Fernando Sor and Félicité Hullin

Fernando Sor

Variations on a Theme by Mozart, Op. 9 (1823)

Towards the end of a highly successful performing and publishing career, the great Spanish guitarist Fernando Sor (1778-1839) — also known as Joseph Fernando Macari Sors, Josep Ferran Sorts I Muntades, Ferran Sor, Ferdinand Sor and Ferdinando Sor — vented his dissatisfaction with the general lack of musicianship in the French capital in a series of caustic, yet humorous titles and dedications. His Op. 35 published in Paris in 1828 sports the title “24 Extraordinarily Easy Exercises”. In his preface, Sor writes, “several people have found that my 24 Lessons for Beginners — his Op. 31 — required a somewhat too rapid progress, and that they were aimed at enabling the student to acquire a great talent; and that such an aim was not suitable for those who aim only to acquire a moderate ability, and who, unable to give great assiduity to studying, are content to accompany themselves and to play some agreeable pieces”. The set of six Bagatelles, Op. 43 is entitled “My Annoyances”, and the compositions are dedicated to “Whoever wants them”. Most famous, perhaps are the titles for Sor’s Op. 45 and Op. 48; “Let’s see if this is it”, and “Is this it?” The respective dedications read; “short and easy pieces in stages, which aim to lead to what has generally been agreed are difficulties. Composed and dedicated to the person with the least patience”. In his Op. 51, first published in Paris in 1832 he majestically proclaimed “At last!” Sor’s final words on the subject are found in the preface to his Op. 59, in which he attacks those “who have degraded the guitar by ignorance and routine, and have mutilated fine works by fashioning guitar arrangements that follow bad principles”. The latest research suggests, that Sor’s scorn was directed at the followers of Matteo Carcassi and Ferdinando Carulli, who had produced numerous unusual yet highly popular guitar arrangements. However, it seems that the ferocity of his musical attacks also masked some kind of frustration in his personal life. Once we take a closer look, we quickly discover that the source of Sor’s irritation was his recent separation from his wife, the celebrated ballerina and choreographer Félicité Hullin.
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Pablo de Sarasate and Marie Lefébure-Wély

Pablo de Sarasate

Les Adieux, Op. 9

Jean-Delphin Alard’s motivation for uttering the immortal words “marry your violin, my son, never a woman” to his most famous charge, the teenage violinist Pablo de Sarasate, might have been twofold. For one, he was rather unhappily married to the daughter of Jean-Baptiste Vuillaume, the most illustrious member of a prominent French family of violinmakers. The reason for his unhappiness, however, had little to do with Miss Vuillaume herself; he simply preferred the company of men. However, to project a veneer of respectability at his place of work — he held the position of professor of violin at the Parisian Conversatoire from 1843 to1875 — he felt compelled to marry a woman! As such, his joy and fulfillment in life was intimately bound to his fine collection of violins, including among others, the Antonio & Girolamo Amati of 1603, the famed Messiah Stradivarius of 1716, and the Alard Guarneri del Gesú of 1742. Secondly, he clearly recognized the exceptional talent of his Spanish student Pablo de Sarasate, who had made his way to Paris at the tender age of 12, and simply sought to protect him from repeating his own mistakes. However, Alard did not dish out his professional and paternal advice without provocation! But let us start from the beginning.
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Isaac Albéniz and Rosina Jordana

Isaac Albéniz

Suite espanola No. 1, Op. 47 (1886)

Iberia (1906): Book 1

Iberia (1906): Book 2

Iberia (1906): Book 3

Iberia (1906): Book 4

In April 1883, Rosina Jordana Lagarriga — daughter of the industrious businessman S. Simon Jordana, who lived and operated in the Catalonian capital of Barcelona — went to a local music store to look for sheet music by the sensational young pianist Isaac Albéniz. Rosina was slender and tall, with sad black eyes and a distinctively protruding nose, and according to her friends, moved as gracefully as a gazelle. Yet at the same time, she had a finely tuned intellect, and a calm and confident demeanor that reflected the strength of her character. While trying to get her bearings, she approached a young man — immaculately and elegantly dressed and sporting an exquisitely manicured moustache — and asked if he could direct her to any of Albéniz’s music. With a broad smile—honed by countless amorous conquests of adoring piano groupies — the young man replied that he could do one better, and gave her an autographed picture of himself. He also invited Rosina to visit his piano studio, and within a week she was taking piano lessons. We are almost certain, however, that Rosina initially rejected all romantic advances. In fact, she might have been the first woman ever to tell the famous pianist to get lost! Not accustomed to these kinds of rejections, Albéniz did the only sensible thing his tormented brain could think of, and he asked for her hand in marriage. And so it came to pass, that a mere two months after that faithful encounter in a music shop, the couple was engaged to be married. The celebrity press quickly reported that the famous pianist was engaged to a beautiful and rich senorita from Barcelona — pretty and discreet, as they put it — and the couple wed on 23 June 1883 at the church of Marc de Déu de la Mercè, in the Gothic quarters of Barcelona.
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Antonio de Cabezón and Louisa Nuñez de Mocos

Antonio de Cabezón

Tiento XXV de sexto tono

Pavana Italiana

credit : http://leiter.wordpress.com/

The immediate consequence of a rather messy political game of conspiracy and intrigue involving his own mother saw Charles V ascend to the throne of both Castile and Aragon in 1516. Once his paternal grandfather Maximilian died in 1519, Charles V also inherited the Habsburg lands of Austria, and eventually went on to be crowned Holy Roman Emperor. In order to strengthen his political position on the Iberian Peninsula, Charles V married Isabella of Portugal in 1525. Isabella was not only extremely intelligent and highly educated; she also was exceedingly bored with matters of church and state. As such, she quickly began to organize and shape the cultural and musical environment at the court, which included the establishment of a royal chapel. For the position of organist at the chapel, Isabella appointed Antonio de Cabezón, the most prominent Iberian keyboard performer and composer of his time.
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Don Carlo Gesualdo and Eleonora d’Este

Carlo Gesualdo

GESUALDO: Tenebrae Responsories for Maundy Thursday (1611)

The brutal slaughter of Maria d’Avalos and her lover Don Fabrizio Carafa at the hands of Don Carlo Gesualdo was not exclusively motivated by jealousy. In fact, Italian noblemen during the later stages of the Renaissance were essentially duty-bound to kill their unfaithful wives. These types of honor killings were hardly ever prosecuted and never went to trial. However, it was the shocking brutality of these murders that triggered, or rather exacerbated Don Gesualdo’s rapid descent into mental illness. Consumed by guilt and hoping to atone for his actions, Gesualdo built a monastery that housed an elaborate chapel. Furthermore, he commissioned a large oil painting that depicted — for everybody to see — the corpses of Maria, her lover and the dead child, flanked by the wicked uncle Don Giulio and himself. Yet, within a couple short years, Gesualdo was once again part of an arranged marriage.

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