[TPIN] "Art of the Posthorn" CD Release!

[Doug Hedwig]

Derek -

Yes, Lenau's poem, "Der Postillion" is a very powerful work, indeed.  And, 
yes, it was certainly the major direct inspiration for Mahler in the 
creation of his famous posthorn solo, in the 3rd symphony.  In fact, the 
"posthorn" was a very common source of inspiration to many other 19th 
century German speaking poets, as well, including Johann Goethe, Joseph von 
Eichendorf, Joseph Viktor von Schefffel, Franz von Holzendorg, and Paul 
Hindemith (yes, THE Paul Hindemith).  One of my favorite poems, which 
captures the spirit of the posthorn and what it meant to people living in 
the 19th century, is entitled, "Kurze Fahrt," by Eichendorf (1788-1857). 
Here is my translation from the original German:

Posthorn, how happily and carefree
You once brought on the morning;
It lay before me with such sprintime bliss
That my mind was filled with silent songs.

Yet, the forest is already murmuring darkly;
How cool becomes the evening air.
Coachman, blow your horn!
How soon too shall find our night lodgings!

Best,
Doug




----- Original Message ----- 
From: "Reaban, Derek (MCOE)" <derek.reaban at honeywell.com>
To: "Doug Hedwig" <doughedwig at suscom.net>; <tpin at tpin.okcu.edu>
Sent: Wednesday, November 08, 2006 6:44 PM
Subject: RE: [TPIN] "Art of the Posthorn" CD Release!


Doug,

You wrote:
> It was played by virtually every postal delivery person
> throughout Europe in the 18th and 19th centuries.

There was a poster named JJ on the TH and TM sites that provided the
poem that was used for the posthorn solo in Mahler 3.  I was getting
ready to play this in Church with the Cichowicz piano arrangement
earlier this year.  When I mentioned the contemplative nature of this
solo during a lesson, and the poem that I had just read, my instructor
commented that every time Mr. Herseth played this he would dedicate it
to his son who had died.  That adds a great deal of emotional context to
an already powerful musical statement.

When I read through the poem again as a Dad (trying to put myself in Mr.
Herseth's position) I had a really hard time making it to the end (tears
everywhere).  I think I would have a hard time performing with that many
emotions running through me.  But, this clearly is one of the reasons
why Mr. Herseth's posthorn solo is one of the most amazing things I have
ever heard live (my first time hearing the CSO in 1992).


Here's JJ's post-------------------------------------------

In terms of Mahler's intent, there exists an account of a reviewer of
one of the first performances writing that this section reminded him of
Lenau's poem Der Postillion. Apparently, Mahler was astounded and told
the reviewer: "How did you know? This is precisely the poem I had in
mind."

Also, Stan Ruttenberg has written that the posthorn melody greatly
resembles a tune in Liszt's Rhapsodie Espagnol. Apparently, Busoni
orchestrated the Liszt, and actually played it with Mahler at a concert
on October 22 1894 in Hamburg (i.e., the very period in which Mahler was
composing his Symphony No. 3). Ruttenberg goes on to write that Mahler
may actually have heard this melody much earlier, as it apparently was a
favorite tune among postillion drivers in Bohemia, and Mahler took a
postillon at one time, the driver of which often played this Spanish
tune.

Just for kicks, here's the poem:

Pleasing was this night of May,
Silverclouds were flying,
By the gracious spring's splendour
Joyously attracted.

Slumbering lay lawn and grove,
Every path abandoned;
None but moon's pale light
Kept guard by the roadside.

Gently spoke a breath of air,
Even blew more mildly
Through the silent bedrooms
Of all spring born children.

Clandestinely the brooklet crawled
For the blossoms' dreams
Scented so delightfully
These silent chambers.

Coarser was my postillion,
Let his scourge go cracking,
Over hill and valleys
Freshly sounding his horn.

>From four horses, quick as flash
Hoof's beat was asounding,
As through blooming hunting ground
They were trotting with contentment.

Forrest and field rush by in hasty course,
Hardly even greeted -- avoided;
And gone, like flight of dreams,
Vanished the villages' peace.

In the midst of May's delight
Was a churchyard lying,
That a wanderer's cursory glance
Stopped for serious contemplation.

Leaning against the mountain's rim
Was a pale grey wall,
And God's crucifixion effigy
Stood high in silent sorrow.

Coachman driving along his path
More tacit now and weary;
Brings his horses to a halt,
Staring at the cross up there.

'Steed and wheel must here stand still,
Should you be kept safe from harm,
My comrade's lying over there
Deep under the cool earth!

And such appealing a fellow he was!
Lord, it's a thousand pities!
No one blew the horn so fast,
Fast as my comrade did!

Here I always have to halt,
To him, lying there under greensward,
Blow in faithful brotherhood
His favourite song.'

And to the graveyard now he sent
Happy wanderer's tunes,
Should like to sound them through the deathly silence
To his brother's final place of rest.

And the bright tone of his horn
Resounded from the hills,
As if the deceased postillion
Had joined in to his songs.

Through field and grove again I went
Charging at full gallop forward;
In my ears for a long time stayed
That sound from the hills.



Derek Reaban
Tempe, Arizona