st case of neoclassicism 12 may

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Polemic as History: The Case of Neoclassicism Author(s): Scott Messing Reviewed work(s): Source: The Journal of Musicology, Vol. 9, No. 4 (Autumn, 1991), pp. 481-497 Published by: University of California Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/763872 . Accessed: 12/05/2012 10:19 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected]. University of California Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to The Journal of Musicology. http://www.jstor.org

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Page 1: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

Polemic as History: The Case of NeoclassicismAuthor(s): Scott MessingReviewed work(s):Source: The Journal of Musicology, Vol. 9, No. 4 (Autumn, 1991), pp. 481-497Published by: University of California PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/763872 .Accessed: 12/05/2012 10:19

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

University of California Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to TheJournal of Musicology.

http://www.jstor.org

Page 2: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

Polemic as History: The Case of Neoclassicism*

SCOTT MESSING

I n consulting the body of research related to issues suggested by this essay's title, one is struck by the common invocation of the term neoclassicism and the absence of any account of its early history. In pursuing a definition of neoclassicism, one soon finds two intriguing paradoxes: the presence of the term in studies of early twentieth-century music is so rife that most of the major figures composing during the first three decades of this century have been tied, loosely or umbilically, to it; yet a collation of usages produces such a variety of meaning that the expression seems to possess no 481 syntactical weight whatsoever. Likewise, for every cautionary state- ment warning against using the term because of its ambiguity, there are many times it appears without any context other than the tacit

assumption that the reader knows the precise connotation the author has intended for it. The conflict between a frustrating lack of clarity in the meaning of neoclassicism and its general use in studies of twentieth-century music leads us to question its genesis. An inquiry into the nomenclature of neoclassicism possesses more than mere semantic interest as such terms are continually invented by both the creators and observers of a given culture; their presence signifies a desire to give works of art a historical resonance by bestowing upon them signs which can stand for abstract concepts. Rene Wellek has observed that words like "romanticism, baroque, and realism crystal- lize ideas, formulate the problem of periodization and pervasive style, however uncertain and disputable may be the extension, valuation, and precise content of each term."' The utility of such words has long

Volume IX * Number 4 * Fall 1991 The Journal of Musicology ? 1991 by the Regents of the University of California

* Portions of this article have appeared in the author's Neoclassi- cism in Music (? 1988 Jay Scott Messing). Reprinted with permis- sion of UMI Research Press, Ann Arbor, MI.

1 Rene Wellek, Discriminations: Further Concepts of Criticism (New Haven, 1970), p. 56.

Polemic as History: The Case of Neoclassicism*

SCOTT MESSING

I n consulting the body of research related to issues suggested by this essay's title, one is struck by the common invocation of the term neoclassicism and the absence of any account of its early history. In pursuing a definition of neoclassicism, one soon finds two intriguing paradoxes: the presence of the term in studies of early twentieth-century music is so rife that most of the major figures composing during the first three decades of this century have been tied, loosely or umbilically, to it; yet a collation of usages produces such a variety of meaning that the expression seems to possess no 481 syntactical weight whatsoever. Likewise, for every cautionary state- ment warning against using the term because of its ambiguity, there are many times it appears without any context other than the tacit

assumption that the reader knows the precise connotation the author has intended for it. The conflict between a frustrating lack of clarity in the meaning of neoclassicism and its general use in studies of twentieth-century music leads us to question its genesis. An inquiry into the nomenclature of neoclassicism possesses more than mere semantic interest as such terms are continually invented by both the creators and observers of a given culture; their presence signifies a desire to give works of art a historical resonance by bestowing upon them signs which can stand for abstract concepts. Rene Wellek has observed that words like "romanticism, baroque, and realism crystal- lize ideas, formulate the problem of periodization and pervasive style, however uncertain and disputable may be the extension, valuation, and precise content of each term."' The utility of such words has long

Volume IX * Number 4 * Fall 1991 The Journal of Musicology ? 1991 by the Regents of the University of California

* Portions of this article have appeared in the author's Neoclassi- cism in Music (? 1988 Jay Scott Messing). Reprinted with permis- sion of UMI Research Press, Ann Arbor, MI.

1 Rene Wellek, Discriminations: Further Concepts of Criticism (New Haven, 1970), p. 56.

Polemic as History: The Case of Neoclassicism*

SCOTT MESSING

I n consulting the body of research related to issues suggested by this essay's title, one is struck by the common invocation of the term neoclassicism and the absence of any account of its early history. In pursuing a definition of neoclassicism, one soon finds two intriguing paradoxes: the presence of the term in studies of early twentieth-century music is so rife that most of the major figures composing during the first three decades of this century have been tied, loosely or umbilically, to it; yet a collation of usages produces such a variety of meaning that the expression seems to possess no 481 syntactical weight whatsoever. Likewise, for every cautionary state- ment warning against using the term because of its ambiguity, there are many times it appears without any context other than the tacit

assumption that the reader knows the precise connotation the author has intended for it. The conflict between a frustrating lack of clarity in the meaning of neoclassicism and its general use in studies of twentieth-century music leads us to question its genesis. An inquiry into the nomenclature of neoclassicism possesses more than mere semantic interest as such terms are continually invented by both the creators and observers of a given culture; their presence signifies a desire to give works of art a historical resonance by bestowing upon them signs which can stand for abstract concepts. Rene Wellek has observed that words like "romanticism, baroque, and realism crystal- lize ideas, formulate the problem of periodization and pervasive style, however uncertain and disputable may be the extension, valuation, and precise content of each term."' The utility of such words has long

Volume IX * Number 4 * Fall 1991 The Journal of Musicology ? 1991 by the Regents of the University of California

* Portions of this article have appeared in the author's Neoclassi- cism in Music (? 1988 Jay Scott Messing). Reprinted with permis- sion of UMI Research Press, Ann Arbor, MI.

1 Rene Wellek, Discriminations: Further Concepts of Criticism (New Haven, 1970), p. 56.

Polemic as History: The Case of Neoclassicism*

SCOTT MESSING

I n consulting the body of research related to issues suggested by this essay's title, one is struck by the common invocation of the term neoclassicism and the absence of any account of its early history. In pursuing a definition of neoclassicism, one soon finds two intriguing paradoxes: the presence of the term in studies of early twentieth-century music is so rife that most of the major figures composing during the first three decades of this century have been tied, loosely or umbilically, to it; yet a collation of usages produces such a variety of meaning that the expression seems to possess no 481 syntactical weight whatsoever. Likewise, for every cautionary state- ment warning against using the term because of its ambiguity, there are many times it appears without any context other than the tacit

assumption that the reader knows the precise connotation the author has intended for it. The conflict between a frustrating lack of clarity in the meaning of neoclassicism and its general use in studies of twentieth-century music leads us to question its genesis. An inquiry into the nomenclature of neoclassicism possesses more than mere semantic interest as such terms are continually invented by both the creators and observers of a given culture; their presence signifies a desire to give works of art a historical resonance by bestowing upon them signs which can stand for abstract concepts. Rene Wellek has observed that words like "romanticism, baroque, and realism crystal- lize ideas, formulate the problem of periodization and pervasive style, however uncertain and disputable may be the extension, valuation, and precise content of each term."' The utility of such words has long

Volume IX * Number 4 * Fall 1991 The Journal of Musicology ? 1991 by the Regents of the University of California

* Portions of this article have appeared in the author's Neoclassi- cism in Music (? 1988 Jay Scott Messing). Reprinted with permis- sion of UMI Research Press, Ann Arbor, MI.

1 Rene Wellek, Discriminations: Further Concepts of Criticism (New Haven, 1970), p. 56.

Polemic as History: The Case of Neoclassicism*

SCOTT MESSING

I n consulting the body of research related to issues suggested by this essay's title, one is struck by the common invocation of the term neoclassicism and the absence of any account of its early history. In pursuing a definition of neoclassicism, one soon finds two intriguing paradoxes: the presence of the term in studies of early twentieth-century music is so rife that most of the major figures composing during the first three decades of this century have been tied, loosely or umbilically, to it; yet a collation of usages produces such a variety of meaning that the expression seems to possess no 481 syntactical weight whatsoever. Likewise, for every cautionary state- ment warning against using the term because of its ambiguity, there are many times it appears without any context other than the tacit

assumption that the reader knows the precise connotation the author has intended for it. The conflict between a frustrating lack of clarity in the meaning of neoclassicism and its general use in studies of twentieth-century music leads us to question its genesis. An inquiry into the nomenclature of neoclassicism possesses more than mere semantic interest as such terms are continually invented by both the creators and observers of a given culture; their presence signifies a desire to give works of art a historical resonance by bestowing upon them signs which can stand for abstract concepts. Rene Wellek has observed that words like "romanticism, baroque, and realism crystal- lize ideas, formulate the problem of periodization and pervasive style, however uncertain and disputable may be the extension, valuation, and precise content of each term."' The utility of such words has long

Volume IX * Number 4 * Fall 1991 The Journal of Musicology ? 1991 by the Regents of the University of California

* Portions of this article have appeared in the author's Neoclassi- cism in Music (? 1988 Jay Scott Messing). Reprinted with permis- sion of UMI Research Press, Ann Arbor, MI.

1 Rene Wellek, Discriminations: Further Concepts of Criticism (New Haven, 1970), p. 56.

Polemic as History: The Case of Neoclassicism*

SCOTT MESSING

I n consulting the body of research related to issues suggested by this essay's title, one is struck by the common invocation of the term neoclassicism and the absence of any account of its early history. In pursuing a definition of neoclassicism, one soon finds two intriguing paradoxes: the presence of the term in studies of early twentieth-century music is so rife that most of the major figures composing during the first three decades of this century have been tied, loosely or umbilically, to it; yet a collation of usages produces such a variety of meaning that the expression seems to possess no 481 syntactical weight whatsoever. Likewise, for every cautionary state- ment warning against using the term because of its ambiguity, there are many times it appears without any context other than the tacit

assumption that the reader knows the precise connotation the author has intended for it. The conflict between a frustrating lack of clarity in the meaning of neoclassicism and its general use in studies of twentieth-century music leads us to question its genesis. An inquiry into the nomenclature of neoclassicism possesses more than mere semantic interest as such terms are continually invented by both the creators and observers of a given culture; their presence signifies a desire to give works of art a historical resonance by bestowing upon them signs which can stand for abstract concepts. Rene Wellek has observed that words like "romanticism, baroque, and realism crystal- lize ideas, formulate the problem of periodization and pervasive style, however uncertain and disputable may be the extension, valuation, and precise content of each term."' The utility of such words has long

Volume IX * Number 4 * Fall 1991 The Journal of Musicology ? 1991 by the Regents of the University of California

* Portions of this article have appeared in the author's Neoclassi- cism in Music (? 1988 Jay Scott Messing). Reprinted with permis- sion of UMI Research Press, Ann Arbor, MI.

1 Rene Wellek, Discriminations: Further Concepts of Criticism (New Haven, 1970), p. 56.

Page 3: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

been recognized; expressions like Ars nova and Ars antiqua, prima prat- tica and seconda prattica, and impressionism and expressionism, as well as the documents which pertain to them, convey meanings that illu- minate problems of period style.

Despite several dire warnings against its employment because of its current wholesale and indiscriminate usage, the term neoclassicism has embedded itself stubbornly in the parlance of studies of

twentieth-century music and continues to incite ambivalence because of its ambiguous meaning. A historical survey and critical analysis of the origins and development of the term furnishes one means by which one can approach the problems of style and aesthetics which this term provokes. The absence of such a terminological scaffolding in any standard reference work underlays the fact that neoclassicism did not spring, Athena-like, from the mind of either critic or com-

poser nor did it vault instantly into common usage. The term occurs

only after 900o, and such scattered references as there are suffice to

give it this definition during the first two decades of the twentieth

century: an expression pertaining to nineteenth-century composers who perpetuated the forms of instrumental music made popular dur-

482 ing the eighteenth century, but who sacrificed originality and depth of musical substance for the abject imitation of structure. Thus the term had a derogatory meaning that was aggravated by nationalist feelings, since it was invariably used by French writers to describe German musicians.

Why should this be so? Increasing political tensions between France and Germany, a burgeoning Gallic nationalism, and an emerg- ing dissatisfaction with fin-de-siecle pessimism and decadence pro- duced a potent combination of stimuli that nourished and provided a rationale for each other.2 The extent to which one might have felt that the nineteenth century was a corrupt artistic era was not infrequently measured by the degree to which the northern spirit had had a mor-

tifying effect upon it. Of all artists, French composers were acutely aware that the nineteenth century appeared to be a vast lacuna in their musical tradition and that the era more aptly characterized its most cherished icons in Germanic terms. The conservative agenda in much of French public life and the concomitant rise of cultural na- tionalism fed the fundamentally anti-German slant of French musical politics, and nurtured the milieu in which the term neoclassicism first

appeared.

2 Allan Mitchell, The German Influence in France after 1870: The Formation of the Third Republic (Chapel Hill, 1979), p. xi; and Theodore Zeldin, France, 1848-1945, (Oxford, 1973), Vol. II, p. 117.

been recognized; expressions like Ars nova and Ars antiqua, prima prat- tica and seconda prattica, and impressionism and expressionism, as well as the documents which pertain to them, convey meanings that illu- minate problems of period style.

Despite several dire warnings against its employment because of its current wholesale and indiscriminate usage, the term neoclassicism has embedded itself stubbornly in the parlance of studies of

twentieth-century music and continues to incite ambivalence because of its ambiguous meaning. A historical survey and critical analysis of the origins and development of the term furnishes one means by which one can approach the problems of style and aesthetics which this term provokes. The absence of such a terminological scaffolding in any standard reference work underlays the fact that neoclassicism did not spring, Athena-like, from the mind of either critic or com-

poser nor did it vault instantly into common usage. The term occurs

only after 900o, and such scattered references as there are suffice to

give it this definition during the first two decades of the twentieth

century: an expression pertaining to nineteenth-century composers who perpetuated the forms of instrumental music made popular dur-

482 ing the eighteenth century, but who sacrificed originality and depth of musical substance for the abject imitation of structure. Thus the term had a derogatory meaning that was aggravated by nationalist feelings, since it was invariably used by French writers to describe German musicians.

Why should this be so? Increasing political tensions between France and Germany, a burgeoning Gallic nationalism, and an emerg- ing dissatisfaction with fin-de-siecle pessimism and decadence pro- duced a potent combination of stimuli that nourished and provided a rationale for each other.2 The extent to which one might have felt that the nineteenth century was a corrupt artistic era was not infrequently measured by the degree to which the northern spirit had had a mor-

tifying effect upon it. Of all artists, French composers were acutely aware that the nineteenth century appeared to be a vast lacuna in their musical tradition and that the era more aptly characterized its most cherished icons in Germanic terms. The conservative agenda in much of French public life and the concomitant rise of cultural na- tionalism fed the fundamentally anti-German slant of French musical politics, and nurtured the milieu in which the term neoclassicism first

appeared.

2 Allan Mitchell, The German Influence in France after 1870: The Formation of the Third Republic (Chapel Hill, 1979), p. xi; and Theodore Zeldin, France, 1848-1945, (Oxford, 1973), Vol. II, p. 117.

been recognized; expressions like Ars nova and Ars antiqua, prima prat- tica and seconda prattica, and impressionism and expressionism, as well as the documents which pertain to them, convey meanings that illu- minate problems of period style.

Despite several dire warnings against its employment because of its current wholesale and indiscriminate usage, the term neoclassicism has embedded itself stubbornly in the parlance of studies of

twentieth-century music and continues to incite ambivalence because of its ambiguous meaning. A historical survey and critical analysis of the origins and development of the term furnishes one means by which one can approach the problems of style and aesthetics which this term provokes. The absence of such a terminological scaffolding in any standard reference work underlays the fact that neoclassicism did not spring, Athena-like, from the mind of either critic or com-

poser nor did it vault instantly into common usage. The term occurs

only after 900o, and such scattered references as there are suffice to

give it this definition during the first two decades of the twentieth

century: an expression pertaining to nineteenth-century composers who perpetuated the forms of instrumental music made popular dur-

482 ing the eighteenth century, but who sacrificed originality and depth of musical substance for the abject imitation of structure. Thus the term had a derogatory meaning that was aggravated by nationalist feelings, since it was invariably used by French writers to describe German musicians.

Why should this be so? Increasing political tensions between France and Germany, a burgeoning Gallic nationalism, and an emerg- ing dissatisfaction with fin-de-siecle pessimism and decadence pro- duced a potent combination of stimuli that nourished and provided a rationale for each other.2 The extent to which one might have felt that the nineteenth century was a corrupt artistic era was not infrequently measured by the degree to which the northern spirit had had a mor-

tifying effect upon it. Of all artists, French composers were acutely aware that the nineteenth century appeared to be a vast lacuna in their musical tradition and that the era more aptly characterized its most cherished icons in Germanic terms. The conservative agenda in much of French public life and the concomitant rise of cultural na- tionalism fed the fundamentally anti-German slant of French musical politics, and nurtured the milieu in which the term neoclassicism first

appeared.

2 Allan Mitchell, The German Influence in France after 1870: The Formation of the Third Republic (Chapel Hill, 1979), p. xi; and Theodore Zeldin, France, 1848-1945, (Oxford, 1973), Vol. II, p. 117.

been recognized; expressions like Ars nova and Ars antiqua, prima prat- tica and seconda prattica, and impressionism and expressionism, as well as the documents which pertain to them, convey meanings that illu- minate problems of period style.

Despite several dire warnings against its employment because of its current wholesale and indiscriminate usage, the term neoclassicism has embedded itself stubbornly in the parlance of studies of

twentieth-century music and continues to incite ambivalence because of its ambiguous meaning. A historical survey and critical analysis of the origins and development of the term furnishes one means by which one can approach the problems of style and aesthetics which this term provokes. The absence of such a terminological scaffolding in any standard reference work underlays the fact that neoclassicism did not spring, Athena-like, from the mind of either critic or com-

poser nor did it vault instantly into common usage. The term occurs

only after 900o, and such scattered references as there are suffice to

give it this definition during the first two decades of the twentieth

century: an expression pertaining to nineteenth-century composers who perpetuated the forms of instrumental music made popular dur-

482 ing the eighteenth century, but who sacrificed originality and depth of musical substance for the abject imitation of structure. Thus the term had a derogatory meaning that was aggravated by nationalist feelings, since it was invariably used by French writers to describe German musicians.

Why should this be so? Increasing political tensions between France and Germany, a burgeoning Gallic nationalism, and an emerg- ing dissatisfaction with fin-de-siecle pessimism and decadence pro- duced a potent combination of stimuli that nourished and provided a rationale for each other.2 The extent to which one might have felt that the nineteenth century was a corrupt artistic era was not infrequently measured by the degree to which the northern spirit had had a mor-

tifying effect upon it. Of all artists, French composers were acutely aware that the nineteenth century appeared to be a vast lacuna in their musical tradition and that the era more aptly characterized its most cherished icons in Germanic terms. The conservative agenda in much of French public life and the concomitant rise of cultural na- tionalism fed the fundamentally anti-German slant of French musical politics, and nurtured the milieu in which the term neoclassicism first

appeared.

2 Allan Mitchell, The German Influence in France after 1870: The Formation of the Third Republic (Chapel Hill, 1979), p. xi; and Theodore Zeldin, France, 1848-1945, (Oxford, 1973), Vol. II, p. 117.

been recognized; expressions like Ars nova and Ars antiqua, prima prat- tica and seconda prattica, and impressionism and expressionism, as well as the documents which pertain to them, convey meanings that illu- minate problems of period style.

Despite several dire warnings against its employment because of its current wholesale and indiscriminate usage, the term neoclassicism has embedded itself stubbornly in the parlance of studies of

twentieth-century music and continues to incite ambivalence because of its ambiguous meaning. A historical survey and critical analysis of the origins and development of the term furnishes one means by which one can approach the problems of style and aesthetics which this term provokes. The absence of such a terminological scaffolding in any standard reference work underlays the fact that neoclassicism did not spring, Athena-like, from the mind of either critic or com-

poser nor did it vault instantly into common usage. The term occurs

only after 900o, and such scattered references as there are suffice to

give it this definition during the first two decades of the twentieth

century: an expression pertaining to nineteenth-century composers who perpetuated the forms of instrumental music made popular dur-

482 ing the eighteenth century, but who sacrificed originality and depth of musical substance for the abject imitation of structure. Thus the term had a derogatory meaning that was aggravated by nationalist feelings, since it was invariably used by French writers to describe German musicians.

Why should this be so? Increasing political tensions between France and Germany, a burgeoning Gallic nationalism, and an emerg- ing dissatisfaction with fin-de-siecle pessimism and decadence pro- duced a potent combination of stimuli that nourished and provided a rationale for each other.2 The extent to which one might have felt that the nineteenth century was a corrupt artistic era was not infrequently measured by the degree to which the northern spirit had had a mor-

tifying effect upon it. Of all artists, French composers were acutely aware that the nineteenth century appeared to be a vast lacuna in their musical tradition and that the era more aptly characterized its most cherished icons in Germanic terms. The conservative agenda in much of French public life and the concomitant rise of cultural na- tionalism fed the fundamentally anti-German slant of French musical politics, and nurtured the milieu in which the term neoclassicism first

appeared.

2 Allan Mitchell, The German Influence in France after 1870: The Formation of the Third Republic (Chapel Hill, 1979), p. xi; and Theodore Zeldin, France, 1848-1945, (Oxford, 1973), Vol. II, p. 117.

been recognized; expressions like Ars nova and Ars antiqua, prima prat- tica and seconda prattica, and impressionism and expressionism, as well as the documents which pertain to them, convey meanings that illu- minate problems of period style.

