Ruth Slenczynska•SCHUMANN Ruth Slenczynska ... - Ivory Classics

Ruth Slenczynska•SCHUMANN
CARNAVAL
KINDERSZENEN
SONATA No.2
RECORDED IN 1999

Schumann
Carnaval • Kinderszenen • Sonata No.2
Carnaval (“Scènes mignonnes sur quatre notes”), Opus 9 28:46
1 Préambule. Quasi maestoso – Più moto – Animato – Vivo – Presto 2:12
2 Pierrot. Moderato 0:51
3 Arlequin. Vivo 1:03
4 Valse noble. Un poco maestoso 2:01
5 Eusebius. Adagio 1:30
6 Florestan. Passionato 0:55
7 Coquette. Vivo 1:02
8 Réplique. L’istesso tempo 0:25
9 Papillons. Prestissimo 0:53
10 A.S.C.H.-S.C.H.A. (letteres dansantes). Presto 0:57
11 Chiarina. Passionato 1:18
12 Chopin. Agitato 1:36
13 Estrella. Con affetto 0:29
14 Reconnaissance. Animato 1:46
15 Pantalon et Colombine. Presto 0:56
16 Valse allemande. Molto vivace 1:02
17 Paganini. Intermezzo. Presto 1:29
18 Aveu. Passionato 1:14
19 Promenade. Comodo 2:48
20 Pause. Vivo 0:18
21 Marche des “Davidsbündler” contre les Philistins. Non Allegro –
Molto più vivo – Animato – Vivo – Animato molto – Vivo – Più stretto 3:51
– 2 –

Ruth Slenczynska, Pianist
Original 24-Bit Master
Kinderszenen (“Scenes from Childhood”), Opus 15 18:15
22 I. Von fremden Ländern und Menschen (Foreign lands and people) 1:58
23 II. Kuriose Geschichte (Curious story) 1:08
24 III. Hasche-Mann (Catch me if you can) 0:33
25 IV. Bittendes Kind (Pleading child) 1:02
26 V. Glückes genug (Happiness) 1:08
27 VI. Wichtige Begebenheit (Important Event) 0:49
28 VII. Träumerei (Dreaming) 2:42
29 VIII. Am Kamin (By the fireside) 0:59
30 IX.Ritter vom Steckenpferd (Knight of the hobby-horse) 0:40
31 X. Fast zu ernst (Almost too serious) 1:53
32 XI. Fürchtenmachen (Frightening) 1:10
33 XII. Kind im Einschlummern (Child falling asleep) 2:03
34 XIII. Der Dichter spricht (The poet speaks) 2:14
Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Opus 22 18:50
35 I. So rasch wie möglich 7:20
36 II. Andantino (Getragen) 3:48
37 III. Scherzo: Sehr rasch und Markiert 1:48
38 IV. Rondo: Presto 5:54
Total Playing Time: 66:07
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Robert Schumann
In the introduction to his critical writing, Robert Schumann bewailed the lack of good
contemporary music. “On the stage Rossini reigned; at the piano nothing was heard but
Herz and Hunten; and yet but a few years had passed since Beethoven, Schubert and Weber
had lived among us.” That was written about 1833, when Schumann founded the Neue
Zeitschrift für Musik, and was also well started on a noble series of piano works.
As editor of the Neue Zeitschrift it was Schumann’s fancy often to sign his reviews with
pen names, and people them with pen names that stood for his friends. Wherever Zilia or
Chiarina appears, Clara Wieck (later to become Schumann’s wife) is understood. Meritas
refers to Felix Mendelssohn; Florestan and Eusebius reflect the passionate or reflective sides
of Schumann’s nature. And so on.
While editing the Zeitschrift, Schumann also was doing his best to write piano music that
would be a corrective to Herz and Hünten. The Carnaval, Opus 9, which dates from 1834-
35, is subtitled “Scènes mignonnes sur quatre notes.” But why “tiny scenes on four notes?”
