This week’s theme is…Stormy Scherzi! A scherzo is traditionally defined as a “musical joke”, that is, a light-hearted movement that lacks the weight of a good sonata form essay. And often that’s how they feel. But, have you ever listened to a “scherzo” that seemed to fit the description of a musical joke, but darkly? Some scherzi paradoxically combine lightness with intensely determined feelings, sometimes even bordering on malice and despair. This week we examine some such examples.
Stormy Scherzi, Day 2 – Scherzo diabolico by Charles-Valentin Alkan
Loaded question here, and one to which I will not be able to do justice in a scant couple paragraphs, but related to the day’s featured music: where does the seat of teaching authority within the Christian religion reside? I have heard a handful of answers which seem to be in common circulation, and perhaps you subscribe to one of these yourself. Some say there is a person alive in the world who has succeeded a long line of ecclesiastical officers which stretches back two millennia to Jesus Christ himself. Some say all necessary facts and ideas related to salvation and rightness with God are contained within the pages of the Old and New Testaments. Some look to the confessions outlined by the Nicene Creed for the essential truths of the faith. And still others look to different sources, internal or external, to discover what is true and good. I have also heard described the idea of “mere Christianity”, that is, generally-agreed upon orthodoxy which is more or less undisputed by the majority of professing Christians. This idea was famously articulated by the great English author and apologist, C.S. Lewis, much of it in his book of the same name. Lewis seems to suggest that strict and precise identification of doctrinal authority is not really necessary given the existence of “mere Christianity” and I have heard others in addition to him assert basically this idea. But the keen philosophers among us point out that this is, in fact, identifying an authoritative body of teaching by which to measure orthodoxy, simply a different one from those outlined previously. However it also seems reasonable to use this standard in an everyday kind of way. It becomes a practical, working standard so that the average Christian does not have to think through beliefs and moral decisions obsessively at every point during his day.
I would also argue that Lewis’ “mere Christianity” is the general knowledge of the faith that most of us recognize, acknowledge and summarize when asked. And it is in fact a mixture of contents drawn from the various seats of authority that Christians of different stripes recognize. The divinity of Christ and the Resurrection, for example, are entirely clear in the Nicene Creed, but less so in the New Testament I would argue. Sure, it can be seen if you read between the lines, but the case is not nearly as clear as it is in the creeds. Conversely the idea of Satan is nowhere to be found in the Nicene Creed, but is an essential component of mere Christianity. The case for the existence of Satan is found in holy scripture, both the Old and New Testaments. Satan torments Job, tempts Jesus, and is described, most people think, by the apostle Paul as the “prince of this world”.
In Judaism the seat of authority is even foggier. There is no one person who holds spiritual authority as the pope does and centuries of rabbinic discussion and debate have generated a much-studied body of literature that more comments and offers interpretation on theological truths than establishes unshakable doctrines. So, is there satan in Judaism? Like most things, it’s hard to say. Even though the story of Job appears in the Old Testament, the corporeal embodiment of pure evil has never really caught hold in that particular theological system. Job is actually the most problematic text for the Christian orthodox position on Satan – Satan and God come across more as opponents in a friendly bet than they do belligerents in a global struggle between absolute good and pure evil, so the idea of Satan has been ambiguous at best in Judaism. But that hasn’t stopped creative Jews working within the structures and conventions of the predominantly Christian west from evoking the vivid image of the devil from time to time when it suits their expressive purposes.
I get the sense that when composers like Mozart and those prior to his generation set Christian texts like the Dies Irae from the Requiem Mass, it was most earnest. See if you don’t agree in listening to Mozart’s famous setting from the beloved musical Requiem he began late in life:
Over the course of the next half century or so, I feel like something shifted. As art reflects culture, it was probably ultimately a societal change, fueled in large part I suspect by the anti-clericalism inherent in the French Revolution. More and more after Mozart, you read about great composers who were either not religious, or possessed an unconventional personal orthodoxy. I have read descriptions to this effect about Beethoven, Brahms, Berlioz, Verdi, and Wagner. This was true of none of the great musical figures of the Baroque and Classical eras: Bach, Handel, Vivaldi, Mozart and Haydn were all devoutly religious or, if they doubted ad all, would never have expressed it publicly. And yes, the unconventionally orthodox Romantics all wrote sacred works (well, except for Wagner), even incredibly moving and undeniably spiritual sacred works, but they are sacred works tempered with ideas from other philosophies. In addition to that, grave religious musical texts, once sacred cows, began to be slain and profaned, even by composers who would have taken them seriously in religious contexts. A great example is the Gregorian Chant Dies Irae upon which Mozart’s setting above is based (but not quoted). The famous chant sounds like this:
But in the hands of Romantic composers it became a trope to create an atmosphere of profanity and wickedness, particularly in the flamboyant virtuoso culture of Paris in the middle of the nineteenth century. Here are notable examples of this phenomenon by Liszt and Berlioz, respectively:
For more about Berlioz’ Symphonie Fantastique, see this post.
Berlioz and Liszt differed in their personal religious journeys – Berlioz, while born a Catholic, eventually drifted toward unbelief; Liszt, after a life of flamboyant performance and questionable morality eventually found his way back to the arms of the Church, even becoming ordained into a minor religious order toward the end of his life. But their use of the Dies Irae quotation in the above examples is more parodistic than reverent, a tool to create an atmosphere of morbidity and dread. Many composers of the time were writing music in this “diabolical” vein, including a little-known composer and pianist who was acquainted with both Berlioz and Liszt, Charles-Valentin Alkan. And the fact that he was Jewish, and intimately familiar with his inherited religious texts (there is a legend about his death that has him buried under Judaic books spilled from a collapsed bookshelf – probably spurious…), shows just how popular and widespread the use of the dies irae chant and general creation in the diabolical mode had become. Even for a composer like Alkan, for whom the devil was probably not a concrete spiritual reality as it was for many of his Christian colleagues, the devilish mood was useful and musically evocative, and probably a trick of the trade that was necessarily mastered.
Alkan’s Diabolical Scherzo, written during a decade of hermitage, illustrates his…devilish…technique and the typically astounding level of competence he demanded from those who would perform his works:
For Alkan, I imagine the “diabolical” label here was useful to describe both the infernal mood of the music and also the level of execution it demands, even if the theological concept did not hail concretely from his home tradition. For the romantic composers the devil and all that came with him had been largely extracted from its religious contexts, useful for the extremes of expression that came with its territory as composers forged more and more, and in contrast to their artistic ancestors, their own moral philosophies largely external of the religious institutions of their time.
—
Would you like Aaron of Smart and Soulful Music to provide customized program notes especially for your next performance? Super! Just click here to get started.
Want to listen to the entire playlist for this week and other weeks? Check out the Smart and Soulful YouTube Channel for weekly playlists!
Do you have a comment to add to the discussion? Please leave one below and share your voice!
Subscribe to Smart and Soulful on Facebook and Twitter so you never miss a post!
smartandsoulfulmusic 