Dr. Dubbe did not appear enthusiastic over this week's program. I guess
because there was no Bach or Brahms on it. But we enjoyed his lecture
just the same.
"Raff was the Raphael of music," said Dr. Dubbe. "He was handicapped by
a superabundance of ideas, but, unlike Raphael, he did not constantly
repeat himself. This week we will have a look at his Fifth Symphony,
entitled 'Lenore.'"
"Oh!" exclaimed Miss Georgiana Gush, "that's the one the hero of 'The
First Violin' was always whistling."
"As you all know," said Dr. Dubbe, "this symphony is based on Buerger's
well-known ballad of 'Lenore,' but as only the last movement is
concerned with the actual ballad I will confine my remarks mainly to
that. I wish, however, to call your attention to a curious harmony in
the first movement. Upon the return of the first theme the trombones
break in upon a dominant B major harmony with what is apparently a
dominant C major harmony, D, F, and B. But the chords are actually
enharmonic of D, E sharp, and B. This is a dominant harmony in F sharp.
Listen for these trombone chords, and pay special attention to the E
sharp--a tone that is extremely characteristic of Raff."
"I think I have read somewhere," said Mrs. Givu A. Payne, "that Raff was
exceedingly fond of E sharp."
"He was," said Dr. Dubbe. "He often said he didn't see how he could get
along without it. But to resume:
"The fourth movement opens with Lenore's lamentation over her absent
lover and her quarrel with her mother--the oboe being the girl and the
bassoon her parent. Lenore foolishly curses her fate (tympani and
triangle), and from that moment is lost. There is a knock at the door
and her dead lover appears with a horse and suggests something in the
nature of an elopement. Not knowing he is dead, Lenore acquiesces, and
away they go (trumpets, flutes and clarinets).
"'T is a wild and fearful night. Rack scuds across the moon's wan face
(violas and second violins). Hanged men rattle in their chains upon the
wayside gibbets (triangle and piccolo). But on, on, on go the lovers,
one dead and the other nearly so.
"At last they reach the grave in the church-yard, and death claims the
lost Lenore ('cellos and bass viols _pizzicato_). For a conclusion there
is a coda founded on the line in the ballad, 'Gott sei der Seele
gnaedig.' It is very sad."
Dr. Dubbe seemed much affected by the sad tale, and many of us had to
wipe tears away. But Miss Ellenborough came to our rescue with some
lovely doughnuts made in the shape of a true lovers' knot. These, with
the tea, quite restored us.