Well, Schumann had fallen in love with a girl named Ernestine von Fricken, and she came
from a town named Asch. Each of the four letters in the name of that town has, a musical
equivalent in German. “S” is the same as “Es,” which is our E flat. The German “H” is our B
natural. These four letters — ASCH — also occur in Schumann’s name. Moreover, “As” in
German is A flat. Thus Schumann exuberantly went to work, devising a triple set of themes
— A, E flat, C, B; A flat, C, B; E flat, C, B, A. The first group of notes in nearly every piece
of the Carnaval is based on one of those three combinations.
“Let me make a few observations regarding this composition,” wrote Schumann, “which
owed its origin to pure chance. The name of a city in which a musical friend of mine lived
consisted of letters belonging to the scale which are also contained in my name, and this suggested
one of those musical games that are no longer new, since Bach provided the model.
One piece after the other was completed during the carnival season of 1835, in a serious
mood, by the way, and under peculiar circumstances. I afterwards gave titles to the numbers,
and named the entire collection Carnaval.”
The work opens with a spirited Préambule. After the trumpet-call opening, a brillante
section follows, ending in a kind of Gilbert and Sullivan summation. Then Pierrot, the stumbling
clown makes his pompous way across the stage, joined by Arlequin in the next number.
A Valse noble follows where right hand octaves introduce the expressive melody. Next the
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dual parts of Schumann’s personality
are paired off: Eusebius
(the title is Schumann’s alias
for the softer side of his
own personality) and Florestan
(Schumann the man of action).
It is interesting to note that
Florestan has the same initial
sequence of notes as the Valse
noble, but how differently
Schumann treats the two!
Coquette comes on stage, traipsing
right out of Florestan in a
flirty waltz; there is a reply
(Réplique); and then the funny
little Sphinxes appear which are
never played, nor are they
meant to be, but which give the
clue to the Carnaval by printing
the three thematic combinations
that Schumann evolved
from the good city of Asch.
Three forms of the musical
cryptogram are given in
Sphinxes. First is a four note
idea, E flat, C, B, A, standing
for SCHA, an abbreviation for
Robert and Clara Schumann
Schumann (SCHumAnn).
Then come the three notes A flat, C, B, standing for Asch, using A flat as AS. The third is a
four note phrase A, E flat, C, B, standing again for Asch. The game doesn’t end there,
though, for each piece is as well a miniature cartoon or caricature of a friend, a composer, or
one of the figures of Italian comedy, with an occasional valse or mood piece thrown in.
The whole is then wrapped up as a document of the Davidsbündler, Schumann’s imaginary
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society for the prevention of cruelty to Romantic composers.
In the music the sequence continues as follows: Papillons (a fluttery version of
Schumann’s butterflies), Lettres Dansantes (in which the cryptogram ASCH and SCHA
become the subject now of a slightly frenzied dance that ends abruptly), Chiarina (this waltz
is meant to be a characteristic description of Clara Wieck, later to become Schumann’s wife.
Annotators have remarked that even here the composer seems to have given her a favored
position and musical treatment), Chopin (in which Schumann, as a tribute, imitates the composer’s
delicate nocturne-like writing), and Estrella (Ernestine von Fricken). Next come the
Reconnaissance, one of the most delightful of the pieces. Its title can be taken to mean
acknowledgement or recognition but could also mean a reconnaissance in the sense of military
reconnoitering of a personal kind. It is followed by those two good carnival figures,
Pantalon et Colombine, providing us with more Italian comics before the footlights. A Valse
Allemande is interrupted by none other than Paganini, bowing violently away. Then there is
the tender Aveu, a short, simple confession. It is followed by a Promenade, a three-quarter
time stroll in a peaceful, somewhat idealistic garden. Pause is next – this “pause” is, rather, a
short headlong dive into the conclusion.
The finale is entitled Marche des “Davidsbündler” contre les Philistins. The Davidsbündler
was a typical Schumannesque invention, supposed to represent a group consisting of the
composer and his friends – a band dedicated to artistic ideals and the prevention of cruelty to
Romantic composers. Liszt introduced Carnaval in a Leipzig concert but the work proved
too full of startling ideas compactly presented to be immediately heard for what it is. As Liszt
later wrote: “The musicians, as well as the so-called musical experts, with few exceptions, still
wore a thick mask over their ears, which prevented them from comprehending this piece, so
charming, so bejewelled, and, through artistic imagination, so variously and harmoniously
put together.”