Despite several dire warnings against its employment because of its current wholesale and indiscriminate usage, the term neoclassicism has embedded itself stubbornly in the parlance of studies of

twentieth-century music and continues to incite ambivalence because of its ambiguous meaning. A historical survey and critical analysis of the origins and development of the term furnishes one means by which one can approach the problems of style and aesthetics which this term provokes. The absence of such a terminological scaffolding in any standard reference work underlays the fact that neoclassicism did not spring, Athena-like, from the mind of either critic or com-

poser nor did it vault instantly into common usage. The term occurs

only after 900o, and such scattered references as there are suffice to

give it this definition during the first two decades of the twentieth

century: an expression pertaining to nineteenth-century composers who perpetuated the forms of instrumental music made popular dur-

482 ing the eighteenth century, but who sacrificed originality and depth of musical substance for the abject imitation of structure. Thus the term had a derogatory meaning that was aggravated by nationalist feelings, since it was invariably used by French writers to describe German musicians.

Why should this be so? Increasing political tensions between France and Germany, a burgeoning Gallic nationalism, and an emerg- ing dissatisfaction with fin-de-siecle pessimism and decadence pro- duced a potent combination of stimuli that nourished and provided a rationale for each other.2 The extent to which one might have felt that the nineteenth century was a corrupt artistic era was not infrequently measured by the degree to which the northern spirit had had a mor-

tifying effect upon it. Of all artists, French composers were acutely aware that the nineteenth century appeared to be a vast lacuna in their musical tradition and that the era more aptly characterized its most cherished icons in Germanic terms. The conservative agenda in much of French public life and the concomitant rise of cultural na- tionalism fed the fundamentally anti-German slant of French musical politics, and nurtured the milieu in which the term neoclassicism first

appeared.

2 Allan Mitchell, The German Influence in France after 1870: The Formation of the Third Republic (Chapel Hill, 1979), p. xi; and Theodore Zeldin, France, 1848-1945, (Oxford, 1973), Vol. II, p. 117.

Page 4: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY

Consider these examples during a decade beginning in 1903: Jean Marnold ridiculing the "lamentable agony [of contemporary German music as] rattling along in Brahmsian neoclassic chloro- form"; Romain Rolland asserting that Brahms's neoclassicism is rav-

aged by a pedantry which has become "the plague of German art"; Paul Dukas characterizing works with neoclassic tendencies by Schu- mann and Brahms as "representing nothing essential in the domain of the symphony"; and Vincent d'Indy vilifying "the oppressive tonal clumsiness so frequent in the works of Brahms and the German neo- classicists." Mahler, in receiving the mantle of the German orchestral

legacy, also inherited the stigma of neoclassicism. Rolland excoriated the Fifth Symphony as possessing an "underlying idea [that] is neo- classic ... spongy and diffuse.... The whole is like a showy and

expensive collection of bric-a-brac." Small wonder with this sort of

scathing rhetoric, that Stravinsky, soon to catch Francophilia, in a letter to Maurice Delage in 1913, should describe the Mahler Eighth Symphony as having only "the rigidity of an absolute, bare-faced dullness."3

Brahms and Mahler are hardly musical small-fry, and if the French were quick to go after them, one might imagine that they 483 better have an alternative rhetoric at the ready. What they came up with can either be described charitably as a walk on a semantic tight- rope, or more accurately as a real leap of cultural faith. The term "new classicism," or nouveau classicisme, tended to act as the embodi- ment of a number of aesthetic attributes which, even taken together, do not necessarily constitute for us an accurate basis for defining artistic style: clarity, simplicity, austerity, sobriety, precision, and so on. This widely-used jargon was not only considered valid, but also comprehensible; these terms did represent fundamentally nationalist traits, that is, Gallic, Hellenic, Latin, and southern-a claim which took in an improbably large and diffuse geographic and cultural area-whereas an equally suspect rationale determined that the ava- tars of le neoclassicisme were essentially German, Teutonic, and north- ern, sentiments that were greatly intensified during World War 1.4 To

3 Jean Marnold, response to Jacques Morland, "Enquete sur l'influence alle- mande: VI. Musique," Mercure de France, January 1903, 104; Romain Rolland, Musi- cians of To-day, trans. Mary Blaiklock (New York, 1915), p. 101; Paul Dukas, "Le nouveau lyricisme," Minerva, (February 1903), and La revue musicale, Paul Dukas, nu- mero special, (May-June 1936), 8-17; Vincent d'Indy, Cours de composition musicale, (Paris, 1909), II, p. 427; Rolland, p. 220; and Liliane Brion-Guerry, ed., L'ann&e 1913. Les formes esthetiques de l'oeuvre d'art a la veille de la premiere guerre mondiale (Paris, 1973), p. 328.

4 Camille Mauclair, "Le classicisme et l'academisme," La revue bleue, (14 March 1903), 335-40; Adrien Mithouard, "Le classique de demain," L'occident, (April 1902),

Consider these examples during a decade beginning in 1903: Jean Marnold ridiculing the "lamentable agony [of contemporary German music as] rattling along in Brahmsian neoclassic chloro- form"; Romain Rolland asserting that Brahms's neoclassicism is rav-

aged by a pedantry which has become "the plague of German art"; Paul Dukas characterizing works with neoclassic tendencies by Schu- mann and Brahms as "representing nothing essential in the domain of the symphony"; and Vincent d'Indy vilifying "the oppressive tonal clumsiness so frequent in the works of Brahms and the German neo- classicists." Mahler, in receiving the mantle of the German orchestral

legacy, also inherited the stigma of neoclassicism. Rolland excoriated the Fifth Symphony as possessing an "underlying idea [that] is neo- classic ... spongy and diffuse.... The whole is like a showy and

expensive collection of bric-a-brac." Small wonder with this sort of

scathing rhetoric, that Stravinsky, soon to catch Francophilia, in a letter to Maurice Delage in 1913, should describe the Mahler Eighth Symphony as having only "the rigidity of an absolute, bare-faced dullness."3

Brahms and Mahler are hardly musical small-fry, and if the French were quick to go after them, one might imagine that they 483 better have an alternative rhetoric at the ready. What they came up with can either be described charitably as a walk on a semantic tight- rope, or more accurately as a real leap of cultural faith. The term "new classicism," or nouveau classicisme, tended to act as the embodi- ment of a number of aesthetic attributes which, even taken together, do not necessarily constitute for us an accurate basis for defining artistic style: clarity, simplicity, austerity, sobriety, precision, and so on. This widely-used jargon was not only considered valid, but also comprehensible; these terms did represent fundamentally nationalist traits, that is, Gallic, Hellenic, Latin, and southern-a claim which took in an improbably large and diffuse geographic and cultural area-whereas an equally suspect rationale determined that the ava- tars of le neoclassicisme were essentially German, Teutonic, and north- ern, sentiments that were greatly intensified during World War 1.4 To

3 Jean Marnold, response to Jacques Morland, "Enquete sur l'influence alle- mande: VI. Musique," Mercure de France, January 1903, 104; Romain Rolland, Musi- cians of To-day, trans. Mary Blaiklock (New York, 1915), p. 101; Paul Dukas, "Le nouveau lyricisme," Minerva, (February 1903), and La revue musicale, Paul Dukas, nu- mero special, (May-June 1936), 8-17; Vincent d'Indy, Cours de composition musicale, (Paris, 1909), II, p. 427; Rolland, p. 220; and Liliane Brion-Guerry, ed., L'ann&e 1913. Les formes esthetiques de l'oeuvre d'art a la veille de la premiere guerre mondiale (Paris, 1973), p. 328.

4 Camille Mauclair, "Le classicisme et l'academisme," La revue bleue, (14 March 1903), 335-40; Adrien Mithouard, "Le classique de demain," L'occident, (April 1902),

Consider these examples during a decade beginning in 1903: Jean Marnold ridiculing the "lamentable agony [of contemporary German music as] rattling along in Brahmsian neoclassic chloro- form"; Romain Rolland asserting that Brahms's neoclassicism is rav-

aged by a pedantry which has become "the plague of German art"; Paul Dukas characterizing works with neoclassic tendencies by Schu- mann and Brahms as "representing nothing essential in the domain of the symphony"; and Vincent d'Indy vilifying "the oppressive tonal clumsiness so frequent in the works of Brahms and the German neo- classicists." Mahler, in receiving the mantle of the German orchestral

legacy, also inherited the stigma of neoclassicism. Rolland excoriated the Fifth Symphony as possessing an "underlying idea [that] is neo- classic ... spongy and diffuse.... The whole is like a showy and

expensive collection of bric-a-brac." Small wonder with this sort of

scathing rhetoric, that Stravinsky, soon to catch Francophilia, in a letter to Maurice Delage in 1913, should describe the Mahler Eighth Symphony as having only "the rigidity of an absolute, bare-faced dullness."3

Brahms and Mahler are hardly musical small-fry, and if the French were quick to go after them, one might imagine that they 483 better have an alternative rhetoric at the ready. What they came up with can either be described charitably as a walk on a semantic tight- rope, or more accurately as a real leap of cultural faith. The term "new classicism," or nouveau classicisme, tended to act as the embodi- ment of a number of aesthetic attributes which, even taken together, do not necessarily constitute for us an accurate basis for defining artistic style: clarity, simplicity, austerity, sobriety, precision, and so on. This widely-used jargon was not only considered valid, but also comprehensible; these terms did represent fundamentally nationalist traits, that is, Gallic, Hellenic, Latin, and southern-a claim which took in an improbably large and diffuse geographic and cultural area-whereas an equally suspect rationale determined that the ava- tars of le neoclassicisme were essentially German, Teutonic, and north- ern, sentiments that were greatly intensified during World War 1.4 To

3 Jean Marnold, response to Jacques Morland, "Enquete sur l'influence alle- mande: VI. Musique," Mercure de France, January 1903, 104; Romain Rolland, Musi- cians of To-day, trans. Mary Blaiklock (New York, 1915), p. 101; Paul Dukas, "Le nouveau lyricisme," Minerva, (February 1903), and La revue musicale, Paul Dukas, nu- mero special, (May-June 1936), 8-17; Vincent d'Indy, Cours de composition musicale, (Paris, 1909), II, p. 427; Rolland, p. 220; and Liliane Brion-Guerry, ed., L'ann&e 1913. Les formes esthetiques de l'oeuvre d'art a la veille de la premiere guerre mondiale (Paris, 1973), p. 328.

4 Camille Mauclair, "Le classicisme et l'academisme," La revue bleue, (14 March 1903), 335-40; Adrien Mithouard, "Le classique de demain," L'occident, (April 1902),

Consider these examples during a decade beginning in 1903: Jean Marnold ridiculing the "lamentable agony [of contemporary German music as] rattling along in Brahmsian neoclassic chloro- form"; Romain Rolland asserting that Brahms's neoclassicism is rav-

aged by a pedantry which has become "the plague of German art"; Paul Dukas characterizing works with neoclassic tendencies by Schu- mann and Brahms as "representing nothing essential in the domain of the symphony"; and Vincent d'Indy vilifying "the oppressive tonal clumsiness so frequent in the works of Brahms and the German neo- classicists." Mahler, in receiving the mantle of the German orchestral

legacy, also inherited the stigma of neoclassicism. Rolland excoriated the Fifth Symphony as possessing an "underlying idea [that] is neo- classic ... spongy and diffuse.... The whole is like a showy and

expensive collection of bric-a-brac." Small wonder with this sort of

scathing rhetoric, that Stravinsky, soon to catch Francophilia, in a letter to Maurice Delage in 1913, should describe the Mahler Eighth Symphony as having only "the rigidity of an absolute, bare-faced dullness."3

Brahms and Mahler are hardly musical small-fry, and if the French were quick to go after them, one might imagine that they 483 better have an alternative rhetoric at the ready. What they came up with can either be described charitably as a walk on a semantic tight- rope, or more accurately as a real leap of cultural faith. The term "new classicism," or nouveau classicisme, tended to act as the embodi- ment of a number of aesthetic attributes which, even taken together, do not necessarily constitute for us an accurate basis for defining artistic style: clarity, simplicity, austerity, sobriety, precision, and so on. This widely-used jargon was not only considered valid, but also comprehensible; these terms did represent fundamentally nationalist traits, that is, Gallic, Hellenic, Latin, and southern-a claim which took in an improbably large and diffuse geographic and cultural area-whereas an equally suspect rationale determined that the ava- tars of le neoclassicisme were essentially German, Teutonic, and north- ern, sentiments that were greatly intensified during World War 1.4 To

3 Jean Marnold, response to Jacques Morland, "Enquete sur l'influence alle- mande: VI. Musique," Mercure de France, January 1903, 104; Romain Rolland, Musi- cians of To-day, trans. Mary Blaiklock (New York, 1915), p. 101; Paul Dukas, "Le nouveau lyricisme," Minerva, (February 1903), and La revue musicale, Paul Dukas, nu- mero special, (May-June 1936), 8-17; Vincent d'Indy, Cours de composition musicale, (Paris, 1909), II, p. 427; Rolland, p. 220; and Liliane Brion-Guerry, ed., L'ann&e 1913. Les formes esthetiques de l'oeuvre d'art a la veille de la premiere guerre mondiale (Paris, 1973), p. 328.

4 Camille Mauclair, "Le classicisme et l'academisme," La revue bleue, (14 March 1903), 335-40; Adrien Mithouard, "Le classique de demain," L'occident, (April 1902),

Consider these examples during a decade beginning in 1903: Jean Marnold ridiculing the "lamentable agony [of contemporary German music as] rattling along in Brahmsian neoclassic chloro- form"; Romain Rolland asserting that Brahms's neoclassicism is rav-

aged by a pedantry which has become "the plague of German art"; Paul Dukas characterizing works with neoclassic tendencies by Schu- mann and Brahms as "representing nothing essential in the domain of the symphony"; and Vincent d'Indy vilifying "the oppressive tonal clumsiness so frequent in the works of Brahms and the German neo- classicists." Mahler, in receiving the mantle of the German orchestral

legacy, also inherited the stigma of neoclassicism. Rolland excoriated the Fifth Symphony as possessing an "underlying idea [that] is neo- classic ... spongy and diffuse.... The whole is like a showy and

expensive collection of bric-a-brac." Small wonder with this sort of

scathing rhetoric, that Stravinsky, soon to catch Francophilia, in a letter to Maurice Delage in 1913, should describe the Mahler Eighth Symphony as having only "the rigidity of an absolute, bare-faced dullness."3

Brahms and Mahler are hardly musical small-fry, and if the French were quick to go after them, one might imagine that they 483 better have an alternative rhetoric at the ready. What they came up with can either be described charitably as a walk on a semantic tight- rope, or more accurately as a real leap of cultural faith. The term "new classicism," or nouveau classicisme, tended to act as the embodi- ment of a number of aesthetic attributes which, even taken together, do not necessarily constitute for us an accurate basis for defining artistic style: clarity, simplicity, austerity, sobriety, precision, and so on. This widely-used jargon was not only considered valid, but also comprehensible; these terms did represent fundamentally nationalist traits, that is, Gallic, Hellenic, Latin, and southern-a claim which took in an improbably large and diffuse geographic and cultural area-whereas an equally suspect rationale determined that the ava- tars of le neoclassicisme were essentially German, Teutonic, and north- ern, sentiments that were greatly intensified during World War 1.4 To

3 Jean Marnold, response to Jacques Morland, "Enquete sur l'influence alle- mande: VI. Musique," Mercure de France, January 1903, 104; Romain Rolland, Musi- cians of To-day, trans. Mary Blaiklock (New York, 1915), p. 101; Paul Dukas, "Le nouveau lyricisme," Minerva, (February 1903), and La revue musicale, Paul Dukas, nu- mero special, (May-June 1936), 8-17; Vincent d'Indy, Cours de composition musicale, (Paris, 1909), II, p. 427; Rolland, p. 220; and Liliane Brion-Guerry, ed., L'ann&e 1913. Les formes esthetiques de l'oeuvre d'art a la veille de la premiere guerre mondiale (Paris, 1973), p. 328.

4 Camille Mauclair, "Le classicisme et l'academisme," La revue bleue, (14 March 1903), 335-40; Adrien Mithouard, "Le classique de demain," L'occident, (April 1902),

Consider these examples during a decade beginning in 1903: Jean Marnold ridiculing the "lamentable agony [of contemporary German music as] rattling along in Brahmsian neoclassic chloro- form"; Romain Rolland asserting that Brahms's neoclassicism is rav-

aged by a pedantry which has become "the plague of German art"; Paul Dukas characterizing works with neoclassic tendencies by Schu- mann and Brahms as "representing nothing essential in the domain of the symphony"; and Vincent d'Indy vilifying "the oppressive tonal clumsiness so frequent in the works of Brahms and the German neo- classicists." Mahler, in receiving the mantle of the German orchestral

legacy, also inherited the stigma of neoclassicism. Rolland excoriated the Fifth Symphony as possessing an "underlying idea [that] is neo- classic ... spongy and diffuse.... The whole is like a showy and

expensive collection of bric-a-brac." Small wonder with this sort of

scathing rhetoric, that Stravinsky, soon to catch Francophilia, in a letter to Maurice Delage in 1913, should describe the Mahler Eighth Symphony as having only "the rigidity of an absolute, bare-faced dullness."3

Brahms and Mahler are hardly musical small-fry, and if the French were quick to go after them, one might imagine that they 483 better have an alternative rhetoric at the ready. What they came up with can either be described charitably as a walk on a semantic tight- rope, or more accurately as a real leap of cultural faith. The term "new classicism," or nouveau classicisme, tended to act as the embodi- ment of a number of aesthetic attributes which, even taken together, do not necessarily constitute for us an accurate basis for defining artistic style: clarity, simplicity, austerity, sobriety, precision, and so on. This widely-used jargon was not only considered valid, but also comprehensible; these terms did represent fundamentally nationalist traits, that is, Gallic, Hellenic, Latin, and southern-a claim which took in an improbably large and diffuse geographic and cultural area-whereas an equally suspect rationale determined that the ava- tars of le neoclassicisme were essentially German, Teutonic, and north- ern, sentiments that were greatly intensified during World War 1.4 To

3 Jean Marnold, response to Jacques Morland, "Enquete sur l'influence alle- mande: VI. Musique," Mercure de France, January 1903, 104; Romain Rolland, Musi- cians of To-day, trans. Mary Blaiklock (New York, 1915), p. 101; Paul Dukas, "Le nouveau lyricisme," Minerva, (February 1903), and La revue musicale, Paul Dukas, nu- mero special, (May-June 1936), 8-17; Vincent d'Indy, Cours de composition musicale, (Paris, 1909), II, p. 427; Rolland, p. 220; and Liliane Brion-Guerry, ed., L'ann&e 1913. Les formes esthetiques de l'oeuvre d'art a la veille de la premiere guerre mondiale (Paris, 1973), p. 328.

4 Camille Mauclair, "Le classicisme et l'academisme," La revue bleue, (14 March 1903), 335-40; Adrien Mithouard, "Le classique de demain," L'occident, (April 1902),

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use such prose for descriptions of French art was, of course, to ignore its applicability to a good deal of German music as well. Ernest New- man's voice was a rare one when he observed in 1917 that

it is the circumstances, not racial germs, that have determined the different ideals that French and German music have set before them. The danger of selecting a few mental traits and elevating them to the dignity of national characteristics is that composers may feel it their duty to try to live up to them, to the damage of their own originality which may really have quite a different orientation.5

The early descriptions of the new classicism, the consummate and authoritative quality of art embedded in a national tradition, and neoclassicism, the most banal and stifling treatment of the past, make for lively reading, if all we're interested in are pithy examples of overheated sloganeering. But the infancy of this terminology and its maturation as a response tofin-de-siecle German music did not make it

merely the ill-bred progeny of journalism. If the renewal of the clas- sical past of French music was a manifest intellectual trend, its influ-

484 ence upon specific works was necessarily apposite in order to invest that tendency with a significance beyond mere fashion. To be credi- ble, the French had to practice in their music what they preached in their prose. As a result, the familiar and even superficial rhythmic or melodic gestures of Couperin and Rameau effected a correspondence to an earlier manner; the users of these readily identifiable cliches could count on their audiences to make the appropriate cultural con- nections.

Consider Tombeau de Couperin. In the spring of 1914, Ravel men- tioned in a letter that he was transcribing a forlane by Fran;ois Cou-

perin, and by October he had decided to incorporate his own forlane into a Suite franfaise.6 Couperin's forlane was in fact taken from the Quatrieme concert of the Concerts royaux which had appeared in an edition by Georges Marty, and also in an essay, "La Forlane," by Jules Ecorcheville in the April issue of La revue musicale de SIM, to which Ravel was also a contributor. (See Examples la & b.) Ravel's response to his model resembles the general attitude of his contemporaries

289-300; Charles Lalo, Esquisse d'une esthetique musicale scientifique (Paris, 1908), p. 308; Arthur Coquard, La musique en France depuis Rameau (Paris, 1891), pp. 235-36, 269-70; Alfred Bruneau, La musiquefranfaise (Paris, 1901), pp. 144-51; and Camille Mauclair, La religion de la musique (Paris, 1909), pp. 243-44, 250-52.

5 Ernest Newman, "The New French Recipe," The Birmingham Post (2o August 1917) and reprinted in Musical Times (1 October 1917), 441.

