Read Ebook: Schubert and His Work by Peyser Herbert F Herbert Francis

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Foreword

A sense of helplessness and futility overcomes the writer who, in the limits of a volume as unpretending as the present one, endeavors to give the casual radio listener a slight idea of Schubert's inundating fecundity and inspiration. Like Bach, like Haydn, like Mozart, Schubert's capacity for creative labor staggers the imagination and, like them, he conferred upon an unworthy--or, rather, an indifferent--generation treasures beyond price and almost beyond counting. Outwardly, his life was far less spectacular than Beethoven's or Mozart's. His works are the mirror of what it must have been spiritually. Volumes would not exhaust the wonder of his myriad creations. If this tiny book serves to heighten even a little the reader's interest in such songs, symphonies, piano or chamber works of Schubert as come to his attention over the air it will have achieved the most that can be asked of it.

H. F. P.

Schubert AND HIS WORK

The most lovable and the shortest-lived of the great composers, Franz Seraph Peter Schubert was doubly a paradox. He was the only one of the outstanding Viennese masters actually born in Vienna; and, though there has never been a composer more spiritually Viennese, Schubert inherited not a drop of Viennese blood. His ancestry had its roots in the Moravian and Austrian-Silesian soil. His grandfather, Karl Schubert, a peasant and a local magistrate, lived in one of the thirty-five towns called Neudorf in Moravian-Silesian territory and married the daughter of a well-to-do farmer, acquiring by the match a large tract of land and ten children of whom the fifth, Franz Theodor Florian, was destined to beget an immortal.

At eighteen Franz Theodor, who was born in 1763, determined to follow the example of his elder brother, Karl, and become a schoolmaster. He went to Vienna and secured a post as assistant instructor in a school where Karl had already been teaching for several years. In spite of starvation wages he married Maria Elisabeth Vietz, from Zuckmantel, in Silesia, the very town whence the Schuberts had originally emigrated to Neudorf. She was a cook, the daughter of a "master locksmith," and she was seven years older than her husband. The couple had fourteen children, nine of whom died in infancy. The survivors were Ignaz, Ferdinand, Karl, Therese and our Franz Peter, who came twelfth in order.

A year after his marriage father Schubert was appointed schoolmaster of the parish of the Fourteen Holy Helpers, in Lichtental, one of the thirty-four Viennese suburbs , located at greater or lesser distances from the "Inner Town," which in those days represented Vienna proper. The schoolhouse still stands. Franz Theodor took lodgings for himself and his family a few steps away at the House of the Red Crab , Himmelpfortgrund 72, now Nussdorfer Strasse 54 and since 1912 a Schubert museum, owned by the municipality of Vienna. Here Franz Seraph Peter was born on January 31, 1797, at half past one in the afternoon.

Not the least remarkable thing about Father Schubert was the fact that, despite the endless grind of making a living, teaching and raising a family, he should have found time to cultivate music. Yet he was a tolerable amateur cellist and his great son's first music teacher. After giving the boy "elementary instruction" in his fifth year and sending him to school in his sixth he taught Franz Peter at the age of eight the rudiments of violin playing and practised him so thoroughly that the boy was "soon able to play easy duets fairly well."

The youngster was next handed over to his elder brother, Ignaz, who gave him some piano instruction. But here an uncanny thing happened! The child showed such an instinctive grasp of everything his brother tried to teach him that Ignaz, nonplussed, confessed himself hopelessly outstripped. Franz, for his part, declared he had no need of help but would go his own way in musical matters. Thereupon his parents entrusted him to the choirmaster of the nearby Lichtental parish church, one Michael Holzer, who knew something about counterpoint and consumed more alcohol than was good for him. It was not long before poor Holzer was experiencing with his pupil the same difficulties as Ignaz. He had the little fellow sing and was delighted by his bright voice and his musical accuracy. He let him accompany hymns on the organ, had him improvise and modulate back and forth, taught him a little piano and violin, familiarized him with the viola clef and a few principles of thorough-bass. But in the end his labors were largely superfluous. Holzer admitted that "the lad has harmony in his little finger." A nearby shop of a piano maker offered a more fertile field for experiments in harmony. Released from the organ loft Franz Peter hurried to this shop and spent hours there forming chords on the keyboard.