The miracle of the Carnaval, Opus 9 is the bewildering variety Schumann achieves
despite the limiting factor of the three themes to which he confined himself. To many, this
work is the cornerstone of the romantic period in music. The programme is secondary: it is
mildly amusing and even wistful, these sophisticated days. As pure music, forgetting entirely
about the programme, the Carnaval is a glowing, nostalgic, passionate and idealistic outpouring
from one of the most poetic musicians who ever lived.
Music, as Schumann composed it, was meant to be expressive in itself. He possessed not
only a rare spiritual affinity to poetry, but also the soul and imagination of a poet. In his sets
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of descriptive piano pieces bearing individual titles (“Fantasiestücke,” Opus 12 in 1837
was the first among them) he in effect created the equivalent of song cycles for the piano, as
colorful and poetic as the best inspirations of his celebrated lieder.
Kinderszenen, Opus 15 dates from 1838, when Schumann was twenty-eight. It was a particularly
happy and productive year for the composer. Thoughts of Clara Wieck had filled
his mind and guided his pen. Composing prodigiously, he dashed off the entire set in a matter
of days. “I felt as if I had wings, and wrote about thirty pretty little things from which I
have chosen twelve and called them “Kinderszenen.” I am very proud of them...” These are
not virtuoso pieces, nor were they meant to be. But they were not intended for children,
either. Rather, they express the gentle, understanding feelings of an adult observing the world
of a child, linking the two worlds in an intimate relationship. A yearning for a then still unattainable
domestic happiness might well have been the true inspiration of this collection.
The first two pieces, Von fremden Ländern und Menschen and Kuriose Geschichte, may
keep the listener puzzled as to the strange places and people depicted in the former and the
nature of the story told in the latter. The composer offers not a program but a mood and
invites us to follow his flights of imagination. Easier to identify is the merry game of chase
(Blindman’s Bluff) that is the subject of Hasche-Mann and the touching vignette called
Bittendes Kind with its truly inspired stroke of suspended ending. Following the gentle but
irresistible hint of the child’s plea, Glückes genug brings relief with a feeling of joyous satisfaction.
In Wichtige Begebenheit, an important event in the day of a child is set forth in a
manner of mock seriousness.
Träumerei is, of course, too well known to require comment, except that it takes on a
special meaning of gentleness and innocence when heard in this context. Am Kamin pictures
a feeling of quiet contentment that adults would wish to share with a child. The programmatic
Ritter vom Steckenpferd is clearly illustrated in whimsical tempo, while Fast zu ernst
(“Almost too Serious”) is a perfect title for something that music can express so much better
than words. In Fürchtenmachen, childhood’s mysterious fears are captured in the alternating
moods of the music. And then comes Kind im Einschlummern, its rocking, quiet melody that
signals approaching sleep, and the suggestion of a concluding gentle sigh. Here the scenes of
childhood come to an appropriate close, but enters the poet – Der Dichter spricht – who talks
in plaintive tones, not so much to the sleeping child but to his listeners, creating a meaningful
piano postlude for the set.
Schumann, as a youth, lived in a never-changing atmosphere of feminine adulation. He
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made no secret of his affections, and published them in the dedications of his music, in thinly
disguised musical acrostics, and in his letters. He examined and recorded the fluctuating
states of his passion with cool detachment despite the depth of emotion. It seems that he
lived in the third person singular, so analytical are his epistolary descriptions of his own feelings.
He confided his loves to his mother, to whom he was deeply devoted. He often wrote
to one of his feminine friends confessing admiration for another. And once he wrote to a perfect
stranger, declaring in a curt sentence: “Clara Wieck loves, and is loved.” At that time he
was going through the torturing battle of sentiment with Clara’s father who opposed
Schumann’s marriage to Clara to the bitter end.