6 Rene Chalupt, Ravel au miroir de ses lettres (Paris, 1956), p. 106; and Roland- Manuel, Ravel, trans. Cynthia Jolly (London, 1947), p. 76.

use such prose for descriptions of French art was, of course, to ignore its applicability to a good deal of German music as well. Ernest New- man's voice was a rare one when he observed in 1917 that

it is the circumstances, not racial germs, that have determined the different ideals that French and German music have set before them. The danger of selecting a few mental traits and elevating them to the dignity of national characteristics is that composers may feel it their duty to try to live up to them, to the damage of their own originality which may really have quite a different orientation.5

The early descriptions of the new classicism, the consummate and authoritative quality of art embedded in a national tradition, and neoclassicism, the most banal and stifling treatment of the past, make for lively reading, if all we're interested in are pithy examples of overheated sloganeering. But the infancy of this terminology and its maturation as a response tofin-de-siecle German music did not make it

merely the ill-bred progeny of journalism. If the renewal of the clas- sical past of French music was a manifest intellectual trend, its influ-

484 ence upon specific works was necessarily apposite in order to invest that tendency with a significance beyond mere fashion. To be credi- ble, the French had to practice in their music what they preached in their prose. As a result, the familiar and even superficial rhythmic or melodic gestures of Couperin and Rameau effected a correspondence to an earlier manner; the users of these readily identifiable cliches could count on their audiences to make the appropriate cultural con- nections.

Consider Tombeau de Couperin. In the spring of 1914, Ravel men- tioned in a letter that he was transcribing a forlane by Fran;ois Cou-

perin, and by October he had decided to incorporate his own forlane into a Suite franfaise.6 Couperin's forlane was in fact taken from the Quatrieme concert of the Concerts royaux which had appeared in an edition by Georges Marty, and also in an essay, "La Forlane," by Jules Ecorcheville in the April issue of La revue musicale de SIM, to which Ravel was also a contributor. (See Examples la & b.) Ravel's response to his model resembles the general attitude of his contemporaries

289-300; Charles Lalo, Esquisse d'une esthetique musicale scientifique (Paris, 1908), p. 308; Arthur Coquard, La musique en France depuis Rameau (Paris, 1891), pp. 235-36, 269-70; Alfred Bruneau, La musiquefranfaise (Paris, 1901), pp. 144-51; and Camille Mauclair, La religion de la musique (Paris, 1909), pp. 243-44, 250-52.

5 Ernest Newman, "The New French Recipe," The Birmingham Post (2o August 1917) and reprinted in Musical Times (1 October 1917), 441.

6 Rene Chalupt, Ravel au miroir de ses lettres (Paris, 1956), p. 106; and Roland- Manuel, Ravel, trans. Cynthia Jolly (London, 1947), p. 76.

use such prose for descriptions of French art was, of course, to ignore its applicability to a good deal of German music as well. Ernest New- man's voice was a rare one when he observed in 1917 that

it is the circumstances, not racial germs, that have determined the different ideals that French and German music have set before them. The danger of selecting a few mental traits and elevating them to the dignity of national characteristics is that composers may feel it their duty to try to live up to them, to the damage of their own originality which may really have quite a different orientation.5

The early descriptions of the new classicism, the consummate and authoritative quality of art embedded in a national tradition, and neoclassicism, the most banal and stifling treatment of the past, make for lively reading, if all we're interested in are pithy examples of overheated sloganeering. But the infancy of this terminology and its maturation as a response tofin-de-siecle German music did not make it

merely the ill-bred progeny of journalism. If the renewal of the clas- sical past of French music was a manifest intellectual trend, its influ-

484 ence upon specific works was necessarily apposite in order to invest that tendency with a significance beyond mere fashion. To be credi- ble, the French had to practice in their music what they preached in their prose. As a result, the familiar and even superficial rhythmic or melodic gestures of Couperin and Rameau effected a correspondence to an earlier manner; the users of these readily identifiable cliches could count on their audiences to make the appropriate cultural con- nections.

Consider Tombeau de Couperin. In the spring of 1914, Ravel men- tioned in a letter that he was transcribing a forlane by Fran;ois Cou-

perin, and by October he had decided to incorporate his own forlane into a Suite franfaise.6 Couperin's forlane was in fact taken from the Quatrieme concert of the Concerts royaux which had appeared in an edition by Georges Marty, and also in an essay, "La Forlane," by Jules Ecorcheville in the April issue of La revue musicale de SIM, to which Ravel was also a contributor. (See Examples la & b.) Ravel's response to his model resembles the general attitude of his contemporaries

289-300; Charles Lalo, Esquisse d'une esthetique musicale scientifique (Paris, 1908), p. 308; Arthur Coquard, La musique en France depuis Rameau (Paris, 1891), pp. 235-36, 269-70; Alfred Bruneau, La musiquefranfaise (Paris, 1901), pp. 144-51; and Camille Mauclair, La religion de la musique (Paris, 1909), pp. 243-44, 250-52.

5 Ernest Newman, "The New French Recipe," The Birmingham Post (2o August 1917) and reprinted in Musical Times (1 October 1917), 441.

6 Rene Chalupt, Ravel au miroir de ses lettres (Paris, 1956), p. 106; and Roland- Manuel, Ravel, trans. Cynthia Jolly (London, 1947), p. 76.

use such prose for descriptions of French art was, of course, to ignore its applicability to a good deal of German music as well. Ernest New- man's voice was a rare one when he observed in 1917 that

it is the circumstances, not racial germs, that have determined the different ideals that French and German music have set before them. The danger of selecting a few mental traits and elevating them to the dignity of national characteristics is that composers may feel it their duty to try to live up to them, to the damage of their own originality which may really have quite a different orientation.5

The early descriptions of the new classicism, the consummate and authoritative quality of art embedded in a national tradition, and neoclassicism, the most banal and stifling treatment of the past, make for lively reading, if all we're interested in are pithy examples of overheated sloganeering. But the infancy of this terminology and its maturation as a response tofin-de-siecle German music did not make it

merely the ill-bred progeny of journalism. If the renewal of the clas- sical past of French music was a manifest intellectual trend, its influ-

484 ence upon specific works was necessarily apposite in order to invest that tendency with a significance beyond mere fashion. To be credi- ble, the French had to practice in their music what they preached in their prose. As a result, the familiar and even superficial rhythmic or melodic gestures of Couperin and Rameau effected a correspondence to an earlier manner; the users of these readily identifiable cliches could count on their audiences to make the appropriate cultural con- nections.

Consider Tombeau de Couperin. In the spring of 1914, Ravel men- tioned in a letter that he was transcribing a forlane by Fran;ois Cou-

perin, and by October he had decided to incorporate his own forlane into a Suite franfaise.6 Couperin's forlane was in fact taken from the Quatrieme concert of the Concerts royaux which had appeared in an edition by Georges Marty, and also in an essay, "La Forlane," by Jules Ecorcheville in the April issue of La revue musicale de SIM, to which Ravel was also a contributor. (See Examples la & b.) Ravel's response to his model resembles the general attitude of his contemporaries

289-300; Charles Lalo, Esquisse d'une esthetique musicale scientifique (Paris, 1908), p. 308; Arthur Coquard, La musique en France depuis Rameau (Paris, 1891), pp. 235-36, 269-70; Alfred Bruneau, La musiquefranfaise (Paris, 1901), pp. 144-51; and Camille Mauclair, La religion de la musique (Paris, 1909), pp. 243-44, 250-52.

5 Ernest Newman, "The New French Recipe," The Birmingham Post (2o August 1917) and reprinted in Musical Times (1 October 1917), 441.

6 Rene Chalupt, Ravel au miroir de ses lettres (Paris, 1956), p. 106; and Roland- Manuel, Ravel, trans. Cynthia Jolly (London, 1947), p. 76.

use such prose for descriptions of French art was, of course, to ignore its applicability to a good deal of German music as well. Ernest New- man's voice was a rare one when he observed in 1917 that

it is the circumstances, not racial germs, that have determined the different ideals that French and German music have set before them. The danger of selecting a few mental traits and elevating them to the dignity of national characteristics is that composers may feel it their duty to try to live up to them, to the damage of their own originality which may really have quite a different orientation.5

The early descriptions of the new classicism, the consummate and authoritative quality of art embedded in a national tradition, and neoclassicism, the most banal and stifling treatment of the past, make for lively reading, if all we're interested in are pithy examples of overheated sloganeering. But the infancy of this terminology and its maturation as a response tofin-de-siecle German music did not make it

merely the ill-bred progeny of journalism. If the renewal of the clas- sical past of French music was a manifest intellectual trend, its influ-

484 ence upon specific works was necessarily apposite in order to invest that tendency with a significance beyond mere fashion. To be credi- ble, the French had to practice in their music what they preached in their prose. As a result, the familiar and even superficial rhythmic or melodic gestures of Couperin and Rameau effected a correspondence to an earlier manner; the users of these readily identifiable cliches could count on their audiences to make the appropriate cultural con- nections.

Consider Tombeau de Couperin. In the spring of 1914, Ravel men- tioned in a letter that he was transcribing a forlane by Fran;ois Cou-

perin, and by October he had decided to incorporate his own forlane into a Suite franfaise.6 Couperin's forlane was in fact taken from the Quatrieme concert of the Concerts royaux which had appeared in an edition by Georges Marty, and also in an essay, "La Forlane," by Jules Ecorcheville in the April issue of La revue musicale de SIM, to which Ravel was also a contributor. (See Examples la & b.) Ravel's response to his model resembles the general attitude of his contemporaries

289-300; Charles Lalo, Esquisse d'une esthetique musicale scientifique (Paris, 1908), p. 308; Arthur Coquard, La musique en France depuis Rameau (Paris, 1891), pp. 235-36, 269-70; Alfred Bruneau, La musiquefranfaise (Paris, 1901), pp. 144-51; and Camille Mauclair, La religion de la musique (Paris, 1909), pp. 243-44, 250-52.

5 Ernest Newman, "The New French Recipe," The Birmingham Post (2o August 1917) and reprinted in Musical Times (1 October 1917), 441.

6 Rene Chalupt, Ravel au miroir de ses lettres (Paris, 1956), p. 106; and Roland- Manuel, Ravel, trans. Cynthia Jolly (London, 1947), p. 76.

use such prose for descriptions of French art was, of course, to ignore its applicability to a good deal of German music as well. Ernest New- man's voice was a rare one when he observed in 1917 that

it is the circumstances, not racial germs, that have determined the different ideals that French and German music have set before them. The danger of selecting a few mental traits and elevating them to the dignity of national characteristics is that composers may feel it their duty to try to live up to them, to the damage of their own originality which may really have quite a different orientation.5

The early descriptions of the new classicism, the consummate and authoritative quality of art embedded in a national tradition, and neoclassicism, the most banal and stifling treatment of the past, make for lively reading, if all we're interested in are pithy examples of overheated sloganeering. But the infancy of this terminology and its maturation as a response tofin-de-siecle German music did not make it

merely the ill-bred progeny of journalism. If the renewal of the clas- sical past of French music was a manifest intellectual trend, its influ-

484 ence upon specific works was necessarily apposite in order to invest that tendency with a significance beyond mere fashion. To be credi- ble, the French had to practice in their music what they preached in their prose. As a result, the familiar and even superficial rhythmic or melodic gestures of Couperin and Rameau effected a correspondence to an earlier manner; the users of these readily identifiable cliches could count on their audiences to make the appropriate cultural con- nections.

Consider Tombeau de Couperin. In the spring of 1914, Ravel men- tioned in a letter that he was transcribing a forlane by Fran;ois Cou-

perin, and by October he had decided to incorporate his own forlane into a Suite franfaise.6 Couperin's forlane was in fact taken from the Quatrieme concert of the Concerts royaux which had appeared in an edition by Georges Marty, and also in an essay, "La Forlane," by Jules Ecorcheville in the April issue of La revue musicale de SIM, to which Ravel was also a contributor. (See Examples la & b.) Ravel's response to his model resembles the general attitude of his contemporaries

289-300; Charles Lalo, Esquisse d'une esthetique musicale scientifique (Paris, 1908), p. 308; Arthur Coquard, La musique en France depuis Rameau (Paris, 1891), pp. 235-36, 269-70; Alfred Bruneau, La musiquefranfaise (Paris, 1901), pp. 144-51; and Camille Mauclair, La religion de la musique (Paris, 1909), pp. 243-44, 250-52.

5 Ernest Newman, "The New French Recipe," The Birmingham Post (2o August 1917) and reprinted in Musical Times (1 October 1917), 441.

6 Rene Chalupt, Ravel au miroir de ses lettres (Paris, 1956), p. 106; and Roland- Manuel, Ravel, trans. Cynthia Jolly (London, 1947), p. 76.

Page 6: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY

EXAMPLE la. EXAMPLE la. EXAMPLE la. EXAMPLE la. EXAMPLE la. EXAMPLE la. Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Forlane, mm.

1-9. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Editions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S. A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Publisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Com-

pany.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Forlane, mm.

1-9. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Editions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S. A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Publisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Com-

pany.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Forlane, mm.

1-9. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Editions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S. A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Publisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Com-

pany.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Forlane, mm.

1-9. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Editions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S. A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Publisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Com-

pany.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Forlane, mm.

1-9. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Editions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S. A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Publisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Com-

pany.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Forlane, mm.

1-9. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Editions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S. A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Publisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Com-

pany.

towards their eighteenth-century heritage to the extent that the most overt sense of similarity derives from the recurrence of a rhythmic gesture. Ravel stated that the homage implicit in Tombeau de Couperin was "in reality less to Couperin alone than to French music of the 18th

century,"7 and the forlane was not the composer's only prototype. (See Examples 2a & b.) A similar affinity exists between the "Rigau- don" and the "Premiere tambourin" from Rameau's Troisieme concert where the correspondence is again articulated via the rhythmic ges- ture.

There is no dearth of contemporary criticism that extols Tombeau de Couperin in the jargon of the new classicism: Rene Chalupt consid- ered it to be "simplified to the extent that it becomes refined and reties the broken thread to our old clavecinistes," and "a direct reaction

against romanticism," and Egon Wellesz asserted that it demonstrated "a wonderful clarity . . . a new classicism, a harmonious balance be- tween form and content which can only be formed among Latin peo- ples, without having the stamp of academicism."8 Yet for every such

7 Maurice Ravel, "Esquisses autobiographiques," La revue musicale (December 1938), 22.

8 Ren6 Chalupt, "Ravel," Les ecrits nouveaux (December 1918), 318; and Egon Wellesz, "Maurice Ravel," Anbruch (October 1920), 546.

towards their eighteenth-century heritage to the extent that the most overt sense of similarity derives from the recurrence of a rhythmic gesture. Ravel stated that the homage implicit in Tombeau de Couperin was "in reality less to Couperin alone than to French music of the 18th

century,"7 and the forlane was not the composer's only prototype. (See Examples 2a & b.) A similar affinity exists between the "Rigau- don" and the "Premiere tambourin" from Rameau's Troisieme concert where the correspondence is again articulated via the rhythmic ges- ture.

There is no dearth of contemporary criticism that extols Tombeau de Couperin in the jargon of the new classicism: Rene Chalupt consid- ered it to be "simplified to the extent that it becomes refined and reties the broken thread to our old clavecinistes," and "a direct reaction

against romanticism," and Egon Wellesz asserted that it demonstrated "a wonderful clarity . . . a new classicism, a harmonious balance be- tween form and content which can only be formed among Latin peo- ples, without having the stamp of academicism."8 Yet for every such

7 Maurice Ravel, "Esquisses autobiographiques," La revue musicale (December 1938), 22.

8 Ren6 Chalupt, "Ravel," Les ecrits nouveaux (December 1918), 318; and Egon Wellesz, "Maurice Ravel," Anbruch (October 1920), 546.

towards their eighteenth-century heritage to the extent that the most overt sense of similarity derives from the recurrence of a rhythmic gesture. Ravel stated that the homage implicit in Tombeau de Couperin was "in reality less to Couperin alone than to French music of the 18th

century,"7 and the forlane was not the composer's only prototype. (See Examples 2a & b.) A similar affinity exists between the "Rigau- don" and the "Premiere tambourin" from Rameau's Troisieme concert where the correspondence is again articulated via the rhythmic ges- ture.

There is no dearth of contemporary criticism that extols Tombeau de Couperin in the jargon of the new classicism: Rene Chalupt consid- ered it to be "simplified to the extent that it becomes refined and reties the broken thread to our old clavecinistes," and "a direct reaction

against romanticism," and Egon Wellesz asserted that it demonstrated "a wonderful clarity . . . a new classicism, a harmonious balance be- tween form and content which can only be formed among Latin peo- ples, without having the stamp of academicism."8 Yet for every such

7 Maurice Ravel, "Esquisses autobiographiques," La revue musicale (December 1938), 22.

8 Ren6 Chalupt, "Ravel," Les ecrits nouveaux (December 1918), 318; and Egon Wellesz, "Maurice Ravel," Anbruch (October 1920), 546.

towards their eighteenth-century heritage to the extent that the most overt sense of similarity derives from the recurrence of a rhythmic gesture. Ravel stated that the homage implicit in Tombeau de Couperin was "in reality less to Couperin alone than to French music of the 18th

century,"7 and the forlane was not the composer's only prototype. (See Examples 2a & b.) A similar affinity exists between the "Rigau- don" and the "Premiere tambourin" from Rameau's Troisieme concert where the correspondence is again articulated via the rhythmic ges- ture.

There is no dearth of contemporary criticism that extols Tombeau de Couperin in the jargon of the new classicism: Rene Chalupt consid- ered it to be "simplified to the extent that it becomes refined and reties the broken thread to our old clavecinistes," and "a direct reaction

against romanticism," and Egon Wellesz asserted that it demonstrated "a wonderful clarity . . . a new classicism, a harmonious balance be- tween form and content which can only be formed among Latin peo- ples, without having the stamp of academicism."8 Yet for every such

7 Maurice Ravel, "Esquisses autobiographiques," La revue musicale (December 1938), 22.

8 Ren6 Chalupt, "Ravel," Les ecrits nouveaux (December 1918), 318; and Egon Wellesz, "Maurice Ravel," Anbruch (October 1920), 546.

towards their eighteenth-century heritage to the extent that the most overt sense of similarity derives from the recurrence of a rhythmic gesture. Ravel stated that the homage implicit in Tombeau de Couperin was "in reality less to Couperin alone than to French music of the 18th

century,"7 and the forlane was not the composer's only prototype. (See Examples 2a & b.) A similar affinity exists between the "Rigau- don" and the "Premiere tambourin" from Rameau's Troisieme concert where the correspondence is again articulated via the rhythmic ges- ture.

There is no dearth of contemporary criticism that extols Tombeau de Couperin in the jargon of the new classicism: Rene Chalupt consid- ered it to be "simplified to the extent that it becomes refined and reties the broken thread to our old clavecinistes," and "a direct reaction

against romanticism," and Egon Wellesz asserted that it demonstrated "a wonderful clarity . . . a new classicism, a harmonious balance be- tween form and content which can only be formed among Latin peo- ples, without having the stamp of academicism."8 Yet for every such

7 Maurice Ravel, "Esquisses autobiographiques," La revue musicale (December 1938), 22.

8 Ren6 Chalupt, "Ravel," Les ecrits nouveaux (December 1918), 318; and Egon Wellesz, "Maurice Ravel," Anbruch (October 1920), 546.

towards their eighteenth-century heritage to the extent that the most overt sense of similarity derives from the recurrence of a rhythmic gesture. Ravel stated that the homage implicit in Tombeau de Couperin was "in reality less to Couperin alone than to French music of the 18th

century,"7 and the forlane was not the composer's only prototype. (See Examples 2a & b.) A similar affinity exists between the "Rigau- don" and the "Premiere tambourin" from Rameau's Troisieme concert where the correspondence is again articulated via the rhythmic ges- ture.

There is no dearth of contemporary criticism that extols Tombeau de Couperin in the jargon of the new classicism: Rene Chalupt consid- ered it to be "simplified to the extent that it becomes refined and reties the broken thread to our old clavecinistes," and "a direct reaction

against romanticism," and Egon Wellesz asserted that it demonstrated "a wonderful clarity . . . a new classicism, a harmonious balance be- tween form and content which can only be formed among Latin peo- ples, without having the stamp of academicism."8 Yet for every such

7 Maurice Ravel, "Esquisses autobiographiques," La revue musicale (December 1938), 22.

8 Ren6 Chalupt, "Ravel," Les ecrits nouveaux (December 1918), 318; and Egon Wellesz, "Maurice Ravel," Anbruch (October 1920), 546.

485 485 485 485 485 485

Page 7: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

EXAMPLE lb. Francois Couperin, Concerts royaux, Quatrieme concert, Forlane.

Allegro non troppo

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THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

EXAMPLE lb. Francois Couperin, Concerts royaux, Quatrieme concert, Forlane.

Allegro non troppo

/ gaiment

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THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

EXAMPLE lb. Francois Couperin, Concerts royaux, Quatrieme concert, Forlane.

Allegro non troppo

/ gaiment

i? 8--- 3,< 4 J 1J . J_ I J. 3_ f gaiment

Allegro non troppo

fgaiment

Nl-# _j. j . _ 1 .; J IM 486

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i

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THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

EXAMPLE lb. Francois Couperin, Concerts royaux, Quatrieme concert, Forlane.

Allegro non troppo

/ gaiment

i? 8--- 3,< 4 J 1J . J_ I J. 3_ f gaiment

Allegro non troppo

fgaiment

Nl-# _j. j . _ 1 .; J IM 486

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i

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THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

EXAMPLE lb. Francois Couperin, Concerts royaux, Quatrieme concert, Forlane.

