Sacred and Proface

Program Notes

by Richard H. Trame, S.J., Ph.D. Maurice Duruflé (1902-1986) stands as one of the eloquent 20th-century spokesmen for the great tradition of French organ and religious music. At the age of 18 he entered the Paris Conservatory, studying under a number of prominent performers, academicians and composers, among whom were Vierne, Tournemire and Dukas. He was professor of harmony at the Conservatory from 1943 to 1969. In 1961, Pope John XXIII conferred on him the honor of "Knight Commander of the Order of St. Gregory" in recognition of his outstanding contribution to sacred music. After World War II, the French publishing firm of Durand et Cie in 1947 commissioned Duruflé to compose a Requiem. In view of this commission and the fact that it was premiered in November 1947 over Paris Radio under the baton of Roger Desormiere, one may conclude that the Requiem commemorates France's war dead. Duruflé dedicated his Requiem to his father. An exceedingly fastidious and cautious composer, Duruflé followed in the footsteps of Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924), whose famed Requiem emphasized the more consoling, hopeful aspects of the ritual text rather than the dramatic. Even more than Fauré, however, Duruflé was influenced in much of his sacred music by Gregorian chant, from which he drew his thematic materials. In the Requiem, he maintains the suppleness of the Gregorian melody while decking it with brilliant modal harmonies and surrounding it, as Xavier Durasse has observed, with polyphony. Duruflé has described his Requiem in these terms: "My Requiem is built entirely from the Gregorian themes of the Mass for the Dead. At times, the text is paramount, and therefore the orchestra intervenes only to sustain or to comment. At other times an original musical fabric, inspired by the text takes over completely, notable in the [offertory] Domine Jesu Christ, the Sanctus and the Libera me. In general I have tried to reconcile as far as possible the very flexible Gregorian melodies as established by the Benedictine [monks] of Solesmes with the exigencies of modern notation. As for the musical form of each of the movements, it is dictated by the form of the liturgy itself. The ensemble effect between voices and orchestra serves to emphasize the idea of comfon, faith and hope." William Walton (1902-1983) received his commission from the BBC to compose his massive and tightly compressed oratorio Belshazzar's Feast for the Leeds Festival of 1931. The Festival had also programmed the Berlioz Requiem - with its extensive orchestra and brass - and thus provided Walton the opportunity to exploit the huge forces there assembled. Belshazzar's Feast (along with Vaughan Williams' Sancta Civitas of 1925) has come to be generally recognized as the biggest oratorio landmark since Elgar's Dream of Gerontius of 1900. Unlike the lengthy Handelian-style oratorios of the 19th century, both Vaughan Williams and Walton compressed their works to slightly more than half an hour in length. Walton's work exhibits taut, vivid and highly dramatic episodes which are paced and unified by an orchestra and chorus. The frankly pagan overtones of Belshazzar's Feast - especially in its depiction of the ephemeral grandeur, wealth and pride of the Babylonians and their King - rendered it for a time quite unacceptable for the cathedral atmosphere of the famous Three Choirs Festival. The first international performance of Belshazzar's Feast took place in Amsterdam in 1933. Walton's close friend, Constant Lambert, greatly influenced his music. Both composers incorporated American jazz idioms into their compositions. It was, however, an idiom transformed into sophisticated symphonic dimensions by what Lambert called "highbrow European composers." Lambert's principles found full realization in Rio Grande of 1927 which directly inspired Walton in his approach to Belshazzar's Feast. Both composers collaborated with the Sitwells, Lambert with Sacheverell and Walton with Osbert, in formulating the texts of the two works. Osbert Sitwell organized his libretto for Walton from Psalm 137, the fifth chapter of the Book of Daniel, and Psalm 81 - in that order. This was not Walton's first collaboration with a member of this famed literary family. On and off between 1920 and 1930, Walton lived with the Sitwells as an "adopted or elected brother." Not only did he compose his popular "entertainment" Façade to Edith Sitwell's poems, but other works including the overture Portsmouth Point, the Sinfonia concertante and Walton's orchestral masterpiece, the Viola Concerto, all emerged from this beneficial cultural exchange. Belshazzar's Feast, following immediately upon the Viola Concerto, found no precedent in any of his previous works. At the rime, the choral parts were judged to be exceedingly difficult. By today's standards, however, they are regarded as a significant but attainable challenge to many choral societies. Moreover, the initial musical shock enthusiastically received by the audience at Leeds in 1931 has receded as the rhythmic, harmonic, and instrumental modernities of the score have become an integral pan of our musical heritage. Commentator Edward Greenfield writes: "Walton does much more than provide a brilliant setting of one of the Bible's most colorful stories, he matches the religious feeling behind that story with choral music of an intensity rarely matched in any oratorio." Belshazzar's Feast is comprised of three segments. The work opens with a simple trumpet blare after which the unaccompanied voice of Isaiah announces exile to the Jews. A simple recitative device is used several times throughout the oratorio to heighten and enhance the orchestral and chorus entrances as well as adding musical color. The choir represents the lamenting Jews by the waters of Babylon as they invoke curses upon their captors. As the scene shifts, all forces depict in vivid musical colors the magnificence and wealth of Babylon. The overbearing pride of King Belshazzar is displayed at a banquet where he drinks from sacred temple vessels and thus highlights his wantonness. This episode receives brilliant musical treatment. A finger then traces fateful words on a wall to eerie orchestral accompaniment. After the chorus shouts "slain!" to the terse announcement of the monarch's demise, it returns to its role as the Jewish people, this time exulting in the glorification of the God of Jacob in Psalm 81. Triumph reaches its climax with the ecstatic repetitions of Alleluia!