorale, creating sober setting for the penetrating questions of Feeney’s verses. The voices move slowly within this chordal construction, with suspensions further enhancing the chorale-like mood. Chanler illustrates the text, “nothing-at-all-ness” (mm. 26–27) by using a high tessitura in both the vocal and piano lines, and a decrescendo, resulting in an appropriately thin, light tone quality. Chanler’s musical setting strengthens Feeney’s desire to encourage contemplation and change in his listeners by ending the entire cycle on a half cadence, setting the open-ended question in the text, “Then when will we be known for what we are?” This problem of mistreating children extends beyond the cycle, and the music drives the point home to the listeners.

51 Feeney, “The Child’s Sacrament,” in We Are the Children of God, 12.

89 In creating a cycle where invented children adopt the role of narrator, Feeney and

Chanler created an environment in which their audience can see the world through the children’s eyes. Simple ideas, such as experiences with nature, family relationships, and silly stories or fairy tales, receive a touch of childlike innocence and guileless perspective as the children narrators describe their thoughts and feelings. Feeney’s poetry strongly declares specific concepts and ideals found in his other teachings. He puts his words in the children’s mouths as they serve as instructors, teaching the audience how to be like them, outlining profound messages of recognizing the transience of life as represented by childhood, taking appropriate time to care for children, and cherishing children as God does. Such unconcealed moralizing creates the effect of archetypal children, as opposed to realistic ones. Chanler’s clear, descriptive settings of the poetry, using an accessible style gleaned from Fauré, provide further illumination and insight into the children’s world and their didactic messages.

For Performers

When performing this cycle, singers and pianists should be aware that they are portraying more of a model or idealized child than an actual child, especially in the songs “The Children,”

“The Rose,” and “One of Us.” In these three songs, the performers may choose to embody more of an adult tone quality and posture, and contrast this with the more childlike facial expressions or simplicity of tone chosen for the other songs. The concern here is not with getting inside the mind of actual children, but rather with clearly presenting Feeney’s intended message. Even though the vocal part was originally written for children, singers should not attempt to make their voices sound unrealistically childlike, but rather deliver the text and music in a clear, honest manner to fit the tone of the set. They can and should instill sincerity into their performance and

90 invite audience reflection and contemplation on the questions posed at the conclusion of the cycle.

I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano

Leonard Bernstein serves as both poet and composer as he invents the persona of a ten- year-old girl named Barbara to deliver the song cycle I Hate Music! The mode of communication corresponds to Ian Sharp’s third Route of Musical Experience, in which an adult assumes a mode of childhood to relate to adults. While this mode of communication is the same as in Chanler’s

The Children, the respective composers’ methods and messages differ. Bernstein does not create an archetypal figure of childhood, replete with religious wisdom and deliberate instructions for adult behavior, but rather constructs a realistic, individual young girl, and allows her to voice her thoughts and opinions in a genuine way. He combines the insightful and humorous revelations from Barbara’s youthful perspective with a more subtle message to treat children with respect.

The child narrator’s search for validation echoes Bernstein’s own struggle for acceptance as a legitimate composer, with his unorthodox (for the time) technique of combining classical and popular elements in his music.

Leonard Bernstein

Bernstein (1918–1990) earned celebrity status as a world-famous conductor, composer, pianist, teacher, television personality, author, and recording artist. His outgoing disposition found many outlets for communication through his accessible musical compositions, his dynamic orchestral conducting, as well as his passionate teaching practices. According to composer Lukas

Foss, Bernstein’s life defied convention:

In an age of specialization, Leonard Bernstein dares to excel in performance as well as in composition, in the classical idiom as well as the popular one. In an age

91 of “impersonal” music, and often “impenetrable” music, Leonard Bernstein dares to be personal, human, even vulnerable. Indeed his music has the rare quality of “instant communication.”52

Figuring prominently among his interests were bridging the gap between “art music” and

“popular music” in his compositions, as well as guiding children to an understanding of music through his teaching methods.

As a child, Bernstein discovered music both as a source of joy and of strength in facing adversity. Born in 1918 in Lawrence, Massachusetts to Russian-Jewish immigrants, Bernstein had a somewhat troublesome childhood. A thin, sickly child, Bernstein suffered from asthma, and the painful fear of anti-Semitic neighborhood gangs. His problems seemed to change instantly, however, when his aunt Clara loaned Bernstein’s family her piano while she was going through a divorce. Bernstein fell in love with music, and desired to devote his life to its study, much to the dismay of his father, Sam.53 Sam Bernstein had fled Russia as a teenager to pursue the American dream, working his way up from cleaning fish in Manhattan to becoming a prosperous beauty supply businessman in Boston.54 Not yet comprehending the extent of his son’s talent, Sam refused to believe that he had gone through so much to give his family a good life in the United States in order for his firstborn son to waste his time as a lounge pianist.

Luckily Bernstein received support from his mother, Jennie, and his two younger siblings,

Shirley and Burton. Over the years, Bernstein’s father warmed to the idea of his son as a musician, taking Leonard to concerts at the Boston Pops and even buying him a grand piano in

1931.55

52 Lukas Foss, Leonard Bernstein: A Complete Catalog of His Works Celebrating His 60th Birthday, August 25, 1978, ed. Jack Gottieb (New York: Amberson Enterprises, 1978), 5. 53 Joan Peyser, Bernstein: A Biography, Revised & Updated (New York: Billboard Books, 1998), 20–22. 54 Paul R. Laird, Leonard Bernstein: A Guide to Research, Routledge Music Bibliographies (New York: Routledge, 2002), 1. 55 Peyser, 25.

92 Bernstein’s interests in both classical and popular styles of music began in childhood, continued throughout his education, and profoundly impacted his professional career. While

Bernstein ultimately desired recognition as a formal classical musician, he began his studies by reconstructing the popular music of the day on his piano.56 This familiarity with popular Bebop and jazz styles shaped his understanding of music and his compositional style throughout his life.

In his bachelor’s thesis written at Harvard, Bernstein concluded that jazz was the most important phenomenon in American twentieth-century music.57 He expressed this jazz vernacular through his rhythmic language, including choice of meter, syncopations, and accent displacement. He also used vocal melodies that sounded improvised, and favored texts with comical everyday language, intended to engage all listeners, as opposed to weighty poetry.58 Describing

Bernstein’s ability to cross musical boundaries, composer John Adams stated, “Bernstein’s great gift was that he could operate with total ease and naturalness in both worlds, that of high art and that of American “popular” culture. No one since has quite been able to straddle the two worlds with such ease, although many have tried.”59 This idea of “straddling two worlds” also finds expression in I Hate Music! as Barbara balances on the border between childhood and maturity.

Bernstein’s overall musical style straddles the classical and popular worlds by employing complicated rhythms, lyrical, yet disjunct melodies, and essentially tonal harmonies with extensive chromaticism and modality to create a distinctive sound. Speech rhythms are the most important influence on Bernstein’s text settings.60 Borrowing from the jazz idiom, he favors the

56 Ibid., 23. 57 Ibid., 45. 58 Yugo Sava Ikach, “A Study of Selected Songs by Leonard Bernstein Which Reflect His Contribution to the Evolution of Art Song in America,” (DMA doc., West Virginia University, 2003), 7. 59 John Adams, “An American Voice,” in Leonard Bernstein: American Original. How a Modern Renaissance Man Transformed Music and the World during His New York Philharmonic Years, 1943–1976, ed. Burton Bernstein and Barbara B. Haws (New York: Philharmonic-Symphony of New York, 2008), 196. 60 Laird, 26.

93 asymmetric 5/8 and 7/8 meters for imitating American speaking patterns.61 Bernstein’s inherent lyricism often conceals his unusual melodic construction. His frequent use of wide intervals gives his themes an angularity not often associated with lyrical beauty.62 Bernstein’s primarily triadic tonal vocabulary includes the generous addition of modal inflections, borrowed chords, chromaticism, and dissonances to communicate emotional distress.63 He briefly experimented with the twelve-tone compositional method, mainly in his Kaddish Symphony of 1963, but even in that instance he used the technique as a means to convey agony, with tonality and diatonicism triumphing in the end.64

Bernstein’s preference for an accessible musical style correlated with his strikingly extroverted personality and his powerful desire to communicate. In his compositions, his combination of lyrical melodies, essentially tonal harmonies, and strong vernacular references enable him to establish a clear connection with his audience. This desire to communicate also dictated his choice of genre, as his most enduring works were written for the Broadway stage, a commercial genre requiring immediate comprehension for success.65 It also influenced his decision to participate in a series of fifty-three television broadcasts from 1957 to 1973, designed to teach audiences across the country about music. These instructional concerts, called the “New

York Philharmonic Young People’s Concerts with Leonard Bernstein,” became one of his proudest legacies. Growing out of his “Omnibus program,” a lecture series from the early 1950s, the “Young People’s Concerts” were highly acclaimed by critics, becoming the first and longest running series of classical music programs ever shown on commercial television. Bernstein took

61 Leonard Bernstein, Findings (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1982), 82–87. 62 Laird, 19. 63 Ibid., 37. 64 Peyser, 343–44. 65 Laird, 15.

94 over the concerts from Ernest Schelling on the condition that they would be televised, helping him to reach an infinitely wider audience.66

The “Young People’s Concerts” not only accomplished Bernstein’s desire for communication, they gave him the opportunity to teach young people, a lifelong pursuit.

Bernstein believed that all children have an instinctual musical gift, and contended that musical training ought to be an integral part of education instead of being considered a luxury.67 Often called a “natural teacher” by his colleagues, friends, and members of his family, he had a gift for explaining musical concepts in a way that non-musicians could understand.68 Bernstein wrote his own material for “The Young People’s Concerts” and presented it in a simple, unpretentious manner, using language that was immediately understood. While the programs were entertaining and often amusing, involving the participation of his audience, Bernstein’s purpose remained to teach serious musical messages—the meaning of music, the influence of folk origins, the structure of a fugue, what makes music symphonic—to children and parents alike.69 Bernstein remarked,

These concerts are not just concerts—not even in terms of the millions who view them at home. They are, in some way, the quintessence of all I try to do as a conductor, as a performing musician. There is a lurking didactic streak in me that turns every program I make into a discourse, whether I utter a word or not; my performing impulse has always been to share my feelings, or knowledge, or speculations about music—to provoke thought, suggest historical perspective, encourage the intersection of musical lines. And from this point of view, the Young People’s Concerts are a dream come true, especially since the sharing is done with young people—that is, people who are eager, unprejudiced, curious, open, and enthusiastic. What more could an old incorrigible pedagogue ask for? I hope I shall never have to give these concerts up; they keep me young.70

66 Tim Page, “Leonard Bernstein and Television: Envisioning a Higher Purpose,” in Leonard Bernstein: American Original. How a Modern Renaissance Man Transformed Music and the World during His New York Philharmonic Years, 1943–1976, ed. Burton Bernstein and Barbara B. Haws (New York: Philharmonic-Symphony of New York, 2008), 91–97. 67 Secrest, 244–47. 68 Laird, 9–10. 69 Paul Myers, Leonard Bernstein, 20th-century Composers (London: Phaidon Press, 1998), 114. 70 Bernstein, quoted in Page, 101.

95

Bernstein’s unparalleled achievement in the world of children’s programming was enriched by his relationships with his own three children.71 According to his daughter Jamie, Bernstein said,

“If my children have done nothing else, they taught me how to translate music to other children and to make it fun.”72 Bernstein professed that his key to success with children lay in treating them like legitimate people and not talking down to them, a theme that he explores in I Hate

Music!

Bernstein found the inspiration for this song cycle from an event in his life occurring in the fall of 1942, at the beginning of his musical career. Having completed his studies at Harvard,

Curtis, and Tanglewood, Bernstein obtained a five-year publication contract, allowing him to move to an apartment on West Fifty-Second Street in New York City that he shared with an artist named Edys Merrill.73 He had a Steinway grand piano in his room on which he would play constantly, coaching opera singers, improvising, and clowning around. Merrill worked in a manufacturing plant for the war effort and did not appreciate the noise at home after working at a factory all day. When she had to pass through this room to use the bathroom, she would shout, “I hate music—la dee da dee da!” while covering her ears, walking around the room.74 Bernstein must have found her outbursts memorable, for they inspired the name for this cycle, as well as the central song, also titled, “I Hate Music!” One can only speculate how much of Merrill’s personality Bernstein infused into the cycle’s narrator; certainly her silly imitations of singing find expression through Barbara’s childlike voice.

Bernstein faced obstacles in convincing others of the cycle’s worth as he attempted to have it premiered, a situation that correlates with his personal struggle to gain respect as a

71 Meryle Secrest, Leonard Bernstein: A Life (New York: A. A. Knopf, 1994), 244. 72 Bernstein, quoted in Peyser, 289. 73 Myers, 35. 74 Burton, 103–04.

96 legitimate composer. In the summer of 1943, Boston Symphony conductor Serge Koussevitzky introduced Bernstein to mezzo soprano Jennie Tourel, who had recently come to the United

States from Paris. She asked Bernstein to accompany her in a recital at the Public Library in

Lenox, Massachusetts. This concert began a long collaboration between Bernstein and Tourel, as she grew to be his favorite interpreter of his vocal compositions and a featured soloist in his symphony concerts.75 Bernstein requested that Tourel sing I Hate Music! on the recital, but

Koussevitzky disapproved of the jazz-infused cycle and forbade its performance. Bernstein’s publicist Friede Rothe agreed with this negative assessment of the set, describing the music not as art songs, but “cute little songs that should be sung at a house party.”76 Tourel and Bernstein decided to perform the set anyway, presenting it as an encore.77 Tourel gave the cycle its first genuine performance as part of her New York debut at Town Hall on November 13, 1943, the night before Bernstein’s famous surprise conducting debut with the New York Philharmonic.78

The cycle met with positive reviews, being called “witty, alive and adroitly fashioned.”79

According to Bernstein, “people yelled and stamped and cheered and I had to take a bow.”80

Since its premiere, the cycle has enjoyed numerous recordings and recital performances, often serving as a “lighter” set of songs to round out weightier programmed music.

Analysis of I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano

Lasting merely seven minutes, this set of five rather short songs for soprano and piano presents a fictitious child narrator who wavers between asserting her legitimacy as a person and

75 Peter Gradenwitz, Leonard Bernstein: The Infinite Variety of a Musician (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1987), 33. 76 Rothe, quoted in Peyser, 124. 77 Myers, 37. 78 Peyser, 113–14. 79 Burton, 113. 80 Peyser, 115.

97 behaving her chronological age. Though these “kid songs” (as Bernstein calls them) are intended for adults to perform, the cycle fits Sharp’s third Route of Musical Experience by employing a youthful perspective. Bernstein uses intellectual wit and humor to produce a credible portrait of a naïve, unaffected girl named Barbara relating her thoughts and feelings. He simultaneously includes discreet teachings about the value of children through her words. The cycle can be interpreted as a loose narrative, unfolding as Barbara’s discussion with a group of unidentified houseguests. Much as in The Children, the first and last songs offer the most obvious didactic themes, with the middle songs focusing on gentle humor and a perceptive look into the nature of a child.

The cycle begins with “My Name is Barbara,” a song in which the young protagonist discusses the various explanations she has received from her mother regarding where babies come from. In a childlike, stream-of-conscious manner, Barbara finishes the song with a non- sequitur, introducing herself to the group.

My mother says that babies come in bottles; But last week she said they grew on special baby-bushes. I don’t believe in the storks, either! They’re all in the zoo, busy with their own babies! And what’s a baby-bush, anyway!? My name is Barbara.

The idea of a ten-year-old girl having questions about the origin of babies is realistic and genuine. Bernstein related a similar experience he had when he was fourteen, around the time his younger brother was born, saying “I was crazed with curiosity. I would look up ‘childbirth’ in the Jewish encyclopedia, the only encyclopedia we had at the time, but there wasn’t much to learn from that.”81 Bernstein mirrors in Barbara’s speech the frustration he must have surely felt by not having answers to his own questions. Barbara grows impatient with adults treating her

81 Ibid., 28.

98 differently or dishonestly, exclaiming that she does not believe in the various theories that her mother has told her thus far. In this song Bernstein echoes the belief that enabled his success in the “Young People’s Concerts,” namely, that adults should not talk down to children. They are often more perceptive than adults realize. Through Barbara’s heartfelt frustrations with feeling deceived by her mother, Bernstein subtly promotes his conviction that parents should treat their children as legitimate people and talk to them with age-appropriate honesty.