Allegro non troppo

/ gaiment

i? 8--- 3,< 4 J 1J . J_ I J. 3_ f gaiment

Allegro non troppo

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THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

EXAMPLE lb. Francois Couperin, Concerts royaux, Quatrieme concert, Forlane.

Allegro non troppo

/ gaiment

i? 8--- 3,< 4 J 1J . J_ I J. 3_ f gaiment

Allegro non troppo

fgaiment

Nl-# _j. j . _ 1 .; J IM 486

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ler Couplet ler Couplet ler Couplet ler Couplet ler Couplet ler Couplet

Page 8: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

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Page 9: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

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EXAMPLE 2b. EXAMPLE 2b. EXAMPLE 2b. EXAMPLE 2b. EXAMPLE 2b. EXAMPLE 2b. Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Rigaudon, mm. 1-16. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Edi- tions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S.A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Pub- lisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Company.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Rigaudon, mm. 1-16. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Edi- tions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S.A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Pub- lisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Company.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Rigaudon, mm. 1-16. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Edi- tions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S.A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Pub- lisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Company.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Rigaudon, mm. 1-16. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Edi- tions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S.A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Pub- lisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Company.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Rigaudon, mm. 1-16. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Edi- tions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S.A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Pub- lisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Company.

Maurice Ravel, Tombeau de Couperin, Rigaudon, mm. 1-16. ? 1918 Durand S. A. Editions Musicales. Edi- tions A.R.I.M.A. and Durand S.A. Editions Musicales Joint Publication. Used by permission of The Pub- lisher. Sole Representative, U.S.A., Theodore Presser Company.

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laudatory comment, one can find as many reviews to the contrary. The problem for critics who were responsive to French music was not to find a rationalization for describing it in arguably vague terms, but to determine which composer to celebrate as its leader. Whereas De- bussy's last Sonatas and Ravel's Trio and Tombeau de Couperin encour- aged a few writers to place them in the vanguard, the composers' reputations more often suffered from post-war criticism. Leigh Hen- ry's squib that the "anemic neoclassicism of Tombeau de Couperin threatens to become the musical tomb of Ravel," was by no means an

laudatory comment, one can find as many reviews to the contrary. The problem for critics who were responsive to French music was not to find a rationalization for describing it in arguably vague terms, but to determine which composer to celebrate as its leader. Whereas De- bussy's last Sonatas and Ravel's Trio and Tombeau de Couperin encour- aged a few writers to place them in the vanguard, the composers' reputations more often suffered from post-war criticism. Leigh Hen- ry's squib that the "anemic neoclassicism of Tombeau de Couperin threatens to become the musical tomb of Ravel," was by no means an

laudatory comment, one can find as many reviews to the contrary. The problem for critics who were responsive to French music was not to find a rationalization for describing it in arguably vague terms, but to determine which composer to celebrate as its leader. Whereas De- bussy's last Sonatas and Ravel's Trio and Tombeau de Couperin encour- aged a few writers to place them in the vanguard, the composers' reputations more often suffered from post-war criticism. Leigh Hen- ry's squib that the "anemic neoclassicism of Tombeau de Couperin threatens to become the musical tomb of Ravel," was by no means an

laudatory comment, one can find as many reviews to the contrary. The problem for critics who were responsive to French music was not to find a rationalization for describing it in arguably vague terms, but to determine which composer to celebrate as its leader. Whereas De- bussy's last Sonatas and Ravel's Trio and Tombeau de Couperin encour- aged a few writers to place them in the vanguard, the composers' reputations more often suffered from post-war criticism. Leigh Hen- ry's squib that the "anemic neoclassicism of Tombeau de Couperin threatens to become the musical tomb of Ravel," was by no means an

laudatory comment, one can find as many reviews to the contrary. The problem for critics who were responsive to French music was not to find a rationalization for describing it in arguably vague terms, but to determine which composer to celebrate as its leader. Whereas De- bussy's last Sonatas and Ravel's Trio and Tombeau de Couperin encour- aged a few writers to place them in the vanguard, the composers' reputations more often suffered from post-war criticism. Leigh Hen- ry's squib that the "anemic neoclassicism of Tombeau de Couperin threatens to become the musical tomb of Ravel," was by no means an

laudatory comment, one can find as many reviews to the contrary. The problem for critics who were responsive to French music was not to find a rationalization for describing it in arguably vague terms, but to determine which composer to celebrate as its leader. Whereas De- bussy's last Sonatas and Ravel's Trio and Tombeau de Couperin encour- aged a few writers to place them in the vanguard, the composers' reputations more often suffered from post-war criticism. Leigh Hen- ry's squib that the "anemic neoclassicism of Tombeau de Couperin threatens to become the musical tomb of Ravel," was by no means an

488 488 488 488 488 488

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Page 10: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY

uncommon polemic, although certainly Jean Cocteau was primarily responsible for shifting critical approval away from those composers.9

What had happened by 1918, the year of publication of Tombeau de Couperin and Le coq et l'arlequin? For the manipulators of post-war avant-garde slogans, neoclassicism characterized a style with which artists did not want to be associated. To Georges Auric, speaking for Les Six, the term had the pejorative implication of "fatigued and im-

practical forms," and he disavowed any connection with it. "Nobody takes as seriously maintained certain declarations and manifestations of which the letter and the spirit are for us equally dead. It is neces-

sary that one knows that not one of us, I think, will agree to figure- even by means of some equivocation-among the defenders of neo- classicism."lo For artists like Auric and Cocteau, the European-wide pallor of despair brought about by World War I created the image of an insurmountable wedge between the leading currents in musical

composition which preceded it and the ascendent creative impulses which followed. To many, the end of the war fed a growing percep- tion of a spirit in the arts which clearly distinguished itself from trends before 1914. Some propagandists of contemporary art tended to dis- avow any kinship with pre-war styles which they mostly regarded as 489

debilitating in one way or another. Nostalgia for the eighteenth cen-

tury was an anathema to them, and evocations of the past were couched in ruthlessly satiric terms, as is the case for example with Satie and Cocteau's promotion of him.

As public life achieved a degree of normalcy in the 1920S, many writers, painters, and composers were again attracted towards the

stabilizing reentry into the mainstream of European art and a dia-

logue with the past which that return implied. Contemporary to that

tendency, however, as we have seen, was a perception that an alliance with the past might compromise creativity and that it was wise to remain a cultural orphan. The tension between freedom and order in

post-war art seemed to incite the desire for a terminology to explain it. In that atmosphere neoclassicism was transformed so that it might account for both innovation and continuity. Whatever pejorative meaning the term may have had before World War I, it was lost in

post-war polemics which sought to knit an arguably elusive terminol-

ogy and individual works into a unified stylistic fabric. It enjoyed a

9 Leigh Henry, "London Letter," Chesterian (January 1921), 371; and Jean Coc- teau, Oeuvres completes de Jean Cocteau (Geneva, 1950), IX, pp. 24-25, 30-31.

'o Georges Auric, "La musique: quelques maitres contemporains," Les ecrits nou- veaux (March 1922), 70-78.

uncommon polemic, although certainly Jean Cocteau was primarily responsible for shifting critical approval away from those composers.9

What had happened by 1918, the year of publication of Tombeau de Couperin and Le coq et l'arlequin? For the manipulators of post-war avant-garde slogans, neoclassicism characterized a style with which artists did not want to be associated. To Georges Auric, speaking for Les Six, the term had the pejorative implication of "fatigued and im-

practical forms," and he disavowed any connection with it. "Nobody takes as seriously maintained certain declarations and manifestations of which the letter and the spirit are for us equally dead. It is neces-

sary that one knows that not one of us, I think, will agree to figure- even by means of some equivocation-among the defenders of neo- classicism."lo For artists like Auric and Cocteau, the European-wide pallor of despair brought about by World War I created the image of an insurmountable wedge between the leading currents in musical

composition which preceded it and the ascendent creative impulses which followed. To many, the end of the war fed a growing percep- tion of a spirit in the arts which clearly distinguished itself from trends before 1914. Some propagandists of contemporary art tended to dis- avow any kinship with pre-war styles which they mostly regarded as 489

debilitating in one way or another. Nostalgia for the eighteenth cen-

tury was an anathema to them, and evocations of the past were couched in ruthlessly satiric terms, as is the case for example with Satie and Cocteau's promotion of him.

As public life achieved a degree of normalcy in the 1920S, many writers, painters, and composers were again attracted towards the

stabilizing reentry into the mainstream of European art and a dia-

logue with the past which that return implied. Contemporary to that

tendency, however, as we have seen, was a perception that an alliance with the past might compromise creativity and that it was wise to remain a cultural orphan. The tension between freedom and order in

post-war art seemed to incite the desire for a terminology to explain it. In that atmosphere neoclassicism was transformed so that it might account for both innovation and continuity. Whatever pejorative meaning the term may have had before World War I, it was lost in

post-war polemics which sought to knit an arguably elusive terminol-

ogy and individual works into a unified stylistic fabric. It enjoyed a

9 Leigh Henry, "London Letter," Chesterian (January 1921), 371; and Jean Coc- teau, Oeuvres completes de Jean Cocteau (Geneva, 1950), IX, pp. 24-25, 30-31.

'o Georges Auric, "La musique: quelques maitres contemporains," Les ecrits nou- veaux (March 1922), 70-78.

uncommon polemic, although certainly Jean Cocteau was primarily responsible for shifting critical approval away from those composers.9

What had happened by 1918, the year of publication of Tombeau de Couperin and Le coq et l'arlequin? For the manipulators of post-war avant-garde slogans, neoclassicism characterized a style with which artists did not want to be associated. To Georges Auric, speaking for Les Six, the term had the pejorative implication of "fatigued and im-

practical forms," and he disavowed any connection with it. "Nobody takes as seriously maintained certain declarations and manifestations of which the letter and the spirit are for us equally dead. It is neces-

sary that one knows that not one of us, I think, will agree to figure- even by means of some equivocation-among the defenders of neo- classicism."lo For artists like Auric and Cocteau, the European-wide pallor of despair brought about by World War I created the image of an insurmountable wedge between the leading currents in musical

composition which preceded it and the ascendent creative impulses which followed. To many, the end of the war fed a growing percep- tion of a spirit in the arts which clearly distinguished itself from trends before 1914. Some propagandists of contemporary art tended to dis- avow any kinship with pre-war styles which they mostly regarded as 489

debilitating in one way or another. Nostalgia for the eighteenth cen-

tury was an anathema to them, and evocations of the past were couched in ruthlessly satiric terms, as is the case for example with Satie and Cocteau's promotion of him.

As public life achieved a degree of normalcy in the 1920S, many writers, painters, and composers were again attracted towards the

stabilizing reentry into the mainstream of European art and a dia-

logue with the past which that return implied. Contemporary to that

tendency, however, as we have seen, was a perception that an alliance with the past might compromise creativity and that it was wise to remain a cultural orphan. The tension between freedom and order in

post-war art seemed to incite the desire for a terminology to explain it. In that atmosphere neoclassicism was transformed so that it might account for both innovation and continuity. Whatever pejorative meaning the term may have had before World War I, it was lost in

post-war polemics which sought to knit an arguably elusive terminol-

ogy and individual works into a unified stylistic fabric. It enjoyed a

9 Leigh Henry, "London Letter," Chesterian (January 1921), 371; and Jean Coc- teau, Oeuvres completes de Jean Cocteau (Geneva, 1950), IX, pp. 24-25, 30-31.

'o Georges Auric, "La musique: quelques maitres contemporains," Les ecrits nou- veaux (March 1922), 70-78.

uncommon polemic, although certainly Jean Cocteau was primarily responsible for shifting critical approval away from those composers.9

What had happened by 1918, the year of publication of Tombeau de Couperin and Le coq et l'arlequin? For the manipulators of post-war avant-garde slogans, neoclassicism characterized a style with which artists did not want to be associated. To Georges Auric, speaking for Les Six, the term had the pejorative implication of "fatigued and im-

practical forms," and he disavowed any connection with it. "Nobody takes as seriously maintained certain declarations and manifestations of which the letter and the spirit are for us equally dead. It is neces-

sary that one knows that not one of us, I think, will agree to figure- even by means of some equivocation-among the defenders of neo- classicism."lo For artists like Auric and Cocteau, the European-wide pallor of despair brought about by World War I created the image of an insurmountable wedge between the leading currents in musical

composition which preceded it and the ascendent creative impulses which followed. To many, the end of the war fed a growing percep- tion of a spirit in the arts which clearly distinguished itself from trends before 1914. Some propagandists of contemporary art tended to dis- avow any kinship with pre-war styles which they mostly regarded as 489

debilitating in one way or another. Nostalgia for the eighteenth cen-

tury was an anathema to them, and evocations of the past were couched in ruthlessly satiric terms, as is the case for example with Satie and Cocteau's promotion of him.

As public life achieved a degree of normalcy in the 1920S, many writers, painters, and composers were again attracted towards the

stabilizing reentry into the mainstream of European art and a dia-

logue with the past which that return implied. Contemporary to that

tendency, however, as we have seen, was a perception that an alliance with the past might compromise creativity and that it was wise to remain a cultural orphan. The tension between freedom and order in

post-war art seemed to incite the desire for a terminology to explain it. In that atmosphere neoclassicism was transformed so that it might account for both innovation and continuity. Whatever pejorative meaning the term may have had before World War I, it was lost in

post-war polemics which sought to knit an arguably elusive terminol-

ogy and individual works into a unified stylistic fabric. It enjoyed a

9 Leigh Henry, "London Letter," Chesterian (January 1921), 371; and Jean Coc- teau, Oeuvres completes de Jean Cocteau (Geneva, 1950), IX, pp. 24-25, 30-31.

'o Georges Auric, "La musique: quelques maitres contemporains," Les ecrits nou- veaux (March 1922), 70-78.

uncommon polemic, although certainly Jean Cocteau was primarily responsible for shifting critical approval away from those composers.9

What had happened by 1918, the year of publication of Tombeau de Couperin and Le coq et l'arlequin? For the manipulators of post-war avant-garde slogans, neoclassicism characterized a style with which artists did not want to be associated. To Georges Auric, speaking for Les Six, the term had the pejorative implication of "fatigued and im-

practical forms," and he disavowed any connection with it. "Nobody takes as seriously maintained certain declarations and manifestations of which the letter and the spirit are for us equally dead. It is neces-

sary that one knows that not one of us, I think, will agree to figure- even by means of some equivocation-among the defenders of neo- classicism."lo For artists like Auric and Cocteau, the European-wide pallor of despair brought about by World War I created the image of an insurmountable wedge between the leading currents in musical

composition which preceded it and the ascendent creative impulses which followed. To many, the end of the war fed a growing percep- tion of a spirit in the arts which clearly distinguished itself from trends before 1914. Some propagandists of contemporary art tended to dis- avow any kinship with pre-war styles which they mostly regarded as 489

debilitating in one way or another. Nostalgia for the eighteenth cen-

tury was an anathema to them, and evocations of the past were couched in ruthlessly satiric terms, as is the case for example with Satie and Cocteau's promotion of him.

As public life achieved a degree of normalcy in the 1920S, many writers, painters, and composers were again attracted towards the

stabilizing reentry into the mainstream of European art and a dia-

logue with the past which that return implied. Contemporary to that

tendency, however, as we have seen, was a perception that an alliance with the past might compromise creativity and that it was wise to remain a cultural orphan. The tension between freedom and order in

post-war art seemed to incite the desire for a terminology to explain it. In that atmosphere neoclassicism was transformed so that it might account for both innovation and continuity. Whatever pejorative meaning the term may have had before World War I, it was lost in

post-war polemics which sought to knit an arguably elusive terminol-

ogy and individual works into a unified stylistic fabric. It enjoyed a

9 Leigh Henry, "London Letter," Chesterian (January 1921), 371; and Jean Coc- teau, Oeuvres completes de Jean Cocteau (Geneva, 1950), IX, pp. 24-25, 30-31.

'o Georges Auric, "La musique: quelques maitres contemporains," Les ecrits nou- veaux (March 1922), 70-78.

uncommon polemic, although certainly Jean Cocteau was primarily responsible for shifting critical approval away from those composers.9

What had happened by 1918, the year of publication of Tombeau de Couperin and Le coq et l'arlequin? For the manipulators of post-war avant-garde slogans, neoclassicism characterized a style with which artists did not want to be associated. To Georges Auric, speaking for Les Six, the term had the pejorative implication of "fatigued and im-

practical forms," and he disavowed any connection with it. "Nobody takes as seriously maintained certain declarations and manifestations of which the letter and the spirit are for us equally dead. It is neces-

sary that one knows that not one of us, I think, will agree to figure- even by means of some equivocation-among the defenders of neo- classicism."lo For artists like Auric and Cocteau, the European-wide pallor of despair brought about by World War I created the image of an insurmountable wedge between the leading currents in musical

composition which preceded it and the ascendent creative impulses which followed. To many, the end of the war fed a growing percep- tion of a spirit in the arts which clearly distinguished itself from trends before 1914. Some propagandists of contemporary art tended to dis- avow any kinship with pre-war styles which they mostly regarded as 489

debilitating in one way or another. Nostalgia for the eighteenth cen-

tury was an anathema to them, and evocations of the past were couched in ruthlessly satiric terms, as is the case for example with Satie and Cocteau's promotion of him.

As public life achieved a degree of normalcy in the 1920S, many writers, painters, and composers were again attracted towards the

stabilizing reentry into the mainstream of European art and a dia-

logue with the past which that return implied. Contemporary to that

tendency, however, as we have seen, was a perception that an alliance with the past might compromise creativity and that it was wise to remain a cultural orphan. The tension between freedom and order in

post-war art seemed to incite the desire for a terminology to explain it. In that atmosphere neoclassicism was transformed so that it might account for both innovation and continuity. Whatever pejorative meaning the term may have had before World War I, it was lost in

post-war polemics which sought to knit an arguably elusive terminol-

ogy and individual works into a unified stylistic fabric. It enjoyed a

9 Leigh Henry, "London Letter," Chesterian (January 1921), 371; and Jean Coc- teau, Oeuvres completes de Jean Cocteau (Geneva, 1950), IX, pp. 24-25, 30-31.

'o Georges Auric, "La musique: quelques maitres contemporains," Les ecrits nou- veaux (March 1922), 70-78.

Page 11: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

renewed life beginning in 1923 because it was associated with Stravin-

sky for the first time in that year, and that relationship would prove decisive in securing a new meaning for neoclassicism.

In a February 1923 review of a concert organized by Jean Wiener, Boris de Schloezer won the dubious distinction of being the first writer to apply the term to Stravinsky.

I envy those critics, those aestheticians who succeed in unraveling the dominant tendency, who foresee the direction to be taken, and who proclaim that we move undeniably toward a denuded, stripped- down style.... M. Wiener is personally inclined toward Stravinsky and that which one would be able to call neoclassicism, if this term had not been distorted from its original meaning.ll

The chance connection of composer and term was the first step in its rehabilitation. By August, Schloezer could assert that neoclassicism was "one of the dominant forces of the moment in music and poetry ... [whose] rigorous forms subdue and purify the emotions ... [whose] melodically simple and naive style incorporates both Stravin-

490 sky and the masters of the 18th century as in the majority of neoclassic works or those which claim to be so."12

The coincidental premiere of the Octet two months later con- firmed for its listeners the main trend in contemporary music in gen- eral and in Stravinsky in particular, although a variety of terms were tendered by reviewers. Neoclassicism was only one of many slogans circulating in intellectual circles that sought to define post-war musical tendencies. Schloezer was perhaps the most likely candidate to use it in connection with the Octet inasmuch as it was part of his rhetoric in 1923. When he wrote his review, his description of Stravinsky's aes- thetic had not changed, but he chose a new rubric, "objectivism," whereas Ernest Ansermet opted for "realism," and the new classicism suited Roland-Manuel. Although the specific "isms" chosen by critics

appear random, words like "linear" and "contrapuntal" surfaced reg- ularly. For Roland-Manuel, the composer's polyphony resulted from the unexpected superimposition of "wrong" pitches, intervals or chords. For Nadia Boulanger, Stravinsky's "constructivism, his pre- cise, simple and classic lines furnish that satisfaction of the spirit and the eyes which recognize the passions of counterpoint, for those who

' Boris de Schloezer, "La musique," La revue contemporaine (February 1923), 245- 48.

12 Boris de Schloezer, "La saison musicale," Nouvelle revuefrancaise (August 1923), 240-41.

renewed life beginning in 1923 because it was associated with Stravin-

sky for the first time in that year, and that relationship would prove decisive in securing a new meaning for neoclassicism.

In a February 1923 review of a concert organized by Jean Wiener, Boris de Schloezer won the dubious distinction of being the first writer to apply the term to Stravinsky.