He Joins the "S?ngerknaben"

The tests took place on September 30, 1808, and the examiners consisted of Antonio Salieri, a prolific opera composer, an intimate of Gluck and Haydn, a teacher of Beethoven and an implacable enemy of Mozart; the Court Kapellmeister Eybler; and a singing teacher at the school, Philip Korner. Schubert presented himself for the examination wearing a grayish smock, which caused the other boys to jeer and call him a miller. But as millers were popularly supposed to be musical the young mockers agreed that he could not fail. They were right. Not only did he meet all the requirements but his voice and musicianship aroused the surprise and enthusiasm of the committee. Schubert was promptly accepted. In other subjects required, as well as in music, he easily surpassed the other competitors. Not in vain was he his father's son!

So the boy shed his "miller's" vesture and put on the fancy, gold-braided togs of the S?ngerknaben. In a few days he was settled at the Konvikt. He was amenable to discipline--having learned it plentifully at home--and does not appear to have suffered the tribulations of some other Konvikt scholars who were less conformable and more adventurous. The shyness which clung to him more or less throughout his life made him shun his fellow students as much as he conveniently could. The food was poor and scanty and even four years later we find him appealing pathetically to his brother Ferdinand for a few pennies a month to buy a roll or an apple as a fortifying snack between a "mediocre midday meal and a paltry supper" eight hours later! The music room at the school was left unheated, hence "gruesomely cold" . But there was plenty of music and the school orchestra, in which Schubert occupied the second desk among the violins, delighted him.

At a first violin desk in front of Schubert there played another youth, some nine years older, a student of law and philosophy from Linz, Josef von Spaun, and thus began one of those Schubertian friendships that was to last for life and play an important part in Schubert's story. Amazed by the beautiful playing he heard behind him, Spaun looked around and saw "a small boy in spectacles." Not long afterwards he surprised the youngster in the freezing music room trying a sonata by Mozart. Franz confided to his sympathetic new friend that, much as he loved the sonata, he found Mozart "extremely difficult to play" . Then, "shy and blushing," he admitted that he "sometimes put his thoughts into notes." However, he trembled lest his father get wind of the fact, for while Franz Theodor had no objection to music as a pastime and also had every reason to be satisfied that it paid for his son's education and kept a roof over his head, he had other plans for him in mind. The real business of the young man's life was to be schoolmastering. No two ways about it!

So Franz Peter had need to be wary. Besides, there was another obstacle to his composing. Music paper was scarce and costly. He did, it is true, rule staves on paper himself but even ordinary brown paper was not plentiful. So the generous Spaun, though of a rather restricted budget, bought paper out of his own allowance and did not remonstrate when Schubert used up the precious commodity "by the ream." The only difficulty, now, was that Franz composed in study hours and fell back in his school work, a fact that was not slow in coming to his father's notice. And yet the records of the Konvikt do not show that Schubert was a poor student. At various times certificates signed by the school director, Father Innocenz Lang, pronounce him "good" or "very good" in almost everything, while in Greek he is even described as "eminent." Somewhat later when at normal school, preparing to teach in his father's schoolhouse, his weaker subjects were mathematics, Latin and "practical religion."

However, not all the parental thundering could keep nature from taking its course, even if it temporarily embittered Franz's young life. Father Schubert at one stage went so far as to forbid his son to enter his house. The lad had been in the habit of going home on Sundays and holidays and there taking part in string quartet concerts with his father and his brothers, Ignaz and Ferdinand, Schubert himself occupying the viola desk and being the real director of the ensemble. He roughly scolded his brothers when they blundered, but cautiously corrected Franz Theodor's errors with nothing more scathing than: "Herr Vater, something must be wrong here." Now this diversion was denied him and he suffered. Not until May 28, 1812, was he permitted to return to the Lichtental roof-tree and then only because a tragic event softened the paternal heart. On that Corpus Christi day Franz's mother died of typhus , the same malady which sixteen years later was to carry off Franz himself. In due course the chamber music sessions were resumed and in time they outgrew their humble environment.