Two other women besides Clara occupied Schumann’s mind during this early period of
his life. One was Ernestine von Fricken, his first romantic love, the other, Henriette Voigt
who played the role of a confidante. Ernestine was Estrella, the starlet of Schumann’s imaginary
anti-Philistine Society of David. She was immortalized in the “dancing letters” of
Carnaval, which spell the name of her native town. She was a pupilboarder at the house of
Clara’s father, who never suspected that she and Schumann kept clandestine rendezvous at
the house of Henriette Voigt, the confidante. The attitude of Captain von Fricken towards
Ernestine was peculiar. He wrote her: “Play duets with Schumann, but be careful not to do
anything that might disturb your peace of mind or harm your good name.” But when
Schumann went to Asch, ready to sanction his relations by marriage, he found out to his dismay
that Ernestine was an illegitimate child adopted by the Captain, and not an heir to his
fortune. But the romance was already on the wane. Clara, although only sixteen, now occupied
Schumann’s full attention. To make sure of the indivisibility of that attention, Clara
wrote to Ernestine asking her whether she had any claims on Schumann, and received an
admirably unselfish reply that she had none. Much later, analyzing his mental state in retrospect,
Schumann wrote to Clara: “I feel strongly that Ernestine has been wronged. She was
the victim of circumstances, and I know well that I was at fault.” But he found an explanation
that mitigated his consciousness of guilt: Ernestine drove Clara from Schumann’s heart
without being aware of it, and thus the priority of love was merely re-established when
Schumann returned to Clara. Ernestine herself, strangely self-denying creature that she must
have been, wrote to Schumann and told him she had always believed that he could love no
one but Clara. Ernestine married an old aristocrat even before Schumann’s marriage to
Clara; her husband soon died, and she followed him, a victim of a typhoid epidemic.
Robert Schumann dedicated the Piano Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Opus 22 to Henriette
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Voigt, the accommodating confidante. Writing to Henriette in 1834, Schumann said she
was “an A-flat major soul,” but her soul must have changed key, for the Sonata is in G
Minor! Schumann was slow in composing this Sonata, and it took him nearly five years to
bring it to completion. The Sonata is in the orthodox four movements, but each movement
individually is far from orthodox. The first movement is feverishly impetuous. The tempo is
marked “as fast as possible,” but towards the end of the movement there are further impellents,
piu mosso, and ancora piu animato. The second movement is an uncommonly short,
Andantino in 6/8, nominally in the key of C Major, but too fluctuating to convey a definite
impression of tonality. Then follows a nervous, syncopated Scherzo, in the tonic key of G
Minor. The last movement is a Rondo. The technical style is characteristic of the
post-Beethoven period of piano literature. The accompanying figures contain wide intervals,
awkward to play; there are elements or polyphony that suggest the mental image of an
orchestra. Yet the Sonata is very pianistic, in the transcendental sense and pre-eminent
among the works of the period as a highly successful composition expressing the new free
and romantic spirit in a form inalienably identified with classical abstraction.
– Notes by Marina and Victor Ledin, Copyright © 1990 and 2000
– 9 –

The Artist
“She knows what she is doing every minute of the time. It is amazing!”
– Josef Hofmann after hearing Ruth Slenczynska
in her New York debut at Town Hall, 1933
Ruth Slenczynska was born in Sacramento, California on January 15, 1925. From the
time she was two years old, Ruth’s musicianship was evident to all. She was able to recognize
and hum (in the correct keys!) themes by Beethoven, Bach and Mozart. By the age of three,
she had mastered the rudiments of music theory and harmony. She began her studies with her
father, a violin teacher in the San Francisco Bay Area, and gave her first public recital at the
age of four, on May 10, 1929, at Mills College in Oakland. On Sunday, March 16, 1930, she
gave a “farewell recital” at Erlanger’s Columbia Theatre in San Francisco. The program featured
works by Bach, Mendelssohn, Grieg, C.P.E. Bach, Beethoven and Chopin. She was
awarded a scholarship by Josef Hofmann to study at the Curtis Institute in Philadelphia and
this concert by the five-year-old was her last appearance before commencing studies.
Hofmann taught her to lean into the piano keys on the soft part of her fingers in order to produce
the desired sound. Although she received a few lessons from Hofmann, because of his
busy concert schedule, she actually studied with Madame Isabelle Vengerova. Her older classmates
were Shura Cherkassky, Jorge Bolet and Samuel Barber. Despite this brief foray into a
conservatory, Ruth’s father, Josef Slenczynski, remained her primary teacher.
