Last month Dr. Schuman submitted his resignation as president of Lincoln
Center, but, as president emeritus, he will remain available as a consultant. "I
don't know all the answers," he says, "but I know all of the questions."
All through his busy career as educator and administrator, Dr. Schuman has
composed prolifically. He has written nine symphonies, two cantatas, one of
which won the Pulitzer Prize in 1943, a Concerto for Piano and Orchestra,
string quartets, overtures and numerous short instrumental and choral works.
Dr. Schuman's To Thee Old Cause, a work for oboe, brass, timpani, piano and
strings, inspired in part by verses from Whitman's Leaves of Grass, had its first
performance by Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic on October
3, 1968.
The Symphony No. IX was commissioned by friends of the late Alexander
Hilsberg in his memory. Mr. Hilsberg joined the violin section of The Phila-
delphia Orchestra in 1926, and was named Concertmaster in 1942. In 1945 he
also became Associate Conductor. During the 1950-51 season, he resigned as
Concertmaster, remaining as Associate Conductor until May, 1952, when he
went to New Orleans to conduct the orchestra there. He died on August 10, 1961.
Of his new symphony, Dr. Schuman has written:
"In none of my previous symphonies have I used an extrinsic or nonmusical
program element. Therefore I would like, first, to attempt an explanation of
why I have done so in Symphony No. IX. Precisely what is the relationship of
the subtitle 'Le Fosse Ardeatine' (The Ardeatine Caves) to the music, and why do
I so embroider the title of the work?
"In the spring of 1967 my wife and I were in Rome and we had planned to
visit Le Fosse Ardeatine because we had been advised that the memorial was a
stunning architectural achievement. When we mentioned the proposed visit to
our friends, the composer Hugo Weisgall and his wife, Nathalie, who were in
residence that year at the American Academy, we learned the story of the events
memorialized and of Mrs. Weisgall's special knowledge of the subject.
"The subject, for all its horror, can be stated simply. Thirty-two German
soldiers were killed by the underground in Rome on March 24, 1944. In reprisal
the Germans murdered 335 Italians, Christians and Jews, from all walks of life.
These victims were taken to the Ardeatine caves where they were shot. In an
effort to conceal the atrocity, the bodies were then bombed. A priest at the nearby
Catacombs felt the vibrations of the detonations, and word quickly spread through
Rome. When the Germans left the city there was a rush to the caves.
"In a world of daily horrors, what is so special about this one, and why does
it find itself the subject of a symphony? To answer this I must describe, how-
ever briefly and inadequately, the monument itself. After a walk through the
caves, a visitor enters a large rectangular area. The roof is a thick concrete
slab. On the dirt floor there are row upon row of individual, identical, contiguous
coffins. On each coffin, in the Italian custom, is a picture of the victim, some
fathers, sons, brothers, and a statement of occupation and age (ranging from the
early teens to the sixties). Our visit was at the Easter and Passover season and
each grave had fresh flowers. Somehow, confrontation with the ghastly fate of
several hundred identifiable individuals was more shattering and understandable
than the reports on the deaths of millions which, by comparison, seem abstract
statistics.
"The mood of my symphony, especially in its opening and closing sections, is
directly related to emotions engendered by this visit. But the entire middle
section, too, with its various moods of fast music much of it far from somber,
stems from the fantasies I had of the variety, promise and aborted lives of the
martyrs. Candidly, however, there is no compelling musical reason for my adding
to the title Symphony No. IX. The work does not attempt to depict the event
realistically. And its effect on the emotional climate of the work could have
remained a private matter. My reason for using the title is not then, musical,
but philosophical. One must come to terms with the past in order to build a
future. But in this exercise I am a foe of forgetting. Whatever future my sym-
phony may have, whenever it is performed, audiences will remember.
"In purely musical terms, as noted above, the work is in three parts, played
without pause and developed as a continuum. The Anteludium begins quietly,
with a single melodic line separated by two octaves, played by the muted violins
and 'cellos. The first section of this melody, which is eleven bars in length, con-
tinues its development over a span of thirty-three bars. At the twelfth bar, how-
ever, the some melody appears in the second violins and violas, one-half step
higher in pitch, and at the twenty-third bar the same melody begins again one-
half step higher still in the strings and the pitch is raised one-half step in each of