Category Archives: Elinor Handy Smith (Roger W. Smith’s mother)

“my shining visage”

 

I had a somewhat remarkable experience in connection with a memory today.

I had a mild, temporary disappointment once. It was over 50 years ago.

My parents were going out somewhere for the evening. I hesitated and then said to my mother, “It’ll be okay. I will put on my shining visage,” meaning she didn’t have to worry: I accepted the setback and would not let it get me down.

What I meant was, I’ll put the best face on things.

My mother was affected; she liked words herself and liked the way I invented my own locutions. She felt better about having had to disappoint me. (I do not recall details, but I think it was a situation where she informed me about something that was a negative. I think she was the intermediary.)

“Shining visage” means something like beaming, smiling face.

My mother was touched. She said that’s so like you.

 

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I was ransacking my brain today trying to think, what was the phrase? I drew a blank.

I told myself, you can remember … keep trying.

I thought it might have been something like blithe spirit. That didn’t seem quite right.

I looked in an online Thesaurus for an adjective that means cheerful, buoyant, or sunny. Then a NOUN came to me: visage. Whereupon shining came back to memory within a minute or two.

Memory works by association.

The memory, the memories are there, in one’s brain.

Recall is possible.

 

— Roger W. Smith

  September 24, 2017

two of my favorite piano sonatas and how important the performer seems to be

 

They are as follows:

 

Beethoven, piano sonata no. 27, opus 90, second movement (“Nicht zu geschwind und sehr singbar vorgetragen”; Not too swiftly and conveyed in a singing manner)

Andrew Rangell

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/andrew-rangell1.mp3?_=1

 

Emil Gilels

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/emil-gilels.mp3?_=2

 

Manon Clément

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/manon-clement.mp3?_=3

 

Maurizio Pollini

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/maurizio-pollini.mp3?_=4

 

Steven Osborne

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/steven-osborne.mp3?_=5

 

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Schubert, sonata no. 20 in A, D. 959, second movement (Andante)

 

Alfred Brendel

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/brendel-live.mp3?_=6

 

David Korevaar

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/david-korevaar.mp3?_=7

 

Gerhard Oppitz

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/gerhard-oppitz.mp3?_=8

 

Mitsuko Uchida

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/08/mitsuko-uchida.mp3?_=9

 

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My love of these two pieces may partially have to do with the circumstances under which I first heard them.

My mother used play the second movement of the Beethoven sonata. Like many amateur pianists, she had a few favorite pieces she would play all the time that she must have learned from her piano teacher. I would fall asleep listening to her play the second movement of sonata number 27 with great feeling. I didn’t care whether her technique would have been regarded as good or not. (Nor, at that age, would I have thought about this.)

 

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Schubert, sonata no. 20 in A, no. 959, second movement (Andante)

I first heard the Schubert sonata, hitherto unknown to me, in the film Au Hasard Balthashar, directed by Robert Bresson, at the now defunct Elgin Theatre on Eighth Avenue in Manhattan. It got me in a visceral sense. Bresson was a master at using music in his films, sparingly yet always effectively. The Andante functions as a leitmotif for the soundtrack.

 

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Beethoven, piano sonata no. 27, opus 90, second movement

As far as these renditions of the second and last movement go, I think Emil Gilels plays the movement too fast. I am not sure that’s the right way to put it, but he seems to play without feeling, sort of rushes through the movement and wings it, so to speak. As if he were not heeding Beethoven’s instructions to play it “not too swiftly and conveyed in a singing manner.”

I like Andrew Rangell and Manon Clément’s interpretations. Neither pianist is that well known. I have a preference (I think; it’s hard to make such judgments) for Manon Clément’s rendition. Maybe she’s inferior to the other pianists in technical skill, but she manages to make the piece compelling.

 

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Schubert, sonata no. 20 in A, no. 959, second movement

What was Mitsuko Uchida thinking (or intending) when she played the Andante of this sonata? Andante, yes; means at a “walking pace.” She seems to have interpreted Andante as meaning “crawling.” She puts you to sleep. (I am not an expert, but it seems as if she could have played a tad more fortissimo.) She is a renowned interpreter of Mozart, Schubert, and other composers. I have heard some of her Mozart renditions, and they are outstanding.

Note at how much faster a tempo (dramatic, but perhaps it should have been a bit slower) Alfred Brendel commences the andante. And, he plays it much louder. Overall, I think Brendel’s rendition is impressive and does the movement justice.

Overall, of the four versions posted here, I prefer German pianist Gerhard Oppitz’s rendition.