I envy those critics, those aestheticians who succeed in unraveling the dominant tendency, who foresee the direction to be taken, and who proclaim that we move undeniably toward a denuded, stripped- down style.... M. Wiener is personally inclined toward Stravinsky and that which one would be able to call neoclassicism, if this term had not been distorted from its original meaning.ll

The chance connection of composer and term was the first step in its rehabilitation. By August, Schloezer could assert that neoclassicism was "one of the dominant forces of the moment in music and poetry ... [whose] rigorous forms subdue and purify the emotions ... [whose] melodically simple and naive style incorporates both Stravin-

490 sky and the masters of the 18th century as in the majority of neoclassic works or those which claim to be so."12

The coincidental premiere of the Octet two months later con- firmed for its listeners the main trend in contemporary music in gen- eral and in Stravinsky in particular, although a variety of terms were tendered by reviewers. Neoclassicism was only one of many slogans circulating in intellectual circles that sought to define post-war musical tendencies. Schloezer was perhaps the most likely candidate to use it in connection with the Octet inasmuch as it was part of his rhetoric in 1923. When he wrote his review, his description of Stravinsky's aes- thetic had not changed, but he chose a new rubric, "objectivism," whereas Ernest Ansermet opted for "realism," and the new classicism suited Roland-Manuel. Although the specific "isms" chosen by critics

appear random, words like "linear" and "contrapuntal" surfaced reg- ularly. For Roland-Manuel, the composer's polyphony resulted from the unexpected superimposition of "wrong" pitches, intervals or chords. For Nadia Boulanger, Stravinsky's "constructivism, his pre- cise, simple and classic lines furnish that satisfaction of the spirit and the eyes which recognize the passions of counterpoint, for those who

' Boris de Schloezer, "La musique," La revue contemporaine (February 1923), 245- 48.

12 Boris de Schloezer, "La saison musicale," Nouvelle revuefrancaise (August 1923), 240-41.

renewed life beginning in 1923 because it was associated with Stravin-

sky for the first time in that year, and that relationship would prove decisive in securing a new meaning for neoclassicism.

In a February 1923 review of a concert organized by Jean Wiener, Boris de Schloezer won the dubious distinction of being the first writer to apply the term to Stravinsky.

I envy those critics, those aestheticians who succeed in unraveling the dominant tendency, who foresee the direction to be taken, and who proclaim that we move undeniably toward a denuded, stripped- down style.... M. Wiener is personally inclined toward Stravinsky and that which one would be able to call neoclassicism, if this term had not been distorted from its original meaning.ll

The chance connection of composer and term was the first step in its rehabilitation. By August, Schloezer could assert that neoclassicism was "one of the dominant forces of the moment in music and poetry ... [whose] rigorous forms subdue and purify the emotions ... [whose] melodically simple and naive style incorporates both Stravin-

490 sky and the masters of the 18th century as in the majority of neoclassic works or those which claim to be so."12

The coincidental premiere of the Octet two months later con- firmed for its listeners the main trend in contemporary music in gen- eral and in Stravinsky in particular, although a variety of terms were tendered by reviewers. Neoclassicism was only one of many slogans circulating in intellectual circles that sought to define post-war musical tendencies. Schloezer was perhaps the most likely candidate to use it in connection with the Octet inasmuch as it was part of his rhetoric in 1923. When he wrote his review, his description of Stravinsky's aes- thetic had not changed, but he chose a new rubric, "objectivism," whereas Ernest Ansermet opted for "realism," and the new classicism suited Roland-Manuel. Although the specific "isms" chosen by critics

appear random, words like "linear" and "contrapuntal" surfaced reg- ularly. For Roland-Manuel, the composer's polyphony resulted from the unexpected superimposition of "wrong" pitches, intervals or chords. For Nadia Boulanger, Stravinsky's "constructivism, his pre- cise, simple and classic lines furnish that satisfaction of the spirit and the eyes which recognize the passions of counterpoint, for those who

' Boris de Schloezer, "La musique," La revue contemporaine (February 1923), 245- 48.

12 Boris de Schloezer, "La saison musicale," Nouvelle revuefrancaise (August 1923), 240-41.

renewed life beginning in 1923 because it was associated with Stravin-

sky for the first time in that year, and that relationship would prove decisive in securing a new meaning for neoclassicism.

In a February 1923 review of a concert organized by Jean Wiener, Boris de Schloezer won the dubious distinction of being the first writer to apply the term to Stravinsky.

I envy those critics, those aestheticians who succeed in unraveling the dominant tendency, who foresee the direction to be taken, and who proclaim that we move undeniably toward a denuded, stripped- down style.... M. Wiener is personally inclined toward Stravinsky and that which one would be able to call neoclassicism, if this term had not been distorted from its original meaning.ll

The chance connection of composer and term was the first step in its rehabilitation. By August, Schloezer could assert that neoclassicism was "one of the dominant forces of the moment in music and poetry ... [whose] rigorous forms subdue and purify the emotions ... [whose] melodically simple and naive style incorporates both Stravin-

490 sky and the masters of the 18th century as in the majority of neoclassic works or those which claim to be so."12

The coincidental premiere of the Octet two months later con- firmed for its listeners the main trend in contemporary music in gen- eral and in Stravinsky in particular, although a variety of terms were tendered by reviewers. Neoclassicism was only one of many slogans circulating in intellectual circles that sought to define post-war musical tendencies. Schloezer was perhaps the most likely candidate to use it in connection with the Octet inasmuch as it was part of his rhetoric in 1923. When he wrote his review, his description of Stravinsky's aes- thetic had not changed, but he chose a new rubric, "objectivism," whereas Ernest Ansermet opted for "realism," and the new classicism suited Roland-Manuel. Although the specific "isms" chosen by critics

appear random, words like "linear" and "contrapuntal" surfaced reg- ularly. For Roland-Manuel, the composer's polyphony resulted from the unexpected superimposition of "wrong" pitches, intervals or chords. For Nadia Boulanger, Stravinsky's "constructivism, his pre- cise, simple and classic lines furnish that satisfaction of the spirit and the eyes which recognize the passions of counterpoint, for those who

' Boris de Schloezer, "La musique," La revue contemporaine (February 1923), 245- 48.

12 Boris de Schloezer, "La saison musicale," Nouvelle revuefrancaise (August 1923), 240-41.

renewed life beginning in 1923 because it was associated with Stravin-

sky for the first time in that year, and that relationship would prove decisive in securing a new meaning for neoclassicism.

In a February 1923 review of a concert organized by Jean Wiener, Boris de Schloezer won the dubious distinction of being the first writer to apply the term to Stravinsky.

I envy those critics, those aestheticians who succeed in unraveling the dominant tendency, who foresee the direction to be taken, and who proclaim that we move undeniably toward a denuded, stripped- down style.... M. Wiener is personally inclined toward Stravinsky and that which one would be able to call neoclassicism, if this term had not been distorted from its original meaning.ll

The chance connection of composer and term was the first step in its rehabilitation. By August, Schloezer could assert that neoclassicism was "one of the dominant forces of the moment in music and poetry ... [whose] rigorous forms subdue and purify the emotions ... [whose] melodically simple and naive style incorporates both Stravin-

490 sky and the masters of the 18th century as in the majority of neoclassic works or those which claim to be so."12

The coincidental premiere of the Octet two months later con- firmed for its listeners the main trend in contemporary music in gen- eral and in Stravinsky in particular, although a variety of terms were tendered by reviewers. Neoclassicism was only one of many slogans circulating in intellectual circles that sought to define post-war musical tendencies. Schloezer was perhaps the most likely candidate to use it in connection with the Octet inasmuch as it was part of his rhetoric in 1923. When he wrote his review, his description of Stravinsky's aes- thetic had not changed, but he chose a new rubric, "objectivism," whereas Ernest Ansermet opted for "realism," and the new classicism suited Roland-Manuel. Although the specific "isms" chosen by critics

appear random, words like "linear" and "contrapuntal" surfaced reg- ularly. For Roland-Manuel, the composer's polyphony resulted from the unexpected superimposition of "wrong" pitches, intervals or chords. For Nadia Boulanger, Stravinsky's "constructivism, his pre- cise, simple and classic lines furnish that satisfaction of the spirit and the eyes which recognize the passions of counterpoint, for those who

' Boris de Schloezer, "La musique," La revue contemporaine (February 1923), 245- 48.

12 Boris de Schloezer, "La saison musicale," Nouvelle revuefrancaise (August 1923), 240-41.

renewed life beginning in 1923 because it was associated with Stravin-

sky for the first time in that year, and that relationship would prove decisive in securing a new meaning for neoclassicism.

In a February 1923 review of a concert organized by Jean Wiener, Boris de Schloezer won the dubious distinction of being the first writer to apply the term to Stravinsky.

I envy those critics, those aestheticians who succeed in unraveling the dominant tendency, who foresee the direction to be taken, and who proclaim that we move undeniably toward a denuded, stripped- down style.... M. Wiener is personally inclined toward Stravinsky and that which one would be able to call neoclassicism, if this term had not been distorted from its original meaning.ll

The chance connection of composer and term was the first step in its rehabilitation. By August, Schloezer could assert that neoclassicism was "one of the dominant forces of the moment in music and poetry ... [whose] rigorous forms subdue and purify the emotions ... [whose] melodically simple and naive style incorporates both Stravin-

490 sky and the masters of the 18th century as in the majority of neoclassic works or those which claim to be so."12

The coincidental premiere of the Octet two months later con- firmed for its listeners the main trend in contemporary music in gen- eral and in Stravinsky in particular, although a variety of terms were tendered by reviewers. Neoclassicism was only one of many slogans circulating in intellectual circles that sought to define post-war musical tendencies. Schloezer was perhaps the most likely candidate to use it in connection with the Octet inasmuch as it was part of his rhetoric in 1923. When he wrote his review, his description of Stravinsky's aes- thetic had not changed, but he chose a new rubric, "objectivism," whereas Ernest Ansermet opted for "realism," and the new classicism suited Roland-Manuel. Although the specific "isms" chosen by critics

appear random, words like "linear" and "contrapuntal" surfaced reg- ularly. For Roland-Manuel, the composer's polyphony resulted from the unexpected superimposition of "wrong" pitches, intervals or chords. For Nadia Boulanger, Stravinsky's "constructivism, his pre- cise, simple and classic lines furnish that satisfaction of the spirit and the eyes which recognize the passions of counterpoint, for those who

' Boris de Schloezer, "La musique," La revue contemporaine (February 1923), 245- 48.

12 Boris de Schloezer, "La saison musicale," Nouvelle revuefrancaise (August 1923), 240-41.

Page 12: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY

love to reread the old masters of the Renaissance and J. S. Bach."l3 Reviews of the Octet were not the first ones to dub Stravinsky's music as objective, constructivist, architectural, or even to invoke Bach. The Octet rather furnished critics with an easy confirmation of the central direction in modern music. All that the rhetoric lacked was a single term to symbolize that tendency. In 1923, neoclassicism was one of several expressions that served this function.

Stravinsky seemed sympathetic to this view of his music to judge by his contemporary pronouncements. In the December 1923 issue of La revue musicale, devoted entirely to him, he stated: "My work is architectonic and not anecdotal; an objective, not a descriptive con- struction." One month later he told a Belgian interviewer of his pas- sion for counterpoint: "It is the architectural base of all music, regu- lating and guiding all composition. Without counterpoint, melody loses its consistency and rhythm." That same month there appeared in The Arts his essay, "Some Ideas about my Octuor." This frequently reproduced article need not be quoted here.14 It is sufficient to ob- serve that the composer's statement about his most recent work shared a common vocabulary with those writers who might be con- sidered his advocates. Stravinsky realized the benefit of using literary 491

acquaintances as conduits to the public, producing a symbiotic rela-

tionship between himself and several sympathetic critics; acolytes could enjoy an intimacy with a musician of vast creative gifts while he could rely on their keeping his name in the vanguard of contempo- rary art.

That both neoclassicism and new classicism were associated with

Stravinsky in 1923 reinforces the impression that by this time the terms defined interchangeable aesthetic premises in contemporary music. By 1924 the language which Roland-Manuel used to define the new classicism in connection with the Concerto for Piano and Winds had been endemic to French and English critical prose in which, for Andre Schaffner, "the words anti-romanticism and classical discipline have been ceaselessly on one's lips," and in which, for Jean Bloch, "universal consent has already agreed on the man who symbolizes the

13 Boris de Schloezer, "Igor Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 132- 33; Roland-Manuel, "La quinzaine musicale-l'octuor d'Igor Stravinsky," L'eclair (29 October 1923), 3; and Nadia Boulanger, "Concerts Koussevitsky," Le monde musical (November 1923), 365.

14 Michel Georges-Michel, "Sur Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 147; Le matin (Antwerp), o1 January 1924, in Robert Craft, Igor and Catherine Stravinsky: A Photograph Album, 1921 to 1971 (New York, 1982), p. 14; and Eric Walter White, Stravinsky: The Composer and his Works (Berkeley, 1979), pp. 574-77.

love to reread the old masters of the Renaissance and J. S. Bach."l3 Reviews of the Octet were not the first ones to dub Stravinsky's music as objective, constructivist, architectural, or even to invoke Bach. The Octet rather furnished critics with an easy confirmation of the central direction in modern music. All that the rhetoric lacked was a single term to symbolize that tendency. In 1923, neoclassicism was one of several expressions that served this function.

Stravinsky seemed sympathetic to this view of his music to judge by his contemporary pronouncements. In the December 1923 issue of La revue musicale, devoted entirely to him, he stated: "My work is architectonic and not anecdotal; an objective, not a descriptive con- struction." One month later he told a Belgian interviewer of his pas- sion for counterpoint: "It is the architectural base of all music, regu- lating and guiding all composition. Without counterpoint, melody loses its consistency and rhythm." That same month there appeared in The Arts his essay, "Some Ideas about my Octuor." This frequently reproduced article need not be quoted here.14 It is sufficient to ob- serve that the composer's statement about his most recent work shared a common vocabulary with those writers who might be con- sidered his advocates. Stravinsky realized the benefit of using literary 491

acquaintances as conduits to the public, producing a symbiotic rela-

tionship between himself and several sympathetic critics; acolytes could enjoy an intimacy with a musician of vast creative gifts while he could rely on their keeping his name in the vanguard of contempo- rary art.

That both neoclassicism and new classicism were associated with

Stravinsky in 1923 reinforces the impression that by this time the terms defined interchangeable aesthetic premises in contemporary music. By 1924 the language which Roland-Manuel used to define the new classicism in connection with the Concerto for Piano and Winds had been endemic to French and English critical prose in which, for Andre Schaffner, "the words anti-romanticism and classical discipline have been ceaselessly on one's lips," and in which, for Jean Bloch, "universal consent has already agreed on the man who symbolizes the

13 Boris de Schloezer, "Igor Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 132- 33; Roland-Manuel, "La quinzaine musicale-l'octuor d'Igor Stravinsky," L'eclair (29 October 1923), 3; and Nadia Boulanger, "Concerts Koussevitsky," Le monde musical (November 1923), 365.

14 Michel Georges-Michel, "Sur Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 147; Le matin (Antwerp), o1 January 1924, in Robert Craft, Igor and Catherine Stravinsky: A Photograph Album, 1921 to 1971 (New York, 1982), p. 14; and Eric Walter White, Stravinsky: The Composer and his Works (Berkeley, 1979), pp. 574-77.

love to reread the old masters of the Renaissance and J. S. Bach."l3 Reviews of the Octet were not the first ones to dub Stravinsky's music as objective, constructivist, architectural, or even to invoke Bach. The Octet rather furnished critics with an easy confirmation of the central direction in modern music. All that the rhetoric lacked was a single term to symbolize that tendency. In 1923, neoclassicism was one of several expressions that served this function.

Stravinsky seemed sympathetic to this view of his music to judge by his contemporary pronouncements. In the December 1923 issue of La revue musicale, devoted entirely to him, he stated: "My work is architectonic and not anecdotal; an objective, not a descriptive con- struction." One month later he told a Belgian interviewer of his pas- sion for counterpoint: "It is the architectural base of all music, regu- lating and guiding all composition. Without counterpoint, melody loses its consistency and rhythm." That same month there appeared in The Arts his essay, "Some Ideas about my Octuor." This frequently reproduced article need not be quoted here.14 It is sufficient to ob- serve that the composer's statement about his most recent work shared a common vocabulary with those writers who might be con- sidered his advocates. Stravinsky realized the benefit of using literary 491

acquaintances as conduits to the public, producing a symbiotic rela-

tionship between himself and several sympathetic critics; acolytes could enjoy an intimacy with a musician of vast creative gifts while he could rely on their keeping his name in the vanguard of contempo- rary art.

That both neoclassicism and new classicism were associated with

Stravinsky in 1923 reinforces the impression that by this time the terms defined interchangeable aesthetic premises in contemporary music. By 1924 the language which Roland-Manuel used to define the new classicism in connection with the Concerto for Piano and Winds had been endemic to French and English critical prose in which, for Andre Schaffner, "the words anti-romanticism and classical discipline have been ceaselessly on one's lips," and in which, for Jean Bloch, "universal consent has already agreed on the man who symbolizes the

13 Boris de Schloezer, "Igor Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 132- 33; Roland-Manuel, "La quinzaine musicale-l'octuor d'Igor Stravinsky," L'eclair (29 October 1923), 3; and Nadia Boulanger, "Concerts Koussevitsky," Le monde musical (November 1923), 365.

14 Michel Georges-Michel, "Sur Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 147; Le matin (Antwerp), o1 January 1924, in Robert Craft, Igor and Catherine Stravinsky: A Photograph Album, 1921 to 1971 (New York, 1982), p. 14; and Eric Walter White, Stravinsky: The Composer and his Works (Berkeley, 1979), pp. 574-77.

love to reread the old masters of the Renaissance and J. S. Bach."l3 Reviews of the Octet were not the first ones to dub Stravinsky's music as objective, constructivist, architectural, or even to invoke Bach. The Octet rather furnished critics with an easy confirmation of the central direction in modern music. All that the rhetoric lacked was a single term to symbolize that tendency. In 1923, neoclassicism was one of several expressions that served this function.

Stravinsky seemed sympathetic to this view of his music to judge by his contemporary pronouncements. In the December 1923 issue of La revue musicale, devoted entirely to him, he stated: "My work is architectonic and not anecdotal; an objective, not a descriptive con- struction." One month later he told a Belgian interviewer of his pas- sion for counterpoint: "It is the architectural base of all music, regu- lating and guiding all composition. Without counterpoint, melody loses its consistency and rhythm." That same month there appeared in The Arts his essay, "Some Ideas about my Octuor." This frequently reproduced article need not be quoted here.14 It is sufficient to ob- serve that the composer's statement about his most recent work shared a common vocabulary with those writers who might be con- sidered his advocates. Stravinsky realized the benefit of using literary 491

acquaintances as conduits to the public, producing a symbiotic rela-

tionship between himself and several sympathetic critics; acolytes could enjoy an intimacy with a musician of vast creative gifts while he could rely on their keeping his name in the vanguard of contempo- rary art.

That both neoclassicism and new classicism were associated with

Stravinsky in 1923 reinforces the impression that by this time the terms defined interchangeable aesthetic premises in contemporary music. By 1924 the language which Roland-Manuel used to define the new classicism in connection with the Concerto for Piano and Winds had been endemic to French and English critical prose in which, for Andre Schaffner, "the words anti-romanticism and classical discipline have been ceaselessly on one's lips," and in which, for Jean Bloch, "universal consent has already agreed on the man who symbolizes the

13 Boris de Schloezer, "Igor Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 132- 33; Roland-Manuel, "La quinzaine musicale-l'octuor d'Igor Stravinsky," L'eclair (29 October 1923), 3; and Nadia Boulanger, "Concerts Koussevitsky," Le monde musical (November 1923), 365.

14 Michel Georges-Michel, "Sur Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 147; Le matin (Antwerp), o1 January 1924, in Robert Craft, Igor and Catherine Stravinsky: A Photograph Album, 1921 to 1971 (New York, 1982), p. 14; and Eric Walter White, Stravinsky: The Composer and his Works (Berkeley, 1979), pp. 574-77.

love to reread the old masters of the Renaissance and J. S. Bach."l3 Reviews of the Octet were not the first ones to dub Stravinsky's music as objective, constructivist, architectural, or even to invoke Bach. The Octet rather furnished critics with an easy confirmation of the central direction in modern music. All that the rhetoric lacked was a single term to symbolize that tendency. In 1923, neoclassicism was one of several expressions that served this function.

Stravinsky seemed sympathetic to this view of his music to judge by his contemporary pronouncements. In the December 1923 issue of La revue musicale, devoted entirely to him, he stated: "My work is architectonic and not anecdotal; an objective, not a descriptive con- struction." One month later he told a Belgian interviewer of his pas- sion for counterpoint: "It is the architectural base of all music, regu- lating and guiding all composition. Without counterpoint, melody loses its consistency and rhythm." That same month there appeared in The Arts his essay, "Some Ideas about my Octuor." This frequently reproduced article need not be quoted here.14 It is sufficient to ob- serve that the composer's statement about his most recent work shared a common vocabulary with those writers who might be con- sidered his advocates. Stravinsky realized the benefit of using literary 491

acquaintances as conduits to the public, producing a symbiotic rela-

tionship between himself and several sympathetic critics; acolytes could enjoy an intimacy with a musician of vast creative gifts while he could rely on their keeping his name in the vanguard of contempo- rary art.

That both neoclassicism and new classicism were associated with

Stravinsky in 1923 reinforces the impression that by this time the terms defined interchangeable aesthetic premises in contemporary music. By 1924 the language which Roland-Manuel used to define the new classicism in connection with the Concerto for Piano and Winds had been endemic to French and English critical prose in which, for Andre Schaffner, "the words anti-romanticism and classical discipline have been ceaselessly on one's lips," and in which, for Jean Bloch, "universal consent has already agreed on the man who symbolizes the

13 Boris de Schloezer, "Igor Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 132- 33; Roland-Manuel, "La quinzaine musicale-l'octuor d'Igor Stravinsky," L'eclair (29 October 1923), 3; and Nadia Boulanger, "Concerts Koussevitsky," Le monde musical (November 1923), 365.

