We continue our classical broadcasts, with Arabic commentary upon them, from this station at half past seven every Wednesday evening; tonight we present part of Verdi's famous opera Aida. It is in four acts, composed expressly for the opening ceremony of the Opera in Cairo in 1871; the Khedive Ismail Pasha had commissioned it from Verdi for an honorary fee of one hundred and fifty thousand francs.
Aida is the daughter of the King of Abyssinia, and had been taken captive to Egypt together with her father. During her stay there, attending Amneris, the daughter of the King of Egypt, she fell in love with Radames, the captain of the guards, whom Amneris, the King's daughter, loved as well.
The Emperor of Abyssinia seizes this opportunity and asks his daughter to distract the captain of the guards from his duties by means of her love; she does so, and succeeds. Radames becomes a traitor to his country and a helper of its enemy, the Emperor of Abyssinia. But the plot is discovered, and in vain does Amneris, the King's daughter, try to save him, despite the jealousy that inflamed her heart. The captain of the guards is placed in a pit beneath the earth — his tomb until he dies.
Aida anticipates events, and sings with her lover a salute to liberating death, while we hear the multitudes in the nearby temple chanting the divine hymns.
It is enough to know this story to imagine what, with a musician like Verdi, may accompany it: depth of feeling, anxiety, and a beautiful legendary atmosphere, all tinged with a splendid Eastern coloring.
We continue publishing these commentaries on the classical music broadcast from the Radio
Orient station at half past seven every Wednesday evening:
This evening we present a piece by the enchanting musician Joseph Haydn, who lived in the eighteenth century, entitled "The Queen." It is for Marie Antoinette, whom the composer had known in Vienna before she became queen, and whose elegance and charm he admired without reserve.
This symphony begins slowly and then bursts into two themes — a rule Haydn followed in most of the symphonies he composed, of which he has more than a hundred; and Haydn acknowledges that this method was suggested to him by Bach, the founder of Western music. We notice that when it bursts into the two themes, the orchestra consists, in addition to the stringed instruments, of a single flute, two horns, and two clarinets. And if we listen closely, we hear the fundamental melody that Haydn loves passing from the violin to the flute. In this piece there is one theme — the refrain — which appears to us more than three times in its course.
If we keep the title of this symphony always in mind, we can accompany the music in what it sought to picture for us of beauty, softness, and allurement in an aristocratic, romantic life.
I like to return, from time to time, to pieces with a narrative subject, or something akin to narrative, in deference to the wish of many an honored listener in all parts of the Arab East. So tonight I present a piece entitled 'The Blessed Damozel' by the French composer Claude Debussy (C. Debussy), who died about a quarter of a century ago, after he had freed French music from every traditional fetter, and after there had grown up, before the eyes of the public, that violent campaign against Wagner and his music which we mentioned earlier.
As for the piece of which we now present new portions, entitled 'The Blessed Damozel,' he built it upon a poem by Rossetti, setting it for solo voice, a chorus of women singers, and orchestra. The gist of its story is that heaven chooses this beautiful maiden for its dwelling—a grace that sets her apart from all mankind—but before she enters heaven she leans upon its golden ramparts, three lilies in her hand and seven stars in her hair, awaiting the young man she loved on earth; as though heaven could not be dwelt in without love, or as though she preferred love to heaven and hoped to accompany her beloved to the wellsprings of light. But her prayers went in vain, and her beloved did not come. So she cast her arms upon the golden ramparts, laid her face between her hands, and gave herself over to weeping. Then despair drove her to a deed that lost her heaven and lost her every tie of attraction on earth.
In this piece the composer's rare taste shines forth—in the balancing of voices, the escape from fetters, and the creation of delicate, original melody. And if we keep this charming story in our memory, we can accompany the blessed damozel with understanding and delight.