Bernstein’s music enhances the childlike qualities of the text as well as his message. He creates a spontaneous feel to Barbara’s words by overlaying a sparse piano texture with a recitative-like, disjunct melody that nevertheless flows in lyrical arching shapes. The song remains primarily in the dorian mode until the final E Major chord, occurring at the end of

Barbara’s emotional journey, which Bernstein helps to outline with interpretive markings. A plodding rhythmic accompaniment begins the song, suggesting the girl’s conscientiously polite delivery of her thoughts, marked mezzo piano and “contemplative” at m. 3 when relating her mother’s conflicting explanations for where babies come from. Her discourse rises “vehemently” to forte at m. 10 when she states her disbelief in the stork theory. Bernstein highlights Barbara’s agitated exclamation by setting the text with the highest pitch of the vocal line and abandoning the previous accompaniment pattern in favor of sustained chords, while also including many accents and tenuto markings. This dramatic change in music shows Barbara’s brief foray into a realm of defiance, nearly throwing a tantrum at the thought of being treated like a gullible child.

The initial rhythmic motive returns in the piano accompaniment as her passionate outburst subsides “almost resentfully” at m. 15 when she questions the truthfulness of a baby-bush.

Trying to act more grown-up, Barbara remembers her manners and concludes by introducing herself “sweetly” at m. 18. The musical setting magnifies Barbara’s frustration at being treated

99 like a child, even as she lapses into childlike behavior. She tries to gain added respect and dignity as an intelligent, mature person, yet remains partially in the world of childhood.

Bernstein puts Barbara’s quest for validation into greater relief as he includes instances of her simply acting as a genuine child. Her imaginative personality shows itself clearly in the second song, “Jupiter Has Seven Moons.” Barbara excitedly describes Jupiter and Saturn and their multiple moons, comparing them with the Earth’s single moon. She makes creative and clever connections between the number of moons and their effects on the Earth, including enhanced romantic possibilities, the effect on baying dogs, multiple tides in the Atlantic Ocean, and the size of the Man in the Moon.

Jupiter has seven moons or is it nine? Saturn has a million, billion, trillion sixty-nine; And ev’ry one is a little sun, with six little moons of its own! But we have only one!

Just think of all the fun we’d have if there were nine! Then we could be just nine times more romantic! Dogs would bay ‘til they were frantic! We’d have nine tides in the Atlantic! The man in the moon would be gigantic!

But we have only one! Only one!

Barbara’s animated speculations about how life on Earth would change with multiple moons show her authentic, guileless character. In relating her knowledge about Jupiter, she reveals some factual flaws, for she cannot remember if Jupiter has seven moons or nine. She then childishly declares that “Saturn has a million, billion, trillion sixty-nine,” a huge overstatement that would be suit a young girl’s wildly exaggerative personality. By including Barbara’s lunar associations with non-scientific elements, such as romance and the Man in the Moon, Bernstein demonstrates her youthful realm of thought. The text of this song creates a depiction of a naïve,

100 energetic, imaginative young girl who takes newfound knowledge and applies it to her understood truths in a creative way.

Written in a predominantly major mode, the music follows Barbara’s sequence of thoughts through a series of fluctuating dynamic levels and tempo markings, varying according to her particular mood. The light, fast, complicated, eighth-note piano accompaniment that occurs during Barbara’s animated descriptions of Jupiter, Saturn, and the theoretical implications of many moons appropriately changes to slow, sustained chords as Barbara laments the Earth’s inferior status. Syllabic text setting within a pattern of vacillating 5/8 and 4/8 meters follows her natural speech rhythms, and creates a skipping quality to the music, perfectly suiting a ten-year- old girl’s playful imaginations. These musical elements help create a picture of an emotional pre- teenager who is still categorizing her knowledge about the universe and making intriguing connections, without any effort to conceal her emotions as she does so.

The next song, “I Hate Music!” holds a doubly-central place as the third song in this group of five and with its opening line comprised of the phrase that inspired the cycle’s composition. Barbara emphatically proclaims that she hates music, but seemingly contradicts herself by stating that she loves to sing. She clarifies her opinions by describing what the word

“music” means to her, and then reaffirms her love for singing.

I hate music! But I like to sing: La dee da da dee; la dee da dee. But that’s not music, not what I call music. No, sir.

Music is a lot of men in a lot of tails, Making lots of noise like a lot of females; Music is a lot of folks in a big dark hall, Where they really don’t want to be at all;

101 With a lot of chairs, and a lot of airs, And a lot of furs and diamonds! Music is silly!

I hate music! But I like to sing: La dee da da dee: la dee da dee: la dee da dee.

With the keen perception of a child, Barbara deftly distinguishes between hating the type of “music” that adults have artificially constructed to signify attending concerts in dark halls, while wearing their best clothes and pretending to enjoy themselves, with loving the purity of singing. She uses the childlike nonsense syllables “la dee da da dee” to illustrate her positive feelings about singing. This demonstration embodies music at its purest form, coming from the mouth of a child, without words or a preconceived melody, simply emanating from her soul.

Barbara possesses the honest candor that allows her to reveal the silly traditions and facades that pretentious concert-goers adopt. Adults are seemingly too decorous to either recognize or point out these peculiarities themselves. Another analysis of the text could include Bernstein using a child’s voice to speak out against those musical elitists who do not consider his music worthy of their high standards, due to his affinity for including vernacular elements.

Bernstein begins Barbara’s emotional tirade with an accented, forte melodic line that leaps upward a minor ninth on the word “hate.” Wide intervals occur in many of Bernstein’s melodies, but this particular instance brings added emphasis to Barbara’s impudent outburst.

Presented in a dramatic, recitative style over sustained piano chords, this surging declaration reveals her immaturity by using such a harsh word in a social situation.

Bernstein removes any residual feeling of meter or pulse with an unaccompanied setting of her nonsensical text, “la dee da da dee” at m. 4. He reinforces the improvisational quality of her tune by marking the disjunct, syllabic vocal line “freely, rather tonelessly and carelessly.”

102 This melody has no basis in any particular scale or mode, and uses nine of the possible twelve tones. While clearly imitating Edys Merrill’s mocking parody of music, perhaps Bernstein is also ridiculing the twelve-tone compositional practices of his contemporary composers by suggesting that a child could write the equivalent.

Barbara then begins a fast-paced, breathless, angry section in which she describes her observations of “music” (meaning the concert-going experience) with quickly ascending triplet sixteenth-note patterns in the piano, over which her melody grows progressively higher and louder to the fortissimo climax on “diamonds!” Bernstein could be making a negative social commentary regarding the pseudo-sophisticated concert-going public through this section. This section may also include an element of self-parody, as Bernstein belongs to the classical, tail- wearing class of musicians himself. Barbara concludes by reaffirming her opening hatred of

“music” followed by a slightly longer depiction of her definition of “singing.” The relaxed, freely improvisational melody creates a pure, childlike depiction of true music. As a whole, this song encapsulates a young girl displaying wisdom beyond her years, while portraying her emotions in a rather ill-mannered, uncouth fashion.

Barbara displays her sharp sense of humor and desire to entertain as she tells a riddle in

“A Big Indian and a Little Indian.” Supremely confident of her cleverness, she enjoys stumping her audience, taking great pleasure in giving them two measures to discover the correct answer.

A big Indian and a little Indian were walking down the street. The little Indian was the son of the big Indian; But the big Indian was not the father of the little Indian:

You see the riddle is, if the little Indian was the son of the big Indian, But the big Indian was not the father of the little Indian, Who was he? I’ll give you two measures: His mother!

103 Retelling jokes and finding glee in feeling smarter than her peers fits right into Barbara’s ten- year-old persona. Bernstein’s age-appropriately innocent, humorous text creates a glimpse into an authentic child’s mind.

This simple, childlike riddle receives a rhythmically sophisticated setting. Comparable to the approach in “Jupiter Has Seven Moons,” Bernstein uses rhythmic complexity to portray the speech-like qualities of this text. As stated previously, Bernstein believed that rhythmic groups of five and seven produced the best imitation of American speech. In this song, he freely moves through 7/8, 8/8, 5/8, 3/8, and 9/8 meters depending on what the text dictates. Adding to the complexity of the song, the contrapuntal left and right hands of the accompaniment contain rhythmic displacement, with accents falling on different beats from each other, as well as diverging from the accents of the vocal line. This practice can be traced to the rhythmic innovations in the jazz style of Bebop.82 Such an intricate musical setting incorporating jazz and popular styles disproves the contention of Bernstein’s publicist that these songs should be considered simplistic “parlor music.” The technical expertise required to navigate such complex rhythms and meter changes clearly move this work out of the amateur performers’ abilities and into a sophisticated, professional realm.83

The complicated rhythmic structure of “A Big Indian and a Little Indian” does not obstruct the melodic clarity or childlike nature of the text, however. To counter-balance the song’s rhythmic dominance, the vocal line retains a simpler, more triadic outline. Bernstein creates a caricature of the “Indian” element of the text with a pentatonic feel in the introduction, and a drumbeat pattern during the interlude before the spoken text, marked “pesante, like

Indians.” He applies a theatrical gesture as Barbara speaks the second stanza in which she

82 Barry Kernfield, “Bebop,” in The New Harvard Dictionary of Music (Cambridge, MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1986), 86. 83 Ikach, 46.

104 outlines the details of the riddle, generating a moment of extremely accessible communication, unimpeded by any musical participation. After giving the audience the promised “two measures” to contemplate the answer to her riddle, Bernstein sets Barbara’s final statement, “his mother!” with an upward leaping octave, highlighting the triumphant manner in which she delivers the punch line. The animated musical setting enhances her unabashed delight in childlike humor.

Bernstein ends the cycle by delivering in his most straightforward manner the philosophy that children should be treated as equals in “I’m a Person Too.” Young Barbara tells her listeners that she recently discovered she is a legitimate person despite her age, and describes the confusion and frustration she feels when adults treat her differently.

I just found out today that I’m a person too, like you: I like balloons; lots of people like balloons: But ev’ryone says, “Isn’t she cute? She likes balloons!” I’m a person too, like you!

I like things that ev’ryone likes: I like soft things and movies and horses and warm things and red things: Don’t you? I have lots of thoughts; like what’s behind the sky; And what’s behind what’s behind the sky: [emphasis original] But ev’ryone says, “Isn’t she sweet? She wants to know ev’rything!” Don’t you?

Of course I’m very young to be saying all these things In front of so many people like you; But I’m a person too! Thought I’m only ten years old; I’m a person too, like you!

Barbara’s words illuminate her pre-adolescent status of straddling the worlds of childhood and adulthood. She admits that she is young and that she likes seemingly childish things such as balloons and horses, but wonders how different that makes her from adults. She grows tired of adults finding her “cute” and “sweet” simply because of her age. If adults can like the same things she likes, and if they can desire to know everything just as she does, why is she

105 singled out and treated differently? In this song, Barbara refers to grown-ups talking about her in the third person as if she is not present or cannot hear them. She boldly reminds the adults in the room that children are people too and should not be ignored. The message Bernstein conveys through his text is that children are smarter than adults often recognize, and they should not be dismissed simply because of their age. He seems to identify with Barbara’s situation and empathize with her feelings. As Ikach asserts,

Obviously, there is a bit of Bernstein in the little girl. She is precocious, rebellious, irreverent, and unpredictable, but she is not yet an accepted member of the adult population. This parallels Bernstein’s insecurities as a composer. He shared and enjoyed her childlike qualities, but longed for respect among the learned music cognoscenti and critics. Above all, he wished to be considered a serious composer.84

Bernstein’s identification with this fictitious girl’s situation enables him to create a realistic depiction of her in both words and music.

In this final song, the lyrical vocal line begins without piano introduction, as if Barbara inserts herself into a conversation without a proper invitation. The accompaniment follows the voice much more closely than in any of the previous songs, giving added meaning and strength to Barbara’s words. Bernstein sets her opening text “earnestly” with march-like quarter-note declarations, supporting her heartfelt discovery that she is “a person too.” Barbara follows this assertion with a recitative-like melody marked “resigned” over oscillating chords as she describes her likes and observations about the treatment she receives from adults. These two types of musical passages continue to alternate, fluctuating between boldness and timidity, while growing in intensity and rising in pitch to the climax of the song. The music reaches a fitting conclusion as it slows in tempo and the vocal line leaps an octave to a high A with Barbara’s dramatic reiteration of “I’m a person too!” three times. This wide interval, even when enveloped

84 Ibid., 45.

106 in lyricism, emphasizes the theme of the final song, and indeed, of the entire cycle. Barbara has arrived upon the message she wants to give adults, though she may have traveled there in an indirect way, and she states her opinion firmly at the end.

Barbara follows a trajectory through these five songs that exemplifies her situation in life and parallels Bernstein’s own creative path. She expresses frustration at being treated with dishonesty or condescension, revels in imagination and creativity, communicates outrage at others’ pretensions, finds simple joy in entertaining, and asserts her rights as a person. Written at the outset of his career, the cycle showcases Bernstein’s own frustration, creativity, outrage, joy and assertiveness as he struggles to find validity among his peers and critics. Though the songs may not fit every critic’s definition of “art music,” their intricate technical demands combined with their insightful messages lift them out of the realm of casual entertainment. By using this mode of communication to create an authentic, childlike protagonist with unconcealed emotions and opinions, Bernstein charms his audience while cleverly sharing his messages of legitimacy.

He embodies Sharp’s belief that adults who re-interpret childhood “derive vicarious pleasure (or pain) from reliving its real or imagined experiences”85 as he takes his “alter-ego” Barbara along a journey seeking legitimacy, corresponding to his own quest for respect as a cross-over musician.

For Performers

In searching for advice or suggestions for performers of I Hate Music! one needs to look no further than Bernstein’s own instructions in the published score. He advises, “In the performance of these songs, coyness is to be assiduously avoided. The natural, unforced sweetness of child expressions can never be successfully gilded; rather will it come through the

85 Sharp, 23.

107 music in proportion to the dignity and sophisticated understanding of the singer.”86 This suggestion fits naturally with Bernstein’s philosophy regarding the ideal treatment of children.

The singer and pianist should take the opportunity to showcase the moments where Barbara acts childlike, whether through her romanticized fantasies and riddles, or through her immature outbursts and tantrums. They should consciously contrast these moments with her more mature instances of insightful commentary and quests for authenticity. By doing so, they will appropriately convey the themes of the text through the perspective of a believable child.

Conclusions

Both The Children and I Hate Music! utilize an invented child’s perspective, but they differ in the delivery of their messages. Feeney and Chanler construct a narrator of archetypal

“children” to explicitly instruct their adult audience on issues such as how to fall asleep and how to treat children in a manner pleasing to God. Some of their childlike songs feel genuine and realistic, especially the ones describing children’s observations of the world around them.

Humorous insights couched in illustrative musical settings, such as in “Wind,” “Spick and

Span,” and “Moo is a Cow,” create a sense of sweetness, innocence and purity. However, texts such as “The Children,” “The Rose,” and “One of Us,” seem awkward or disingenuous coming from the mouths of children, resulting in an unconcealed moral lesson from the poet and composer. The inclusion of these uncharacteristically mature concepts and emotions belonging outside the realm of a child’s understanding adds a sense of forged sentimentality to their message.

86 Leonard Bernstein, I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano (New York: M. Witmark & Sons, 1943), i.

108 In contrast, Bernstein chooses to treat his invented narrator Barbara consistently as an authentic, real child, allowing her to convey her thoughts and feelings in a credible and sincere way. In “Jupiter Has Seven Moons” Barbara lets her imagination run wild, while in “A Big

Indian and a Little Indian,” she takes pleasure in telling a joke. Bernstein sometimes uses her voice to respond to his own critics and peers, such as her quasi-imitation of a twelve-tone row and her mockery of the elitist concert-goers in “I Hate Music.” His cycle also includes teachings about treating children equally in “I’m a Person Too” and not talking down to them in “My

Name is Barbara,” achieving these results without sounding blatantly preachy.

While The Children contains an obvious, clear agenda of presenting specific concepts to adults regarding how to be more like children and to treat them well, Bernstein’s cycle employs a more subtle approach through a credible voice of a ten-year-old child. Applying Sharp’s words,

Chanler’s cycle uses the mode of communication of an adult acting as a child to create a

“selective and idealized” version of childhood, while Berntsein’s use of a child’s perspective enables him to “vicariously relive” the experiences of his own life. Each composer utilizes musical techniques consistent with his individual style to depict the fictive perspective of a child, resulting in an entertaining cycles that simultaneously promote thought and change.

109 Chapter 3: Adult Poet Addressing a Child

Adults interact with children in a variety of situations. Parents, teachers, and caregivers instruct, entertain, discipline, praise, soothe, and express affection for the children in their care.

When talking with children, adults naturally alter their manner of speech, whether by changing their word choice, tone of voice, or subject material, in order to communicate more clearly.

