indeed

a poem by D. H. Lawrence

Piano

Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling 
   strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as 
   she sings.

In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cozy parlor, the tinkling piano our guide.

So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamor
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamor
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the 
   past.

1918 

lots of thomasness

I recently read a collection of letters compiled as a small book.  84 Charing Cross Road is a series of correspondences between Helene Hanff, the author of the book and a denizen of New York City, and some folks associated with a used bookstore in London.  Hanff writes to the bookstore in search of particular titles and a friendship develops, particularly between her and Frank Doel, one of the employees at the bookstore.

In one letter, a song by Johann Sebastian Bach is mentioned—the St. Matthew Passion.  I’d never knowingly heard it and decided to give it a listen.  I’m glad I did.  I’ve been listening to it a lot lately.  It’s beautiful.

While reading about this song, I was lead on an impromptu journey in history.  Here follows a bit of what I encountered on said trip.  Maybe you’ll find it of interest.

I guess Bach wrote several pieces of passion music designed for Good Friday church services.  He wrote these while living in Leipzig, Saxony—which was then one of several small states located in present day Germany and part of the then declining Holy Roman Empire—and working as the Thomaskantor at the Thomasschule.  Thomaskantor is the title given to the director of the boys’ choir (the Thomanerchor) at the school.  The Thomanerchor dates back to the beginning of the school, which was founded in 1212 by Augustinians as a free school with an emphasis on education for the poor.  It grew out of the values of The Canons Regular, which are Augustinian priests who live communally and are dedicated to learning, care of the sick, and the needs of those in poverty.  The school arose in the time of Henry VI (famous for imprisoning King Richard the Lionheart in Trifels Castle and ransoming him for a huge sum of money; Henry VI was excommunicated by Pope Celestine III for  this)  and his son Frederick II, known as the Hohenstaufen period.  As an Augustinian project, the school had Catholic roots but, after the Reformation, became a Lutheran institution. 

Bach was the Thomaskantor from 1723 to 1750.  In this position, he was responsible for choir performances in the Lutheran churches throughout the city; he also taught classes at the Thomasschule.  The St. Matthew Passion, written in 1727, sets to music part of the Gospel of Matthew and was first played on Good Friday at the St. Thomas church in Leipzig, probably in either 1727 or 1729.   An obituary written for Bach mentions that he composed five such pieces; two survive today—the St. Matthew Passion and the St. John Passion.

The St. Matthew Passion is a long piece—almost three hours!  I don’t know the proper vocabulary for describing such music…it has a lot of vocals—solo and choir—and orchestral music.  Any description I could attempt would fail miserably at conveying a sense of it.  So, if you are so inclined, give it a listen.

eleven