Bay Area socialites, rallied by violinist Mischa Elman, raised money for Ruth’s study
abroad under such masters as Egon Petri, Artur Schnabel, Alfred Cortot and Sergei
Rachmaninov. When she was six, long lines formed around the historic Bachsaal in Berlin for
her German debut. The cabled report to The New York Times declared her to be “the most
astounding of all prodigies heard in recent years on either side of the ocean.” After her Berlin
concert, the German critics mounted the stage to examine the full-sized piano on which the
legs and pedal mechanisms had been shortened to enable her to play. They were seeking some
sort of concealed mechanism or wires to account for the undersized six-year-old’s ability to
produce the glorious sounds she had just drawn from the instrument. Apologizing for their
disbelief, they departed just as dumbfounded as the rest of the frenzied audience.
On the evening of November 13, 1933, the eight-year-old Ruth trotted confidently from
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the wings of New York’s Town
Hall, poised herself on the very
edge of her piano seat and propelled
a pair of tiny hands through
an almost unbelievable performance
of masterpieces by Bach,
Beethoven, Mendelssohn and
Chopin. This was her New York
debut. The next day, The New
York Times declared the playing
“an electrifying experience, full of
the excitement and wonder of hearing
what nature had produced in
one of her most bounteous
moods.” At nine she filled an entire
cancelled tour of the immortal
Ignacy Jan Paderewski; had her
story serialized in 18 daily chapters
syndicated to 500 leading
American newspapers; swapped
riddles with Herbert Hoover;
received floral tributes from Queen
Astrid of Belgium, Queen Marie of
Ruth Slenczynska
Romania, and King Christian X of
Denmark; and earned more money than the President of the United States. Her musical
career was to last another five years before she came to the heroic decision to withdraw from
the concert stage.
This was followed by a period of maturation, reassessment and personal growth. She
worked at odd jobs to put herself through the University of California, Berkeley, where she
earned a degree in psychology. She then served as professor of music at the College of Our
Lady of Mercy in Burlingame, California. Ruth Slenczynska returned to the concert stage at
the Carmel Bach Festival in California in 1951. This appearance led to a performance with
Arthur Fiedler and the Boston Pops in San Francisco. Ruth was then invited to play in
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Boston and was also asked to go
on tour with the Boston Pops
that following winter. The tour
would require Ruth to perform
with the orchestra for a threemonth
period, performing every
night, and twice-a-day on
Saturdays and Sundays. The
gruelling schedule would require
that she travel every day by bus
between concert venues.
Nervous about forsaking her
teaching position at the College
of Our Lady of Mercy, she
sought the advice of Artur
Rubinstein in Los Angeles.
Rubinstein encouraged Ruth to
pursue the Boston Pops invitation.
The first year of touring
Earl Wild and Ruth Slenczynska, 1999
led to three more years with the
Boston Pops. During that period she gave more than 360 performances with the orchestra –
a record number of appearances by one artist with an orchestra! In 1956 she performed the
Chopin F Minor Concerto with the New York Philharmonic conducted by Dimitri
Mitropoulos at Carnegie Hall. Mitropoulos, who had conducted her appearance with the
Minneapolis Orchestra when she was twelve, considered this 1956 engagement as the
“discovery of a brilliant new artist on the threshold of a great career ahead.” He inscribed a
photograph to her: “To a great pianist and musician.” In May of that year, some 35 million
television viewers watched and listened with amazement as Ralph Edwards applied his
unique “This Is Your Life” formula to Ruth Slenczynska’s stranger-than-fiction real life story.
Six months later it was set forth again, when the “best-of” “This Is Your Life” was highlighted
on Arlene Francis’ coast-to-coast NBC “Home Show.” Also in 1956, her profile, sculptured
by famed Malvina Hoffman, was designated as the symbol of achievement for the 1956
Kimber Award in Instrumental Music of the San Francisco Foundation. Delta Omicron, the
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Ivory Classics recording team after Ruth Slenczynska recording sessions,
October 1999. Edd Kolakowski, Ed Thompson, Ruth Slenczynska,
Michael Rolland Davis and Earl Wild
International Music Fraternity
founded in 1909, elected her to
national honorary membership,
conferring the title to a “musician
who has attained outstanding
recognition in the field of
music.”