When adults speak to a child under their care, they often recount amusing stories, express love and tenderness, and describe their hopes for the child’s future. Poets consider these issues as they write from the point of view of an adult speaking to a child. Two song cycles, Francis Poulenc’s

La courte paille and Benjamin Britten’s A Charm of Lullabies, both set texts in which an adult addresses a child. Though they contain light subject material and a high level of accessibility that may cause some critics to dismiss them as insignificant, both cycles offer sophisticated, well- crafted music, incorporating entertainment along with poignant sentiments.

La courte paille

A fictional mother acts as the narrator of La courte paille, addressing her child with a series of magical, silly, and introspective texts. In the odd-numbered songs, the mother relates to her child in an adult-like way, but in the even-numbered songs, she addresses him in a childlike manner. These two modes of communication correspond to Ian Sharp’s first and second Routes of Musical Experience, in which adults either assume a mode of childhood or retain a mode of adulthood to relate to children.1 The audience plays the role of the imaginary child, prompting the particular modes of communication from the adult narrator. The fanciful poems, written by

Belgian Maurice Carême, incorporate relatively simple, direct imagery combined with silly,

1 Ian Sharp, Classical Music’s Evocation of the Myth of Childhood (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 2000), 31

110 fantastical stories that amuse and entertain. The mother’s tender feelings of love and concern for the child permeate the poetry, especially in her meditative texts. Poulenc’s accessible style of composition maintains an open manner of communication desirable when speaking with children. He offers a fitting musical illustration of the poetry, with two distinct styles corresponding to the more subdued or introspective poems and the playful, fantastical stories.

Poulenc creates variety through his lyrical treatments of the mother’s adult-like ruminations, along with his imaginative and energetic settings for the humorous poems where she acts in a childlike manner.

Maurice Carême

Called “the Mozart of poetry” by Tristan Klingsor, Maurice Carême excelled in recreating the world of a child through his magical, comical texts.2 His propensity for childlike themes has also earned him the labels, “the poet of joy,” “the poet of peace,” and “the poet of children.”3 Despite receiving acclaim as one of Belgium’s master poets, Carême has been generally overlooked in studies of modern French literature.

Carême’s interest in poetry began at a young age. Born on May 12, 1899 in Wavre,

Belgium, Carême lived a modest but happy childhood. His father, Joseph, made his living as a painter and decorator, and his mother, Henriette, ran a small grocery shop. They had five children all together, though only Maurice, his sister Germaine, and younger brother Georges survived past infancy. Finding inspiration from his childhood girlfriend, Bertha Detry, Carême began writing poetry in 1914. Upon receiving a scholarship that same year, he entered the

2 Marie-Georgetter Steisel, “French Poetry for Children: A Selected, Annotated Bibliography,” The Modern Language Journal 48, no. 3 (1964): 129. 3 Pierre Bernac, Francis Poulenc: The Man and His Songs, trans. Winifred Radford (New York: W. W. Norton, 1977), 164.

111 teacher training college, the Ėcole Normale de Tirlemont, where he studied with Julien Kuypers, a professor who introduced him to contemporary poetry and encouraged his writing.4

Before becoming a full-time writer, Carême spent his professional life as an educator of children. He left Wavre upon completion of his studies in 1918 to teach primary school in

Anderlecht, Brussels. He married fellow teacher Andrée Gobron in 1924, and in 1933 they moved into a house he had built, which became known as “la Maison Blanche.” In 1943 Carême gave up teaching in order to devote his time to writing. The many years he spent in the company of children influenced his writing style. Fluency and accessibility characterize his poetry, often containing recognizable subject material presented in a charming, pleasurable way.5

At a time when the predominant approach to poetry included complexity and obscurity,

Carême ultimately decided not to follow that path. Though he briefly flirted with surrealism and modernism in his early career, which colored aspects of his future works, Carême chose to abandon experimentalist writing, aiming instead for childlike clarity, even when conveying a dark message.6 A statement by Carême gives insight into his goals as a writer, and can be considered his poetic credo: “Poetry that is at once extremely simple, extremely lyrical, and extremely moving—and mysterious enough to maintain poetry’s magic. With all my heart, I hope that some day I’ll write the poem which resembles the one I’ve dreamt of from the day I began to write.”7 His style incorporated brevity and lilting sonorities, while still retaining enough mystery to preserve the magic inherent in poetry as a genre.8

Biographer Jacques Charles notes that Carême’s poems do not always appeal to modern tastes because of their perceived naïveté. This perception likely stems from the fact that much of

4 Maurice Carême, Defying Fate, ed. Jean Boase-Beier (Todomorden, UK: Arc Publications, 2009), 147. 5 Martin Sorrell, introduction to Defying Fate, 14. 6 Ibid. 7 Carême, 14. 8 Christopher Pilling, preface to Defying Fate, 10.

112 Carême’s poetry is written in a whimsical style appropriate for children.9 Nicknamed “the poet of children,” many of his writings are intended for a young audience. Among these works are

Poèmes de gosses et Proses d’enfants (1936), The Magic Lantern (1947), Mother Raspberry

(1969), and The Paper Mill (1973).

Carême’s writings include more than eighty books, novels, short stories, fables and essays, and poems, with a collection of poetry published almost every year from 1947 to 1975.

Some of his award-winning works include Mère (1935), which won the Prix Triennal de Poésie, and La maison blanche (1949), which won the Prix de l’Académie Française. He succeeded Jean

Cocteau as “Prince des Poètes” in Paris in 1972, and won several other prizes in Belgium and abroad. He worked until the last day of his life, January 13, 1978. His home became the location for his charity, The Maurice Carême Foundation, in 1975 as well as the Maurice Carême

Museum upon his death.10

Francis Poulenc

Francis Poulenc developed his compositional style during a time when Paris served as a significant base of artistic development, producing modern advancements in literature, visual arts, and music. The Post-Romantic tradition of Claude Debussy yielded in the early twentieth century to the neoclassicism of Igor Stravinsky and the satire of Erik Satie. Collaborations between writers such as Jean Cocteau, artists like Pablo Picasso, and choreographers such as

Sergei Diaghilev brought a sense of novelty to this cultural center. Within this innovative atmosphere, Poulenc incorporated elements of all these influences to create his own distinctive musical language.

9 Jacques Charles, Maurice Carême (Paris: Pierre Seghers, 1965), 29. 10 Jean Boase-Beier, ed., Defying Fate, by Maurice Carême, 147.

113 Poulenc’s oft-noted dual personality of piety mixed with hedonism can be traced to his childhood. He was born in Paris on January 7 of the same year as Maurice Carême, 1899. His father, Ėmile, a strictly religious Catholic from the south of France, gave him the serious, devout side of his personality. The other side came from his mother, Jenny Royer, a Paris native who held independent views and a strong love of the arts.11 She exposed him to such diverse composers as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Frédéric Chopin, Robert Schumann, François

Couperin, Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel, Stravinsky, and Arnold Schoenberg.12 An accomplished amateur pianist, Royer began teaching her young son the piano at the age of four.

Poulenc spent countless hours at the piano, working to develop his own technique and has said,

“When I recall my childhood I see myself always sitting at a piano.”13

Poulenc’s early exposure to the music hall and cabaret scene of Paris greatly influenced his compositional style. His propensity for diatonicism and lyrical melodies likely resulted from this light music that he so frequently heard early in his life.14 His mother encouraged him to keep an open mind to every kind of music, particularly to works by contemporary composers and those who would follow.15 Poulenc spent his childhood summers in the nearby village of

Nogent-sur-Marne, fondly describing it as, “paradise to me, with its open-air dance halls, its

French-fry vendors, and its bals musettes. . . . The bad-boy side of my music, you see, is not artificial as is often believed, because it is associated with my very dear childhood memories.”16

Poulenc used musical allusions of the popular waltzes and dance-hall tunes he heard in childhood

11 Gloria Shafer, Origins of the Children’s Song Cycle as a Musical Genre with Four Case Studies and an Original Cycle, (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1989), 42. 12 Wilfrid Mellers, Francis Poulenc, Oxford Studies of Composers (New York: Oxford University Press, 2003), xi. 13 Pierre Bernac, Francis Poulenc: The Man and His Songs, trans. Winifred Radford (New York: W. W. Norton, 1977), 22. 14 Keith Daniel, Francis Poulenc: His Artistic Development and Musical Style (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1982), 17. 15 Ibid., 2. 16 Francis Poulenc, Entretiens avec Claude Rostand (Paris: R. Julliard, 1954), 17–18.

114 in order to create a carefree or nostalgic mood. This style complemented Carême’s playful poetry to create a fittingly impetuous-sounding cycle in La courte paille.

In the context of contemporary experimentalist composers, Poulenc’s music remains fairly conservative, yet individual enough to be recognized after hearing the first several measures. 17 He did not follow the paths of serialism and atonality, choosing instead to deepen and distill his own personal style.18 As longtime collaborator Pierre Bernac described, “His harmonies perhaps belonged to everyone, but he used them as no one else.”19 Rich harmonies including seventh, ninth, and thirteenth chords often remain unresolved, serving as consonant chords, much like Ravel’s music. His melodies, constructed in smooth lines of step-wise and triadic motion, have a sense of tunefulness and lyricism influenced by the popular music of Paris.

Strong Neo-Classical trends affect Poulenc’s accompaniments, often consisting of Alberti bass figures, arpeggios, triadic chords, and scalar passages. Poulenc organizes most of his music into standard forms consisting of short phrases either repeated in new keys or contrasting with another motive, linked by subtle key shifts.20 Once he had composed music for a line of a poem, he never transposed the key in order to make his task easier, because of the potential negative effects on the poetry. This resulted in numerous and inventive modulations, often with little or no preparation, that Poulenc described as passing “at times through a mouse hole.”21 Frequent meter changes facilitate a flexible musical style corresponding to every passing change in mood, uniquely responding to the demands of the texts of his vocal music.

17 Kirk A. Severtson, “Poulenc’s Development as a Piano Composer: A Comparison of the Solo Piano Works and the Mélodies” (DMA thesis, University of Cincinnati, 2005), 12. 18 Daniel, 98. 19 Bernac, Francis Poulenc, 50. 20 Elizabeth Nolan, “The Mélodies of Francis Poulenc: A Selective Musico-literary Study” (MA thesis, Dublin Institute of Technology, 1998), 23–24. 21 Francis Poulenc, Diary of my Songs, trans. Winifred Radford (London: Victor Gollancz, 1985), 87.

115 Poulenc wrote a significant portion of his music for the voice, including choral and operatic works, as well as 152 mélodies, or art songs. Nothing affected Poulenc’s song-writing more than his twenty-five year recital partnership with baritone Pierre Bernac. In 1935 Poulenc and Bernac formed their collaboration, after which Poulenc composed two-thirds of his total output of songs.22 Poulenc in fact claimed that everything he knew about songs came from accompanying Bernac, stating,

All of the evolution that took place in my mélodies was due to Bernac. Just as Viñes had revealed to me certain secrets of pianistic writing, Bernac showed me the possibilities of singing, and since singing is my greatest love, I need say no more as proof of my happiness during these years of collaboration.23

Bernac returned the compliment, lauding Poulenc’s exceptional sense of French declamation, his incredible ease in modulating from one key to another, his gift for melody, and the luminosity given to previously hidden meanings in his texts. He felt that “Poulenc gave the best of himself” in his vocal music, and believed that in these works Poulenc “is most likely to confront successfully the test of time.”24

Along with the care he took in composing individual songs, Poulenc paid great attention to the ordering of songs within a cycle. He arranged each song so that it contrasted well with the next in the same way a painter displays his artwork, stating, “It is all a question of ‘the hanging,’ as essential in music as in painting.”25 This led to a tendency in his song cycles to order his songs slow-fast-slow, calling the swift scherzo-like movements which lead in and out of more lyrical numbers “trampoline songs.”26 Poulenc uses this format to organize La courte paille, giving a

22 Carl B. Schmidt, Entrancing Muse: A Documented Biography of Francis Poulenc (Hillsdale, NY: Pendragon Press, 2001), 182. 23 Poulenc, quoted in Daniel, Francis Poulenc, 37. 24 Bernac, Francis Poulenc, 38. 25 Poulenc, Diary of My Songs, 79. 26 Graham Johnson, A French Song Companion (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1999), 353.

116 sense of variety to the cycle by illuminating different emotional aspects and the two possible modes of communicating with children.

Poulenc’s love of the voice matched his love of great poetry, which developed during his teenage years when he formed lasting associations with several avant-garde poets who gathered at a famous Parisian bookstore. Among these were James Joyce, Max Jacob, Guillaume

Apollinaire, and Paul Ėluard.27 In his songwriting, Poulenc preferred to set texts by such contemporary poets, paying careful attention to the prosody, mood, and tone of his musical settings, which were always rooted in an intimate understanding of the poetry.28 Poulenc described his compositional method as follows:

When I have chosen a poem, the musical realization of which often does not follow until months later, I examine it from all angles. . . . I listen to it, I look for traps, I sometimes underline the difficult parts of the text. I note the pauses. I try to discover the internal rhythm through a line which is not necessarily the first. Then I try setting it to music, bearing in mind the different densities of the piano accompaniment.29

The poets themselves praised his musical settings for maintaining the integrity of the text, calling him “the poet’s musician” for his music that often lent a new clarity and significance to their sometimes obscure and elusive modern verses.30

Poulenc composed music with children’s themes throughout his career. The lesser-known song cycle Quatre chansons pour enfants (1934) uses a lively, music-hall vocabulary to depict a boisterous group of greedy daughters who reject a series of elaborate Christmas gifts in favor of

“une petite soeur” (a little sister) and later “deux soeurs exactement pareilles” (two identical

27 Schmidt, 26–27. 28 Severtson, 2. 29 Daniel, Poulenc, 249 (emphasis original). 30 Nolan, 19.

117 sisters).31 The inspiration for another work with children’s themes, L’Histoire de Babar, le petit elephant (1945), came from Poulenc’s piano improvisations during a reading of the popular children’s story, at the request of his young niece, much like Ravel’s Ma mere l’oye (Mother

Goose).32 Babar involves piano and speaker in the manner of Sergei Prokofiev’s Peter and the

Wolf, but with a much funnier and more unpredictable text, according to Poulenc.33 Though mostly consisting of comical illustrations of the words, the music is at once touching and entertaining, in a style anticipating Poulenc’s last set of children’s songs, La courte paille.

Poulenc created La courte paille, his final song cycle before his death, in 1963. He was drawn to the direct imagery and accessibility of Carême’s texts, especially after spending decades setting the esoteric poetry of Apollinaire and Ėluard.34 Poulenc chose seven whimsical poems from two collections of Carême’s poetry, La cage aux grillons (The Cricket’s Cage) and

Le voleur d’etincelles (The Thief of Brightness), and asked the poet to provide an overall title for the cycle. Carême’s choice of “La courte paille,” meaning “The Short Straw,” refers to the children’s game of drawing straws. According to Poulenc, “As for the title, La courte paille symbolizes my little musical game exactly.”35 Poulenc does not clarify what he means by a

“musical game,” but this description certainly epitomizes the childlike, fun-loving, capricious quality of the cycle.

Poulenc dedicated the cycle to his close friend and longtime colleague, soprano Denise

Duval. Of the many women who influenced Poulenc during his career, none had more significant impact than she. Inspired by her voice, Poulenc wrote several major works for her. She sang the

31 Keith E. Clifton, “Beyond Childhood: Poulenc, La courte paille, and the Aural Envelope,” College Music Symposium 49 (2009): 334–35. 32 Wilfrid Mellers, Francis Poulenc (Oxford: University Press, 2003), 173. 33 Poulenc, quoted in Schmidt, 312. 34 Clifton, 335–36. 35 Poulenc, quoted in Schmidt, 442.

118 role of Thérèse in the Apollinaire farce Les mamelles de Tirésias (The Breasts of Tirésias), as well as Blanche in Dialogues des Carmélites and Elle in the one-act monologue opera La voix humaine.36 Poulenc referred to her as his “ideal muse” and “the adorable one.”37 After Bernac’s retirement, Poulenc accompanied Duval on many concert tours throughout Europe and the

United States.38 He hoped for her to sing the songs of La courte paille to her six-year-old son, and intended for her to premiere the cycle during a concert tour of Italy. To his surprise, Duval disliked the cycle and never performed it in its entirety. Instead, Colette Herzog and Jacques

Février gave the premiere at the 1961 Royaumont Festival.39

Analysis of La courte paille

La courte paille incorporates images of childhood from adult’s perspective. The cycle does not tell a narrative story; rather it consists of seven songs a mother sings to her child. Even without a narrative quality, the songs may be properly considered a cycle due to the careful alternation of slow and fast tempos and the similarity between the first and last songs.40 The poetry sometimes conforms to Sharp’s second Route of Musical Experience by retaining a mode of adulthood to relate to a child, while at other times it assumes a more childlike manner in relating to the child, corresponding to the first Route of Musical Experience. Sometimes the mother sings to soothe the child to sleep or dreamily muses on his future, while at other times she relates funny or magical stories and fairy tales. In the odd-numbered songs, when the mother relates to her child in an adult manner, the texts still contain vivid and magical images, but they

36 Clifton, 335. 37 Francis Poulenc, Francis Poulenc, Echo and Source: Selected Correspondence, 1915–1963, ed. Sidney Buckland (London: Victor Gollancz, 1991), 303. 38 Susan Joanne Musselman, “Cohesion of Composer and Singer: The Female Singers of Poulenc” (DMA document, Ohio State University, 2007), 47. 39 Poulenc Diary of My Songs, 148. 40 Severtson, 143.

