George Enescu's Resonance as Composer with the American Musical
Consciousness

David H. Williams

Professor of Music, Central College

Pella, Iowa U.S.A.

*"I was simply delighted when America welcomed me first as composer and
only afterwards as conductor and violinist. I was first and foremost
awarded the title of composer, which was the supreme bliss for me."*

*George Enescu*

Perhaps a better title to this paper might be "The Resonance of the
American Musical Consciousness with George Enescu, the Composer." Enescu
was, after all, already who he was as a "five-in-one" musician
(composer, conductor, violinist, pianist, and teacher) by the time he
first began his nearly annual visits to the United States during the
1920's and 30's, and, of course, as he resumed them in the late 40's
after World War II. So it might be more a propos to place "resonance" in
closer apposition to America than to Enescu.

Radio Producer John Sorensen, in preparing the materials for a six-hour
radio documentary on Enescu to be aired later this year in international
syndication by WFMT-Chicago, has commented on the unique bond Enescu
felt for the United States:

"Enescu's American career was something of great importance to him, as
an artist and as

a human being. Artistically speaking, Enescu's primary frustration was
that his brilliance

as a violinist often overshadowed his more important achievements as a
composer.

America was the one part of the world which, in Enescu's opinion,
correctly understood

his artistry. As Enescu once put it: 'In France they think of me chiefly
as a violinist who

also composes; whereas in the United States they regard me as a composer
who also

plays the violin.' Enescu always made it clear that it was the Americans
who 'got it

right.'"

To get a sense of why America was so receptive to Enescu the Composer,
it is necessary to "take the pulse" of America's musical consciousness
during the time of Enescu's many visits to the United States (from
1923[^1] to 1950). As nearly as I have been able to determine, Enescu
performed in at least fifty-five American cities in twenty-five states
and the District of Columbia.

In spite of his wide-ranging American travels, he nevertheless spent
most of his time in New York, Philadelphia, Cleveland, Boston, Chicago,
and San Francisco. Of course, prior to this time America had no first
hand appreciation of Enescu as a violin virtuoso; however, as a composer
his name was already well-known, having been introduced to the musical
public through the many performances of his orchestral works (e.g.
*Poème Roumain*, *First Orchestral Suite*, *Dixtuor*, *First Symphony*,
*Romanian Rhapsodies*) conducted by such luminaries as Gustav Mahler,
Walter Damrosch, Frederick Stock, and Leopold Stokowski. The American
premiere, for example, of Enescu's *First Orchestral Suite* was given by
the New York Philharmonic in January of 1911, under the direction of
Gustav Mahler, and presented again two months later by the Chicago
Symphony under Frederick Stock. Undoubtedly the deeply informed
interpretations of his works by these conducting giants firmly
established Enescu the *Composer* in the American musical consciousness.
Unfortunately, too often his music has suffered the fate of inferior
performances, whether due to inadequate preparation or insufficient
comprehension of Enescu's intentions on the part of the conductor.

Speaking within the context of an early performance in Rome, Enescu
noted in his memoirs, "When I was engaged for a performance, the
impresarios always tried to present me in my triple aspect as virtuoso,
composer and conductor. They were naïve enough to believe that this
'achievement' would suffice to thrill the public." In contrast, renowned
American music critic Olin Downes, writing for the New York Times, said
in 1938, "A very great musician and leader of indisputable authority
returned last night to direct the performances of the Philharmonic
Symphony Orchestra in Carnegie Hall, and the effect of his presence was
immediately evident in the performances. This was Georges Enesco, the
composer, the conductor, the virtuoso. . ." Mr. Downes' rank-ordering
here of Enescu's musical identities (*composer*, conductor, virtuoso)
is, I think, very much intentional, and must have been pleasing to
Enescu. Note that this assessment was made fifteen years after Enescu
began touring the United States as a violin virtuoso as well as
conductor. It is also interesting to note that when Enescu appeared in
the U.S. as conductor, he programmed, besides works of his own creation,
the music of many other composers as well. For example, when conducting
the New York Philharmonic in 1936-37 as "guest conductor-composer,"
during the course of the eight different programs assigned to him, he
conducted only three of his own works.

During the late 19^th^ and early part of the 20^th^ centuries America
seems to have been enamored to a greater extent with composers and
conductors than with virtuoso performers. For instance, while Antonin
Dvořák was certainly a fine performer, it was Dvořák the *composer* who
was brought to New York to head the American Conservatory of Music. The
three years he was in the United States were arguably the most fruitful
years of his life as a composer. One of his colleagues at the
Conservatory was the Irish-American composer Victor Herbert. Herbert's
first years in the U.S. were spent as a virtuoso cellist. However, it
was as a conductor and composer that his career blossomed. It was his
admiration of Herbert's *Second Cello Concerto* that inspired Dvořák to
compose a cello concerto of his own. As a conductor Herbert developed
the Pittsburgh Symphony into one of America's great orchestras, an
ensemble that later achieved international fame under the leadership of
William Steinberg.

The early 20^th^ century seems to have been a time of remarkable musical
literacy on the part of the American public. During this time regional
and local symphony orchestras blossomed. Music programs of high quality
developed at many of America's colleges and universities during this
period of time. Likewise, America's outstanding music schools and
conservatories were born during this era. Names like Eastman, Juilliard,
Mannes, and Peabody come immediately to mind. The monthly music
magazine, "Etude," was introduced at this time. A remarkable
publication, the name "Etude" still elicits comments of praise, often
mixed with nostalgia, among those who remember it. (The magazine is no
longer being produced.)