The Earliest Compositions

The good Ruziczka, finding himself unable to teach his young charge anything he did not know already, handed him over to Salieri, who began to give him lessons in counterpoint on June 18, 1812 . He must have profited by Salieri's instruction or he would hardly have remained his pupil all of five years, as he did. One circumstance may astonish us--that he briefly suffered himself to be swayed by the prejudice Salieri harbored against Beethoven. Yet when Salieri celebrated his fiftieth year of musical activities, in 1816, Schubert made a slighting entry in his diary about "certain bizarreries of modern tendencies." That this could have been only a passing aberration is clear from the fact that Beethoven remained his divinity and his despair to his dying day. He once told his friend, Spaun: "There are times when I think something could come of me; but who is capable of anything after Beethoven?" Indeed, Beethoven remained to such a degree an obsession of his that the older Master's name was almost the last word he ever uttered.

Franz's voice changed in 1812 and logically his days at the Konvikt should have been numbered. But the authorities were by no means anxious to be rid of him and his father would probably have been pleased if he had stayed on. Even the Emperor, to whom representations were made and whose attention the boy's talents seem to have attracted, agreed that he might remain and take advantage of the "Meerfeld scholarship"--provided he made an effort to improve his standing in mathematics. Franz himself must have realized that to return home meant to court renewed trouble with his father, not to mention the risk of actual starvation. Yet he was so fed up on the Konvikt that about the end of October, 1813, he left what he called the "prison." His last work written there was his First Symphony. But he maintained cordial relations with the Seminary for some years, tried out some of his new compositions in the Konvikt music room and preserved his interest in the school orchestra.

The Early Symphonies

No sooner was Schubert liberated from the Konvikt than he found himself faced with a worse menace--conscription. Service in the Austrian army was in those days no laughing matter. Its duration was fourteen years and the prospect of such a lifetime of soldiering might have appalled an even less sensitive nature than Schubert's. There were loopholes, of course, particularly for those who had wealth and position. For those who did not, the best road of escape lay through the schoolroom. Since there was need of teachers, the government exempted them. It almost looked as if the State were conspiring with Father Schubert against his son. Poor Franz Peter had no alternative and so, barely out of the Konvikt, he enrolled in the Normal School of St. Anna for a ten months' preparatory course to teach a primary class at his father's school, a chore which was to occupy him for the next three years.

While he was at the St. Anna School, Schubert composed among a quantity of other things his first complete mass and his first opera. The former is the more important of the two. It was written for the limited resources of the Lichtental parish church--which on October 14, 1814, celebrated its centenary--in mind. The work of the seventeen-year-old composer was heard with unconcealed pleasure. He conducted it himself, his former teacher, Holzer, led the choir and the soprano soloist was Therese Grob, a year younger than Schubert and daughter of a Lichtental merchant who lived around the corner from Father Schubert's schoolhouse. Ten days later the mass was repeated in the Church of St. Augustine, in the imperial Hofburg. This performance seems to have aroused even more enthusiasm and good will than the first. Salieri proudly pointed to the boyish composer as his own pupil and Franz Theodor, now that he knew his son safely caged in a classroom, made him a present of a five-octave piano. The Mass itself, a tenderly felt, lyrical, simple work, is sensitive and promising rather than something epoch-making, such as the composer was soon to achieve in the less pretentious province of the solo song.