119 are presented in a relatively subdued and sophisticated manner. The soothing, lyrical musical settings reflect this more adult-like mode of communication and storytelling. When she relates to the child in a childlike manner in the even-numbered songs, her texts include more nonsense words and ridiculous concepts, and the musical setting parallels this more whimsical, energetic, silly, childlike tone.

The first and last songs of this cycle use the mode of communication of an adult addressing a child in an adult manner with comparable themes and settings, both expressing the musings of a mother on a sleepless moonlit night. “Le sommeil” (“Sleep”) opens the set with a depiction of a mother who has been rocking her crying and presumably ill son all evening, trying to coax him to sleep. The text alternates between anxious thoughts from the parent unable to calm the child, and childlike imagery describing nocturnal elements of nature.

Le sommeil est un voyage, Sleep has gone off on a journey. 41 Mon Dieu! Où est-il parti? Gracious me! Where can it have got to? J’ai beau bercer mon petit; I have rocked my little one in vain; Il pleure dans son lit-cage, He is crying in his cot, Il pleure depuis midi. He has been crying ever since noon.

Où le sommeil a-t-il mis Where has sleep put Son sable et ses rêves sages? Its sand and its gentle dreams? J’ai beau bercer mon petit; I have rocked my little one in vain, Il se tourney tout en nage, He tosses and turns, perspiring, Il sanglote dans son lit. He sobs in his bed.

Ah! Reviens, reviens, sommeil, Ah! Come back, come back, sleep, Sur ton beau cheval de course! On your beautiful race horse! Dans le ciel noir, la Grande Ourse In the dark sky, the Great Bear42 A enterre le soleil Has buried the sun Et rallumé ses abeilles. And rekindled his bees. 43

Si l’enfant ne dort pas bien, If baby does not sleep well, Il ne dira pas bonjour, He will not say, “good day,” Il ne dira rien demain He will have nothing to say

41 The translations are from Bernac’s Francis Poulenc: The Man and His Songs. 42 i.e., Ursa Major. 43 i.e., The Milky Way.

120 A ses doigts, au lait, au pain To his fingers, to the milk, to the bread Qui l’accueillent dans le jour. That greet him in the morning.

Poulenc paints this familiar scenario with a dreamlike ostinato pattern in the bass, bathed in pedal, imitating the act of rocking. Combined with the low dynamic and hypnotic vocal line staying mostly within the range of a fifth, this ostinato creates a soothing mood reminiscent of a lullaby. The recurring syncopations in the piano and chromatic movement in the voice line hint at the child’s restlessness, while the rocking motion in mm. 3, 7–8 and 11–13 illustrate the mother’s continued attempts to calm him. The mother’s plea for sleep to return in mm. 11–15 rises to forte, showing her exasperation at her situation. The last six measures change meter twice, producing the loss of a sense of time; a phenomenon that might occur after staying awake all night. The song closes on an ambiguous g7 sonority, suggesting that the child has hopefully, finally fallen asleep. Bernac suggests that “Le sommeil,” should be interpreted with “rather great simplicity, and all the tenderness (a little anxious) of a young mother who does not know how to get her baby to sleep.”44 Poulenc’s musical setting generates a soothing, calm, ethereal atmosphere, perfect for a mother relating to a child in an adult-like manner.

The next song, “Quelle aventure” (“What Goings-on!”), as well as the other even- numbered songs are considered “trampoline songs,” with their more fanciful and animated tone.

The poetic voice is clearly that of a child, but “Quelle aventure” can be interpreted as a mother telling a preposterous bedtime story of a child who swears he witnessed some astonishing events, but worries that his mother will never believe his tale. The poem’s absurdity, bordering on the surreal, imitates a child’s manner of communication, and surely appeals to the child listening to the story.

Une puce, dans sa voiture, A flea, in its carriage, Tirait un petit éléphant Was pulling a little elephant along

44 Bernac, Francis Poulenc, 164.

121 En regardant les devantures Gazing at the shop windows Où scintillaient les diamants. Where diamonds were sparkling.

Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Good gracious! Good gracious! Quelle aventure! What goings-on! Qui va me croire, s’il m’entend? Who will believe me, if I tell them?

L’éléphanteau, d’un air absent, The little elephant was absent-mindedly Suçait un pot de confiture. Sucking a pot of jam, Mais la puce n’en avait cure, But the flea took no notice, Elle tirait en souriant. And went on pulling with a smile.

Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Good gracious! Good gracious! Que cela dure If this goes on Et je vais me croire dément! I shall really think I am mad!

Soudain, le long d’une clôture, Suddenly, along by a fence, La puce fondit dans le vent The flea disappeared in the wind, Et je vis le jeune éléphant And I saw the young elephant Se sauver en fendant les murs. Make off, breaking through the walls.

Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! Good gracious! Good gracious! La chose est sure, It is perfectly true, Mais comment la dire a maman? But how shall I tell Mummy?

Marked très vite with a quarter note equaling 132, this song emulates the mother’s effusive narration, illustrating the altered, more childlike manner of speech that she uses to entertain her son. With its lightning-fast syllabic text declamation, this mélodie serves as a good example of Poulenc’s “patter songs.”45 The loud dynamics and accented textures contribute to the excited delivery of text. The melodic line consists of mock-serious chromaticism combined with exaggerated vocal leaps of an octave on the words “Mon Dieu!” as the protagonist in the story wonders aloud who will believe such nonsense.

The third song, “La reine de coeur” (“The Queen of Hearts”) describes a darker dimension of childhood fantasy, perhaps more appropriate for a parent relating scary ghost stories to a child around a campfire. In the poem, a fairy-tale queen, described by Benjamin Ivry

45 Daniel, 251. Daniel divides Poulenc’s music into six broad categories, including prayer-like songs, tender, lyrical songs, and dramatic songs.

122 as “an ice maiden as dangerous as Schubert’s Erlkönig,”46 regally beckons to the child as she presides over a court of lovers, including the young dead. This enigmatic, more mature poem, replete with ominous and somewhat sinister sentiments, demonstrates that though Carême’s style might appear simple, the same is not necessarily true of his subject matter.47 The complex imagery in this poem fits the mode of communication of an adult retaining a mode of adulthood to relate to a child.

Mollement accoudée Gently leaning on her elbow A ses vitres de lune, At her moon windows, La reine vous salue The queen waves to you D’une fleur d’amandier. With the flower of the almond tree.

C’est la reine de coeur. She is the queen of hearts. Elle peut, s’il lui plaît, She can, if she wishes, Vous mener en secret Lead you in secret Vers d’étranges demeures To strange dwellings

Où il n’est plus de portes, Where there are no more doors, De salles ni de tours No rooms nor towers, Et où les jeunes mortes And where the young who are dead Viennent parler d’amour. Come to speak of love.

La reine vous salue; The queen waves to you, Hâtez-vous de la suivre Hasten to follow her Dans son château de givre Into the castle of the hoar-frost Aux doux vitraux de lune. With the lovely moon windows.

Poulenc returns to the reflective tone of the first song (“Le sommeil”) as he sets the mystical images of the queen in “her castle of hoar-frost with the lovely moon windows” with alternating 6/8, 9/8, and 12/8 meters, creating a dreamy, otherworldly waltz. Liquid, legato vocal lines and rich harmonies featuring seventh and ninth chords create a mysterious, haunting depiction of this menacing queen. The smoothly arching legato melody gently ascends in m. 5

46 Benjamin Ivry, Francis Poulenc (London: Phaidon Press, 1996), 212. 47 Sorrell, 16.

123 “like a wave of a courtly hand.”48 Beginning and ending pianissimo, the song grows to forte in m. 6, yet never disrupts the calm, steady triplets embodying the magical feeling of the text. The

E Minor tonality contains few chromatic alterations, and then seamlessly shifts to the parallel major in the final measure with the addition of a Picardy third. Mellers likens this striking gesture to the sudden appearance of the Queen’s shining castle,49 perhaps adding a hint of a happy ending to this cryptic fairy tale.

The next song, “Ba, be, bi, bo, bu,” returns to the mother entertaining her child in a childlike manner by telling a silly story involving Puss-in-Boots, a well-known fairy-tale character. The cat chooses not to focus on his studies, electing instead to play, dance, and sing.

The poetry incorporates a rhyme familiar to French school children, teaching them a series of words that make their plural with –x instead of –s. The mother’s use of the nonsense words, “ba, be, bi, bo, bu, bé” and “rikketikketau” mimics children’s wordplay games, with no added meaning intended beyond the pleasure derived from their sounds.

Ba, be, bi, bo, bu, bé! Ba, be, bi, bo, bu, be! Le chat a mis ses bottés, The cat has put on his boots; Il va de porte en porte He goes from door to door, Jouer, danser, danser, chanter. Playing dancing, singing.

Pou, chou, genou, hibou. Lice, cabbage, knee, owl. 50 “Tu dois apprendre à lire, “You ought to learn to read, A compter, à écrire,” To count, to write,” Lui crie-t-on de partout. They cry to him on all sides.

Mais rikketikketau, But rikketikketau, Le chat de s’esclaffer The cat bursts out laughing, En reentrant au château: And goes back to the castle: Il est le Chat botté! He is Puss-in-Boots!

48 Mellers, 174. 49 Mellers, 174. 50 Words that form their plural with an –x instead of an –s.

124 Lasting only about twenty-three seconds, the patter song “Ba, Be, Bi, Bo, Bu” breathlessly races by at a tempo marked follement vite (crazily fast), requiring little subtlety.

With a childlike setting much like “Quelle aventure,” the thrillingly, dangerously fast melodic line predominantly consists of chromatic half steps punctuated by the occasional leap, highlighting important words in the text. The majority of the song is played without pedal, except for mm. 7 and 8 where adults are telling Puss-in-Boots that he must learn to read and write. This slight change in delivery could be interpreted as the mother trying to make the child laugh by imitating the authoritative way adults speak to children. The final revelation of Puss-in-

Boot’s identity occurs in accented chords over a cascading chromatic bass line, leading to an abrupt conclusion, creating a comically scary effect in the way children treasure.51

Examining the next poem as if an adult were addressing a child in an adult manner provides a possible interpretation of a mother pacifying a sullen child who cannot play outside in wet weather. The mother placates the child with descriptions of the sweetness of rainfall, using enchanting imagery in “Les anges musicians” (“The Angel Musicians”). She creates a surreal portrait of visionary “Thursday angels” playing on their harps, while Mozart splashes “in drops of blue joy” as the rain falls from the sky.

Sur les fils de la pluie, On the threads of the rain Les anges du jeudi The Thursday angels52 Jouent longtemps de la harpe. Play all day upon the harp.

Et sous leurs doigts, Mozart And beneath their fingers, Mozart Tinte, délicieux, Tinkles, deliciously En gouttes de joie bleue. In drops of blue joy.

Car c’est toujours Mozart For it is always Mozart Que reprennent sans fin That is repeated endlessly Les anges musiciens By the angel musicians,

51 Mellers, 176. 52 Thursday is traditionally the school half-day holiday in France.

125 Qui, au long du jeudi, Who, all day Thursday, Font chanter sur la harpe Sing on their harps La douceur de la pluie. The sweetness of the rain.

Using the neoclassical technique of quoting from Classical and Baroque works in contemporary music, this song opens with a striking imitation of Mozart created by a quasi-

Alberti bass and diatonic legato melody. Poulenc had a special affinity for Mozart, stating, “I have a fondness for the melodic line, and I prefer Mozart to all other musicians.”53 In fact, the opening measures provide a near quotation of the second movement of Mozart’s Piano Concerto in D Minor, K. 466.54 This quotation does not last long, as the harmonies soon leave the realm of

Classical imitation and return to a twentieth-century style. The constant eighth-note rocking motion perpetuates a mood of sweetness and childlike innocence. Perhaps Poulenc draws on his own childhood memories of his mother playing Mozart on the piano to create this soothing image in song. The piano postlude ends with a barely-audible E7 chord, simulating the ringing sound of harps.

A fanciful story involving a cast of supernatural characters follows in “Le carafon” (“The

Baby Carafe”). An inanimate container possesses human-like qualities in this poem, as it bemoans its childless state and yearns aloud for the companionship that living animals enjoy.

The inclusion of nonsensical and magical beings like the sorcerer riding on a phonograph and legendary Merlin, along with clever wordplay associating “carafes” with “giraffes” (working equally well in French and English) add to the merriment and childlike mode of communication embodied by the text.

“Pourquoi,” se plaignait la carafe, “Why,” complained the carafe, “N’aurais-je pas un carafon? “should I not have a baby carafe? Au zoo, madame la girafe At the zoo, Madame the giraffe-- N’a-t-elle pas un girafon?” Has she not a baby giraffe?”

53 Poulenc, quoted in Schmidt, 197. 54 Clifton, 339.

126 Un sorcier qui passait par là, A sorcerer who happened to be passing by A cheval sur un phonographe, Astride a phonograph, Enregistra la belle voix Recorded the lovely soprano voice De soprano de la carafe Of the carafe Et la fit entendre à Merlin. And let Merlin hear it. “Fort bien, dit celui-ci, fort bien!” “Very good,” said he, “very good!” Il frappe trios fois dans les mains He clapped his hands three times Et la dame de la maison And the lady of the house Se demande encore pourquoi Still asks herself why Elle trouva, ce matin-là, She found, that very morning, Un joli petit carafon A pretty little baby carafe Blotti tout contre la carafe Nestling close to the carafe Ainsi qu’au zoo, le girafon Just as in the zoo, the baby giraffe Pose son cou fragile et long Rests its long fragile neck Sur le flanc clair de la girafe. Against the pale flank of the giraffe

One can easily imagine a mother playfully reenacting this story in a childlike manner, complete with accompanying gestures and facial expressions, to amuse her young child. Poulenc sets this whimsical text with specific musical characterizations of the narrator, Merlin, and the carafe by giving each of them distinct vocal ranges and styles in the manner of Schubert’s

Erlkönig. The carafe’s wailing cries consist of fast, prattling eighth notes and sixteenth notes in an uncomfortably high tessitura. This contrasts with the lower, slower, and brusque declarations by Merlin, sung in an almost parlando manner. The narrator’s voice follows the contours of the story, including a humorous description of the carafe’s “lovely soprano voice” that can be exaggerated to the point of parodying a bad opera singer. The characteristic fast tempo and rapid text delivery of this trampoline song combines with numerous sudden harmonic shifts and successions of ostinato patterns to carry the intricately unfolding narrative. The last eleven measures descend to a pianissimo dynamic, the sweet and tender ending preparing the listener for the final lyrical song of the cycle.

Poulenc’s instruction for a very long silence before “Lune d’avril” (“April Moon”) indicates the importance he placed on the final song of the cycle. The poem uses the mode of

127 communication of an adult addressing a child in an adult manner similar to the opening setting in which a mother ponders during a sleepless night. It differs from the previous six songs, however, because of its surrealistic images and oblique references to war and desolation. The narrator can only dream of a country that is once again bright and sunny, complete with a “peach tree with a heart of saffron” and “fish that laugh like sleet.” Evidently, these fantastical descriptions of her country do not belong to the mother’s reality, for she alludes to the current devastation with references to the dead, and she hopes for a future where “they have destroyed all the guns.” The mother looks toward the child’s future with a mixture of apprehension and hope, nostalgia and optimism.

Both Carême and Poulenc were greatly affected by witnessing the results of the violence of two world wars. Martin Sorrell describes Carême as a gentle man who was never required to fight a war, yet he was “gripped by feelings and premonitions of waste, desolation, and even violence.”55 Poulenc belonged to a group of French musicians who actively participated in the resistance efforts of World War II through various compositions and performances.56 Upon visiting his childhood summer retreat of Nogent-sur-Marne in 1943, Poulenc discovered it devoid of the dance halls and other pleasures of his youth. The themes of tragedy, loss, and cautious hope for the future pervade the final song of this cycle.