 

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This brings to mind something true about music from my personal experience. How valid it is, or whether it conforms to others’ experience, I don’t know. As is evinced by the Beethoven, I grew to love it by hearing my mother, an amateur pianist, play it with feeling. And, of all the versions posted here, I think I like Manon Clément’s the best, yet she is the least well known performer. Conclusion, for what it’s worth: the circumstances under which one hears music and the emotional content the performer can convey — through skill but also through performance intangibles, and through the desire to “communicate” musically (rather than just be admired as a performer) — make a great difference.

It’s not that different in writing, something which I know more about. An earnest desire to communicate can go a long way in making a piece of writing succeed. It’s not the only thing — technical skill and knowledge must be there — but a showoff who just wants to impress and does the job with no sense of their real or virtual audience (be it that in playing or writing) will leave listeners and readers feeling unfulfilled.

 

— Roger W. Smith

   August 2017

 

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Addendum: Igo Pogorelich’s rendition of Sonata no. 27, op. 90 is worth listening to.

William Handy (1762-1852)

 

My ancestor William Handy was born on August 15, 1762 in Sandwich, Massachusetts, a town on Cape Cod, and died in Sandwich on February 8, 1852 at the age of 89.

Mr. Handy served in the Continental Army under George Washington during the Revolutionary War when he was eighteen years old.

It is astonishing to me to realize the following: Mr. Handy was my mother’s great-great grandfather. That means he goes back only four generations from my mother, Elinor H. Smith (1918-1973; nee Elinor Congdon Handy).

My mother was the daughter of Ralph E. Handy (1893-1947). Her grandfather was Henry T. Handy (1845-1916). Her great-grandfather was Henry Handy’s father, Joshua Handy (1813-1877). Joshua Handy’s father, my mother’s great-great grandfather, was the above mentioned William Handy.

Here’s a very interesting fact, among several, about William Handy. His Revolutionary War service required him to travel to New York State. Presumably, this would have been on foot. During his service, he was present at the execution of Major John André (1750-1780), the British Army officer who was hanged on October 2, 1780 in Tappan, Rockland Country, New York as a spy during the Revolutionary War for assisting Benedict Arnold’s attempted surrender of the fort at West Point to the British.

An account of Major André’s hanging indicates that a large crowd was assembled for the hanging, including many troops.

The hanging is described as follows in an eyewitness account by James Thacher, M.D., a surgeon in the American Revolutionary Army (in his The American Revolution: From the Commencement to the Disbanding of the American Army Given in the Form of a Daily Journal, with the Exact Dates of all the Important Events; Also, a Biographical Sketch of the Most Prominent Generals):

The fatal hour having arrived, a large detachment of troops [italics added] was paraded, and an immense concourse of people assembled; almost all our general and field officers, excepting his excellency [Washington] and staff, were present on horseback; melancholy and gloom pervaded all ranks, and the scene was affectingly awful.

In his History of Cape Cod, vol. II (1862), Rev. Frederick Freeman, who knew Mr. Handy personally, writes:

During the revolutionary period, at a time when it was most difficult to obtain men for the war, he volunteered and served in several campaigns. He was present at the execution of Andre, a scene the incidents of which he related at the very close of his life, not only with nice accuracy but with an exhibition of fine sensibilities and generous feeling.

The full account of Rev. Freeman is as follows:

Capt. William Handy was, in some respects, a remarkable man.

During the revolutionary period, at a time when it was most difficult to obtain men for the war, he volunteered and served in several campaigns.

He was present at the execution of Andre, a scene the incidents of which he related at the very close of his life, not only with nice accuracy but with an exhibition of fine sensibilities and generous feeling.

Endowed with an iron constitution, of good judgment and most determined will — fearless, resolute, and full of energy, his earlier life was chiefly devoted to maritime pursuits — first in the merchant service and then in whaling.

After one whale voyage as mate, he was for many years in command of some of the best and most successful ships engaged in that business, making repeated voyages from New Bedford, and also from Dunkirk in France in pursuance of an arrangement made first by Tupper with Bonaparte when First Consul and afterwards by Rotch with the Consul as Emperor.

Captain Handy’s ability, integrity, and success were proverbial, securing unlimited confidence. Retiring from the seas, he engaged still in maritime affairs, establishing a ship-yard near his house on Buzzard’s Bay and becoming largely a ship-owner.

He sent forth from his own yard the ship Rebecca, the brig Fame, schooners Resolution, Nancy [named after his daughter], Sophronia, Love [named after his wife], Acsah Parker [named after his daughter Acshah Handy, who married Calvin Parker], and sloops Betsy [named after his daughter], Nancy [named after his daughter], Deborah, and other smaller vessels designed for the Long Island Sound trade during the war of 1812. These last smaller vessels were, for greater security against the ravages of the enemy, built near his door at a distance from the shore, and then without great difficulty launched across fields to their intended element.