A word about Therese Grob, who more or less properly figures in Schubert's story as his first love. Her family was refined and musical and Franz Peter, who was a visitor at the Grob household, may have found there some of the same sympathy and understanding the young Beethoven did in the home of the von Breunings. Certainly, he composed a number of things for Therese and her brother, Heinrich. His friend, Holzapfel, declares that Therese was "no beauty, but shapely, rather plump, with a fresh round little face of a child." In after years Schubert told Anselm H?ttenbrenner that he had loved her "very deeply." She was not pretty, he said, and was pock-marked but "good to the heart." He had "hoped to marry her" but could find no position which would insure him the means to support a wife. Her mother having decided it was no use to wait for a penniless composer to become a somebody made her take a well-to-do baker instead. Poor Schubert told his friend this had greatly pained him and that he "loved her still," but added philosophically "as a matter of fact, she was not destined for me." Did Schubert, we may ask, really contemplate marriage? If he did how are we to understand an entry he made in his diary in 1816: "Marriage is a terrifying thought to a free man..."? Actually, Schubert's life was devoid of what might be described as urgent affairs of the heart--outwardly, at least. One will seek vainly in his case for the periodic transports of a Beethoven or even the passing dalliances of a Mozart. Friendships rather than passionate ardors were Schubert's specialties--and his friendships with women were quite as sincere as with men and had the same basis of sentimental conviviality. H?ttenbrenner had small reason to chaff his companion for being "so cold and dry in society toward the fair sex." Certainly, the delightful Fr?hlich sisters did not find him "dry." It is so easy to mistake shyness for coldness--and if Schubert was anything he was diffident, sometimes tragically so!

Der Erlk?nig

Although Schubert wished to have done with teaching as soon as possible he attempted to obtain a pedagogical post in a normal school at Laibach. He was turned down in favor of some local applicant, which was no doubt just as well. Had it been otherwise the brilliant coterie of "Schubertians" might have been nipped in the bud and the term "Schubertiads," as they called their revels and their discussions had it entered the dictionary at all, might have had another meaning.

Who were these "Schubertians," this group of younger and older intellectuals and Bohemians held together, somehow, by the indefinable attraction of Schubert's personality? They came and went with the years and when one or another vanished a different one would generally take his place. "Kann er was?" was Franz's usual query if a newcomer appeared--a question which earned him the nickname "Kanevas"! Virtually all who stepped into the charmed circle were good at something. Among the most prominent were Spaun, Mayrhofer, Stadler, Senn, and later Moriz von Schwind, the painter; the Kupelwieser brothers, Leopold and Josef, Josef Gahy, Karl Enderes, the poet Matthaeus Collin, the blue-stocking novelist, Karoline Pichler, Eduard von Bauernfeld, Franz von Schober--to cite only a handful that come to mind. Schober, particularly, who wrote, drew, acted and was in every sense a clever man of the world, played a considerable role in Schubert's life--some even hint a rather nefarious one. Still, he was well-to-do, his rooms were at Franz's disposal whenever he needed them and he introduced the composer to the great Michael Vogl.

The chamber music concerts given on Sundays at the Schubert homestead in Lichtental had outgrown their strictly domestic character quite some time before Father Schubert had been transferred to a new school in the neighboring Rossau district. The string quartet had expanded into a small orchestra and now performed symphonies and such in the homes of several musical acquaintances, lastly in that of a wealthy landowner, Anton Pettenkofer, who lived in the Inner Town, not far from St. Stephen's. It was for this amateur orchestra that Schubert composed at least four of his early symphonies. The occasional absence of drums and trumpets indicates the constitution of the orchestra at different times. Schubert himself occupied a viola desk delighting, like Mozart and Bach before him, to be "in the middle of the harmony."

Financially, Schubert reached in the spring of 1818 a rather desperate pass, as he was earning nothing and could not depend everlastingly on his friends. So when the father of the singer, Caroline Unger, recommended him to Count Johann Esterh?zy, of Galantha, as piano teacher for his two young daughters, Schubert accepted out of sheer need, much as he detested teaching of any kind. The summer estate of this branch of the Esterh?zy family was at Zseliz, in Hungarian-Slovakian frontier land, actually not far from Vienna but for Schubert the farthest away he had ever been. The pay was not generous but at least board and lodging were free, the country was a relief after the summer heat in Vienna, the Esterh?zys and their friends were not unmusical. The daughters, Maria and Caroline, were thirteen and eleven, respectively, whom Schubert found "amiable children." He is now and then represented as having been in love with Caroline. If he really was it could only have been on his second visit to Zseliz, in 1824, when she had become a young lady of seventeen. Like Haydn, Schubert was quartered with the servants, which does not seem greatly to have irritated him, despite the boorishness of certain grooms . The chief annoyance came from the cacklings of a nearby flock of geese.