Lune, Moon, Belle lune, lune d’Avril, Beautiful moon, April moon, Faites-moi voir en mon dormant Let me see in my sleep Le pêcher au coeur de safran, The peach tree with the saffron heart, Le poisson qui rit du grésil, The fish who laughs at the sleet, L’oiseau qui, lointain comme un cor, The bird who, distant as a hunting horn, Doucement réveille les morts Gently wakens the dead Et surtout, surtout le pays And above all, above all, the land Où il fait joie, Où il fait clair, Where there is joy, where it is light, Où soleilleux de primevères, Where sunny with primroses,

55 Sorrell, 16. 56 Schmidt, 302.

128 On a brisé tous les fusils. All the guns have been destroyed. Lune, belle lune, lune d’avril Beautiful moon, April moon, Lune. Moon.

Carême’s message in his poetry does not sink into melancholy, despair, or sermonizing, however; as Sorrell explains, “What he says may be disturbing, but the way in which he says it remains well-mannered.”57

Poulenc’s setting of “Lune d’avril with its similar dynamics, tempo, color, and tonalities as “Le sommeil,” creates a musically unifying architecture to the cycle that complements

Carême’s recurring poetic themes. The slow tempo and repeated, syncopated c1 pedal in the opening seven measures of the piano accompaniment unfold nearly identically to the first song, creating an ethereal atmosphere for this invocation to the moon. That static pedal point, combined with a soft, prayer-like, restrained vocal line evokes a sense of time standing still during this mother’s reverie. Her emotions build in pitch and dynamics to a fortissimo climax at mm. 16–20 as she imagines a world full of joy and brightness, then descends an octave to a pianissimo delivery of the most important line of text, “they have destroyed all the guns.” The vocal line finishes with an exact restatement of the opening four measures, replicating the chant- like character. The piano postlude extends the c1 pedal for eight more measures at a whispering pppp marking, prolonging the ethereal stillness of the music into the night. The final C7 chord is described by Mellers as one that “suspends the child in time, waiting for ensuing life—and for inevitable death.”58

Analyzed through the lens of a mother addressing her son, La courte paille encapsulates the wide range of feelings and attitudes that adults may adopt in their communication with children. Poulenc’s choice of alternating lyrical songs employing a mode of adulthood with more

57 Sorrell, 17. 58 Mellers, 178.

129 spirited settings using a mode of childhood offers a kaleidoscope of images and themes correlating with the interactions betweens adults and children. The adult-like songs retain a sense of sophistication and intrigue while the childlike numbers incorporate absurdity and silliness.

The cycle begins with a sense of worry, concern, and despondency in caring for a sick child. The next five songs embody juvenile entertainment, mysterious peril, and soothing placation, oscillating between child-like and adult-like manners of expression, yet all with fanciful concepts and tones appropriate for children’s stories. The last song explores the mother’s reflections on the current violent state of the world and her hopes for a better future for her child. Considering the importance of this final song, the entire cycle could be interpreted as a prayer for peace. The mother desires to preserve the innocence of her child through telling silly stories and relating magical tales, while hoping for a better future than the one that currently exists.

For Performers

These seven songs have been dismissed by critics as “neurotic cradle songs” that communicate “lax abandonment or edgy nervousness,”59 or as merely “simple, childlike songs,”60 but if interpreted well, they have the capacity to entertain and affect all who experience them. Poulenc gives valuable wisdom in his Diary of My Songs, stating, “These sketches, by turns sad or mischievous, are unpretentious. They should be sung tenderly. That is the surest way to touch the heart of a child.”61 Singing all of the songs as if to a child will help in creating appropriate energy and mannerisms in the performers.

Performers bear the responsibility of portraying the poetry and music in the way Poulenc intended. Emulating his method of composition, singers and pianists should realize that a cycle

59 Ivry, 212. 60 Daniel, 250. 61 Poulenc, Diary of My Songs, 109.

130 by Poulenc is always a poetic event before being a musical piece. They can accurately decipher this music only after achieving a detailed understanding of the text. They should follow

Poulenc’s clear instructions regarding mood, tempo, and lack of rubato. The adult-like, lyrical songs demand a wide range of vocal timbres to convey various emotional states, including frustration, mystical storytelling, and reminiscing. Performers need to resist the temptation to become over-indulgent on last song, however, as the French style requires slightly reserved emotions, with reason and intellect at the forefront. The trampoline songs have a playful, silly tone, full of childlike mischief and energy. Despite their rapid tempi, singers must take care to make all of the words understood. This can be accomplished with percussive diction, and clear contrasts between dynamics, as well as variation between rhythmic phrases and melodic ones.

The singer and pianist can also experiment with varied inflections, especially when portraying the three voices in “Le carafon.” By maintaining the consistent perspective of an adult addressing a child, alternating between mode of adulthood and retaining a assuming a mode of childhood, the performers can effectively interpret all of the emotional nuances and technical details involved in this mode of communication.

A Charm of Lullabies

Benjamin Britten’s A Charm of Lullabies also examines the diversity of interplay between adults and children, specifically within the context of helping children fall asleep. As the title indicates, all of the songs in this cycle are some sort of lullaby. With poetry written from the point of view of an adult singing to a child, they fit Sharp’s second Route of Musical

Experience, in which adults retain a mode of adulthood to relate to children. Musicologist Walter

131 Bernhart classifies this cycle as a “loose cycle” with a weak form of coherence,62 but the fact that the songs are all lullabies with the same inherent mode of communication gives the cycle a great sense of unity. The texts for these songs come from five different British poets who lived from the Elizabethan to the Romantic era. Specific concepts recur in the poetry, such as calming or soothing, expressions of love and concern for the child’s safety, preserving the child’s innocent state, and thoughts about the child’s future. Their musical settings enhance these returning themes, while simultaneously highlighting the unique aspects of each poem.

Benjamin Britten

Born in 1913, Benjamin Britten began his musical studies amidst a renaissance of English music initiated by the previous generation of composers. Edward Elgar helped to establish a new

English tradition of large-scale works such as symphonies and concertos, while composers such as Ralph Vaughan Williams and Gustav Holst promoted folk music in modern composition. A renewed interest in English music of the past led to revivals of Purcell’s stage works, especially

The Fairy Queen, as well as performances of John Gay’s The Beggar’s Opera. Without merely imitating the styles of former composers, Britten integrated elements of English nationalism in his music. Musicologist Christopher Headington summarizes, “Britten, as his whole work demonstrates, was ‘national’ without being ‘nationalist’ in the folk-oriented way of Vaughan

Williams in England, Falla in Spain or even Gershwin in America. His music is English in the same way as that of Bach and Beethoven is German.” 63 Establishing a modern, individual style

62 Walter Bernhart, “Three Types of Song Cycles: The Variety in Britten’s ‘Charms,’” in Word and Music Studies: Essays on the Song Cycle and Defining the Field, ed. Walter Bernhart and Werner Wolf (Atlanta: Rodopi, 2001), 216. 63 Christopher Headington, Britten (London: Eyre Methuen, 1981), 75.

132 based in English tradition, Britten became one of the most celebrated British musicians since

Purcell.

Britten’s musical language assimilated certain European styles along with his English nationalism. While he respected the musical genius and inventiveness of Schoenberg and Berg,

Britten chose not to follow their methods. He esteemed the lucid technique of Mozart and the warm compassion of Schubert. He admired Stravinsky’s clear-cut style and the harmonic richness of Wagner and Mahler. Incorporating all of these influences, Britten remained connected to conventions of the past, while attaining a characteristic style of his own.64 Britten also adopted the musical trait of clarity from his early composition teachers, Frank Bridge, John

Ireland, and Arthur Benjamin, resulting in a higher level of accessibility to audiences than most contemporary composers.65 This ability to connect to audiences through a musical medium that combined technical brilliance, freshness of outlook and clarity, while seeming both national and cosmopolitan, brought him success both at home and abroad.66 This uncomplicated style illuminates poetry spanning more than three centuries of English literary tradition in A Charm of

Lullabies, with distinctive musical settings for the different attitudes and emotions of each poem.

Britten possessed a keen sensitivity to the relationship between words and music that led him to write more than half of his entire output for the voice. Aaron Copland remarked that

Britten had an “outstanding gift for vocal music”—knowing well how to write for voice and voices in combination, and that his music had a “decided singing quality.”67 Biographer Eric

Walter White attests that unlike some composers, Britten did not feel inhibited by words, but

64 Lennox Berkeley, “The Light Music,” in Benjamin Britten: A Commentary on His Works From a Group of Specialists, ed. Donald Mitchell and Hans Keller (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1972), 287. 65 Percy Young, Britten, Masters of Music (New York: David White, 1966), 9. 66 Ibid., 55. 67 Aaron Copland, quoted in Phillip Ramey, “Benjamin Britten: November 22, 1913–December 4, 1976” Opera News 41 (February 5, 1977): 36–37.

133 could assess the different values of the syllable, the word, and the idea behind the word, giving them “a musical gravity of their own.”68

During his extensive studies of Purcell’s vocal compositions, Britten discovered, “Purcell is a great master at handling the English language in song and I learned much from him.”69 Like

Purcell, Britten preferred declamatory vocal lines over the lyrical Italian bel canto style, and utilized techniques such as word painting, contrapuntal devices, ostinato and canonic imitation.

He combined these Baroque elements with modern features such as quartal harmonies, chord clusters, sparse textures influenced by Stravinsky, as well as free use of all twelve tones to create a thoroughly contemporary style.70 Lifelong companion and musical collaborator Peter Pears summed up Britten’s vocal style:

Britten has never claimed to be an innovator; the generation of revolutionaries was the previous one to his. . . . He learnt that as a result of the explosions in the musical world of the first decades of this century, the younger composer had to build his own tradition. In endeavouring to do this, Britten has gone to the purest stream of modern music. Monteverdi, Purcell, Bach, Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, Verdi and, of later figures, Mahler, Berg and Stravinsky—from all these he has learnt much in his search for the classic virtues of a controlled passion and the ‘bounding line.’ But if Britten is right, and he has made no actual innovations, there blows in his vocal music at least (and that is all that concerns us here) a strong revitalizing south-east wind which has rid English song of much accumulated dust and cobwebs, and has renewed the vigor of the sung word with Purcellian attack. If Britten is no innovator, he is most certainly a renovator, and having thus cleansed his house, he has a right to feel at home in it.71

Britten’s renovations of English vocal music have resulted in some of the most celebrated

English art song and opera compositions of the twentieth century.

68 Eric Walter White, Benjamin Britten: His Life and Operas (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1970), 90–91. 69 Headington, 40. 70 George Richard Tibbetts, “An Analysis of the Text-Music Relationship in Selected Songs of Benjamin Britten and its Implications for the Interpretation of His Solo Song Literature,” (EdD diss., Columbia University, 1984), 134. 71 Peter Pears, “The Vocal Music,” in Benjamin Britten: A Commentary on His Works From a Group of Specialists, ed. Donald Mitchell and Hans Keller (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1972), 73.

134 Britten’s musical output, particularly his vocal music, was heavily influenced by his childhood. With the exception of a few years spent in the United States during World War II,

Britten lived the majority of his life in the same area of England where he grew up. Biographer

David Matthews notes, “Staying near to where he was born helped him maintain contact with the childhood world to which he so often returned in his music.”72 Britten was the youngest of four children born to Robert, a dentist, and Edith, an amateur singer and member of the local choral society. His mother played the piano and sang songs by composers such as Schubert and Roger

Quilter at home. Britten suffered from poor health, including a congenital heart condition (that ultimately resulted in his premature death) and severe pneumonia at the age of three months. He did not sleep well as a child, often relying on his mother’s mezzo-soprano voice to sing him to sleep. According to Matthews,

It is almost impossible to exaggerate the importance of this archetypal maternal practice to Britten’s psyche and his later artistic development. Britten’s unease with the outside world was extreme and his music reveals it: his world is a place of danger and often of terror, where innocence is readily corrupted. There can be temporary reassurance in beauty and in love, but sleep is the only sure place where security and trust may be regained. The image of sleep as a refuge is something that Britten returns to again and again in his music: in the Serenade, the Nocturne, the War Requiem.73

One could easily add A Charm of Lullabies to the above list of compositions, as its subject embodies images of a mother singing a child to the safety and security of sleep.

The themes of both the preservation and the corruption of innocence pervade A Charm of

Lullabies, as well as the majority of Britten’s musical output, prompting many to explore the extent to which his own childhood experiences may be represented in his music. Comments

72 David Matthews, Britten (London: Haus Publishing, 2003), 1. 73 Ibid., 4.

135 made by Britten regarding being raped by a school teacher,74 as well as vague references to traumatic sexual experiences in his childhood,75 have led some to conclude that operas such as

Peter Grimes, The Turn of the Screw, and Death in Venice were based on autobiographical events. Donald Mitchell, Britten’s publisher for the last twelve years of his life, responds to these theories as follows:

Was Ben fantasizing, perhaps? We shall never know, I guess; never know what he meant by “rape,” if he used the word. . . . The greatest danger in all this, it seems to me, would be to build some enormous superstructure of speculation on such a flimsy basis. We should certainly take note of it, but it would be wise not to throw caution to the winds, above all to desist from thinking—even if the “rape” proved to be well founded—that it would provide us with a key to, a readymade “explanation” of, the music. It doesn’t.76

An interviewer from The Guardian asked Britten about his preoccupation with “innocence outraged.”77 Britten admitted this fascination must exist because so many people had mentioned it. The interviewer clarified Britten’s response, stating, “[Britten] is never aware of himself thinking, ‘Here’s a nice story about innocence destroyed again,’ but he supposes he does have an instinctive tug towards it.”78 Clearly Britten was drawn to texts with themes of childhood and lost innocence, whether inspired by his own experiences or not.

Britten loved being in the company of children, becoming “so like a little boy”79 when he was among them. This preference for entering into their realm as opposed to remaining in his adult world led Britten to write many compositions for their education and performance.

Violinist Yehudi Menuhin remarked on Britten’s eternal youthfulness, saying, “There was something extremely boyish about him. It accounts for his identification with young people and

74 Eric Crozier, quoted in Humphrey Carpenter, Benjamin Britten: A Biography (New York: Charles Scribner’s Sons, 1992), 20. 75 Beata Mayer, quoted in Carpenter, 20. 76 Donald Mitchell, quoted in Carpenter, 23. 77 Unidentified reporter, Guardian, June 7, 1971, quoted in Carpenter, 534. 78 Ibid. 79 Briony Duncan, quoted in Carpenter, 343.

136 for how much of his work was written for children.”80 Singer Nancy Evans felt that this ability to empathize with children manifested itself in his music: “He sensed ways in which they could do things which other composers would think were too difficult for them, because he could fit into their mentality and their spirit. It was a sort of Peter Pan thing.”81 Britten’s music assistant

Imogen Holst believed Britten treated his children’s music with the same care he reserved for his other compositions, never falling “into the error of writing for children as if their language were different from his own.”82 One of Britten’s most famous works for children was the educational film teaching about the instruments of the symphony, entitled The Young Person’s Guide to the

Orchestra, created in 1946 with librettist Eric Crozier. This collaboration with Crozier led to other “young persons’” pieces. His opera Albert Herring, the cantata Saint Nicolas and the opera

The Little Sweep all have roles for children and librettos by Crozier.83

Britten’s professional relationship with Crozier also resulted in the composition of A

Charm of Lullabies. Crozier and Britten worked together in Britten’s newly formed

Glyndebourne English Opera Company at the end of World War II. When the company’s production of The Rape of Lucretia was being staged in Holland in 1947, one of the two

Lucretias was Nancy Evans, who later became Crozier’s wife. Evans was invited to return to

Holland for a recital tour in January of 1948, and Britten offered to write some songs for her to include in her recital program. Britten found the texts for the cycle in an anthology edited by F.

E. Budd, A Book of Lullabies 1300–1900, a volume that might have been purchased while

80 Yehudi Menuhin, quoted in Headington, 148. 81 Nancy Evans, quoted in Carptenter, 343. 82 Imogen Holst, “Britten and the Young,” in Benjamin Britten: A Commentary on His Works From a Group of Specialists, ed. Donald Mitchell and Hans Keller (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1972), 279. 83 Headington, 83.

137 Britten and Crozier were in Dublin.84 He titled the cycle A Charm of Lullabies, with the word

“charm,” meaning a collective noun for a flight of goldfinches.85

Analysis of A Charm of Lullabies

This cycle of five songs incorporates lullabies by William Blake, Robert Burns, Robert

Greene, Thomas Randolph, and John Philip, British poets spanning the Renaissance to the

Romantic era. Britten enjoyed setting poetry from different time periods, as evidenced by his cycles of Renaissance sonnets by Michelangelo and John Donne, Romantic poetry of Arthur

Rimbaud, and contemporary poetry by Walter de la Mare and W. H. Auden. Each song has a different tone or character, but they are all connected by virtue of being lullabies.