In 1958, on the evening of
November 13th, she returned to
Town Hall to celebrate her
Silver Jubilee. That same year
she crossed the country, playing
in 56 cities, in 20 different
states, with appearances with six
major symphony orchestras. In
1961, when the San Francisco
Symphony was celebrating its
Golden Anniversary Season, she
was invited to perform the
Khachaturian piano concerto
with the 25-year-old Seiji
Ozawa conducting. She has performed
more than 3000 recitals on both hemispheres and appeared with most of the world’s
greatest orchestras. In 1984 she returned to New York’s Town Hall in celebration of over 50
years on the concert stage. The New York Times critic, John Rockwell wrote: “unlike too
many machine-tooled young virtuosos today, Miss Slenczynska brought an appealing lyricism
and musicality to her interpretations... her technique remains a commanding one.”
Although in 1985 she returned to the far eastern countries of Korea, Singapore, Thailand,
Taiwan, Malaysia and the first visits to China and New Zealand, performing 115 concerts,
she has pared back her concert schedule as follows: “Every three years I play internationally –
between fifty and sixty concerts. Every year I play between twenty-five and thirty concerts
and workshops all over the United States.” Although Ms. Slenczynska tried to retire from
concertizing and teaching a couple of years ago, she has been unable to do so because of the
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constant demand for her concert performances and master classes. Today she still maintains
an active teaching schedule at Southern Illinois University as well as conducting workshops
and master classes around the country. Ruth Slenczynska is married to retired political science
professor James Richard Kerr and resides in Glen Carbon, Illinois. They are avid
gardeners and dog lovers and collect art from all over the world. This recording marks Ruth
Slenczynska’s return to the recording studio after an absence of many years and continues
Ivory Classics’ commitment to documenting her incredible musical career.
Recordings by Ruth Slenczynska
on Ivory Classics ® :
The Legacy of a Genius – Ivory Classics 70802
Bach: Italian Concerto; Chromatic Fantasy and Fugue,
Toccata in C minor; and Sonata in D Major
Chopin/Liszt: Six Chants Polonais, Op.74
Liszt: Consolation No.1 in E Major; Hungarian Rhapsody No.15
in A minor (“Rákóczy March”)
Ruth Slenczynska in Concert – Ivory Classics 70902
Haydn: Sonata No.47 in B minor
Brahms: Rhapsody in B minor, Op.79, No.1
Copland: Midsummer Nocturne (1947)
Chopin: Sonata No.3 in B minor, Op.58
Rachmaninov: Eight Preludes
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CREDITS
l l l l l l l l
Recorded at Fernleaf Abbey, Columbus, Ohio, October 5-7, 1999
Original 24-Bit Master
Producer: Michael Rolland Davis
Recording Engineer: Ed Thompson
Piano Technician: Edd Kolakowski
Generous assistance came from the Michael Palm Foundation
and Ivory Classics Foundation
Liner Notes: Marina and Victor Ledin
Design: Communication Graphics
Inside Tray Photo: Ruth Slenczynska
Cover Photo: Ruth Slenczynska in 1999
(Photo by Michael Rolland Davis)
To place an order or to be included on mailing list:
Ivory Classics ®
P.O. Box 341068 • Columbus, Ohio 43234-1068
Phone: 888-40-IVORY or 614-761-8709 • Fax: 614-761-9799
e-mail@ivoryclassics.com • Website: http://www.IvoryClassics.com
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1
22
35
Ruth Slenczynska
Schumann
Carnaval• Kinderszenen • Sonata No.2
- 21 Carnaval (“Scènes mignonnes sur quatre notes”), Opus 9 28:46
- 34 Kinderszenen (“Scenes from Childhood”), Opus 15 18:15
- 38 Sonata No.2 in G Minor, Opus 22 18:50
Total Playing Time: 66:07
Original 24-Bit Master
Producer: Michael Rolland Davis • Engineer: Ed Thompson
2000 Ivory Classics ® • All Rights Reserved. 64405-71004 STEREO
Ivory Classics ® • P.O. Box 341068
Columbus, Ohio 43234-1068 U.S.A.
Phone: 888-40-IVORY or 614-761-8709 • Fax: 614-761-9799
®
e-mail@ivoryclassics.com • Website: www.IvoryClassics.com