14 Michel Georges-Michel, "Sur Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 147; Le matin (Antwerp), o1 January 1924, in Robert Craft, Igor and Catherine Stravinsky: A Photograph Album, 1921 to 1971 (New York, 1982), p. 14; and Eric Walter White, Stravinsky: The Composer and his Works (Berkeley, 1979), pp. 574-77.

love to reread the old masters of the Renaissance and J. S. Bach."l3 Reviews of the Octet were not the first ones to dub Stravinsky's music as objective, constructivist, architectural, or even to invoke Bach. The Octet rather furnished critics with an easy confirmation of the central direction in modern music. All that the rhetoric lacked was a single term to symbolize that tendency. In 1923, neoclassicism was one of several expressions that served this function.

Stravinsky seemed sympathetic to this view of his music to judge by his contemporary pronouncements. In the December 1923 issue of La revue musicale, devoted entirely to him, he stated: "My work is architectonic and not anecdotal; an objective, not a descriptive con- struction." One month later he told a Belgian interviewer of his pas- sion for counterpoint: "It is the architectural base of all music, regu- lating and guiding all composition. Without counterpoint, melody loses its consistency and rhythm." That same month there appeared in The Arts his essay, "Some Ideas about my Octuor." This frequently reproduced article need not be quoted here.14 It is sufficient to ob- serve that the composer's statement about his most recent work shared a common vocabulary with those writers who might be con- sidered his advocates. Stravinsky realized the benefit of using literary 491

acquaintances as conduits to the public, producing a symbiotic rela-

tionship between himself and several sympathetic critics; acolytes could enjoy an intimacy with a musician of vast creative gifts while he could rely on their keeping his name in the vanguard of contempo- rary art.

That both neoclassicism and new classicism were associated with

Stravinsky in 1923 reinforces the impression that by this time the terms defined interchangeable aesthetic premises in contemporary music. By 1924 the language which Roland-Manuel used to define the new classicism in connection with the Concerto for Piano and Winds had been endemic to French and English critical prose in which, for Andre Schaffner, "the words anti-romanticism and classical discipline have been ceaselessly on one's lips," and in which, for Jean Bloch, "universal consent has already agreed on the man who symbolizes the

13 Boris de Schloezer, "Igor Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 132- 33; Roland-Manuel, "La quinzaine musicale-l'octuor d'Igor Stravinsky," L'eclair (29 October 1923), 3; and Nadia Boulanger, "Concerts Koussevitsky," Le monde musical (November 1923), 365.

14 Michel Georges-Michel, "Sur Stravinsky," La revue musicale (December 1923), 147; Le matin (Antwerp), o1 January 1924, in Robert Craft, Igor and Catherine Stravinsky: A Photograph Album, 1921 to 1971 (New York, 1982), p. 14; and Eric Walter White, Stravinsky: The Composer and his Works (Berkeley, 1979), pp. 574-77.

Page 13: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

degermanization of music: Stravinsky." By 1924 the composer him- self recognized the developing stages of a cliche: writing to Ramuz on

23 July, in the wake of reviews of the Concerto, he could take for

granted that the poet would know what he meant by "my so-called classical works."'5

The preceding study of the genesis of the word neoclassicism has revealed that its meaning leapfrogged from a derogatory term before World War I to one of approbation in the 1920S. This transformation was due to the competition in the early twentieth century between two

opposing ways of thinking about past time and its relics, history and

memory.16 With regard to the former, the nineteenth century in- vented the concept of history in which music was not merely accorded

respect nor was subject to quotation, and was not just worthy of study nor of assimilation into contemporary composition. This view of a

homogenous, collective, public, and uniform past demanded that art- ists confront and relate themselves to a hitherto insular tradition. By the end of the century, a look back brought with it the realization that the history of instrumental music in particular was German. That awareness was especially keen in France, a country which boasted of

492 its otherwise rich nineteenth-century traditions in literature and the beaux arts. Living in a European milieu which cast its most beloved monuments in a Germanic lattice, and in which political tensions and nationalist insecurities tended to skew attitudes toward culture, French musicians were keen to devise a terminology that might but- tress their notions of artistic parity (at first) and (later) of superiority. The invention of the terms neoclassicism and new classicism, what- ever their semantic fineness, supplied a convenient code by which

composers could put forward aesthetic ideas based upon a nostalgic evocation of a moribund style.

If the term neoclassicism arose in part from the coalescence of historicism and nationalism generated by composers in the nineteenth century, their artistic progeny in the twentieth century inherited the

perception that they were obliged to relate themselves to the history created by their forebears. By the twentieth century, however, the sense of a uniform tradition had begun to disintegrate. Whatever faith many had placed in the idea of a uniform and public conception

15 Roland-Manuel, "Concerto pour le piano, de Stravinsky," Revue Pleyel (15 July 1924), 27; Andre Schaffner, "Concerts divers," Le menestrel (30 May 1924), 248; Jean Bloch, "Une insurrection contre la sensibilite," Le monde musical (September 1924), 303-4; and Igor Stravinsky, Selected Correspondence, ed. Robert Craft, (New York, 1982-85) III, p. 83. i6

Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space (Cambridge, MA, 1983), p. 61; and Raymond Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge, 1985), p. 187.

degermanization of music: Stravinsky." By 1924 the composer him- self recognized the developing stages of a cliche: writing to Ramuz on

23 July, in the wake of reviews of the Concerto, he could take for

granted that the poet would know what he meant by "my so-called classical works."'5

The preceding study of the genesis of the word neoclassicism has revealed that its meaning leapfrogged from a derogatory term before World War I to one of approbation in the 1920S. This transformation was due to the competition in the early twentieth century between two

opposing ways of thinking about past time and its relics, history and

memory.16 With regard to the former, the nineteenth century in- vented the concept of history in which music was not merely accorded

respect nor was subject to quotation, and was not just worthy of study nor of assimilation into contemporary composition. This view of a

homogenous, collective, public, and uniform past demanded that art- ists confront and relate themselves to a hitherto insular tradition. By the end of the century, a look back brought with it the realization that the history of instrumental music in particular was German. That awareness was especially keen in France, a country which boasted of

492 its otherwise rich nineteenth-century traditions in literature and the beaux arts. Living in a European milieu which cast its most beloved monuments in a Germanic lattice, and in which political tensions and nationalist insecurities tended to skew attitudes toward culture, French musicians were keen to devise a terminology that might but- tress their notions of artistic parity (at first) and (later) of superiority. The invention of the terms neoclassicism and new classicism, what- ever their semantic fineness, supplied a convenient code by which

composers could put forward aesthetic ideas based upon a nostalgic evocation of a moribund style.

If the term neoclassicism arose in part from the coalescence of historicism and nationalism generated by composers in the nineteenth century, their artistic progeny in the twentieth century inherited the

perception that they were obliged to relate themselves to the history created by their forebears. By the twentieth century, however, the sense of a uniform tradition had begun to disintegrate. Whatever faith many had placed in the idea of a uniform and public conception

15 Roland-Manuel, "Concerto pour le piano, de Stravinsky," Revue Pleyel (15 July 1924), 27; Andre Schaffner, "Concerts divers," Le menestrel (30 May 1924), 248; Jean Bloch, "Une insurrection contre la sensibilite," Le monde musical (September 1924), 303-4; and Igor Stravinsky, Selected Correspondence, ed. Robert Craft, (New York, 1982-85) III, p. 83. i6

Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space (Cambridge, MA, 1983), p. 61; and Raymond Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge, 1985), p. 187.

degermanization of music: Stravinsky." By 1924 the composer him- self recognized the developing stages of a cliche: writing to Ramuz on

23 July, in the wake of reviews of the Concerto, he could take for

granted that the poet would know what he meant by "my so-called classical works."'5

The preceding study of the genesis of the word neoclassicism has revealed that its meaning leapfrogged from a derogatory term before World War I to one of approbation in the 1920S. This transformation was due to the competition in the early twentieth century between two

opposing ways of thinking about past time and its relics, history and

memory.16 With regard to the former, the nineteenth century in- vented the concept of history in which music was not merely accorded

respect nor was subject to quotation, and was not just worthy of study nor of assimilation into contemporary composition. This view of a

homogenous, collective, public, and uniform past demanded that art- ists confront and relate themselves to a hitherto insular tradition. By the end of the century, a look back brought with it the realization that the history of instrumental music in particular was German. That awareness was especially keen in France, a country which boasted of

492 its otherwise rich nineteenth-century traditions in literature and the beaux arts. Living in a European milieu which cast its most beloved monuments in a Germanic lattice, and in which political tensions and nationalist insecurities tended to skew attitudes toward culture, French musicians were keen to devise a terminology that might but- tress their notions of artistic parity (at first) and (later) of superiority. The invention of the terms neoclassicism and new classicism, what- ever their semantic fineness, supplied a convenient code by which

composers could put forward aesthetic ideas based upon a nostalgic evocation of a moribund style.

If the term neoclassicism arose in part from the coalescence of historicism and nationalism generated by composers in the nineteenth century, their artistic progeny in the twentieth century inherited the

perception that they were obliged to relate themselves to the history created by their forebears. By the twentieth century, however, the sense of a uniform tradition had begun to disintegrate. Whatever faith many had placed in the idea of a uniform and public conception

15 Roland-Manuel, "Concerto pour le piano, de Stravinsky," Revue Pleyel (15 July 1924), 27; Andre Schaffner, "Concerts divers," Le menestrel (30 May 1924), 248; Jean Bloch, "Une insurrection contre la sensibilite," Le monde musical (September 1924), 303-4; and Igor Stravinsky, Selected Correspondence, ed. Robert Craft, (New York, 1982-85) III, p. 83. i6

Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space (Cambridge, MA, 1983), p. 61; and Raymond Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge, 1985), p. 187.

degermanization of music: Stravinsky." By 1924 the composer him- self recognized the developing stages of a cliche: writing to Ramuz on

23 July, in the wake of reviews of the Concerto, he could take for

granted that the poet would know what he meant by "my so-called classical works."'5

The preceding study of the genesis of the word neoclassicism has revealed that its meaning leapfrogged from a derogatory term before World War I to one of approbation in the 1920S. This transformation was due to the competition in the early twentieth century between two

opposing ways of thinking about past time and its relics, history and

memory.16 With regard to the former, the nineteenth century in- vented the concept of history in which music was not merely accorded

respect nor was subject to quotation, and was not just worthy of study nor of assimilation into contemporary composition. This view of a

homogenous, collective, public, and uniform past demanded that art- ists confront and relate themselves to a hitherto insular tradition. By the end of the century, a look back brought with it the realization that the history of instrumental music in particular was German. That awareness was especially keen in France, a country which boasted of

492 its otherwise rich nineteenth-century traditions in literature and the beaux arts. Living in a European milieu which cast its most beloved monuments in a Germanic lattice, and in which political tensions and nationalist insecurities tended to skew attitudes toward culture, French musicians were keen to devise a terminology that might but- tress their notions of artistic parity (at first) and (later) of superiority. The invention of the terms neoclassicism and new classicism, what- ever their semantic fineness, supplied a convenient code by which

composers could put forward aesthetic ideas based upon a nostalgic evocation of a moribund style.

If the term neoclassicism arose in part from the coalescence of historicism and nationalism generated by composers in the nineteenth century, their artistic progeny in the twentieth century inherited the

perception that they were obliged to relate themselves to the history created by their forebears. By the twentieth century, however, the sense of a uniform tradition had begun to disintegrate. Whatever faith many had placed in the idea of a uniform and public conception

15 Roland-Manuel, "Concerto pour le piano, de Stravinsky," Revue Pleyel (15 July 1924), 27; Andre Schaffner, "Concerts divers," Le menestrel (30 May 1924), 248; Jean Bloch, "Une insurrection contre la sensibilite," Le monde musical (September 1924), 303-4; and Igor Stravinsky, Selected Correspondence, ed. Robert Craft, (New York, 1982-85) III, p. 83. i6

Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space (Cambridge, MA, 1983), p. 61; and Raymond Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge, 1985), p. 187.

degermanization of music: Stravinsky." By 1924 the composer him- self recognized the developing stages of a cliche: writing to Ramuz on

23 July, in the wake of reviews of the Concerto, he could take for

granted that the poet would know what he meant by "my so-called classical works."'5

The preceding study of the genesis of the word neoclassicism has revealed that its meaning leapfrogged from a derogatory term before World War I to one of approbation in the 1920S. This transformation was due to the competition in the early twentieth century between two

opposing ways of thinking about past time and its relics, history and

memory.16 With regard to the former, the nineteenth century in- vented the concept of history in which music was not merely accorded

respect nor was subject to quotation, and was not just worthy of study nor of assimilation into contemporary composition. This view of a

homogenous, collective, public, and uniform past demanded that art- ists confront and relate themselves to a hitherto insular tradition. By the end of the century, a look back brought with it the realization that the history of instrumental music in particular was German. That awareness was especially keen in France, a country which boasted of

492 its otherwise rich nineteenth-century traditions in literature and the beaux arts. Living in a European milieu which cast its most beloved monuments in a Germanic lattice, and in which political tensions and nationalist insecurities tended to skew attitudes toward culture, French musicians were keen to devise a terminology that might but- tress their notions of artistic parity (at first) and (later) of superiority. The invention of the terms neoclassicism and new classicism, what- ever their semantic fineness, supplied a convenient code by which

composers could put forward aesthetic ideas based upon a nostalgic evocation of a moribund style.

If the term neoclassicism arose in part from the coalescence of historicism and nationalism generated by composers in the nineteenth century, their artistic progeny in the twentieth century inherited the

perception that they were obliged to relate themselves to the history created by their forebears. By the twentieth century, however, the sense of a uniform tradition had begun to disintegrate. Whatever faith many had placed in the idea of a uniform and public conception

15 Roland-Manuel, "Concerto pour le piano, de Stravinsky," Revue Pleyel (15 July 1924), 27; Andre Schaffner, "Concerts divers," Le menestrel (30 May 1924), 248; Jean Bloch, "Une insurrection contre la sensibilite," Le monde musical (September 1924), 303-4; and Igor Stravinsky, Selected Correspondence, ed. Robert Craft, (New York, 1982-85) III, p. 83. i6

Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space (Cambridge, MA, 1983), p. 61; and Raymond Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge, 1985), p. 187.

degermanization of music: Stravinsky." By 1924 the composer him- self recognized the developing stages of a cliche: writing to Ramuz on

23 July, in the wake of reviews of the Concerto, he could take for

granted that the poet would know what he meant by "my so-called classical works."'5

The preceding study of the genesis of the word neoclassicism has revealed that its meaning leapfrogged from a derogatory term before World War I to one of approbation in the 1920S. This transformation was due to the competition in the early twentieth century between two

opposing ways of thinking about past time and its relics, history and

memory.16 With regard to the former, the nineteenth century in- vented the concept of history in which music was not merely accorded

respect nor was subject to quotation, and was not just worthy of study nor of assimilation into contemporary composition. This view of a

homogenous, collective, public, and uniform past demanded that art- ists confront and relate themselves to a hitherto insular tradition. By the end of the century, a look back brought with it the realization that the history of instrumental music in particular was German. That awareness was especially keen in France, a country which boasted of

492 its otherwise rich nineteenth-century traditions in literature and the beaux arts. Living in a European milieu which cast its most beloved monuments in a Germanic lattice, and in which political tensions and nationalist insecurities tended to skew attitudes toward culture, French musicians were keen to devise a terminology that might but- tress their notions of artistic parity (at first) and (later) of superiority. The invention of the terms neoclassicism and new classicism, what- ever their semantic fineness, supplied a convenient code by which

composers could put forward aesthetic ideas based upon a nostalgic evocation of a moribund style.

If the term neoclassicism arose in part from the coalescence of historicism and nationalism generated by composers in the nineteenth century, their artistic progeny in the twentieth century inherited the

perception that they were obliged to relate themselves to the history created by their forebears. By the twentieth century, however, the sense of a uniform tradition had begun to disintegrate. Whatever faith many had placed in the idea of a uniform and public conception

15 Roland-Manuel, "Concerto pour le piano, de Stravinsky," Revue Pleyel (15 July 1924), 27; Andre Schaffner, "Concerts divers," Le menestrel (30 May 1924), 248; Jean Bloch, "Une insurrection contre la sensibilite," Le monde musical (September 1924), 303-4; and Igor Stravinsky, Selected Correspondence, ed. Robert Craft, (New York, 1982-85) III, p. 83. i6

Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space (Cambridge, MA, 1983), p. 61; and Raymond Lowenthal, The Past is a Foreign Country (Cambridge, 1985), p. 187.

Page 14: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY

of time and the attendant glorification of a historical past had been

decisively shattered by 1918. The continuity of tradition and the au-

thority of homogenous time-of clock time-was at least suspect, and could be self-annihilating: Wozzeck's captain is terrified by the real- ization that the earth rotates in twenty-four hours, Dali's soft watches

hang limp in an airless landscape, and Gregor Samsa awakens to his

metamorphosis only to stare at a clock and worry that he will miss the train.

Given the challenges of effecting a reconciliation between order and freedom, there were few critics who recognized that the nine- teenth century had bequeathed both the aesthetic of an authoritative

history of music and the slogans to define it. The most adept advo- cates among the avant-garde recognized that the rhetoric of the fin- de-siecle could be tailored to their own ends. Catchphrases like nouveau

simplicite and style depouille' incorporated much of the old terminology, but without its sentimental or nostalgic attachments to remote tradi- tions. The decidedly ironic cast given to the uses of the past by Pari- sian artistic circles helps explain why Cocteau's polemics could appear so radical in 1918, when in fact the language of Le coq et l'arlequin had been common in France for decades. Too, not every observer of the 493 artistic scene had Cocteau's facility at manipulating public perceptions of radical culture. Schloezer described the word neoclassicism approv- ingly in 1923 in connection with Stravinsky knowing its disreputable history. His call to ignore the term only two years later in 1925 sug- gests that, in an era in which novelty and tradition vied for attention, any semblance of a clear terminology was impossible to maintain.

Had Stravinsky known the original meaning of neoclassicism, he

might have been amused at the irony of having a term originally intended to insult the nineteenth-century German lineage serve to describe his own aesthetic in approving terms. His tolerance of it, however, was marginal in the 192os, and in later years he treated it with withering contempt, introducing it into his conversation books

only when it served his purpose to do so. Yet to suggest that the term neoclassicism had no more value than that of a well-turned "buzz word" might lead one to conclude that for Stravinsky, everyone who used it, including trusted advocates, marked themselves as musically illiterate. To be sure, there was a healthy dose of self-promotion in Stravinsky's pronouncements; he was as skilled at stage-managing his own publicity as he was canny at observing trends in culture. Yet the concern for aesthetics and the search for the mot juste to articulate one's artistic position was still fundamental for this generation. The word neoclassicism indeed furnished a wary public with an easy access for coming to terms with the composer's music of the 1920S and

of time and the attendant glorification of a historical past had been

decisively shattered by 1918. The continuity of tradition and the au-

thority of homogenous time-of clock time-was at least suspect, and could be self-annihilating: Wozzeck's captain is terrified by the real- ization that the earth rotates in twenty-four hours, Dali's soft watches

hang limp in an airless landscape, and Gregor Samsa awakens to his

metamorphosis only to stare at a clock and worry that he will miss the train.

Given the challenges of effecting a reconciliation between order and freedom, there were few critics who recognized that the nine- teenth century had bequeathed both the aesthetic of an authoritative

history of music and the slogans to define it. The most adept advo- cates among the avant-garde recognized that the rhetoric of the fin- de-siecle could be tailored to their own ends. Catchphrases like nouveau

simplicite and style depouille' incorporated much of the old terminology, but without its sentimental or nostalgic attachments to remote tradi- tions. The decidedly ironic cast given to the uses of the past by Pari- sian artistic circles helps explain why Cocteau's polemics could appear so radical in 1918, when in fact the language of Le coq et l'arlequin had been common in France for decades. Too, not every observer of the 493 artistic scene had Cocteau's facility at manipulating public perceptions of radical culture. Schloezer described the word neoclassicism approv- ingly in 1923 in connection with Stravinsky knowing its disreputable history. His call to ignore the term only two years later in 1925 sug- gests that, in an era in which novelty and tradition vied for attention, any semblance of a clear terminology was impossible to maintain.

Had Stravinsky known the original meaning of neoclassicism, he

might have been amused at the irony of having a term originally intended to insult the nineteenth-century German lineage serve to describe his own aesthetic in approving terms. His tolerance of it, however, was marginal in the 192os, and in later years he treated it with withering contempt, introducing it into his conversation books

only when it served his purpose to do so. Yet to suggest that the term neoclassicism had no more value than that of a well-turned "buzz word" might lead one to conclude that for Stravinsky, everyone who used it, including trusted advocates, marked themselves as musically illiterate. To be sure, there was a healthy dose of self-promotion in Stravinsky's pronouncements; he was as skilled at stage-managing his own publicity as he was canny at observing trends in culture. Yet the concern for aesthetics and the search for the mot juste to articulate one's artistic position was still fundamental for this generation. The word neoclassicism indeed furnished a wary public with an easy access for coming to terms with the composer's music of the 1920S and

of time and the attendant glorification of a historical past had been

decisively shattered by 1918. The continuity of tradition and the au-

thority of homogenous time-of clock time-was at least suspect, and could be self-annihilating: Wozzeck's captain is terrified by the real- ization that the earth rotates in twenty-four hours, Dali's soft watches

hang limp in an airless landscape, and Gregor Samsa awakens to his

metamorphosis only to stare at a clock and worry that he will miss the train.