Finding five lullabies sufficiently contrasting in mood and style to keep the audience alert and interested presented quite a challenge for Britten, and setting them with correspondingly interesting music produced its own difficulties. Pears reasons, “If this is not such an impressive cycle as the others, it is at least partly due to the subject matter. Love and Death may easily be viewed from different angles, but a lullaby is—a lullaby, sonst nichts or almost nichts.”86 Budd has a somewhat different opinion about the inherent possibility for variety in lullabies. He asserts that “the adoption of a conventional poetical form does not necessarily involve the adoption of a set of stereotyped emotions and images. On the contrary, the characteristic tastes of these

84 Benjamin Britten, Letters From a Life, ed. Donald Mitchell (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991) 3: 343. 85 Crozier, Introduction to A Charm of Lullabies: For Mezzo-Soprano and Piano, Op. 41 by Benjamin Britten (London: Boosey & Hawkes, 1994), 2. In this context, “flight” as defined by Oxford Dictionaries, refers to “a group of creatures or objects flying together, in particular a flock or large body of birds or insects in the air, especially when migrating.” http://oxforddictionaries.com/definition/american_english/flight?region=us&q=flight (accessed July 14, 2012). 86 Pears, 72.

138 individual authors appear clearly in their lullabies.”87 Britten chose texts that all relate thematically as lullabies, while retaining sufficient individuality to create variety.

Lest these poems be considered frivolous or childish works, Budd is quick to point out that

English lullabies are predominantly serious poems. They are not nursery rhymes or mere verbal incantations to conjure up sleep. Written by adults for the reading of adults, and in substance often quite beyond the scope of childish comprehension, they are for the most part lyric songs which, under the guise of what has grown to be an established poetic convention, illustrate definite emotional or philosophic attitudes to life based on experiences which fall to the lot of the majority of human beings.88

A child still serves as the poetic audience of a lullaby, but adults become the real audience as they read the poetry and listen to the musical settings. The adult audience members can re- experience their former juvenile state as they listen to these lullabies. Conjuring up peaceful memories of childhood, audiences regain access to the “childhood bliss of being the object of a mother’s desire.”89

These lullabies all use the same mode of communication of an adult addressing a child in an adult manner to illustrate the various experiences associated with the bedtime routine. Usually the adults act as protectors and comforters, finding bittersweet joy in tending for these small children. They recognize that the children are blissfully unaware of the dangers around them and the challenges that lie ahead. The adults, with perspective that comes with age, often imagine the children’s potential with a mix of pleasure, pride, and apprehension. While looking to the future they are also firmly rooted in the present task of getting the children to sleep, sometimes with

87 F. E. Budd, ed., A Book of Lullabies: 1300–1900 (London: Scholartis Press, 1930), 18. 88 Ibid., 1. 89 Karen M. Bottge, “Brahms’s ‘Wiegenlied’ and the Maternal Voice,” 19th-Century Music 28, no. 3 (Spring 2005): 198.

139 frustration and impatience, yet often with genuine love and concern, willing them into a state of peace and serenity.

Explorations of textual and musical aspects of Johannes Brahms’s lullaby, “Wiegenlied,” can likewise inform a study of Britten’s Charm of Lullabies. Musicologist Karen Bottge identifies recurring poetic themes, musical techniques, and characteristic emotional qualities resulting from the special bond formed as the adult (usually a mother) soothes a child into “a safe, pleasurable interior within which to ease the drop into sleep’s oblivion.”90 She describes

“an aural envelope that enfolds the mother-child dyad in a ring of sensual pleasure,”91 referring to psychologist Guy Rosolato’s description of the mother’s voice as a “blanket of sound that surrounds the infant from all sides.”92 Britten generates an appropriately soothing “blanket of sound” through his musical settings of these poems, particularly in the first and last songs of the cycle.

“A Cradle Song,” with poetry by William Blake, begins this set of lullabies. According to Budd, “No man was ever better qualified to sing of children than Blake, for the simple reason that he never ceased to be a child himself . . . .”93 Blake (1757–1827) lived a life of hard work, poverty and obscurity, not achieving widespread fame for his engravings, paintings, and poetry until many years after his death. Considered a mystic and a social revolutionary,94 Blake explored significant issues in religion, politics, and psychology through his art and poetry. Some prominent works include Songs of Innocence (1789) and Songs of Experience (1794), two

90 Ibid., 205. 91 Ibid., 187. 92 Guy Rosolato, “La voix: Entre corps et langage,” Revue française de psychanalyse 37 (1974): 81, quoted in Bottge, 187. 93 Budd, 16. 94 James King, William Blake: His Life (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991), 27.

140 collections of poetry that contrast the naïve guilelessness of innocence with the embitterment of experience.95

The persistent theme in Blake’s poetry of extolling innocence and lamenting its loss coincides with Britten’s sentiments. Consequently, Britten set many of Blake’s texts throughout his career. Beginning with “A Nurse’s Song,” which Britten composed at the age of sixteen,

Blake’s poetry appears in various songs and as inspiration for works such as his children’s opera

A Little Sweep. Britten’s largest and most famous cycle of Blake’s writings is Songs and

Proverbs of William Blake, setting poetry from Blake’s Songs of Innocence and Songs of

Experience, written in 1965.

Blake treats innocence as an idealized landscape in which children are nurtured.96 The text of “A Cradle Song” fits Blake’s theme of preserving innocence as it depicts a mother rocking her baby to sleep, lovingly admiring every feature and smile. She reiterates the word

“little” four times, emphasizing the smallness of everything connected to her baby, including the child’s heart, sorrows, and pretty wiles, giving a sense of adoration and protectiveness over her tiny, helpless infant. Within this seemingly idyllic setting, premonitions of danger or peril creep in with the inclusion of “cunning wiles” and “dreadful lightnings”

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright, Dreaming o'er the joys of night; Sleep, sleep, in thy sleep Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace,

95Brian Wilkie, “Blake, William (1757–1827),” in Encyclopedia of World Biography, Gale Biography in Context (Detroit: Gale, 1998) http://ic.galegroup.com/ic/bic1/ReferenceDetailsPage/ReferenceDetailsWindow?failOverType=&query=&prodId=B IC1&windowstate=normal&contentModules=&mode=view&displayGroupName=Reference&limiter=&currPa ge=&disableHighlighting=false&source=&sortBy=&displayGroups=&action=e&catId=&activityType=&scanI d=&documentId=GALE%7CA148412377&userGroupName=usc13562&jsid=8188bd1aa04ef254ee36246ae82d1ae 3 (accessed July 15, 2012). 96 King, 65.

141 Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.

O! the cunning wiles that creep In thy little heart asleep. When thy little heart does wake Then the dreadful lightnings break,

From thy cheek and from thy eye, O'er the youthful harvests nigh. Infant wiles and infant smiles Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.

Budd’s interpretation of “A Cradle Song” (the second poem to which Blake gave this title) takes into account both Blake’s nostalgia for innocence as well as his remorse that experience “severed precious links with childlike simplicity and guilelessness.”97 Using this context, night symbolizes experience, which casts its shadow over a sleeping baby girl, filling her with dreams of her future charms. The “cunning wiles that creep” and beguile “Heaven and

Earth of peace” refer to maturity that will inevitably come to this innocent child when she wakes, perfecting the “pretty wiles of infancy into instruments of conquest.”98 The mother knows she has precious little time with her child as an innocent baby. All too soon her child will grow up and consciously use her wiles and smiles for her own purposes.

Britten creates a dreamy nighttime atmosphere through his gently undulating V–I pattern in the bass, combined with a predominantly conjunct murmuring upper piano melody, spinning

“an ambient protective circle around the child’s slumber,” guarding against “the unknown terrors of the night.”99 The fast-moving upper piano line often clashes in intervals of seconds with the slower vocal line. This collision of a semitone, in Britten’s harmonic language, always suggests

97 Budd, 16. 98 Ibid. 99 Bottge, 199.

142 some sort of tension or contradiction, in this case the inevitability of lost innocence.100 The two musical lines share a parallel, close movement, typical of Britten’s style, giving the effect of the piano following the voice but never catching it.101 The music changes as the mother describes the

“cunning wiles that creep” with an almost chant-like melody over a bitonal accompaniment, rife with harmonic tension. The clashing seconds return with “the dreadful lightnings” at a heightened dynamic level, bringing added significance to the mother’s worries for her child’s impending maturity. Britten’s setting enhances the message of Blake’s text, that fleeting innocence should be protected and cherished.

The second poem of the cycle, “The Highland Balou,” was written by the celebrated

Scottish poet Robert Burns (1756–1796). Burns recorded aspects of farm life, traditional culture, class distinctions, and religion in his poetry. His sensitivity to nature combined with the high value he placed on freedom, individuality, and emotion have caused some scholars to label him as a pre-Romantic.102 His poems and folk-songs written in the Scottish vernacular have helped to sustain Scotland’s traditions and identity, stimulating his reputation as a political as well as a poetical figure, and his designation as the national poet of Scotland.103

Traditional Scottish tunes have appeared in English song-books for hundreds of years, prompting many composers to write their own “Scotch songs,” characterized by lyrics with typical Scottish names and subjects, and using the rhythmic gesture called the Scotch snap.

Scottish poets such as Burns and Sir Walter Scott participated in a heightened literary trend in

100 Carpenter, 338. 101 Pears, 72–73. 102 “Robert Burns,” Concise Dictionary of British Literary Biography 3, Gale Biography in Context (Detroit: Gale Research, 1992) http://ic.galegroup.com/ic/bic1/ReferenceDetailsPage/ReferenceDetailsWindow?fail OverType=&query=&prodId=BIC1&windowstate=normal&contentModules=&mode=view&displayGroupNa me=Reference&limiter=&currPage=&disableHighlighting=false&source=&sortBy=&displayGroups=&action=e&a mp;catId=&activityType=&scanId=&documentId=GALE%7CK1655000041&userGroupName=usc13562&jsid=2d 3ff3620e15e1d6443fc7f5884b5307, (accessed July 15, 2012). 103 Maurice Lindsay, Robert Burns: The Man, His Work, the Legend (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1979), 342–43.

143 the late eighteenth century of gathering authentic Scottish tunes and writing new texts to the old melodies.104 Britten followed in the tradition of composing new Scottish songs, arranging several of Burns’s collected folk-tunes, and setting Burns’s original poetry in others, including his last cycle, A Birthday Hansel, in 1975. This poem, called a “balou” (Scottish for “lullaby”) is a versification of a Gaelic nursery song, complete with its own music. A Highland lady communicated both the text and melody to Burns.105 Britten modeled his own composition after the melody Burns had used nearly two hundred years before.106

A theme emerges in “The Highland Balou” of a mother’s pride in her child, especially when thinking about his future accomplishments. As the poem is written in Scottish vernacular, its meaning can be difficult to decipher. Crozier explains, “This is a lullaby sung by an entirely different type of mother from the rest—she is a wild Scottish Highland lass who is highly proud of the man-child the chief of the clan has fathered upon her and who looks forward to the day when he will grow up and become the scourge of the Lowlanders.”107 She lovingly refers to her child as “my sweet wee Donald” and goes on to describe her hopes for his future. She proudly envisions him stealing a horse and traveling through the country, “thro’ the Lawlands, o’er the border,” bringing home a Carlisle cow.

Hee Balou, my sweet wee Donald, Picture o' the great Clanronald! Brawlie kens our wanton Chief What gat my young Highland thief. (Hee Balou!)

104 Denis Stevens, A History of Song, rev. ed. (New York: W. W. Norton, 1970), 146. 105 Robert Burns, The Poetry of Robert Burns, ed. W. E. Henley and T. F. Henderson (New York: AMS Press, 1970), 3: 685. 106 Robert Burns, The Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, ed. James Kinsley (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968), 2: 685. 107 Eric Crozier, personal correspondence to Annete Nicolai, on April 3, 1989, quoted in Annette Nicolai, “Benjamin Britten’s ‘A Charm of Lullabies’: Historical Survey, Analysis and Performance” (MA thesis, California State University, Long Beach, 1992), 44.

144 Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie! And thou live, thou'll steal a naigie, Travel the country thro’ and thro’, and bring hame a Carlisle cow!

Thro’ the Lawlands, o’er the Border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder! Herry the louns o' the laigh Countrie, Syne to the Highlands hame to me!

This poem fits the cycle’s overall mode of communication of an adult relating to a child through lullabies, featuring the joy and pride felt in the child’s potential. His musical setting evokes images of the rugged Scottish Highlands through his bagpipe drone of the bass and highly syncopated piano and vocal melody lines. These dotted rhythms create a strong rhythmic pulse, and combined with the andante maestoso markings, the song conveys a fervent sense of pride of a mother for her child. She holds great aspirations for her baby, the son of the clan chief, and sings of her bold prophecies for his future adventures. Britten further develops the Scottish musical idiom by including a Scotch snap in conjunction with important words of the text, especially the boy’s name “Donald,” the great “Clanronald,” as well as “thief,” and “naigie”

(horse). In a manner contrary to the typically soft and calm nature of a lullaby, the mother’s pride builds to forte in m. 14 as she imagines the child bringing home a cow, and again in m. 24 as she concludes her vision of her child returning home after many adventures. These musical details emphasize the wild Scottish countryside setting of the poem, where a mother might find pride in her son stealing horses, rounding up cattle, and traveling far and wide.

English prose writer and dramatist Robert Greene (1558–1592) authored the next poem,

“Sephestia’s Lullaby.” A prolific and versatile Elizabethan writer, Greene completed thirty-eight publications, including prose romances, pamphlets, and dramas, with a style exemplifying the

145 literary activity of his time.108 Most of Greene’s poems are lyrics that appear within his romances, often without relation to their context. This practice, typical of the time, provided his poetry with a means of publication, which would probably not have happened otherwise.

“Sephestia’s Lullaby,” however, actually does fit in the novel in which it appears, entitled

Menaphon.

Sephestia, the heroine of the novel, is probably the most familiar of all of Greene’s characters, and her lullaby ranks among the best known of his poems.109 Lullabies were fairly rare poetic forms in Elizabethan poetry, and Greene’s biographer, John Clark Jordan, notes that

“one does not expect to find an example, so exquisite an example, among the poems of

Greene.”110 The novel’s rather convoluted plot uses many conventions derived from Greek dramas. It involves banished royalty who become separated, then live in disguise among shepherds until their complicated reunion, fulfilling an enigmatic prophecy.111 The lullaby occurs fairly early in the story, as Sephestia entreats her infant son to stop crying and describes her own sorrows regarding her exodus from her homeland and her separation from her husband during the voyage into exile. She expresses the mix of emotions she feels both for her son and for her future, a combination of apprehension and joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

Mother’s wag, pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy; When thy father first did see Such a boy by him and me, He was glad, I was woe; Fortune changèd made him so,

108 John Clark Jordan, Robert Greene (New York: Columbia University Press, 1915), 6, 10. 109 Ibid., 50. 110 Ibid., 141. 111 Ibid., 38–40.

146 When he left his pretty boy, Last his sorrow, first his joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

The wanton smiled, father wept, Mother cried, baby leapt; More he crow’d, more we cried, Nature could not sorrow hide: He must go, he must kiss Child and mother, baby bliss, For he left his pretty boy, Father's sorrow, father's joy.

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee, When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

This poem revisits the theme of a mother’s concern for her child’s future, though within a different emotional context than that of the previous lullabies of the cycle. Sephestia seems preoccupied by her own struggles while trying to calm her crying baby. Her pleas of “weep not, my wanton” seem intended to soothe herself as much as her child. She articulates a sense of foreboding for her son’s fate by reiterating, “When thou art old, there’s grief enough for thee” three times, speaking from her own experiences with misfortune. She appears less concerned with the child’s destiny than with recollections of his father’s sad parting from them both. These sorrowful images of separation and tears combine with her blissful memories of delight in caring for her baby boy. This juxtaposition of such conflicting emotions result in an almost manic feel to the poetry, adding to the mother’s heightened emotional state.

Britten’s music enhances this duality of feelings found in the mother’s poetry by providing a strikingly different musical setting for the descriptions of future grief to contrast with the sections of nostalgic recollection. Marked piangendo, a weeping motive occurs in the lento piano refrain, as accented quarter notes functioning as V7 chords resolve up a half step to the

147 tonic in a weeping motive. Britten repeats this one static chord progression throughout the four- measure refrain, over which he lays a dolce vocal line. The mother’s lyrical melody includes a dramatic downward portamento of a seventh on the text “there’s grief,” suggesting her own weeping along with her child’s. The contrasting allegretto sections have a leggiero vocal line combined with a gently accented eighth-note piano accompaniment that matches the pitch outlines of the vocal line. The upper piano part contains grace notes that resolve upward in a brisker imitation of the previous weeping motive, forming a connection between the faster and slower sections. The musical setting creates the effect of a mother fluctuating between different emotions while soothing her child’s cries. Sometimes she gently dances her baby around the room, trying to make him smile and laugh, while other times she pauses to wallow in her family’s present and future grief.

