Charles Edward Ives (1874-1954)
Symphony No.2 / Robert Browning Overture
'I think there must be a place in the soul all made of
tunes, of tunes of long ago...'
The Things Our
Fathers Loved, Charles Edward Ives
The Composer
There has been a great deal of discussion regarding Ives
as an experimental composer. The truth is that - despite his bewilderingly
dense texture and shocking dissonance - Ives was neither a musical primitive
nor a cultural iconoclast. A child of his time and place, Ives shared much in
common with the New England school of composers (Paine, Chadwick, Parker, and
others), and shared also the musical challenges that absorbed his European
contemporaries. Indeed, Ives saw himself as a 'continuing spirit' in the
tradition of Beethoven.
Charles Edward Ives was born on October 20, 1874, in Danbury, Connecticut. His ancestors were numbered among the town's most
successful businessmen. The Iveses also had reputations for being both a very
civic-minded family and somewhat eccentric. George Edward Ives, Charles's
father, departed from the family's business activities and entered music.
Enlisting in the Union Army during the Civil War, George was the youngest
bandmaster to have served. Following the war he returned to Danbury, where he
oversaw virtually all of the town's public musical activities.
Young Charlie was a musical prodigy. Under the tutelage
of his father, he received a thorough grounding in the rudiments of music
theory and composition. Charlie eagerly absorbed his father's democratic approach
to music appreciation, complemented with a reverence for the works of Bach,
Beethoven, and Brahms. Ives attended Yale, where he followed a general course
of study and audited classes taught by the composer Horatio Parker. Parker was
regarded as a superior craftsman and his works were internationally esteemed - though
much later Ives would recall his experiences with Parker in negative tones,
identifying him with hidebound German musical academicism. The truth of Ives's
relationship with Parker was more complex, for during Ives's freshman year
George Ives died suddenly from a stroke. Decades later in a letter to an old
friend, Ives confessed that he had hoped to find in Parker a musical
replacement for his father, a role for which the busy composer and teacher was
unprepared.
Parker, however, was essential to Ives's development as a
composer, teaching him advanced procedures through the modeling of actual
masterworks. Concurrent with those studies, Ives composed much collegiate and
other vernacular music - including a political campaign song for William
McKinley, William Will, and the March Intercollegiate, played at
McKinley's inaugural ball.
Following his commencement in 1898, Ives moved to New
York to begin a dual career as a clerk with the Mutual Life Insurance Company
and as a church organist and choirmaster. Despite his ability as a church composer,
Ives was determined not to let his future family suffer the uncertain fortunes
of a musician's life: leaving his church job in 1902, Ives continued to compose
in two styles - one tailored for popular consumption, the other radically
experimental. Following a tumultuous Federal investigation of the insurance
industry many companies were closed. Stepping into the power vacuum in 1906
Ives and a New York Mutual friend, Julian Myrick, formed Ives and Company,
which within five years became one of the country's most successful agencies.
In 1908 Ives married Harmony Twichell who, for the remainder of his life, would
be his muse and helpmate. Throughout the first decades of the twentieth century
Ives composed at a phenomenal rate, completing five symphonies and numerous
suites (or 'sets' as Ives called them) for orchestra, a second string quartet,
a trio for piano, violin, and cello, two piano sonatas, four violin sonatas, and
well over a hundred songs. Ives would occasionally attempt to organize private
readings of his works, but the negative reactions of other musicians
discouraged him from public performances.
In addition to his double life as businessman and composer,
Ives continued his family's tradition for civic-mindedness. He expressed his
humanitarian and radically democratic views on many occasions, even drafting a
proposed Twentieth Amendment to the Constitution, which would place all matters
of national importance before a popular vote. Following the outbreak of World
War I, Ives campaigned successfully for the introduction of Liberty Bonds in
smaller denominations to permit support from the public at large. The resulting
stress caused a breakdown from which he never fully recovered. During the
1920s, Ives began to assemble his scattered manuscripts for publication.
Through his self-funded printings of the Concord Sonata, Essays
Before a Sonata, and the 114 Songs, as well as various scores that
appeared in Henry Cowell's New Music Quarterly, Ives's work gradually came
to the attention of the new generation of musicians that included Aaron
Copland, Elliott Carter, Lou Harrison, Bernard Herrmann, E. Robert Schmitz, Nicholas
Slonimsky, and John Kirkpatrick. When the New York Herald Tribune review of
Kirkpatrick's 1939 performance of the Concord Sonata declared it 'the greatest
music by an American,' Ives's position as the patron saint of American
composers was vouchsafed. In 1947, he received the Pulitzer Prize for his Third
Symphony (which had been completed around 1911). Following surgery in 1954,
Ives suffered a stroke and on May 19 died peacefully in the presence of his
wife and daughter.