This was a period in America when composers were invited to visit,
lecture, and engage in extended residencies at the country's finest
music schools. Enescu was a frequent visitor to Harvard University
where, it is clear, his work with students centered around composition
rather than performance. Harvard professor Walter Piston, eminent
composer and teacher, recounted how he asked Enescu to compose a fugue
subject for use by his students. The next day Enescu handed him an
envelope with the inscription "subject of fugue in C major," a
remarkable subject, which made possible, in the words of Piston, "every
imaginable, truly astonishing development by the laws of counterpoint."
Speaking of Enescu's lectures Piston recalled, "He didn't call them
lectures; he used to sit at the piano and speak about famous composers
he had known personally, especially Fauré and Debussy. Though the scores
of their complete works were on the piano, Enesco never touched them; he
was able to illustrate the composer he was speaking about simply by
playing from memory. His memory was phenomenal."

In America Enescu also lectured at the Mannes School of Music in New
York and at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign where, during
a single season (1949-50) three renowned composers visited for extended
residencies: Enescu, Aaron Copland, and Igor Stravinsky. Composers
seemed during this time to occupy a special place in the minds of
America's music-loving public. America's appreciation for Enescu's work
as a composer prompted him to make the following remark to Bernard
Gavoty in 1952: "When speaking of Georges Enesco, people in Europe think
of the violinist, in America they think of the composer. Now, I am a
composer to the marrow of my bones, my strength has always been directed
towards loving music and trying to create it." And in a letter to Helen
Kaufmann he said, "I am proud to think that Americans take an interest
in my work, and I have profound fellow-feeling and enormous admiration
for the United States." The works of Enescu which were given their first
performances in the United States provide further testimony to America's
admiration for his music:

*Third Orchestral Suite*, Op. 27 (New York Philharmonic, 1939)

*Second Piano Quartet*, Op. 30 (Albeneri Trio and Milton Katims,
Washington, D.C.,

> 1947\)

*Concert Overture*, Op. 32 (National Symphony, Washington, D.C., 1949)

*Second String Quartet*, Op. 22, No. 2 (Stradivarius Quartet, Boston,
1953)

We now come to a more elusive subject. While the foregoing evidence
suggests that American listeners found something appealing in the music
of Enescu, just what was it in Enescu's writing that resonated with the
American musical public? Speculation may be the only way, perhaps, to
pull back the veil here.

It is, of course, impossible for us in 2005 to listen to Enescu's music
with 1920s ears. In 1924 Wilson G. Smith, writing for the Cleveland
Press, made the following comment with regard to Enescu's *First
Symphony*: "It is gratifying to see a modern composer such as Enescu who
does not shun from following the classics in order to compose music that
is logical and accessible to the common audience." Here are some
comments by Olin Downes on Enescu the composer:

"The harmonic style is modern but not forced."

". . . music seething with ideas charged with strength and feeling."

"It is not easy to describe the naturalness of this singularly exotic
music."

"It is the utterance of a musician with something of his own to say, and
his own way of

saying it."

"The music has a powerful spirit and seems to come from the earth."

"It is, in a sense, almost atavistic -- a genuine reversion to type, yet
couched in terms of

the most modern technique and sophistication."

"That is what it is to have real ideas and also to have had acquired
knowledge in their

expression."

It is probably fair to say, and I think the lines above suggest, that
American listeners of the first half of the 20^th^ century were not as
receptive as, say, the French to the more radical musical innovations of
the time. Take Enescu's comment to Sergiu Comissiona, "All this
twelve-tone music . . . tell them, tell them, this is not music! Music
should go from heart to heart." Such words would undoubtedly have
elicited many nods of agreement among American music lovers of those
times. There seem also to be some other common threads in Mr. Downes'
remarks from which some insights may be gleaned. American listeners of
the 1920s, 30s, and 40s may have been drawn to the juxtaposition of the
exotic and the familiar in Enescu's music. Enescu always insisted that
there was never a repudiation of the past to be found in his music. Even
in his most "modern" scores there are to be found handles by which the
listener can attach new sounds to old. As unique and individual as
Enescu's musical language is, as exotic as enescian sounds may often be,
there is nevertheless something familiar, consoling perhaps, in his
musical voice to which the listener can relate. As far as the density
factor is concerned, we must assume that Enescu's 20^th^ century
American audiences listened with full attention, and were able to grasp
enough musical information from Enescu's more complex scores to
formulate at least a general appreciation of the composer's meaning.
They may have brought more insight, in fact, to the listening experience
than does the typical audience of today.

And, finally, Enescu's American listeners also may have heard something
hauntingly familiar in the sounds of vast, rolling, lonely expanses --
those sublime passages in much of Enescu's music which evoke visions of
the composer's birthplace -- sounds which evoke a parallel resonance in
the American psyche, suggesting the great high plains of the American
West.

There seems indeed to have been a happy alchemy that lured Enescu to the
United States year after year - during times that, in retrospect, appear
to have been a golden era in American music.

[Bibliography]{.underline}

Downes, Olin. *Olin Downes on Music: A Selection from His Writings
during the Half-Century 1906 to 1955*. Simon and Schuster, New York,
1957.

Enescu, George. *The Souvenirs of George Enescu: Conversations with
Bernard Gavoty, 1952.* Central College, Pella, Iowa, 2005.

Malcolm, Noel. *George Enescu: His Life and Music*. Toccata Press, Alan
Sutton Publishing Ltd., Stroud, U.K., 1990.

Vitcu, Dumitru. *George Enescu în spaţiul artistic american*. Editura
Omnia, Iaşi, 1994.

[^1]: Enescu arrived in New York for the first time on December 31,
    1922. His first public appearance in the United States took place on
    January 2, 1923.