One of Schubert's most influential acquaintances about this time was Leopold Sonnleithner, a member of a noted Viennese musical family. It was through Sonnleithner that Schubert came to know the poet Heinrich von Collin and in his circle the composer met men like the so-called "music count" Dietrichstein, the poet and bishop, Ladislaus Pyrker, Patriarch of Venice, court secretary Ignaz von Mosel and others well qualified to be his patrons and helpers had he but exerted himself to gain their assistance and good will. Better still, Sonnleithner introduced him to the four enchanting Fr?hlich sisters, whose father had been a merchant of considerable means. Josefine, K?thi, Barbara and Anna Fr?hlich, Viennese to the core, were uncommonly musical. All four sang well, three of them taught and Barbara painted miniatures. One prominent guest of this delightful household was the poet, Franz Grillparzer, who long outlived Schubert and wrote his epitaph. Sonnleithner cleverly brought some of Schubert's songs to the Fr?hlich home before introducing the composer in person and whetted the curiosity of the sisters to such a degree that the stage was ideally set for his entrance.

K?thi Fr?hlich tells of Schubert's joy when music--not necessarily his own--particularly pleased him. "He would place his hands together and against his lips and sit as if spellbound." Once, after hearing the sisters sing, he exclaimed: "Now I know what to do" and shortly afterwards brought them a setting of the Twenty-third Psalm for four women's voices and piano. Another time, Anna Fr?hlich appealed to Schubert to set some verses of Grillparzer's as a birthday serenade to one of her pupils, Luise Gosmar. Schubert glanced at the poem a couple of times, murmuring "how beautiful it is" and then announced: "It is done already. I have it." A few days later he returned with the serenade "Z?gernd leise" and the charming piece was sung shortly afterwards beneath Luise Gosmar's window. Characteristically, Schubert forgot to come and he almost missed his work on a later occasion when it was sung at a concert devoted wholly to his compositions. When he finally did hear it he seemed like one transfixed. "Truly," he murmured, "I did not think it was so beautiful!"

The "Sketch Symphony"

The "Unfinished"

The "Rosamunde" Overture

For all his difficulties and privations Schubert's health had been, up to 1823, perhaps the least of his worries. But early in that year he had been ailing and soon his illness took a serious turn. Confined to his lodgings at first he was presently taken to the General Hospital. He became darkly despondent and wrote to his friend, Leopold Kupelwieser, a mournful letter in which he alluded to himself as "a man whose health can never be right again ... whose fairest hopes have come to nothing ... who wishes when he goes to sleep never more to awaken and who joyless and friendless passes his days." A little later he sets down in his diary the bitter reflection: "There is none who understands the pain of another and none his joy." Nor is this by any means his only pessimistic entry.

The exact nature of Schubert's malady has never been definitely established, even by modern medical authorities who have studied the case. We know that his hair fell out and that till it grew in again he had to wear a wig. Some have hinted at "irregularities" of one sort or another. At different times he complained of "headaches, vertigo and high blood pressure." His condition was to improve greatly in the course of time but he was never again wholly well.

In 1826 a conductor's post had become free and although Schubert had not long before turned down an organ position offered him he did apply for this conductorship, attracted by the moderate salary it promised. It was not Schubert who got it but the popular mediocrity, Josef Weigl. How little Schubert harbored jealousy is clear from his satisfaction that the job had gone to "so worthy a man as Weigl." Then a vacancy occurred at the K?rntnertor Theatre. The candidate for a minor conductor's post had to submit a specially composed dramatic air for the singer, Nanette Schechner, and of course Schubert did so. But the Schechner, we are told, demanded changes in the music and Schubert peremptorily refused to make them. In spite of passionate entreaties and a spectacular fainting fit by the soprano, the composer pocketed his score and walked off coldly announcing: "I will change nothing." So things remained about as they were. True, the Friends of Music in 1825 had permitted him to substitute for a viola player at some of their concerts--after first rejecting his plea to do so on the ground that he "made a living of music" and that professionals were ineligible! Thus when in the summer of 1826 he would have liked to go once more to Linz there was no money for him to go anywhere. He had to content himself with the suburb of W?hring and to aggravate matters it rained for a month.

