The Ninth [of Beethoven] on one end and the Universe Symphony at the other: together they enclose the transcendentalist epoch in music.
- Richard Taruskin, New York Times, Oct. 23, 1994
Generally, the notion that musical works (or works in any other medium, for that matter) are complete, in the sense that they are correct and true as they are, is taken for granted. When a work goes unfinished, usually there is no more complex a reason than the composer died in the midst of it, as with Bach's Art of the Fugue, Mahler's Tenth Symphony, or Puccini's Turandot. When this is not the case, however, the composer must have some reason to leave the work unfinished. In the case of Ives' Universe Symphony, basically abandoned more than 30 years before his death, these issues of completeness show themselves most truly.
The beginnings of the Universe Symphony lie in a work composed sometime earlier than 1915, according to Ives himself. He gives the title as "The Earth and the Heavens",[1] and this is the work that became the core of the first section of the Universe Symphony.
Its methodology was suggested to Ives by "looking at a view (1) with the eyes toward the sky or tops of the trees, taking in the earth or foreground subjectively - that is, not focusing the eye on it - (2) then looking at the earth and land, and seeing the sky and the top of the foreground subjectively."[2] This passage in the Memos refers to a trip Ives took with his wife and her father to Keene Valley in the Adirondack Mountains.
This manifested in the music as two separate groups of instruments, one high in register, the other low, playing different music representing different things, but all at the same time. "The lower parts . . . working out something representing the earth . . . and then the upper [parts] . . . reflecting the skies and the Heavens."[3] The "Heavens" group is divided again into five subgroups, three sections of violins (some with flutes ad libitum), a section of three flutes, oboe, and clarinet, and a last section consisting of bells (glockenspiel), celeste, and harp. Each of the first four subgroups has its own "sky-theme", the first of which is based on "Nearer my God to thee", and chord-type made up of different combinations of intervals.[4] Ives describes the "Earth" group in his Memos as "a kind of uneven and overlapping counterpoint sometimes reaching nine or ten different lines" all representing different aspects of the earth; the rocks, woods, and land formations.[5]
In the sketches for Section A of the Universe Symphony proper, a third group is added to these two, playing sustained "masses of chords built around various sets of intervals . . . this is to represent the body of the earth".[6] These "Mass" chords are extended into Section B, where the entire orchestra divides into four subgroups, each with its own "Mass" chord, the second subgroup's chord being the same as that from Section A. In Section A, the "Mass" chords lie exclusively in the bass-clef register (they are accompanied by a corresponding "Sky" chord in the treble), but in Section B, each of the "Mass" chords is expanded over the register of both clefs.[7]
The sketches for Section B are less concrete. Most pages are full of diagrams or preliminary sketches of harmony and melody. One page gives several sets of cyclical pitch class material, along with some melodic sketches. A score sketch of the opening of Section B shows large chords down the entire page, with the lower section marked off as "EARTH formed" (the emphasis is Ives') holding over from Section A. Following these chords is a jumble of specifically notated material representing humanity and evolution. A last sketch shows what is probably meant to be an aggregate and the ending of the section.[8]
Section C is the most problematical of all to reconstruct, or even to understand Ives' basic intentions. The only sheet that has anything more than sketches and diagrams is a compilation of harmonies that were to be used in the section. On this sheet Ives used a 24-tone chromatic scale, that is, an octave in quarter-tones, to create his harmonic cycles. These progress from a chord made up of perfect fifths to one made entirely of minor seconds. A look at the lowest intervals of the chords taken in order shows a "meandering but steady progression from interval 14 [quarter-tones] down to 1 [quarter-tone]."[9] The last written chord, number 23, is an aggregate, which Ives calls "a 12-note chromatic". The last chord has been left unwritten, but Lambert speculates that it may be the quarter-tone compliment to chord 23, creating a 24-tone aggregate. It is unknown how this chart would have been used in the symphony - possibly only as a reference source.[10]
* * *
An easy way to examine the issues of completion in Ives' work is to look at an almost identical case - Alexander Scriabin's Mysterium. This work has considerably more documentation, both in the composer's own words and in scholarly work. The two works, the Universe Symphony and the Mysterium, are so similar that the Ives can be discussed by proxy, so to speak.