Capt. H. suffered greatly from French spoliations, as well as from the war of 1812; but cherished faith in the tardy justice of his country to the very last of life.

When more than 60 years old he resolved, to replenish his coffers and “to show the boys how to take whales,” to adventure one more voyage. His purpose was no sooner known in New Bedford than eminent merchants and ship-owners were ready to further his views. Put in command of the Com. Decatur in 1821, he accomplished in 15 months a most successful cruise to the admiration of all.

He had an utter repugnance to public life, and yet was elected Selectman, and commissioned as Jus. Pac.

Anecdotes might be related of him … showing the energy and daring of the man; and one … would be of thrilling interest — that of a rencontre by himself and one other with a white polar bear, engaged upon the ice and snows without firearms. The contest was desperate; but the bear weighing more than 500 lbs. labored under the disadvantage of breaking through the snow-crust, whilst his assailants were supported by it and finally conquered.

William Handy married Love Swain (ca. 1779-1857), who was born on Nantucket. Love Swain Handy was a descendant of the first settlers of Nantucket, including Peter Folger (ca. 1618-1690), Benjamin Franklin’s maternal grandfather.

The couple had nine children, the youngest of whom was Capt. Joshua Handy (1813-1877), our mother, Elinor H. Smith’s great-grandfather.

Love (Swain) Handy, William Handy’s widow, applied on April 14, 1855 for a pension based on her husband’s service in the Revolutionary War.

 

Frederick Freeman, The History of Cape Cod, Vol. II: The Annals of the Thirteen Towns of Barnstable County,  pp, 157-158

157-158

 

— Roger W. Smith

    May 2016

 

 

 

Handel’s “Samson”

 

Overture

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/01-symphony.mp3?_=10

 

ACT ONE, Scene 3

3. Chorus (“Awake the Trumpet’s Lofty Sound”)

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/03-Awake-the-trumpets-lofty-sound.mp3?_=11

 

ACT THREE, Scene 3

84. Solo and Chorus (“Glorious hero”)

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/glorious-hero-may-thy-grave.mp3?_=12

Israelites
Glorious hero, may thy grave
Peace and honour ever have,
After all thy pains and woes,
Rest etemal, sweet repose!

 

ACT ONE, Scene 2

12. Air (“Total eclipse!”)

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/08-total-eclipse_-no-sun-no-moon-all-dark.mp3?_=13

Samson

Total eclipse! No sun, no moon!
All dark amidst the blaze of noon!
Oh, glorious light! No cheering ray
To glad my eyes with welcome day!
Why thus depriv’d Thy prime decree?
Sun, moon, and stars are dark to me!

 

For the complete oratorio, see

Handel, “Samson” (1743)

 

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I have been listening to some music today, mostly Handel, including a bit of “Samson,” an oratorio.

Handel composed “Samson” right after “Messiah.” He wrote “Messiah” in 24 days! He wrote “Samson” in about a month!

The libretto of “Samson” was based on John Milton’s “Samson Agonistes.”

It is my opinion – perhaps a minority one – that “Samson” is just about equal to “Messiah,” if not in fact equal.

It evokes such an emotional response. Raises goose bumps.

Listen to “Glorious Hero,” for example.

My mother majored in Fine Arts at Radcliffe College. She had quite a few art books from her college days that my siblings and I used to peruse.

There was a reproduction of a painting in one of her art books: “Samson and the Philistines” by Carl Heinrich Bloch, which was painted in Rome in 1863. It made such an impression on me. The painting shows Samson, in captivity, grinding grain on a treadmill. I couldn’t stop looking at it.

So did the Biblical story of Samson itself, which I knew from Sunday school.

 

— Roger  W. Smith

  May 4, 2016

 

'Samson and the Philistines'.JPG

Samson in the Treadmill (1863) by Carl Bloch

a note from my mother

 

 

Mom’s note to Roger, 1964

Wed. –

Dear Rog –

Sorry we let you get off without even discussing clothes with you. Had such a good weekend with you —

Rog – I enclose check for $10. – which is very little I know, but will you please buy 2 pairs permanent press chinos? This will be a start, and I’ll try to send more soon –

Must to hospital — Feeling pretty well today –

Love — + luck —

M

Board of Selectmen to Elinor H. Smith, November 5, 1969

 

My mother, Elinor Handy Smith, had requested permission to hold an antiwar rally in Canton, Massachusetts. Below is the Board of Selectmen’s response.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

   April 2016

Mozart, symphony no. 36 (“Linz”)

 

 

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/mozart-symphony-36-linz1.mp3?_=14

 

 

It’s a close call as far as I am concerned as to which is my favorite of Mozart’s late symphonies:

Symphony No. 36 in C major, K. 425 (known as the Linz Symphony); or

Symphony No. 40 in G minor, K. 550.