Given the challenges of effecting a reconciliation between order and freedom, there were few critics who recognized that the nine- teenth century had bequeathed both the aesthetic of an authoritative

history of music and the slogans to define it. The most adept advo- cates among the avant-garde recognized that the rhetoric of the fin- de-siecle could be tailored to their own ends. Catchphrases like nouveau

simplicite and style depouille' incorporated much of the old terminology, but without its sentimental or nostalgic attachments to remote tradi- tions. The decidedly ironic cast given to the uses of the past by Pari- sian artistic circles helps explain why Cocteau's polemics could appear so radical in 1918, when in fact the language of Le coq et l'arlequin had been common in France for decades. Too, not every observer of the 493 artistic scene had Cocteau's facility at manipulating public perceptions of radical culture. Schloezer described the word neoclassicism approv- ingly in 1923 in connection with Stravinsky knowing its disreputable history. His call to ignore the term only two years later in 1925 sug- gests that, in an era in which novelty and tradition vied for attention, any semblance of a clear terminology was impossible to maintain.

Had Stravinsky known the original meaning of neoclassicism, he

might have been amused at the irony of having a term originally intended to insult the nineteenth-century German lineage serve to describe his own aesthetic in approving terms. His tolerance of it, however, was marginal in the 192os, and in later years he treated it with withering contempt, introducing it into his conversation books

only when it served his purpose to do so. Yet to suggest that the term neoclassicism had no more value than that of a well-turned "buzz word" might lead one to conclude that for Stravinsky, everyone who used it, including trusted advocates, marked themselves as musically illiterate. To be sure, there was a healthy dose of self-promotion in Stravinsky's pronouncements; he was as skilled at stage-managing his own publicity as he was canny at observing trends in culture. Yet the concern for aesthetics and the search for the mot juste to articulate one's artistic position was still fundamental for this generation. The word neoclassicism indeed furnished a wary public with an easy access for coming to terms with the composer's music of the 1920S and

of time and the attendant glorification of a historical past had been

decisively shattered by 1918. The continuity of tradition and the au-

thority of homogenous time-of clock time-was at least suspect, and could be self-annihilating: Wozzeck's captain is terrified by the real- ization that the earth rotates in twenty-four hours, Dali's soft watches

hang limp in an airless landscape, and Gregor Samsa awakens to his

metamorphosis only to stare at a clock and worry that he will miss the train.

Given the challenges of effecting a reconciliation between order and freedom, there were few critics who recognized that the nine- teenth century had bequeathed both the aesthetic of an authoritative

history of music and the slogans to define it. The most adept advo- cates among the avant-garde recognized that the rhetoric of the fin- de-siecle could be tailored to their own ends. Catchphrases like nouveau

simplicite and style depouille' incorporated much of the old terminology, but without its sentimental or nostalgic attachments to remote tradi- tions. The decidedly ironic cast given to the uses of the past by Pari- sian artistic circles helps explain why Cocteau's polemics could appear so radical in 1918, when in fact the language of Le coq et l'arlequin had been common in France for decades. Too, not every observer of the 493 artistic scene had Cocteau's facility at manipulating public perceptions of radical culture. Schloezer described the word neoclassicism approv- ingly in 1923 in connection with Stravinsky knowing its disreputable history. His call to ignore the term only two years later in 1925 sug- gests that, in an era in which novelty and tradition vied for attention, any semblance of a clear terminology was impossible to maintain.

Had Stravinsky known the original meaning of neoclassicism, he

might have been amused at the irony of having a term originally intended to insult the nineteenth-century German lineage serve to describe his own aesthetic in approving terms. His tolerance of it, however, was marginal in the 192os, and in later years he treated it with withering contempt, introducing it into his conversation books

only when it served his purpose to do so. Yet to suggest that the term neoclassicism had no more value than that of a well-turned "buzz word" might lead one to conclude that for Stravinsky, everyone who used it, including trusted advocates, marked themselves as musically illiterate. To be sure, there was a healthy dose of self-promotion in Stravinsky's pronouncements; he was as skilled at stage-managing his own publicity as he was canny at observing trends in culture. Yet the concern for aesthetics and the search for the mot juste to articulate one's artistic position was still fundamental for this generation. The word neoclassicism indeed furnished a wary public with an easy access for coming to terms with the composer's music of the 1920S and

of time and the attendant glorification of a historical past had been

decisively shattered by 1918. The continuity of tradition and the au-

thority of homogenous time-of clock time-was at least suspect, and could be self-annihilating: Wozzeck's captain is terrified by the real- ization that the earth rotates in twenty-four hours, Dali's soft watches

hang limp in an airless landscape, and Gregor Samsa awakens to his

metamorphosis only to stare at a clock and worry that he will miss the train.

Given the challenges of effecting a reconciliation between order and freedom, there were few critics who recognized that the nine- teenth century had bequeathed both the aesthetic of an authoritative

history of music and the slogans to define it. The most adept advo- cates among the avant-garde recognized that the rhetoric of the fin- de-siecle could be tailored to their own ends. Catchphrases like nouveau

simplicite and style depouille' incorporated much of the old terminology, but without its sentimental or nostalgic attachments to remote tradi- tions. The decidedly ironic cast given to the uses of the past by Pari- sian artistic circles helps explain why Cocteau's polemics could appear so radical in 1918, when in fact the language of Le coq et l'arlequin had been common in France for decades. Too, not every observer of the 493 artistic scene had Cocteau's facility at manipulating public perceptions of radical culture. Schloezer described the word neoclassicism approv- ingly in 1923 in connection with Stravinsky knowing its disreputable history. His call to ignore the term only two years later in 1925 sug- gests that, in an era in which novelty and tradition vied for attention, any semblance of a clear terminology was impossible to maintain.

Had Stravinsky known the original meaning of neoclassicism, he

might have been amused at the irony of having a term originally intended to insult the nineteenth-century German lineage serve to describe his own aesthetic in approving terms. His tolerance of it, however, was marginal in the 192os, and in later years he treated it with withering contempt, introducing it into his conversation books

only when it served his purpose to do so. Yet to suggest that the term neoclassicism had no more value than that of a well-turned "buzz word" might lead one to conclude that for Stravinsky, everyone who used it, including trusted advocates, marked themselves as musically illiterate. To be sure, there was a healthy dose of self-promotion in Stravinsky's pronouncements; he was as skilled at stage-managing his own publicity as he was canny at observing trends in culture. Yet the concern for aesthetics and the search for the mot juste to articulate one's artistic position was still fundamental for this generation. The word neoclassicism indeed furnished a wary public with an easy access for coming to terms with the composer's music of the 1920S and

of time and the attendant glorification of a historical past had been

decisively shattered by 1918. The continuity of tradition and the au-

thority of homogenous time-of clock time-was at least suspect, and could be self-annihilating: Wozzeck's captain is terrified by the real- ization that the earth rotates in twenty-four hours, Dali's soft watches

hang limp in an airless landscape, and Gregor Samsa awakens to his

metamorphosis only to stare at a clock and worry that he will miss the train.

Given the challenges of effecting a reconciliation between order and freedom, there were few critics who recognized that the nine- teenth century had bequeathed both the aesthetic of an authoritative

history of music and the slogans to define it. The most adept advo- cates among the avant-garde recognized that the rhetoric of the fin- de-siecle could be tailored to their own ends. Catchphrases like nouveau

simplicite and style depouille' incorporated much of the old terminology, but without its sentimental or nostalgic attachments to remote tradi- tions. The decidedly ironic cast given to the uses of the past by Pari- sian artistic circles helps explain why Cocteau's polemics could appear so radical in 1918, when in fact the language of Le coq et l'arlequin had been common in France for decades. Too, not every observer of the 493 artistic scene had Cocteau's facility at manipulating public perceptions of radical culture. Schloezer described the word neoclassicism approv- ingly in 1923 in connection with Stravinsky knowing its disreputable history. His call to ignore the term only two years later in 1925 sug- gests that, in an era in which novelty and tradition vied for attention, any semblance of a clear terminology was impossible to maintain.

Had Stravinsky known the original meaning of neoclassicism, he

might have been amused at the irony of having a term originally intended to insult the nineteenth-century German lineage serve to describe his own aesthetic in approving terms. His tolerance of it, however, was marginal in the 192os, and in later years he treated it with withering contempt, introducing it into his conversation books

only when it served his purpose to do so. Yet to suggest that the term neoclassicism had no more value than that of a well-turned "buzz word" might lead one to conclude that for Stravinsky, everyone who used it, including trusted advocates, marked themselves as musically illiterate. To be sure, there was a healthy dose of self-promotion in Stravinsky's pronouncements; he was as skilled at stage-managing his own publicity as he was canny at observing trends in culture. Yet the concern for aesthetics and the search for the mot juste to articulate one's artistic position was still fundamental for this generation. The word neoclassicism indeed furnished a wary public with an easy access for coming to terms with the composer's music of the 1920S and

Page 15: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

193os. It likewise supplied a symbol which represented for Stravin-

sky's supporters a cultural value system whose vocabulary elucidated for them the central direction of post-war composition.

That vocabulary-sobriety, purity, monumentality, and so on-

appeared tailor-made for Schoenberg, who was equally devoted to the reconsideration of his place in the continuum of music history. His

response to the polemic of neoclassicism was only secondarily judged in terms of music. His reaction was rather gauged in terms of culture: the terminology of neoclassicism rightly suited him as the heir to the German line. To deny him, Schoenberg, as its legatee was to miscon- strue totally the history of music. When, in 1931, he asserted that his

originality consisted of the imitation of "everything I saw that was

good," he took pains to list only German composers: "My teachers were primarily Bach and Mozart, and secondarily Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner.... I also learned much from Schubert and Mahler, Strauss and Reger too. I shut myself off from no one."17

In a world in which the struggle over identity and origins distin-

guished the political and cultural life of individuals as well as nations, an invocation like that of Mozart's Quartet, K. 421, at the outset of

494 Schoenberg's Fourth Quartet seems neither surprising nor uncalcu- lated. (See Examples 3a & b.) This observation is not intended to

suggest that Schoenberg in any way aspired to invest his work with a residue of a D-minor tonality. It is a cultural connection more than a

stylistic one that was intended, although the developmental manipu- lation of the thematic dyad of the semitone might advance the affinity between both first movements beyond the merely casual. The key of K. 421 does perhaps call up the remembrance of Schoenberg works

past; if only coincidence, it is certainly a fortunate one for the present argument. The polemics surrounding the term neoclassicism were nearly a quarter of a century old when Schoenberg indicated in 1949 that "you can really tell that I owe very, very much to Mozart; if one studies, for instance, my way in which I have for string quartet, then one cannot deny that I have learned this directly from Mozart."'8

If, as previously suggested, post-war neoclassicism suggests a

composer's accommodation of public and private obligations to his musical legacy, Schoenberg may have answered the dual calls of his-

tory and memory in the Fourth Quartet by evoking Mozart in the

17 Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, trans. Leo Black (New York, 1950), pp. 173-74.

i8 Halsey Stevens, "A Conversation with Schoenberg about Painting," Journal of

the Arnold Schoenberg Institute (June 1978), 178-81.

193os. It likewise supplied a symbol which represented for Stravin-

sky's supporters a cultural value system whose vocabulary elucidated for them the central direction of post-war composition.

That vocabulary-sobriety, purity, monumentality, and so on-

appeared tailor-made for Schoenberg, who was equally devoted to the reconsideration of his place in the continuum of music history. His

response to the polemic of neoclassicism was only secondarily judged in terms of music. His reaction was rather gauged in terms of culture: the terminology of neoclassicism rightly suited him as the heir to the German line. To deny him, Schoenberg, as its legatee was to miscon- strue totally the history of music. When, in 1931, he asserted that his

originality consisted of the imitation of "everything I saw that was

good," he took pains to list only German composers: "My teachers were primarily Bach and Mozart, and secondarily Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner.... I also learned much from Schubert and Mahler, Strauss and Reger too. I shut myself off from no one."17

In a world in which the struggle over identity and origins distin-

guished the political and cultural life of individuals as well as nations, an invocation like that of Mozart's Quartet, K. 421, at the outset of

494 Schoenberg's Fourth Quartet seems neither surprising nor uncalcu- lated. (See Examples 3a & b.) This observation is not intended to

suggest that Schoenberg in any way aspired to invest his work with a residue of a D-minor tonality. It is a cultural connection more than a

stylistic one that was intended, although the developmental manipu- lation of the thematic dyad of the semitone might advance the affinity between both first movements beyond the merely casual. The key of K. 421 does perhaps call up the remembrance of Schoenberg works

past; if only coincidence, it is certainly a fortunate one for the present argument. The polemics surrounding the term neoclassicism were nearly a quarter of a century old when Schoenberg indicated in 1949 that "you can really tell that I owe very, very much to Mozart; if one studies, for instance, my way in which I have for string quartet, then one cannot deny that I have learned this directly from Mozart."'8

If, as previously suggested, post-war neoclassicism suggests a

composer's accommodation of public and private obligations to his musical legacy, Schoenberg may have answered the dual calls of his-

tory and memory in the Fourth Quartet by evoking Mozart in the

17 Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, trans. Leo Black (New York, 1950), pp. 173-74.

i8 Halsey Stevens, "A Conversation with Schoenberg about Painting," Journal of

the Arnold Schoenberg Institute (June 1978), 178-81.

193os. It likewise supplied a symbol which represented for Stravin-

sky's supporters a cultural value system whose vocabulary elucidated for them the central direction of post-war composition.

That vocabulary-sobriety, purity, monumentality, and so on-

appeared tailor-made for Schoenberg, who was equally devoted to the reconsideration of his place in the continuum of music history. His

response to the polemic of neoclassicism was only secondarily judged in terms of music. His reaction was rather gauged in terms of culture: the terminology of neoclassicism rightly suited him as the heir to the German line. To deny him, Schoenberg, as its legatee was to miscon- strue totally the history of music. When, in 1931, he asserted that his

originality consisted of the imitation of "everything I saw that was

good," he took pains to list only German composers: "My teachers were primarily Bach and Mozart, and secondarily Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner.... I also learned much from Schubert and Mahler, Strauss and Reger too. I shut myself off from no one."17

In a world in which the struggle over identity and origins distin-

guished the political and cultural life of individuals as well as nations, an invocation like that of Mozart's Quartet, K. 421, at the outset of

494 Schoenberg's Fourth Quartet seems neither surprising nor uncalcu- lated. (See Examples 3a & b.) This observation is not intended to

suggest that Schoenberg in any way aspired to invest his work with a residue of a D-minor tonality. It is a cultural connection more than a

stylistic one that was intended, although the developmental manipu- lation of the thematic dyad of the semitone might advance the affinity between both first movements beyond the merely casual. The key of K. 421 does perhaps call up the remembrance of Schoenberg works

past; if only coincidence, it is certainly a fortunate one for the present argument. The polemics surrounding the term neoclassicism were nearly a quarter of a century old when Schoenberg indicated in 1949 that "you can really tell that I owe very, very much to Mozart; if one studies, for instance, my way in which I have for string quartet, then one cannot deny that I have learned this directly from Mozart."'8

If, as previously suggested, post-war neoclassicism suggests a

composer's accommodation of public and private obligations to his musical legacy, Schoenberg may have answered the dual calls of his-

tory and memory in the Fourth Quartet by evoking Mozart in the

17 Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, trans. Leo Black (New York, 1950), pp. 173-74.

i8 Halsey Stevens, "A Conversation with Schoenberg about Painting," Journal of

the Arnold Schoenberg Institute (June 1978), 178-81.

193os. It likewise supplied a symbol which represented for Stravin-

sky's supporters a cultural value system whose vocabulary elucidated for them the central direction of post-war composition.

That vocabulary-sobriety, purity, monumentality, and so on-

appeared tailor-made for Schoenberg, who was equally devoted to the reconsideration of his place in the continuum of music history. His

response to the polemic of neoclassicism was only secondarily judged in terms of music. His reaction was rather gauged in terms of culture: the terminology of neoclassicism rightly suited him as the heir to the German line. To deny him, Schoenberg, as its legatee was to miscon- strue totally the history of music. When, in 1931, he asserted that his

originality consisted of the imitation of "everything I saw that was

good," he took pains to list only German composers: "My teachers were primarily Bach and Mozart, and secondarily Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner.... I also learned much from Schubert and Mahler, Strauss and Reger too. I shut myself off from no one."17

In a world in which the struggle over identity and origins distin-

guished the political and cultural life of individuals as well as nations, an invocation like that of Mozart's Quartet, K. 421, at the outset of

494 Schoenberg's Fourth Quartet seems neither surprising nor uncalcu- lated. (See Examples 3a & b.) This observation is not intended to

suggest that Schoenberg in any way aspired to invest his work with a residue of a D-minor tonality. It is a cultural connection more than a

stylistic one that was intended, although the developmental manipu- lation of the thematic dyad of the semitone might advance the affinity between both first movements beyond the merely casual. The key of K. 421 does perhaps call up the remembrance of Schoenberg works

past; if only coincidence, it is certainly a fortunate one for the present argument. The polemics surrounding the term neoclassicism were nearly a quarter of a century old when Schoenberg indicated in 1949 that "you can really tell that I owe very, very much to Mozart; if one studies, for instance, my way in which I have for string quartet, then one cannot deny that I have learned this directly from Mozart."'8

If, as previously suggested, post-war neoclassicism suggests a

composer's accommodation of public and private obligations to his musical legacy, Schoenberg may have answered the dual calls of his-

tory and memory in the Fourth Quartet by evoking Mozart in the

17 Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, trans. Leo Black (New York, 1950), pp. 173-74.

i8 Halsey Stevens, "A Conversation with Schoenberg about Painting," Journal of

the Arnold Schoenberg Institute (June 1978), 178-81.

193os. It likewise supplied a symbol which represented for Stravin-

sky's supporters a cultural value system whose vocabulary elucidated for them the central direction of post-war composition.

That vocabulary-sobriety, purity, monumentality, and so on-

appeared tailor-made for Schoenberg, who was equally devoted to the reconsideration of his place in the continuum of music history. His

response to the polemic of neoclassicism was only secondarily judged in terms of music. His reaction was rather gauged in terms of culture: the terminology of neoclassicism rightly suited him as the heir to the German line. To deny him, Schoenberg, as its legatee was to miscon- strue totally the history of music. When, in 1931, he asserted that his

originality consisted of the imitation of "everything I saw that was

good," he took pains to list only German composers: "My teachers were primarily Bach and Mozart, and secondarily Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner.... I also learned much from Schubert and Mahler, Strauss and Reger too. I shut myself off from no one."17

In a world in which the struggle over identity and origins distin-

guished the political and cultural life of individuals as well as nations, an invocation like that of Mozart's Quartet, K. 421, at the outset of

494 Schoenberg's Fourth Quartet seems neither surprising nor uncalcu- lated. (See Examples 3a & b.) This observation is not intended to

suggest that Schoenberg in any way aspired to invest his work with a residue of a D-minor tonality. It is a cultural connection more than a

stylistic one that was intended, although the developmental manipu- lation of the thematic dyad of the semitone might advance the affinity between both first movements beyond the merely casual. The key of K. 421 does perhaps call up the remembrance of Schoenberg works

past; if only coincidence, it is certainly a fortunate one for the present argument. The polemics surrounding the term neoclassicism were nearly a quarter of a century old when Schoenberg indicated in 1949 that "you can really tell that I owe very, very much to Mozart; if one studies, for instance, my way in which I have for string quartet, then one cannot deny that I have learned this directly from Mozart."'8

If, as previously suggested, post-war neoclassicism suggests a

composer's accommodation of public and private obligations to his musical legacy, Schoenberg may have answered the dual calls of his-

tory and memory in the Fourth Quartet by evoking Mozart in the

17 Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, trans. Leo Black (New York, 1950), pp. 173-74.

i8 Halsey Stevens, "A Conversation with Schoenberg about Painting," Journal of

the Arnold Schoenberg Institute (June 1978), 178-81.

193os. It likewise supplied a symbol which represented for Stravin-

sky's supporters a cultural value system whose vocabulary elucidated for them the central direction of post-war composition.

That vocabulary-sobriety, purity, monumentality, and so on-

appeared tailor-made for Schoenberg, who was equally devoted to the reconsideration of his place in the continuum of music history. His

response to the polemic of neoclassicism was only secondarily judged in terms of music. His reaction was rather gauged in terms of culture: the terminology of neoclassicism rightly suited him as the heir to the German line. To deny him, Schoenberg, as its legatee was to miscon- strue totally the history of music. When, in 1931, he asserted that his

originality consisted of the imitation of "everything I saw that was

good," he took pains to list only German composers: "My teachers were primarily Bach and Mozart, and secondarily Beethoven, Brahms, and Wagner.... I also learned much from Schubert and Mahler, Strauss and Reger too. I shut myself off from no one."17

In a world in which the struggle over identity and origins distin-

guished the political and cultural life of individuals as well as nations, an invocation like that of Mozart's Quartet, K. 421, at the outset of

494 Schoenberg's Fourth Quartet seems neither surprising nor uncalcu- lated. (See Examples 3a & b.) This observation is not intended to

suggest that Schoenberg in any way aspired to invest his work with a residue of a D-minor tonality. It is a cultural connection more than a

stylistic one that was intended, although the developmental manipu- lation of the thematic dyad of the semitone might advance the affinity between both first movements beyond the merely casual. The key of K. 421 does perhaps call up the remembrance of Schoenberg works

past; if only coincidence, it is certainly a fortunate one for the present argument. The polemics surrounding the term neoclassicism were nearly a quarter of a century old when Schoenberg indicated in 1949 that "you can really tell that I owe very, very much to Mozart; if one studies, for instance, my way in which I have for string quartet, then one cannot deny that I have learned this directly from Mozart."'8

If, as previously suggested, post-war neoclassicism suggests a

composer's accommodation of public and private obligations to his musical legacy, Schoenberg may have answered the dual calls of his-

tory and memory in the Fourth Quartet by evoking Mozart in the

17 Arnold Schoenberg, Style and Idea, trans. Leo Black (New York, 1950), pp. 173-74.

i8 Halsey Stevens, "A Conversation with Schoenberg about Painting," Journal of

the Arnold Schoenberg Institute (June 1978), 178-81.