The Works
Ives's Second Symphony (assembled from some earlier
church preludes and secular overtures around 1900-02, with its symphonic
substance and orchestrations 1907-10 and final touches through 1950) is
undoubtedly the most 'American' of symphonies. Drawing on patriotic marches,
Stephen Foster tunes, gospel hymns, and a college song for most of its thematic
material, it anticipates by three decades the homespun-flavored works of Virgil
Thomson, Roy Harris, and Copland. The Symphony opens with a flowing fugato that
within seven measures introduces Foster's Massa's in de Cold Ground. A
second quote from the fiddle tune Pig Town Fling lightens the mood. The
remainder of this introductory movement combines these elements with the main
motif from Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean. A gentle oboe
recitative segues into Henry Clay Work's jubilant song Wake Nicodemus, the main
thematic material of the second movement. Shifting freely from key to key, Ives
fragments Work's song to use as symphonic development. The minor-key version of
Bringing in the Sheaves is set in relief against Work's melody. A
sweetly harmonized quote of the college hazing song Where O Where Are the
Verdant Freshmen? - sounding a lot like the song Dixie - provides
contrast The coda, a dizzying collage of tunes - Where O Where, Wake
Nicodemus, and the hymn
Hamburg - brings the movement to its breathless conclusion.
The third movement, Adagio cantabile, first saw light of day as the slow
movement to Ives's First
Symphony but was withdrawn at Parker's request. Beginning
solemnly, quotes from Beulah Land and Materna (now
known as 'America the Beautiful') are joined to extend the theme. This is
followed by an Andante episode based on the hymns Missionary Chant and
Nettleton. A final statement of the Beulah/Materna group and a
quiet horn call bring the movement to a close. Following the model of
Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony, Ives introduces a cyclic return of his
first movement to serve as his fourth movement - really an extended
introduction to the finale. Beginning this with a lively passage reminiscent of
folk fiddling, the Stephen Foster song Camptown Races is introduced in the
horns, becoming the main theme of the movement. A trumpet blast of Reveille
announces the coda, where Wake Nicodemus, Pig Town
Fling, and Columbia are sounded simultaneously, climaxing in one of the
greatest symphonic pies-in-the-face ever hurled by a composer at his audience.
Ives had originally planned a cycle of overtures called Men
of Literature. Only the Robert Browning Overture was completed,
sketches for others finding their way into the Concord Sonata and much
else. If the Second Symphony is one of Ives's most accessible works, the
Robert Browning Overture is one of his most challenging. Ives was never
satisfied with his attempt to evoke what he described as Browning's 'surge into
the baffling unknown' and later repudiated the work. Its mysterious
introduction is interrupted by a seething passage in the strings and an
angular, atonal march whose theme is played in a series of canons between brass,
woodwinds, and strings. Following a highly dissonant climax, an Adagio
provides some repose. The return to the opening material and an extended recapitulation
of the densely scored, canonic march, climaxes with a long-held pedal G-sharp
and a ferociously dissonant chord, resolving into one of Ives's 'shadow
chords.' Brief overlapping solos for the brass take us into the densely
polyrhythmic coda. The work shrieks to a stop, revealing the opening chords of
the Adagio, played almost imperceptibly in the strings.
Joshua Cheek
Editor's Note
When the Charles Ives Society engaged me to prepare their
critical edition of the Second Symphony, I had long been a student of Ives's
life and work and knew that within every major task lay its unique web of error
and enigma. Too, I had grown up with Leonard Bernstein's vinyl recording that
for a half century has been the molding icon for every performance since his premiere
of the Second in Carnegie Hall toward the end of Ives's life. Ives's physical
vitality and attention span were by that time too limited for him to be of much
help to Henry Cowell, whom Ives had asked to prepare for Bernstein - and for
publication - a score based on his 1907-10 pencil holograph. Though that 1951
score includes some touches known to be at least initiated by Ives (like the
three-measure Columbia/Reveille tag and - assumedly - the organist's
'crash' that conclude the finale), the responsibility for other additions and omissions
is unknown because no working material survives. But most damagingly - through
adverse circumstance and much to Ives's disappointment when he finally heard Bernstein's
performance ten days later on the radio - the 1951 score omits crucial tempo
markings within the second movement and garbles them in the fifth, surely misleading
Bernstein to his easygoing pacing of these and to his languorous
interpretations of their lyric interior sections. The sum and substance is that
the Ives Society's edition fixes nearly a thousand errors great and small from
that hastily prepared and ill-proofread 1951 edition, and revives the option of
repeating the second movement's exposition. For the record, Bernstein's
habitual, extensive, and inexplicable cut in the finale is not replicated in
the 1951 score, nor is his trademark prolongation of the final 'crash', which
in fact Bernstein seems not to have introduced until his first commercial
recording made four years after Ives's death.
My Ives Society edition of the Robert Browning
Overture likewise fixes myriad errors from its first publication in 1959,
clarifies dynamic terraces, establishes rhythmic proportions, and includes a
more accurate realization of the coda based on holograph sketch pages that have
come to light since.
Jonathan Elkus
University of California, Davis