And if thou wilt, remember

Roger Quilter was born in 1877, the third son of Lord and Lady Quilter. His father was not only the holder of a considerable estate, but also possessed a personal fortune of equal size, so young Roger grew up in a privileged environment. He studied at Eton, where he must have been something of a rara avis: unfortunately, his health never accompanied him, even as a child, and he was exempt from sporting activities; what he most enjoyed was listening to and studying music. Afterwards, instead of going to Oxford or Cambridge, which would have been the “natural” destinations, he went to study music in Frankfurt. After all, he was not the heir, so he had no major responsibilities towards the family, and his father indulged this eccentricity.

The young man went there, returned, and devoted himself to composing. Above all, songs, although he also wrote some symphonic works, two ballets, and an opera. He composed at his own pace, without haste—he did not need to publish in order to live, nor does it seem that fame particularly interested him—while dedicating much of his time and resources to other musical matters. For example, discovering and sponsoring new talents; organizing concerts in hospitals during the First World War; or founding a chamber music society where he presented musicians and works that had few opportunities in other venues. In the 1930s, even though his income had diminished after the war, he gave financial help to Jewish friends so they could escape Germany and settle in England. Quilter was uncomfortable with being privileged by birth, and since inheriting in 1911, upon his father’s death, he managed his money in a rather unconventional way.

He seems to have been a reserved gentleman, with a tendency to melancholy and discretion, much like his music. A few years ago we listened to one of his songs, Go, lovely rose, which illustrated very well his elegant, simple, and refined style. His songs had their roots in the Victorian parlour songs, works intended for performance in the domestic sphere, accessible to all performers and suitably sentimental. But, like other composers of his generation, Quilter gave them a new approach, drawing on quality poetic sources and setting them to more ambitious music. In this way, he and his colleagues laid the foundations of the Art Song.

We should not expect Quilter’s songs to be groundbreaking, but we can certainly expect beautiful songs, which at the time were sung by the finest performers. The one I propose this week, A Song at Parting, was published in 1952, the year before his death; although it is not certain, it seems he wrote it around that same time. It would therefore be one of his last songs.

The poem, known as Requiem, or by its opening words When I am dead, is among the best-known of its author, Christina Rossetti. It has been set to music on numerous occasions and, in fact, it is not the first time we hear it at Liederabend. A couple of years ago I shared Sterbelied, one of Korngold’s Vier Lieder des Abschieds, which is also based on this poem, though in Alfred Kerr’s German version. So with Roger Quilter’s A Song at Parting, which we will hear performed by Mark Stone and Stephen Barlow, we add another line to the series “Same poem, another song” I hope you enjoy it.