This Mysterium was originally conceived towards the end of 1902 as a Wagnerian opera - taken several steps beyond the work of Wagner himself - but eventually evolved to include all of the "interesting" philosophical and religious convictions of the Russian Symbolists and the Theosophists with whom Scriabin was connected. After ten years of work he conceded to his friends that he would be unable to bring the Mysterium to fruition. In its place would be the Preparatory Act, designed to test "the mystic responsiveness of contemporary humanity."[11] Neither work was ever finished, however, providing a good link with Ives, and a roundabout method of understanding his unfinished work. Both composers wrestled with "philosophical speculations [that] led to creative disaster in the real world, a 'holy sacrifice' that led to silence."[12]
Ives' silence was less profound than Scriabin's perhaps because he was the stronger in character and conviction. Scriabin's mysticism detached him from reality, so that his death in 1915 of a boil on his lip may have seemed like he was "depart[ing] the earth in search of another place, a more real reality."[13] Ives, however, was firmly rooted in the physical realm. The Universe Symphony had drained him enough that he was effectively made silent or "stilled" by its enormity.
Ives continued to add notes here and there to the Universe for the rest of his life, but as a whole, it came no nearer to completion than it was in 1915. Some of the ideas found their way into other works of the same period, such as the percussion introduction to the last movement of the Fourth Symphony. Most of what came from the Universe were pages of diagrams, notes, and charts, but no more. This is in contrast to Scriabin's vigorous use of the material from his vast project. In every one of the last set of piano preludes, op. 74, appears some trace of pitch and melodic material from the Preparatory Act.[14]
Neither composer seemed to realize the inherent impossibility in completing their high aims. At least Scriabin's friends in the Theosophist/Symbolist circle realized that great transcendental art was meant for the future, not the present. Poet, and Scriabin's close friend, Vyacheslav Ivanov did not try to stage his own Symbolist dramas, called Tantal and Prometei, reasoning that he might prepare the way for the cataclysmic change of mankind, but not actually bring it about.[15]
Ives' Universe Symphony became more grandiose in conception with every passing year. After visiting T. Carl Whitmer's farm called Dramamount in 1923, Ives conceived of "outdoor music", with several orchestras situated on mountaintops with choirs, and other equally unrealizable variations on that theme. Scriabin also concieved of grand production plans for the staging of his Mysterium that included dancers, incense, acrobatics, and, most extravagantly, a newly built temple in the Indian Himalayas in which the work would be performed. Scriabin even made several sketches of what he wished the temple to look like. Needless to say, these designs are somewhat architecturally unfeasible.
When the composers finally realized that they had set for themselves an impossible goal, what followed was not acceptance and moving on, but a gradual cessation of compositional activity. In Scriabin's case, death followed hard upon this realization (that is not to say that there is a concrete correlation, of course). Ives, on the other hand, fell into a kind of "used-uppedness." Never again would he create original works, and he even seemed to fear his already written works. He did not attend the 1951 premiere of his Second Symphony conducted by Leonard Bernstein. His compositional activity was almost exclusively confined to alteration and revision. Around this time, a secretary came across Ives pacing in front of the window "humming and singing. 'If only I could have done it,' he said to her, pointing out the window. 'It's all there - the mountains and the fields.' She asked him what he meant. 'The Universe Symphony,' he said. 'If only I could have done it.'"[16]
It is amazing that two composers of such original music could conceive of, work towards, and ultimately fail at a work of such grand design within a few years of each other, and without any knowledge of each other. What this tells of the time period is beyond the scope of this paper, but what it tells us of the composer is all-important. Stuart Feder says that the Universe Symphony is a "mid-life fantasy of omnipotence, a childlike creation myth devised by Ives to combat a host of anxieties: fear of aging, recognition of 'increasing mental instability and of physical illness,' and 'awareness of failing creativity.'" It is the work of a "desperate and frustrated" man, but also a spiritual culmination of Ives' music.[17] As it stands, however, the work could not be completed as envisioned; Ives had bitten off more than he could - or would - chew.
What drives a composer to tackle the issues of the infinite in music? The motives are unknown or shadowy, but they usually have something to do with showing "the innate grandeur and spirituality of the human community," to use Swafford¹s words.[18] This is a case, however, where the reach exceeds the grasp - Ives could envision in his own head more than anyone, including himself, was able to put down on paper. Whether or not Ives actually meant the Universe to be completed or not is immaterial. The truth is, and what matters is, that it could not be completed as it was envisioned. Some believe that God, or the Universe, or the Heavens - whatever one wants to call it - strikes down those who strive too far beyond their means. Ives was one of those whose striving led to his downfall, in grand fashion.
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