March, 1827, was the date of Beethoven's death. Schubert was one of the torchbearers at the funeral. Back from the W?hring cemetery he went with some friends to a coffee house in the "Inner Town." The gathering was in a solemn yet exalted mood. Schubert lifted his glass and drank a toast "To him we have just buried," then another "To him who will be next." Did that strange clairvoyance in which Michael Vogl once said he composed his music show him in mystic vision that his own sands had just twenty months more to run?

The C major Symphony is without its like in the whole range of music and by one magical pen stroke Schubert made it even a greater thing than when he first conceived it. The autograph score shows that by the substitution of a D natural for a G in the theme of the first Allegro the composer transformed what was scarcely more than a rhythm into one of the great symphonic subjects of all time. But he was never to hear the work. It came to a rehearsal by the Friends of Music, was found too difficult and "overloaded" and on the composer's own advice, dropped in favor of the Sixth--the "little" C major. And yet it was the one symphony of its time which could have endured the sunlight of Beethoven undiminished and unashamed.

Exactly a year after Beethoven's death Schubert at last gave the concert of his own works that he meant "if God wills" to give some day. It was the urging of Bauernfeld and other friends which finally caused things to materialize. The idea was that if all went well Schubert might offer his private concert annually and the rascally publishers would at long last be singing a different tune. His friends rallied nobly to his aid. Vogl sang, Josefine Fr?hlich's pupils gave Luise Gosmar's birthday serenade, there was chamber music and a male chorus. The Musikverein hall was packed, encores were innumerable, the applause would not end and, best of all, there was a clear profit of more than half a hundred dollars. The only fly in the ointment was that no critics came, though several foreign publications carried flattering accounts.

But the little wealth quickly ebbed away. Again there were futile bickerings with publishers. Schubert would have liked to go to Graz once more but Baden and excursions to nearby Grinzing and Sievering were as much as he could allow himself. Headaches and other symptoms of a year before troubled him alarmingly. His doctor advised him to leave the stuffy center of town for some place where he could have plenty of fresh country air. So in September he moved to a house in the Neue Wieden section, where his brother Ferdinand had taken rooms. The building was new, still damp and unhealthy. Aside from a pilgrimage to Haydn's tomb at Eisenstadt and some annoyances with the publisher, Schott, both September and October were uneventful. Suddenly, while at dinner one day in the Lichtental neighborhood of his birth, he threw down his fork, shouted that the food tasted like poison and refused to eat further.

It was Ferdinand who decided that his brother should, in death, be brought closer to Beethoven than ever he had been in life. And since "Beethoven was not there," where Schubert would ordinarily have been buried, Ferdinand saw to it that Franz should rest as close to his divinity as an intervening grave or two permitted. They were destined in the process of time to lie closer still. For three score years later the two masters were exhumed and placed side by side in two of those "graves of glory" in Vienna's great Central Cemetery.

"Music has buried here a rich treasure, but fairer hopes," read the epitaph which Grillparzer set on the original tomb in the W?hring cemetery. "Fairer hopes," indeed! How could Grillparzer know what even the wisest musical heads of his day did not know? Eleven years after Schubert died "all Paris" was said to be astounded at the "posthumous diligence of a song writer who, while one might think his ashes repose in Vienna, is still making eternal new songs"! It took decades to reveal the incalculable richness of this "treasure" and even now the world is not finally aware of its fullness. Another deathless master, Robert Schumann, gave the world Schubert's C major Symphony, redeeming it from Ferdinand's heaped but silent hoard of unprinted, nay, unsuspected scores. "Who can do anything after Beethoven?" the half-starved Konvikt student had wistfully asked. Here was at least one triumphant answer, made by Schubert himself, at a distance of only eight months from his early tomb!