Thomas Randolph (1605–1635), author of the fourth poem, “A Charm,” was a brilliant scholar and prolific writer, known for his humor and wit, especially in his poetry.112 Randolph mirrored contemporary life’s vices and virtues in his comedies, reflecting human nature in a comical way in order to stimulate moral education. His plays, such as The Muses’ Looking Glass

(1638) were deeply shaped by classical dramas in terms of plot, character, and satire. His familiarity with Greek mythology accounts for the many mythological references found in “A

Charm,” from his play The Jealous Lovers.113

In the context of the play, “A Charm” is actually not a lullaby at all, nor is it directed towards a child. In the scene, characters Techmessa and Tyndarus lie in coffins, while Sexton

112 John Jay Parry, ed., introduction to The Poems and Amyntas of Thomas Randolph (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1917), 21–23. 113 Jill L. Levenson, “Thomas Randolph,” Jacobean and Caroline Dramatists, ed. Fredson Bowers (Detroit: Gale Research, 1987) Dictionary of Literary Biography 1, no. 58 http://go.galegroup.com/ps/i.do?id=GALE%7CH1200003512&v=2.1&u=usc13562&it=r&p=LitRG&sw=w (accessed July 15, 2012).

148 and his wife Staphyla approach the open coffins to steal the clothes off them, thinking they are dead. Techmessa and Tyndarus sit up in the coffins and curse Sexton and his wife with threats involving mythological beings before placing them in the coffins from which the singers have just risen. Taken out of its dramatic context, this poem provides an interesting example of a lullaby of the “terrifying” order.114 As part of the cycle, “A Charm” fits the narrative of an exasperated mother trying desperately to get her child to sleep, resorting to warnings of punishments for disobedience. Unlike in the title of the cycle, here the term “charm” is used in the sense of a spell or enchantment.

Quiet! Sleep! or I will make Erinnys115 whip thee with a snake, And cruel Rhadamanthus116 take Thy body to the boiling lake, Where fire and brimstones never slake; Thy heart shall burn, thy head shall ache, And ev’ry joint about thee quake; And therefor dare not yet to wake! Quiet, sleep! Quiet, sleep! Quiet!

Quiet! Sleep! or thou shalt see The horrid hags of Tartary,117 Whose tresses ugly serpents be, And Cerberus118 shall bark at thee, And all the Furies that are three

114 Budd, 123. 115 All of the descriptions of mythological references come from Thomas Bulfinch, Bulfinch’s Mythology (New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1947). “The Erinnyes, or Furies, were three goddesses who punished by their secret stings the crimes of those who escaped or defied public justice. The heads of the furies were wreathed with serpents, and their whole appearance was terrific and appalling. Their names were Alecto, Tisiphone, and Megaera.” Bulfinch, 10. 116 Radamanthus is “the son of Jupiter and Europa. He reigned in the Cyclades with such impartiality, that at death he was made one of the judges of the infernal regions.” Bulfinch, 718. 117 Tartary is “the infernal regions of classical mythology; used as equivalent to Hades by later writers, but by Homer placed as far beneath Hades as Hades is beneath the earth.” Bulfinch, 722. 118 Cerberus is a “watch dog at the entrance to Hades; offspring of Typhaon and Echidna; generally represented with three heads, a mane of serpents’ heads and a serpent’s tail.” Bulfinch, 692.

149 The worst is called Tisiphone,119 Shall lash thee to eternity; And therefore sleep thou peacefully Quiet, sleep! Quiet, sleep! Quiet!

“A Charm” incorporates a completely different motivation behind the experience of quieting a child, adding a bit of humorous reality to an often-idealized situation. This mother has lost all patience with the bedtime routine and warns every imaginable negative consequence for disobedience. She demands, “Quiet, sleep!” and threatens all manner of mythological tortures.

Every adult who has dealt with an unruly child who refuses to comply with the bedtime routine can relate to the frustration demonstrated by this frazzled mother.

Britten musically depicts the mother’s aggravation by setting this atypical lullaby at a prestissimo furioso tempo with sharp vacillations between dynamic levels and tempi, emitting outbursts of anger alternating with controlled suppression. The fz opening rolled chord sets the tone for the vocal exclamation “Quiet!” Immediately the voice drops to a piano dynamic and begins to breathe out threats against the errant child. The soft piano tremolo underscores the pent-up irritation the mother must feel, as well as her urges to control her temper. As she describes the ghastly fates awaiting her child, her vocal line creeps higher and louder, with the piano accompanying with staccato eighth notes. The final climax occurs during the highest and loudest fortissimo passage, in mm. 11–12 with the charge, “And therefore dare not yet to wake!”

The second half of the song has similar text, and receives the same musical treatment. This half climaxes with the humorously impossible mandate to “Therefore sleep now peacefully,” after filling the child’s head with fear and trembling. Britten’s musical details create a vivid image of a mother at the end of her patience, trying every possible tactic to will her child to sleep.

119 Tisiphone is “one of the Furies. Aeneas saw her in the infernal regions apply her whip of scorpions to offenders whose guilt had not been revealed during their life on earth.” Bulfinch, 723.

150 John Philip, author of the final poem, “The Nurse’s Song,” was a minor Elizabethan playwright who flourished between 1566 and 1591, and the most obscure of the five authors represented in the cycle. Multiple spellings of his name, including Phillips, Philips, Phillip, and

Phillyps, contribute to the confusion regarding his identity.120 A student of divinity121 and member of Queen’s College, Cambridge, Philip authored several tracts, pamphlets, elegies, and ballads.122 His spiritual background accounts for the religious tone of “The Nurse’s Song.” The play from which this lullaby is taken, The Play of Patient Grisell, was published in 1565. It disappeared until 1907 when a single copy was found and subsequently reprinted by the Malone

Society.123 The plot comes from Boccaccio’s tale of the patient and obedient Griselda who represents heroic steadfastness in the face of adversity,124 but also includes a political emphasis relevant to Philip’s time.125

“The Nurse’s Song” completes the cycle in a similar mood as it began with “A Cradle

Song” by expressing the gentle warmth of a loving nurse singing a baby to sleep, while hinting at the theme of safeguarding the innocent child. Both poems describe a caregiver’s verbal promises of protection, warding off harm by creating a defensive wall of sound to shelter the child from danger.126 References to peril appear more subtly in “The Nurse’s Song” than in “A Cradle

Song” as the nurse calls down heavenly protection, with the words “The gods be thy shield and comfort in need.”

Lullaby baby,

120 W. W. Greg, “John Phillip: Notes for a Bibliography,” The Library: The Transactions of the Bibliographical Society s3–1, no. 3 (July 1910): 303. 121 Ibid., 310. 122 Budd, 121. 123 Crozier, quoted in Nicolai, 82. 124 Arthur F. Kinney, ed. The Cambridge Companion to English Literature, 1500–1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 148. 125 Louis B. Wright, “A Political Reflection in Phillip’s Patient Grissell,” The Review of English Studies 4, no. 16 (Oct.¸1928): 428. 126 Bottge, 211.

151 Lullaby baby, Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be. Lullaby baby!

Be still, my sweet sweeting, no longer do cry; Sing lullaby baby, lullaby baby. Let dolours be fleeting, I fancy thee, I . . . To rock and to lull thee I will not delay me.

Lullaby baby, Lullaby-laby-laby baby, Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be Lullaby-laby-laby baby

The gods be thy shield and comfort in need! The gods be thy shield and comfort in need! Sing Lullaby baby, Lullaby-laby baby

They give thee good fortune and well for to speed, And this to desire ... I will not delay me. This to desire ... I will not delay me.

Lullaby lullaby-laby baby, Thy nurse will tend thee as duly as may be. Lullaby-laby-laby-laby baby.

“A Nurse’s Song” imitates the authentic manner in which most lullabies are sung by beginning and ending with an unaccompanied vocal refrain. As opposed to performing lullabies in a concert hall, in reality mothers are usually alone with a child, singing unaccompanied lullabies in the privacy of a bedroom. They might improvise a rather random series of notes and words that eventually form into defined rhythms and melodies. This last song in A Charm of

Lullabies depicts that spontaneous experience.

Britten connects the final song of the cycle to the opening one by giving it a complementary musical setting. He returns to the gentle V–I rocking pattern in the bass lines of the piano accompaniment, and the serene, legato vocal style he used previously to depict peaceful crooning. When the idea of danger appears at the nurse’s text “let dolours be fleeting”

152 in m. 8, Britten’s musical setting remains blissfully calm. This may seem odd to maintain a serene musical setting while referencing pain in the child’s future, but this practice actually occurs throughout the lullaby genre. According to Bottge,

One stanza may reassure the child with close holding and rocking whereas the next threatens disaster by dropping, splitting into pieces, even death: when the bough breaks. The poem or narrator does not always express a wish to protect the child but, rather, may articulate fear with a soothingly calm voice that conjures it into the home, into the cradle, into childhood itself.127

Britten uses his music to once again create a protective barrier around the child, keeping the baby safe from the inevitable pain and tragedies of the future.

All does not remain calm during this lullaby in the contrasting middle section, however.

The music rises in intensity at the subsequent iterations of “Lullaby-laby-laby baby,” becoming louder and more agitated as the song progresses. The piano abandons its rocking motive at m. 14 and m. 24 in favor of sixteenth-note flourishes at this recurring refrain. The nurse’s repeated invocations to the gods for protection receives a louder dynamic, increased harmonic tension, and a higher vocal tessitura, followed by a forte appassionato repeat of the “lullaby-laby-laby” text. After that climactic moment, the lullaby gradually returns to a fittingly calm close while the nurse completes her task of soothing the baby to sleep. Britten culminates the song and the cycle with the voice intoning the word “lullaby-laby-laby,” trailing off into the darkness, suspending the child’s innocent slumber in infinity.

Britten selects a group of lullabies from poets representing several time periods to design a cycle outlining the many possible emotions involved in singing children to sleep. He uses the mode of communication of an adult retaining a mode of adulthood in addressing a child to illustrate the love, care and concern, and apprehension parents feel for their innocent and helpless children. He begins the cycle with tender professions of love combined with subtle fears for the

127 Ibid., 206–07.

153 eventual loss of innocence. The poetry then explores themes of pride in future accomplishments, preoccupation with grief and trials, and frustration with disobedience before concluding with expressions of soothing and protecting. The musical setting of A Charm of Lullabies effectively captures these diverse aspects of childhood by highlighting the nuances of these adults’ words directed toward children. The cycle, like many other compositions written throughout his career, exemplifies the importance Britten placed on the theme of preserving innocence.

For Performers

When performing this cycle, both pianist and singer should try to conjure the nighttime atmosphere appropriate for lullabies. Remembering that all of the texts address children, they should exhibit genuine love and concern for protecting these innocent beings. Performers should embody the sense of parental pride and optimism combined with trepidation for the children’s futures. Always keeping in mind the appropriate ambience required for children falling asleep, the dynamic level should be softer in general, but with enough variety within that context to maintain the interest of the audience. Both singer and pianist should strive for a gentle, caring demeanor, except for during “A Charm,” with its multiple lobbied threats. Performers who can portray authentic emotions directed toward the imagined audience of children will find success in their depiction of this song cycle of lullabies.

Conclusions

La courte paille and A Charm of Lullabies portray various interactions between an adult and a child through song. In both cycles, the majority of the poetry is clear, accessible, and easily interpreted, as expected when speaking to children. The adult narrators use similar language and

154 concepts when they follow the mode of communication of addressing children in an adult-like manner. Their poetry includes imagery and magical language appropriate for youthful sensibilities. They both talk about their hopes and dreams for the children’s future, alluding to the difficulties of this world full of danger. In every instance, the adults genuinely love the children they care for, and show that emotion through their tender words and gentle delivery.

Both Poulenc and Britten achieve variety in their cycles by choosing texts with diverse moods and giving them distinctive musical settings. The odd-numbered poems in Poulenc’s cycle present lyrical depictions of a mother trying to quiet her restless child through the mode of adulthood, telling him soothingly magical fairy tales and musing about his future. The even- numbered “trampoline songs” contrast with these ponderous texts by utilizing a more animated, childlike mode of communication, creating a sense of fun and fantasy as the mother relates nursery rhymes and nonsense stories to the child. Britten’s group of lullabies presents a similar trajectory as adults hush the tired and fretful children in their care, though the mode of communication remains adult-like through the cycle. The first and last songs employ calming melodies and rocking rhythms to ease the crying children. Britten balances these soothing songs with contrasting emotions in the second through fourth songs to bring diversity and interest to the cycle as a whole. The regal pride, frantic agitation, and frustration depicted in the middle songs help keep the audience from falling asleep along with the imaginary children.

155 Conclusion

Analyzing art songs with children’s themes based upon their mode of communication accentuates different aspects of childhood within each cycle. Depending on whether the poetry was written by a child, an adult acting as a child, or an adult addressing a child, each composer’s musical treatment emphasizes the specific themes found in the text. Comparisons of pairs of song cycles with the same mode of communication reveal greater depth and insight into the compositions than could be discovered alone. While each set of songs exhibits a unique response to its particular mode of communication, recurring themes and techniques appear throughout these works, giving a sense of continuity to this sub-genre. Specific modes of communication tend to correspond to certain issues such as didacticism or imitation of childhood, though these concepts can span multiple modes. Though critics and performers sometimes dismiss these works as being too light-hearted or frivolous to merit serious analysis or discussion, valuable messages and insights can be gained by their study, and truly sophisticated poetic and musical constructions can be found.

Textual Characteristics

Alice G. Thorn lists several recurring subjects that consistently appear in children’s music in her book Music for Young Children. Among these are themes of nature, lullabies, animals and birds, people and activities, chants and games, nonsense songs, Mother Goose, hymns, nursery songs, and fairy tales.1 Every cycle discussed in this document, regardless of its mode of communication, uses some of these subjects in its poetry. A Garland for Marjory

Fleming and Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann both display topics of animals with human- like characteristics, while family relationships serve as subject material in all six cycles. Nature

1 Alice G. Thorn, Music for Young Children (New York: C. Scribner’s Sons, 1929), 12–13.

156 features prominently in songs such as “Wind” and “The Rose” in The Children, as well as many of the songs in Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann. Lullabies pervade A Charm of Lullabies and also occur in “Sleep” from The Children and “Le sommeil” from La courte paille. “One of

Us” from The Children, has a hymn-like setting, and “Lune d’avril” in La courte paille, could be considered a musical prayer. References to religion exist throughout A Garland for Marjory

Fleming and The Children, as well as “The Nurse’s Song” from A Charm of Lullabies. Magical fairy tales and nursery songs occur in several songs in La courte paille and The Children. Chants and games appear in The Children and in “A Big Indian and a Little Indian” of I Hate Music, while ridiculous stories occur in “Spick and Span” from The Children, and in the even-numbered songs of La courte paille.

Song cycles in each mode of communication display childlike concepts and poetic techniques. Imagery relevant to a child’s world, as well as poetic devices such as childish rhyme schemes or syntax, alliteration, onomatopoeia, and nonsense syllables consistently occur in all the song cycles. A Garland for Marjory Fleming has forced rhymes, childlike misspellings, and an amateurish, undeviating rhyme scheme through the entire cycle. The invented child narrator

Barbara introduces herself with a childlike non-sequitur in “My Name is Barbara” and delivers her thoughts in a stream-of-conscious fashion throughout I Hate Music. Nonsense syllables appear in I Hate Music, La courte paille, and A Charm of Lullabies, with instances of alliteration and onomatopoeia in The Children. Childlike images comparing the moon’s paleness to a distraught mother in “Mond, meiner Seele Liebling” or imagining a bird instigating a singing contest in “Der Zeisig” occur in Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann. Descriptive phrases depicting the smallness and helplessness of children occur in the majority of the poetry in A

Charm of Lullabies. Long lists of storybook events in “Once Upon a Time” as well as literal

157 translations of sounds in “Moo is a Cow” appear in The Children, and absurd situations involving fantastical creatures pervade the “trampoline songs” of La courte paille.

