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As a young composer, Arnold Schoenberg had strong ties with Berlin's cabaret scene. He conducted and arranged numerous works for cabaret, collecting eight settings for soprano with piccoli, trumpet, snare drum and piano under the title Brettl-lieder. In 1912, Viennese actress Albertine Zehme, known for her performances of poetry recited to musical accompaniment, was looking for effective settings of the poetry of Albert Giraud. In commissioning Schoenberg, Zehme allowed him the freedom to work on them as he pleased. Schoenberg, thrilled, noted in his diary: "I read the forward, looked at the poems, am enthralled. Brilliant idea, quite to my liking. I would have wanted to do this even without payment. That is why I made another suggestion: instead of a payment, a percentage of the performances. I can accept that, because I can't work on command, And I feel that I am definitely approaching a new form of expression. The sounds directly become an animalistic, immediate expression of sensual and spiritual movements." Schoenberg responded to the commission with Pierrot Lunaire a cycle of "three times seven melodramas" scored for reciter (Zehme), flute, clarinet, violin (also playing viola), cello and piano. After almost 40 rehearsals, the work was premiered on October 16th and became one of Schoenberg's only successes. (In his 1930 essay "My Public" Schoenberg recalls the story of an elevator operator who had heard its premiere and still had the sound in his ears.) Pierrot Lunaire would become a major representation of the Expressionist aesthetic and provide an influence for nearly every composer of the twentieth century, many of whom have written works for the ensemble known as the "Pierrot" ensemble. The choice of 21 poems was not a coincidence: Pierrot was completed in 1912 and was to be Schoenberg's Opus 21. Numerology is found throughout the work: Born on September 13th, and convinced that the number 13 wold have some role in his death, Schoenberg was concerned about the length of the poems: thirteen lines. To counteract the malevolent influence of 13, Schoenberg sectioned the twenty-one settings into 3 groups of 7, pinning his hopes on those two auspicious numbers. In later years, Schoenberg would avoid 13 at all costs going so far as to rearrange the numbering of his musical measures to avoid it: 12, 12a, 14. Schoenberg's fears were not unfounded; he died on Friday, July 13th, 1951, in his 76th year. |
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The Poems Albert Giraud, a popular Belgian poet, published his Pierrot Lunaire, 50 Rondels Bergamasques in 1884. The poems tell the story of the classic characters of Commedia dell'arte placed in all manner of imaginative settings from the backdrops of Brueghel to the autumn colors of Watteau. Borrowing from the French symbolist poets, such as Mallarme, Giraud writes the poems in an artifically archaic poetic form, the rondeau. In a rondeau lines 1 and 2 return as lines 7 and 8. Giraud's poems were translated, it appears rather freely, by the German poet Otto Erich Hartleben in 1892. It is Hartleben's translations that are set to music by Schoenberg. Texts for the poems not covered here can be found here. |
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1. Mondestrunken Den Wein, den man mit Augen trinkt, Gießt Nachts der Mond in Wogen nieder, Und eine Springflut überschwemmt Den stillen Horizont. Gelüste schauerlich und süß, Durchschwimmen ohne Zahl die Fluten! Den Wein, den man mit Augen trinkt, Gießt Nachts der Mond in Wogen nieder. Der Dichter, den die Andacht treibt, Berauscht sich an dem heilgen Tranke, Gen Himmel wendet er verzückt Das Haupt und taumelnd saugt und schlürit er Den Wein, den man mit Augen trinkt. 7. Der kranke Mond Du nächtig todeskranker Mond Dort auf des Himmels schwarzem Pfühl, Dein Blick, so fiebernd übergroß, Bannt mich wie fremde Melodie. An unstillbarem Liebesleid Stirbst du, an Sehnsucht, tief erstickt, Du nächtig todeskranker Mond Dort auf des Himmels schwarzem Pfühl. Den Liebsten, der im Sinnenrausch Gedankenlos zur Liebsten schleicht, Belustigt deiner Strahlen Spiel - Dein bleiches, qualgebornes Blut, Du nächtig todeskranker Mond. 10. Raub Rote, fürstliche Rubine, Blutge Tropfen alten Ruhmes, Schlummern in den Totenschreinen, Drunten in den Grabgewolben. Nachts, mit seinen Zechkumpanen, Steigt Pierrot hinab - zu rauben Rote, fürstliche Rubine, Blutge Tropfen alten Ruhmes. Doch da - strauben sich die Haare, Bleiche Furcht bannt sie am Platze: Durch die Finsternis - wie Augen! - Stieren aus den Totenschreinen Rote, fürstliche Rubine. |