Page 16: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY

EXAMPLE 3a. W. A. Mozart, String Quartet, K. 421, I. EXAMPLE 3a. W. A. Mozart, String Quartet, K. 421, I. EXAMPLE 3a. W. A. Mozart, String Quartet, K. 421, I. EXAMPLE 3a. W. A. Mozart, String Quartet, K. 421, I. EXAMPLE 3a. W. A. Mozart, String Quartet, K. 421, I. EXAMPLE 3a. W. A. Mozart, String Quartet, K. 421, I.

A A A A A A Allegro moderato Allegro moderato Allegro moderato Allegro moderato Allegro moderato Allegro moderato

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495 495 495 495 495 495

former case, and, on a different level, alluding to his recently de- ceased pupil, Berg. The by-now frequently analyzed combinatoriality (at 15) of Schoenberg's series was also a property of the Lyric Suite that had been excitedly revealed by Berg to his teacher in a letter of 13 July 1926. The Quartet was the first work that Schoenberg, recently emigrated from both culture and country, began after learning of

Berg's death on 30 November 1935. Too, Berg's career fixation on D minor had produced a series of works (Four Songs, Op. 2, No. i; String Quartet, Op. 3, movement 2; Three Orchestral Pieces, Op. 6; and Wozzeck, III/3) after Schoenberg had written an equal number sug- gesting the same tonality (Verkldrte Nacht, Pelleas et Melisande, String Quartet No. i, String Quartet No. 2, movement 2), and both com- posers had a mutually high regard for Strindberg, himself fascinated with several D-minor works by Beethoven.ls A decade was not too

former case, and, on a different level, alluding to his recently de- ceased pupil, Berg. The by-now frequently analyzed combinatoriality (at 15) of Schoenberg's series was also a property of the Lyric Suite that had been excitedly revealed by Berg to his teacher in a letter of 13 July 1926. The Quartet was the first work that Schoenberg, recently emigrated from both culture and country, began after learning of

Berg's death on 30 November 1935. Too, Berg's career fixation on D minor had produced a series of works (Four Songs, Op. 2, No. i; String Quartet, Op. 3, movement 2; Three Orchestral Pieces, Op. 6; and Wozzeck, III/3) after Schoenberg had written an equal number sug- gesting the same tonality (Verkldrte Nacht, Pelleas et Melisande, String Quartet No. i, String Quartet No. 2, movement 2), and both com- posers had a mutually high regard for Strindberg, himself fascinated with several D-minor works by Beethoven.ls A decade was not too

former case, and, on a different level, alluding to his recently de- ceased pupil, Berg. The by-now frequently analyzed combinatoriality (at 15) of Schoenberg's series was also a property of the Lyric Suite that had been excitedly revealed by Berg to his teacher in a letter of 13 July 1926. The Quartet was the first work that Schoenberg, recently emigrated from both culture and country, began after learning of

Berg's death on 30 November 1935. Too, Berg's career fixation on D minor had produced a series of works (Four Songs, Op. 2, No. i; String Quartet, Op. 3, movement 2; Three Orchestral Pieces, Op. 6; and Wozzeck, III/3) after Schoenberg had written an equal number sug- gesting the same tonality (Verkldrte Nacht, Pelleas et Melisande, String Quartet No. i, String Quartet No. 2, movement 2), and both com- posers had a mutually high regard for Strindberg, himself fascinated with several D-minor works by Beethoven.ls A decade was not too

former case, and, on a different level, alluding to his recently de- ceased pupil, Berg. The by-now frequently analyzed combinatoriality (at 15) of Schoenberg's series was also a property of the Lyric Suite that had been excitedly revealed by Berg to his teacher in a letter of 13 July 1926. The Quartet was the first work that Schoenberg, recently emigrated from both culture and country, began after learning of

Berg's death on 30 November 1935. Too, Berg's career fixation on D minor had produced a series of works (Four Songs, Op. 2, No. i; String Quartet, Op. 3, movement 2; Three Orchestral Pieces, Op. 6; and Wozzeck, III/3) after Schoenberg had written an equal number sug- gesting the same tonality (Verkldrte Nacht, Pelleas et Melisande, String Quartet No. i, String Quartet No. 2, movement 2), and both com- posers had a mutually high regard for Strindberg, himself fascinated with several D-minor works by Beethoven.ls A decade was not too

former case, and, on a different level, alluding to his recently de- ceased pupil, Berg. The by-now frequently analyzed combinatoriality (at 15) of Schoenberg's series was also a property of the Lyric Suite that had been excitedly revealed by Berg to his teacher in a letter of 13 July 1926. The Quartet was the first work that Schoenberg, recently emigrated from both culture and country, began after learning of

Berg's death on 30 November 1935. Too, Berg's career fixation on D minor had produced a series of works (Four Songs, Op. 2, No. i; String Quartet, Op. 3, movement 2; Three Orchestral Pieces, Op. 6; and Wozzeck, III/3) after Schoenberg had written an equal number sug- gesting the same tonality (Verkldrte Nacht, Pelleas et Melisande, String Quartet No. i, String Quartet No. 2, movement 2), and both com- posers had a mutually high regard for Strindberg, himself fascinated with several D-minor works by Beethoven.ls A decade was not too

former case, and, on a different level, alluding to his recently de- ceased pupil, Berg. The by-now frequently analyzed combinatoriality (at 15) of Schoenberg's series was also a property of the Lyric Suite that had been excitedly revealed by Berg to his teacher in a letter of 13 July 1926. The Quartet was the first work that Schoenberg, recently emigrated from both culture and country, began after learning of

Berg's death on 30 November 1935. Too, Berg's career fixation on D minor had produced a series of works (Four Songs, Op. 2, No. i; String Quartet, Op. 3, movement 2; Three Orchestral Pieces, Op. 6; and Wozzeck, III/3) after Schoenberg had written an equal number sug- gesting the same tonality (Verkldrte Nacht, Pelleas et Melisande, String Quartet No. i, String Quartet No. 2, movement 2), and both com- posers had a mutually high regard for Strindberg, himself fascinated with several D-minor works by Beethoven.ls A decade was not too

19 Several of Strindberg's plays call for D-minor works by Beethoven in their performance. Crimes and Crimes (1899) II/i, prescribes that the final movement of the

19 Several of Strindberg's plays call for D-minor works by Beethoven in their performance. Crimes and Crimes (1899) II/i, prescribes that the final movement of the

19 Several of Strindberg's plays call for D-minor works by Beethoven in their performance. Crimes and Crimes (1899) II/i, prescribes that the final movement of the

19 Several of Strindberg's plays call for D-minor works by Beethoven in their performance. Crimes and Crimes (1899) II/i, prescribes that the final movement of the

19 Several of Strindberg's plays call for D-minor works by Beethoven in their performance. Crimes and Crimes (1899) II/i, prescribes that the final movement of the

19 Several of Strindberg's plays call for D-minor works by Beethoven in their performance. Crimes and Crimes (1899) II/i, prescribes that the final movement of the

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Page 17: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY THE JOURNAL OF MUSICOLOGY

EXAMPLE 3b. EXAMPLE 3b. EXAMPLE 3b. EXAMPLE 3b. EXAMPLE 3b. EXAMPLE 3b.

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Violino I

Violino II

Viola

Violoncello

Arnold Schoenberg, String Quartet No. 4, I, mm. 1-6. Copyright 1939, by G. Schirmer, Inc. International copyright secured. Copyright renewed. Used by per- mission of G. Schirmer, Inc.

Arnold Schoenberg, String Quartet No. 4, I, mm. 1-6. Copyright 1939, by G. Schirmer, Inc. International copyright secured. Copyright renewed. Used by per- mission of G. Schirmer, Inc.

Arnold Schoenberg, String Quartet No. 4, I, mm. 1-6. Copyright 1939, by G. Schirmer, Inc. International copyright secured. Copyright renewed. Used by per- mission of G. Schirmer, Inc.

Arnold Schoenberg, String Quartet No. 4, I, mm. 1-6. Copyright 1939, by G. Schirmer, Inc. International copyright secured. Copyright renewed. Used by per- mission of G. Schirmer, Inc.

Arnold Schoenberg, String Quartet No. 4, I, mm. 1-6. Copyright 1939, by G. Schirmer, Inc. International copyright secured. Copyright renewed. Used by per- mission of G. Schirmer, Inc.

Arnold Schoenberg, String Quartet No. 4, I, mm. 1-6. Copyright 1939, by G. Schirmer, Inc. International copyright secured. Copyright renewed. Used by per- mission of G. Schirmer, Inc.

Allegro molto, energico J =152 (G) 1 A A 2 v t i >i

Allegro molto, energico J =152 (G) 1 A A 2 v t i >i

Allegro molto, energico J =152 (G) 1 A A 2 v t i >i

Allegro molto, energico J =152 (G) 1 A A 2 v t i >i

Allegro molto, energico J =152 (G) 1 A A 2 v t i >i

Allegro molto, energico J =152 (G) 1 A A 2 v t i >i 3 . ,- 3 . ,- 3 . ,- 3 . ,- 3 . ,- 3 . ,-

v^ ? , :l' b J , b

(G)A A ^ A A A A A A A

ff^A As A A A x A (C)A A A

_A A A A A A A A A L L

v^ ? , :l' b J , b

(G)A A ^ A A A A A A A

ff^A As A A A x A (C)A A A

_A A A A A A A A A L L

v^ ? , :l' b J , b

(G)A A ^ A A A A A A A

ff^A As A A A x A (C)A A A

_A A A A A A A A A L L

v^ ? , :l' b J , b

(G)A A ^ A A A A A A A

ff^A As A A A x A (C)A A A

_A A A A A A A A A L L

v^ ? , :l' b J , b

(G)A A ^ A A A A A A A

ff^A As A A A x A (C)A A A

_A A A A A A A A A L L

v^ ? , :l' b J , b

(G)A A ^ A A A A A A A

ff^A As A A A x A (C)A A A

_A A A A A A A A A L L

II _j, K I ~ t X PrIRL4 II _j, K I ~ t X PrIRL4 II _j, K I ~ t X PrIRL4 II _j, K I ~ t X PrIRL4 II _j, K I ~ t X PrIRL4 II _j, K I ~ t X PrIRL4 1' ff 1' ff 1' ff 1' ff 1' ff 1' ff

2 L ..I, I I k I - .. b, 2 L ..I, I I k I - .. b, 2 L ..I, I I k I - .. b, 2 L ..I, I I k I - .. b, 2 L ..I, I I k I - .. b, 2 L ..I, I I k I - .. b,

y ll- -i-t I

Il

Am NA A A A

,J J J JJ dJ

hX/S 2 A A A A

~~.p& flt- si~~~~~~~~~' A

y ll- -i-t I

Il

Am NA A A A

,J J J JJ dJ

hX/S 2 A A A A

~~.p& flt- si~~~~~~~~~' A

y ll- -i-t I

Il

Am NA A A A

,J J J JJ dJ

hX/S 2 A A A A

~~.p& flt- si~~~~~~~~~' A

y ll- -i-t I

Il

Am NA A A A

,J J J JJ dJ

hX/S 2 A A A A

~~.p& flt- si~~~~~~~~~' A

y ll- -i-t I

Il

Am NA A A A

,J J J JJ dJ

hX/S 2 A A A A

~~.p& flt- si~~~~~~~~~' A

y ll- -i-t I

Il

Am NA A A A

,J J J JJ dJ

hX/S 2 A A A A

~~.p& flt- si~~~~~~~~~' A

of of of of of of

long a time for Schoenberg, whether because of chance resemblance, the suggestive power of the past, or the consciousness of a duty to be

performed, to have layered onto an otherwise original masterpiece, the stylistic accretions of his musical and personal history in order both to carry on and to transcend that inheritance.

long a time for Schoenberg, whether because of chance resemblance, the suggestive power of the past, or the consciousness of a duty to be

performed, to have layered onto an otherwise original masterpiece, the stylistic accretions of his musical and personal history in order both to carry on and to transcend that inheritance.

long a time for Schoenberg, whether because of chance resemblance, the suggestive power of the past, or the consciousness of a duty to be

performed, to have layered onto an otherwise original masterpiece, the stylistic accretions of his musical and personal history in order both to carry on and to transcend that inheritance.

long a time for Schoenberg, whether because of chance resemblance, the suggestive power of the past, or the consciousness of a duty to be

performed, to have layered onto an otherwise original masterpiece, the stylistic accretions of his musical and personal history in order both to carry on and to transcend that inheritance.

long a time for Schoenberg, whether because of chance resemblance, the suggestive power of the past, or the consciousness of a duty to be

performed, to have layered onto an otherwise original masterpiece, the stylistic accretions of his musical and personal history in order both to carry on and to transcend that inheritance.

long a time for Schoenberg, whether because of chance resemblance, the suggestive power of the past, or the consciousness of a duty to be

performed, to have layered onto an otherwise original masterpiece, the stylistic accretions of his musical and personal history in order both to carry on and to transcend that inheritance.

Piano Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, be practiced by a pianist in the next room. The title of The Ghost Sonata (1907) was inspired by that same work and by the Trio, Op. 70, No. i. In the poet's circle, the former was known as "Gespenster" and the latter was termed "Geister." For Berg's letter describing the series for the Lyric Suite, see The Berg- Schoenberg Correspondence, ed. Juliane Brand, Christopher Hailey, and Donald Harris (New York, 1987), p. 348.

Piano Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, be practiced by a pianist in the next room. The title of The Ghost Sonata (1907) was inspired by that same work and by the Trio, Op. 70, No. i. In the poet's circle, the former was known as "Gespenster" and the latter was termed "Geister." For Berg's letter describing the series for the Lyric Suite, see The Berg- Schoenberg Correspondence, ed. Juliane Brand, Christopher Hailey, and Donald Harris (New York, 1987), p. 348.

Piano Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, be practiced by a pianist in the next room. The title of The Ghost Sonata (1907) was inspired by that same work and by the Trio, Op. 70, No. i. In the poet's circle, the former was known as "Gespenster" and the latter was termed "Geister." For Berg's letter describing the series for the Lyric Suite, see The Berg- Schoenberg Correspondence, ed. Juliane Brand, Christopher Hailey, and Donald Harris (New York, 1987), p. 348.

Piano Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, be practiced by a pianist in the next room. The title of The Ghost Sonata (1907) was inspired by that same work and by the Trio, Op. 70, No. i. In the poet's circle, the former was known as "Gespenster" and the latter was termed "Geister." For Berg's letter describing the series for the Lyric Suite, see The Berg- Schoenberg Correspondence, ed. Juliane Brand, Christopher Hailey, and Donald Harris (New York, 1987), p. 348.

Piano Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, be practiced by a pianist in the next room. The title of The Ghost Sonata (1907) was inspired by that same work and by the Trio, Op. 70, No. i. In the poet's circle, the former was known as "Gespenster" and the latter was termed "Geister." For Berg's letter describing the series for the Lyric Suite, see The Berg- Schoenberg Correspondence, ed. Juliane Brand, Christopher Hailey, and Donald Harris (New York, 1987), p. 348.

Piano Sonata, Op. 31, No. 2, be practiced by a pianist in the next room. The title of The Ghost Sonata (1907) was inspired by that same work and by the Trio, Op. 70, No. i. In the poet's circle, the former was known as "Gespenster" and the latter was termed "Geister." For Berg's letter describing the series for the Lyric Suite, see The Berg- Schoenberg Correspondence, ed. Juliane Brand, Christopher Hailey, and Donald Harris (New York, 1987), p. 348.

496 496 496 496 496 496

A( A( A( A( A( A(

r r r r r r

f f f f f f

I A A I A A I A A I A A I A A I A A

I I I I I I

Page 18: St Case of Neoclassicism 12 May

POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY POLEMIC AS HISTORY

The gradual disrepute into which the word neoclassicism has fallen is parallel to the rise in scholarship that has devised increasingly elegant methods for analyzing twentieth-century music. As evidence was furnished that neither Stravinsky's nor Schoenberg's music of the 1920S was so radically different from their pre-war work as was once

thought, the vagueness that had attended the word neoclassicism only served to lend credence for supporting its interment. If the theoret- ical apparatuses that have illuminated twentieth-century styles have

encouraged us to hold the term neoclassicism in contempt because of its ambiguity, it must be realized that that same frustrating lack of

clarity in the word was the source of its attraction and the reason for its survival. Neoclassicism was the sign that accommodated both in- novation and tradition in composition in the 192os. Contemporary focus may indeed have little use for the word, but an understanding of the music of the first quarter of this century is incomplete without an awareness of the meaning that neoclassicism had for its protago- nists.

Alma College

The gradual disrepute into which the word neoclassicism has fallen is parallel to the rise in scholarship that has devised increasingly elegant methods for analyzing twentieth-century music. As evidence was furnished that neither Stravinsky's nor Schoenberg's music of the 1920S was so radically different from their pre-war work as was once

thought, the vagueness that had attended the word neoclassicism only served to lend credence for supporting its interment. If the theoret- ical apparatuses that have illuminated twentieth-century styles have

encouraged us to hold the term neoclassicism in contempt because of its ambiguity, it must be realized that that same frustrating lack of

clarity in the word was the source of its attraction and the reason for its survival. Neoclassicism was the sign that accommodated both in- novation and tradition in composition in the 192os. Contemporary focus may indeed have little use for the word, but an understanding of the music of the first quarter of this century is incomplete without an awareness of the meaning that neoclassicism had for its protago- nists.

Alma College

The gradual disrepute into which the word neoclassicism has fallen is parallel to the rise in scholarship that has devised increasingly elegant methods for analyzing twentieth-century music. As evidence was furnished that neither Stravinsky's nor Schoenberg's music of the 1920S was so radically different from their pre-war work as was once

thought, the vagueness that had attended the word neoclassicism only served to lend credence for supporting its interment. If the theoret- ical apparatuses that have illuminated twentieth-century styles have

encouraged us to hold the term neoclassicism in contempt because of its ambiguity, it must be realized that that same frustrating lack of

clarity in the word was the source of its attraction and the reason for its survival. Neoclassicism was the sign that accommodated both in- novation and tradition in composition in the 192os. Contemporary focus may indeed have little use for the word, but an understanding of the music of the first quarter of this century is incomplete without an awareness of the meaning that neoclassicism had for its protago- nists.

Alma College

The gradual disrepute into which the word neoclassicism has fallen is parallel to the rise in scholarship that has devised increasingly elegant methods for analyzing twentieth-century music. As evidence was furnished that neither Stravinsky's nor Schoenberg's music of the 1920S was so radically different from their pre-war work as was once

thought, the vagueness that had attended the word neoclassicism only served to lend credence for supporting its interment. If the theoret- ical apparatuses that have illuminated twentieth-century styles have

encouraged us to hold the term neoclassicism in contempt because of its ambiguity, it must be realized that that same frustrating lack of

clarity in the word was the source of its attraction and the reason for its survival. Neoclassicism was the sign that accommodated both in- novation and tradition in composition in the 192os. Contemporary focus may indeed have little use for the word, but an understanding of the music of the first quarter of this century is incomplete without an awareness of the meaning that neoclassicism had for its protago- nists.

Alma College

The gradual disrepute into which the word neoclassicism has fallen is parallel to the rise in scholarship that has devised increasingly elegant methods for analyzing twentieth-century music. As evidence was furnished that neither Stravinsky's nor Schoenberg's music of the 1920S was so radically different from their pre-war work as was once

thought, the vagueness that had attended the word neoclassicism only served to lend credence for supporting its interment. If the theoret- ical apparatuses that have illuminated twentieth-century styles have

encouraged us to hold the term neoclassicism in contempt because of its ambiguity, it must be realized that that same frustrating lack of

clarity in the word was the source of its attraction and the reason for its survival. Neoclassicism was the sign that accommodated both in- novation and tradition in composition in the 192os. Contemporary focus may indeed have little use for the word, but an understanding of the music of the first quarter of this century is incomplete without an awareness of the meaning that neoclassicism had for its protago- nists.

Alma College

The gradual disrepute into which the word neoclassicism has fallen is parallel to the rise in scholarship that has devised increasingly elegant methods for analyzing twentieth-century music. As evidence was furnished that neither Stravinsky's nor Schoenberg's music of the 1920S was so radically different from their pre-war work as was once

thought, the vagueness that had attended the word neoclassicism only served to lend credence for supporting its interment. If the theoret- ical apparatuses that have illuminated twentieth-century styles have

encouraged us to hold the term neoclassicism in contempt because of its ambiguity, it must be realized that that same frustrating lack of

clarity in the word was the source of its attraction and the reason for its survival. Neoclassicism was the sign that accommodated both in- novation and tradition in composition in the 192os. Contemporary focus may indeed have little use for the word, but an understanding of the music of the first quarter of this century is incomplete without an awareness of the meaning that neoclassicism had for its protago- nists.

Alma College 497 497 497 497 497 497