COMPLETE LIST OF RECORDINGS BY THE PHILHARMONIC-SYMPHONY SOCIETY OF NEW YORK

COLUMBIA RECORDS

LP--Also available on Long Playing Microgroove Recordings as well as on the conventional Columbia Masterworks.

Barber--Symphony No. 1, Op. 9 Beethoven--Concerto for Violin, Cello, Piano and Orchestra in C major --LP Beethoven--Concerto No. 5 in E-flat major --LP Beethoven--Concerto in D major for Violin and Orchestra --LP Beethoven--Symphony No. 1 in C major, Op. 21--LP Beethoven--Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major --LP Beethoven--Symphony No. 5 in C minor--LP Beethoven--Symphony No. 8 in F major--LP Beethoven--Symphony No. 9 in D minor --LP Brahms--Song of Destiny --LP Dvorak--Slavonic Dance No. 1 Dvorak--Symphony No. 4 in G Major--LP Mahler--Symphony No. 4 in G major --LP Mahler--Symphony No. 5 in C-sharp minor Mendelssohn--Concerto in E minor --LP Mendelssohn--Scherzo Mozart--Cosi fan Tutti--Overture Mozart--Symphony No. 41 in C major , K. 551--LP Schubert--Symphony No. 7 in C major--LP Schumann, R.--Symphony No. 3 in E-flat major --LP Smetana--The Moldau --LP Strauss, J.--Emperor Waltz

Chopin--Les Sylphides--LP Glinka--Mazurka--"Life of the Czar"--LP 7? Grieg--Concerto in A minor for Piano and Orchestra, Op. 16 --LP Herold--Zampa--Overture Kabalevsky--"The Comedians," Op. 26--LP Khachaturian--Gayne--Ballet Suite No. 1--LP Khachaturian--Gayne--Ballet Suite No. 2--LP Lecoq--Mme. Angot Suite--LP Prokofieff--March, Op. 99--LP Rimsky-Korsakov--The Flight of the Bumble Bee--LP 7? Shostakovich--Polka No. 3, "The Age of Gold"--LP 7? Shostakovich--Symphony No. 9--LP Shostakovich--Valse from "Les Monts D'Or"--LP Villa-Lobos--Uirapuru--LP Wieniawski--Concerto No. 2 in D minor for Violin and Orchestra, Op. 22 --LP

D'Indy--Symphony on a French Mountain Air for Orchestra and Piano--LP Milhaud--Suite Fran?aise--LP Mozart--Concerto No. 21 for Piano and Orchestra in C major--LP Saint-Saens--Symphony in C minor, No. 3 for Orchestra, Organ and Piano, Op. 78--LP

Stravinsky--Firebird Suite--LP Stravinsky--Fireworks --LP Stravinsky--Four Norwegian Moods Stravinsky--Le Sacre du Printemps --LP Stravinsky--Sc?nes de Ballet--LP Stravinsky--Suite from "Petrouchka"--LP Stravinsky--Symphony in Three Movements--LP

Mendelssohn--Symphony No. 4, in A major Sibelius--Melisande Sibelius--Symphony No. 7 in C major--LP Tschaikowsky--Capriccio Italien

Bach-Barbirolli--Sheep May Safely Graze --LP Berlioz--Roman Carnival Overture Brahms--Symphony No. 2, in D major Brahms--Academic Festival Overture--LP Bruch--Concerto No. 1, in G minor --LP Debussy--First Rhapsody for Clarinet Debussy--Petite Suite: Ballet Mozart--Concerto in B-flat major Mozart--Symphony No. 25 in G minor, K. 183 Ravel--La Valse Rimsky-Korsakov--Capriccio Espagnol Sibelius--Symphony No. 1, in E minor Sibelius--Symphony No. 2, in D major Smetana--The Bartered Bride--Overture Tschaikowsky--Theme and Variations --LP

Gershwin--Concerto in F --LP

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