1. MOONDRUNK The wine which through the eyes we drink Flows nightly from the moon in torrents, And as a spring-tide overflows The far and distant land, Desires terrible and sweet Unnumbered drift in floods abounding! The wine which through the eyes we drink Flows nightly from the moon in torrents. The poet, in ecstasy, Drinks deeply from the holy chalice, To heaven lifts up his entranced Head, and reeling quaffs and drains down The wine which through the eyes we drink. 7. THE AILING MOON You ailing, death-awaiting moon, High upon heaven's dusty couch, Your glance, so feverish overlarge, Lures me, like strange enchanting song. With unrequited pain of love You die, your longing deep concealed, You ailing, death-awaiting moon, High upon heaven's dusty couch. The lover, stirred by sharp desire Who reckless seeks for love's embrace Exults in your bright play of light, Your pale and pain-begotten flood, You ailing, death-awaiting moon. 10. LOOT Ancient royalty's red rubies, Bloody drops of antique glory, Slumber in the hollow coffins Buried in the vaulted caverns. Late at night with boon companions Pierrot descends to ravish Ancient royalty's red rubies, Bloody drops of antique glory. But there, ever hair a-bristle, Livid fear turns them to statues; Through the murky gloom, like eyes -- Glaring from the hollow coffins Ancient royalty's red rubies. |
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16. Gemeinheit!
In den blanken Kopf Cassanders, Dessen Schrein die Luft durchzetert, Bohrt Pierrot mit Heuchlermienen, Zärtlich - einen Schädelbohrer! Darauf stopft er mit dem Daumen Seinen echten türkischen Taback In den blanken Kopf Cassanders, Dessen Schrein die Luft durchzetert! Dann dreht er ein Rohr von Weichsel Hinten in die glatte Glatze Und behäbig schmaucht und pafft er Seinen echten türkischen Taback Aus dem blanken Kopf Cassanders! 18. Der Mondfleck Einen weißen Fleck des hellen Mondes Auf dem Rücken seines schwarzen Rockes, So spaziert Pierrot im lauen Abend, Aufzusuchen Glück und Abenteuer. Plötzlich stört ihn was an seinem Anzug, Er beschaut sich rings und findet richtig - Einen weißen Fleck des hellen Mondes Auf dem Rücken seines schwarzen Rockes. Warte! denkt er: das ist so ein Gipsleck! Wischt und wischt, doch - bringt ihn nicht herunter! Und so geht er, giftgeschwollen, weiter, Reibt und reibt bis an den frühen Morgen - Einen weißen Fleck des hellen Mondes. 21. O alter Duft O alter Duft aus Märchenzeit, Berauschest wieder meine Sinne; Ein närrisch Heer von Schelmerein Durchschwirrt die leichte Luft. Ein glückhaft Wünschen macht mich froh Nach Freuden, die ich lang verachtet: O alter Duft aus Märchenzeit, Berauschest wieder mich! All meinen Unmut gab ich preis; Aus meinem sonnumrahmten Fenster Beschau ich frei die liebe Welt Und träum hinaus in selge Weiten... O alter Duft - aus Märchenzeit! |
16. ATROCITY
Through the bald pate of Cassander, As he rends the air with screeches Bores Pierrot in feigning tender Fashion with a cranium driller. He then presses with his finger Rare tobacco grown in Turkey In the bald pate of Cassander, As he rends the air with screeches. Then screwing a cherry pipe stem Right in through the polished surface, Sits at ease and smokes and puffs the Rare tobacco grown in Turkey From the bald pate of Cassander. 18. MOONFLECK With a snowy fleck of shining moonlight On the shoulder of his black silk frock-coat So walks out Pierrot this languid evening, Seeking everywhere for love's adventure. But what! something wrong with his appearance? He looks round and round and then he finds it -- Just a snowy fleck of shining moonlight On the shoulder of his black silk frock-coat . Wait now (thinks he), 'tis a piece of plaster, Wipes and wipes, yet cannot make it vanish. So he goes on poisoned with his fancy, Rubs and rubs until the early morning Just a snowy fleck of shining moonlight. 21. O ANCIENT SCENT O ancient scent from far-off days, Intoxicate once more my senses! A merry swarm of idle thoughts Pervades the gentle air. A happy whim makes me aspire To joys which I too long neglected. O ancient scent from far-off days, Intoxicate me again. Now all my sorrow is dispelled, And from my sun-encircled casement I view again the lovely world And dream beyond the fair horizon. O ancient scent from far-off days! |