I became acquainted with both at a very early age thanks to recordings my parents had. The “Linz’ Symphony was a favorite of my mother, Elinor Handy Smith.

I love the slow buildup in the opening of Symphony No. 36 (the “Linz”); it makes me think of someone tiptoeing up a flight of stairs.

According to a Wikipedia entry

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._36_(Mozart)

The “Linz” Symphony was written by Mozart during a stopover in the Austrian town of Linz on his and his wife’s way back home to Vienna from Salzburg in late 1783. The entire symphony was written in four days to accommodate the local count’s announcement, upon hearing of the Mozarts’ arrival in Linz, of a concert. The autograph score of the symphony has not been preserved.

 

— Roger W. Smith

 

 

Beethoven piano sonata no. 27, opus 90

 

 

https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/1st-mvmt.mp3?_=15 https://rogersgleanings.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/01/2nd-mvmt.mp3?_=16

 

Beethoven piano sonata no. 27, opus 90

 

It is rare that this sonata is in two movements instead of four.

For some reason, it does not seem to be performed that often.

I grew to love it from listening to my mother play the second movement when I was very young.

 

— Roger W. Smith

     January 2017

 

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from Wikipedia

Ludwig van Beethoven’s Piano Sonata No. 27 in E minor, Op. 90 was written in the summer of 1814 – Beethoven’s late Middle period – and was dedicated to Prince Moritz von Lichnowsky, a friend and benefactor who was also the dedicatee of the famous Eroica Variations.

Beethoven’s autograph survives and is dated August 16, 1814. The sonata was published almost a year later.

Beethoven’s letter to Prince Moritz von Lichnowsky, sent in September 1814, explains Beethoven’s dedication:

I had a delightful walk yesterday with a friend in the Brühl, and in the course of our friendly chat you were particularly mentioned, and lo! and behold! on my return I found your kind letter. I see you are resolved to continue to load me with benefits. As I am unwilling you should suppose that a step I have already taken is prompted by your recent favors, or by any motive of the sort, I must tell you that a sonata of mine is about to appear, dedicated to you. I wished to give you a surprise, as this dedication has been long designed for you, but your letter of yesterday induces me to name the fact. I required no new motive thus publicly to testify my sense of your friendship and kindness.

Beethoven’s friend and biographer Anton Schindler reported that the two movements of the sonata were to be titled Kampf zwischen Kopf und Herz (“A Contest Between Head and Heart”) and Conversation mit der Geliebten (“Conversation with the Beloved”), respectively, and that the sonata as a whole referred to Prince Moritz’ romance with a woman he was thinking of marrying.

Schindler’s explanation first appeared in his 1842 book Beethoven in Paris and has been repeated in several other books. Later studies showed that the story was almost certainly invented by Schindler, at least in part, and that he went as far as to forge an entry in one of Beethoven’s conversation books to validate the anecdote.

Although most of Beethoven’s piano sonatas are cast in three or four movements, this piece consists of just two movements. Both are provided with performance instructions in German:

first movement: Mit Lebhaftigkeit und durchaus mit Empfindung und Ausdruck (With liveliness and with feeling and expression throughout)

second movement: Nicht zu geschwind und sehr singbar vorgetragen (Not too swiftly and conveyed in a singing manner)

 

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Addendum:

The second movement is supposed to be played “Nicht zu geschwind und sehr singbar vorgetragen” (Not too swiftly and conveyed in a singing manner).

Nevertheless, some– indeed, many — pianists, including renowned ones, play the second movement TOO FAST and in a restrained, bloodless manner, not a singing manner.

I would almost prefer to hear it played by an amateur who has a sensitivity to the piece.

 

— Roger W. Smith, email to a friend, January 1, 2017

Elinor Handy, Radcliffe College paper on Renaissance tombs

 

 

 

Mom’s Radcliffe paper on Renaissance tombs

 

 

This paper was written by my mother, Elinor Handy Smith a 1941 graduate of Radclifle College.

 

— posted by Roger W. Smith

 

Rev. John H. Nichols, memorial tribute to Elinor Handy Smith

 

Rev. John H. Nichols, memorial tribute to Elinor Handy Smith, March 15, 1973