While much of the subject material and technical details in the poetry reflects a youthful, naïve tone, deeper themes and poetic images recur in the cycles that add another level of meaning to the works. Complex and obscure symbolism can be found in “The Rose” in The

Children, as well as “La reine de coeur” and “Lune d’avril” in La courte paille. Several poems in

Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann explore the somber themes of adversity and death, including “Du nennst mich armes Mädchen,” “Die letzten Blumen starben,” and “Gekämpft hat meine Barke.” An intricate depiction of the impending loss of innocence occurs in “A Cradle

Song” from A Charm of Lullabies. The inclusion of such mature subject material and complex poetic techniques elevate these cycles out of the level of frivolous entertainment into the realm of art song.

Musical Characteristics

Gloria Shafer notes in her discussion of children’s song cycles that they tend to have similar rhythms and melodies, repeated phrases, and extensive musical coloring.2 Musicologist

Keith Clifton characterizes music depicting childhood as making limited technical demands and having accessible melodies, diatonic harmonies, and periodic formal structures.3 Their assessments accurately fit the majority of songs discussed in this document, regardless of their modes of communication. Most cycles have relatively conservative musical settings in relation to the overall musical style of the composers. All of the cycles have predominantly diatonic

2 Gloria Shafer, Origins of the Children’s Song Cycle as a Musical Genre with Four Case Studies and an Original Cycle (Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1989), 71. 3 Keith Clifton, “Beyond Childhood: Poulenc, La courte paille, and the Aural Envelope,” College Music Symposium 49 (2009): 333.

158 harmonies, with instances of chromaticism or modality used to color the text, such as in Marjory

Fleming’s “Sweet Isabell” or “Spick and Span,” from The Children. Speech-like rhythms and clear melodies enhance the childlike nature of the texts in songs such as Chanler’s “Once Upon a

Time” and all of Bernstein’s songs. Rocking motions depicting the text are generated by ostinato bass patterns in both “Le sommeil” and “Lune d’avril” from La courte paille, as well as in “A

Cradle Song” from A Charm of Lullabies. Childlike sing-song melodies feature in “The

Children” and “In Isas Bed” from Marjory Fleming. Word painting occurs throughout the six cycles, notably in The Children’s “Moo is a Cow” and Marjory Fleming’s “A Melancholy Lay.”

Huge melodic leaps accompany child narrators expressing strong emotions such as when

Marjory Fleming proclaims, “I love in Isas bed to lie,” when Bernstein’s Barbara exclaims, “I hate music!” and when the mother in Poulenc imitates a childlike excitement with “Mon Dieu!”

Though all of the cycles feature mostly straightforward, accessible musical settings, some intricate, complex musical devices also exist. Complicated rhythms within meters that imitate

American speech patterns occur in “Jupiter Has Seven Moons” and “A Big Indian and a Little

Indian” in I Hate Music. Similarly, “Sonnet on a Monkey” from Marjory Fleming and the trampoline songs in La courte paille have elaborate, complex rhythmic patterns. Bi-tonality and clashing half step relationships occur in Britten’s “A Cradle Song,” and intricately developed piano interludes in Chanler’s “Sleep” bring a sense of refinement to the music. The first half of

Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann present her childlike poems in a simple, conservative way, yet increasingly difficult technical demands pervade the later songs of Schumann’s cycle.

Sophisticated counterpoint and thick chromaticism in Chanler’s “The Rose” reflects the complexity and symbolism of the text. These refined musical elements defy the expectation of

“simplicity” that listeners intuitively associate with songs cycles containing children’s themes.

159 Modes of Communication

When analyzing song cycles based on their modes of communication, certain recurring ideas regarding illustrating children’s themes emerge. Sometimes of these issues are unique to a specific mode of communication, while others appear in multiple modes. Identifying commonalities among cycles with similar perspectives sheds light on the composers’ possible purposes in choosing specific modes of communication for their cycles.

One of the main criteria for defining song cycles with children’s themes is that they express children’s experiences and emotions. Among the cycles studied in this document, those with real child poets and adult poets acting as children fill that requirement most clearly. The songs in which an adult addresses a child do not truly exhibit the children’s thoughts or feelings because children act as the audience instead of the narrators. In these situations, the children’s experiences and sensibilities can be inferred by the subject material and manner of expression that the adult narrators use when addressing them.

Most modes of communication focus on capturing the personalities of the real or invented children. In the cycles where a true child acts as narrator, Bennett creates a realistic snapshot of a young girl without any overt agenda, while Schumann chooses to infuse his depiction of his child author with teachable elements for his audience. This didactic pursuit corresponds with the song cycles in which an adult narrator assumes a childlike persona. Both

Chanler and Bernstein imitate childlike mannerisms for a mixture of entertainment and education, though with varying degrees of conspicuous instruction. Imitations of childlike innocence also occur in moments where an adult relates to a child by assuming a mode of childhood, such as in the “trampoline songs” of Poulenc’s cycle. By having an adult narrator

160 imitate childlike stories and mannerisms, these songs achieve the same goal of illustrating a youthful personality, though they lack the didactic quality of the invented child narrators.

The most distinctive mode of communication occurs when an adult addresses a child while retaining a mode of adulthood, particularly in A Charm of Lullabies. These narrators express love and concern for the children in their care, but do not imitate childlike speech patterns or include whimsical stories. They tend to focus on concern for the children’s well-being and future challenges, and apply an instinctive attitude of shielding and protecting them from harm.

Messages

As opposed to merely offering a collection of childlike texts set to music, each of the six song cycles studied in this document exhibits a sense of purpose or a comprehensive message.

This phenomenon is hardly unique to songs with children’s themes or to any musical genre, as the argument could be made that there would be little value in grouping any poetry or music without a purposeful concept or significance. In this particular sub-genre, however, the messages tend to lie under the surface, not becoming readily apparent at first glance because of the inherent charm and seeming naïveté of the texts. By seeking to uncover deeper meanings within the poetry and musical settings of songs with various modes of communication, one discovers a body of literature that offers depth and poignancy along with sweetness and entertainment.

Several of the cycles have messages that stem from the poets’ or composers’ personal lives, and the strongest statements of their themes consistently occur in the first and last songs of each group, providing a strong architecture to each of the cycles.

161 Bennett’s A Garland For Marjory Fleming has the most simple purpose of the group: realistically depicting a young girl’s childish thoughts and feelings as stated in her own words.

Bennett treats the sweet eight-year-old Fleming with kindness and tenderness, exposing her youthful perspectives and opinions with a simple and open tone mirroring her naïve and unsophisticated personality. When she acts more adult-like, Bennett’s musical reaction to this shift in mode of communication contrasts with the settings of her more childlike words, while remaining consistent in style. The most authentic poems that portray her genuine, childlike self, as opposed to her brief forays into the world of adults, occur in the first song, “In Isas Bed,” and the last song, “Sonnet on a Monkey.” As a whole, Bennett’s musical treatment does not seek to moralize or influence his audience’s opinions of this child poet. Rather, he effectively highlights her multi-faceted personality, complete with impulsive, tender, precocious, and vivacious qualities. No personal details from Bennett’s life could be found to support any argument that he set her poetry with a specific purpose in mind, though his continuing interest in music with children’s themes is evidenced by his arrangements of nursery songs for the Oxford Nursery

Song Book and his cycle of nursery rhymes, Songs Before Sleep.

Schumann’s Sieben Lieder von Elisabeth Kulmann uses the poetry of a child to outline a portrait of a maturing young girl. As she develops through her difficulties, her mode of communication changes from childlike to adult-like. Schumann sets Kulmann’s words with a distinct purpose in mind. As his dedication and supplemental texts reveal, he intends for this cycle to teach valuable lessons and promote admirable character traits found in the poetry of this developing young woman. Feeling an intimate, personal connection with Kulmann, Schumann attempts to delve into her inner life and create a portrait of this idealized young prodigy. He accomplishes this task by setting her more youthful poetry in a conservative, simple way, and

162 creating increasingly complex musical settings for her more mature texts. The over-arching theme of facing adversity and the inevitability of death with increasing wisdom finds expression in the first song, “Mond, meiner Seele Liebling,” and the final “Gekämpft hat meine Barke.”

Chanler’s The Children employs the fictitious “children” narrator to convey the teachings that children are a representation of God and adults should try to be like them. Sometimes the children act in a genuine way by expressing entertaining observations through nursery rhymes and realistic anecdotes, yet in many of the poems, the children act more like a symbol, an archetype, or a representation of an ideal to teach wise life-lessons to adults. Feeney’s religiously-based, personal convictions about the fundamental value of children have their strongest outlets in the first and last poems, “The Children,” and “One of Us.” Chanler’s musical representations of these two sides of this youthful perspective fittingly illustrate both the playful, silly children along with the symbolic, didactic representation of childhood. He uses emulative musical techniques to replicate the juvenile tone of words and images in the genuinely childlike songs, while his vocabulary changes for the instances involving teaching lessons. Incorporating realistically childlike elements in a visibly moralizing cycle creates a mixture of charming entertainment and erudite artificiality.

In I Hate Music! the capricious commentary of ten-year-old Barbara insightfully teaches adults to value children as equals. Bernstein does not present his themes as directly as Feeney does in The Children. Instead of featuring a symbolic or archetypal child, Bernstein maintains his narrator’s authenticity and individuality through her telling riddles, throwing tantrums, and singing songs. Bernstein’s precocious narrator voices his own personal convictions about talking to children as legitimate people, a concept related to his professional desires to find acceptance from his peers. The cycle’s message presents itself in the first and last songs, as Bernstein

163 suggests the idea of treating children with honesty in “My Name is Barbara,” and states his agenda in its most obvious form in the assertive finale, “I’m a Person Too.” Even while sending these messages, Bernstein’s music captures Barbara’s personality, complete with her fun-loving, petulant, dreamy, and curious sides. His musical setting combines jazz elements within a classical style to depict a child straddling the worlds of childhood and adulthood.

Poulenc’s La courte paille promotes the message of concern about the condition of the world that adults have provided for children combined with a hope for a better tomorrow within the context of a mother addressing her son. Carême’s poetry presents a mixture of whimsical, fanciful texts and dreamy, poignant reflections to encapsulate this mode of communication.

Sometimes the mother acts in a childlike way as she refers to fantastical events and characters from nursery rhymes with poetry that would appeal to a child’s sensibilities. These “trampoline songs” occur in alternation with more lyrical poetry as the mother acts in an adult manner, sustaining the magical atmosphere while bringing a soothing, gentle tone to the cycle. The mother’s most direct interactions with her child occur in the first and last songs, exhibiting the message of the cycle. “Le sommeil” provides an intimate portrait of a concerned mother worrying about what tomorrow will bring for her ill child, and “Lune d’avril” echoes Poulenc’s desire for peace as the mother reveals her hopes and concerns for her son’s future. The dual- nature of the cycle, with calm, smooth, dream-like settings interspersed with cabaret-influenced, raucous flights of fancy is consistent within Poulenc’s output, ranging from the pious to the burlesque.

Britten’s A Charm of Lullabies focuses on the message of preserving childlike innocence and protecting the infants from the adversities that are to come. He sets five lullabies with adult narrators who address children in an adult manner, while embodying various emotions and

164 attitudes toward the bedtime routine. The cycle explores a mother’s pride in her child, concerns about a child’s future, and frustration and exasperation felt when dealing with disobedience. The main theme of preserving innocence finds expression in the opening “A Cradle Song” and the final “The Nurse’s Song.” Both of these songs convey words of comfort and peace, infused with references to shielding their helpless babies from the dangers of the world. Britten’s musical settings fit the sentiments of the words, with rocking and soothing elements accompanying expressions of love for the child, and appropriately proud, frenzied, or distraught settings corresponding with the various attitudes of the mothers. The cycle’s theme reflects Britten’s personal life, specifically his lifelong concern with the preservation of childhood and the corruption of innocence.

Legitimacy

A secondary purpose of this document is to introduce other singers and teachers to this repertoire, some of which is not widely performed. Initially the exploration of these cycles came about as a means to find a contrasting set of songs that would round out a recital program. The light subject material and accessible music may cause performers to think that song cycles with children’s themes are merely fun, frivolous works. However, upon closer inspection, greater meaning and deep messages can be uncovered. The musical settings do not just create imitative representations of childlike aspects of the texts. Rather, they enhance the thematic and often didactic elements of the poetry, creating works of art with depth and purpose. Musicians have the opportunity to explore this literature not just as a fun way to lighten up a recital program, but for their inherently deep or poignant messages and sophisticated musical settings.

165 Summary

The six song cycles with children’s themes considered in this document present pervasive childlike topics such as family relationships, interactions with nature, storybook or magical creatures, nonsensical texts, and details from schoolwork or play. The vast majority of poems present their messages about children in a straight-forward, uncomplicated manner. The composers enhance the poetry through their correspondingly accessible musical settings involving fairly standard forms, clear melodies, diatonic harmonies, and inventive music-text relationships. Methods including speech-like text settings, sing-song melodies, and word painting bring out the childlike characteristics of the poetry. These juvenile aspects of both poetry and music combine with subtle sophistication to create works of art as opposed to simple parodies of childhood. Mature themes in the poetry such as treating children with respect, learning from their examples, and ruminations on mortality and death pervade this literature.

Instances of complex symbolism or elegant poetic construction add to the refined quality of the texts. Sophisticated musical settings involving complicated rhythmic patterns, harmonic relationships, and accompanimental gestures strengthen the artistic value of these cycles. All of the poets and composers have specific agendas in creating their works, often weaving in ideas and messages that coincide with their personal beliefs.

The effective execution of these cycles corresponds to the level of authenticity generated by singers and pianists. Performers of this repertoire should strive to portray the children with appropriate technique and interpretation, taking care to avoid creating a caricature or false image.

When the modes of communication vary, singers and pianists should respond accordingly. They can assume different tone colors when Marjory Fleming acts more grown-up, when Elisabeth

Kulmann matures into a young woman, when Chanler’s narrators act as either authentic children

166 or teachers, and when Poulenc’s mother narrator assumes a childlike manner. Depicting honesty, openness, and purity of expression in interpreting the words of an actual child narrator, an adult acting as a child, or an adult addressing a child should be the goal of all performers. As more singers and pianists familiarize themselves with this body of literature, they will find a refreshingly light, sweet genre with all the sophistication and intricacies of other high-quality art songs.

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Poulenc, Francis. Diary of My Songs. Translated by Winifred Radford. London: Victor Gollancz, 1985.

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Shafer, Gloria. Origins of the Children's Song Cycle as a Musical Genre with Four Case Studies and an Original Cycle. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press, 1989.

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Poetry and Scores

Bennett, Richard Rodney. A Garland for Marjory Fleming: Five Songs for Soprano and Piano. London: Novello, 1986.

Bernstein, Leonard. I Hate Music! A Cycle of Five Kid Songs for Soprano. New York: M. Witmark & Sons, 1943.

Britten, Benjamin. A Charm of Lullabies: For Mezzo-Soprano and Piano. Op.41. London: Boosey & Hawkes, 1994.

Budd, F. E., ed. A Book of Lullabies: 1300–1900. London: Scholartis, 1930.

175 Burns, Robert. The Poems and Songs of Robert Burns, Vol. 2. Edited by James Kinsley. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968

Burns, Robert. The Poetry of Robert Burns, Vol. 3. Edited by W. E. Henley and T. F. Henderson. New York: AMS, 1970.

Carême, Maurice. Mother Raspberry. New York: Thomas Y. Crowell, 1969.

———. Songs of Beginnings. Translated by Zoe Lantelme Belth. Boston: Branden, 1974.

Chanler, Theodore. The Collected Songs of Theodore Chanler: Medium/High Voice and Piano. New York: G. Schirmer, 1994.

Feeney, Leonard. The Gold We Have Gathered. Still River, MA: The Sisters of Saint Benedict Center, 1989.

———. The Leonard Feeney Omnibus: A Collection of Prose and Verse Old and New. New York: Sheed & Ward, 1943.

———. Survival Till Seventeen. Still River, Mass.: St. Bede’s Publications, 1980.

———. We Are the Children of God. Huntington, IN: Our Sunday Visitor, 1942.

———. You’d Better Come Quietly: Three Sketches, Some Outlines and Additional Notes. Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries, 1939.

Fleming, Marjory. The Complete Marjory Fleming: Her Journals, Letters & Verses, edited by Frank Sidgwick. New York: Oxford University Press, 1935.

Kulmann, Elisabeth. Sämmtliche Gedichte von Elisabeth Kulmann, edited by Karl Friedrich von Grossheinrich. Leipzig: Otto Wigand, 1844.

Poulenc, Francis. La courte paille: Sept mélodies sur des poèmes de Maurice Carême: pour chant et piano. Paris: M. Eschig, 2003.

Schumann, Robert. Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke. Serie VI: Lieder. Mainz: Schott, 2009.

———. Liederalbum für die Jugend: Op. 79: für Singstimme und Klavier. Leipzig: C.F. Peters, 1989.

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