Leningrad Symphony by Dmitry Shostakovich. Seventh Symphony d

They sobbed furiously, sobbing
For the sake of one single passion
At the stop - a disabled person
And Shostakovich is in Leningrad.
Alexander Mezhirov

Dmitri Shostakovich's seventh symphony is subtitled "Leningrad". But the name “Legendary” suits her better. And indeed, the history of creation, the history of rehearsals and the history of performance of this work have become almost legendary.

From concept to implementation

It is believed that the idea for the Seventh Symphony arose from Shostakovich immediately after the Nazi attack on the USSR. Let's give other opinions.
conducting before the war and for a completely different reason. But he found the character, expressed a premonition."
Composer Leonid Desyatnikov: “... with the “invasion theme” itself, not everything is completely clear either: considerations were expressed that it was composed long before the start of the Great Patriotic War, and that Shostakovich connected this music with the Stalinist state machine, etc. "There is an assumption that the "invasion theme" is based on one of Stalin's favorite melodies - the Lezginka.
Some go even further, arguing that the Seventh Symphony was originally conceived by the composer as a symphony about Lenin, and only the war prevented its writing. The musical material was used by Shostakovich in the new work, although no real traces of the “work about Lenin” were found in Shostakovich’s handwritten legacy.
They point out the textural similarity of the “invasion theme” with the famous "Bolero" Maurice Ravel, as well as a possible transformation of Franz Lehar's melody from the operetta "The Merry Widow" (Count Danilo's aria Alsobitte, Njegus, ichbinhier... Dageh` ichzuMaxim).
The composer himself wrote: “When composing the theme of the invasion, I was thinking about a completely different enemy of humanity. Of course, I hated fascism. But not only German - I hated all fascism.”
Let's get back to the facts. During July - September 1941, Shostakovich wrote four-fifths of his new work. The completion of the second part of the symphony in the final score is dated September 17th. The end time of the score for the third movement is also indicated in the final autograph: September 29.
The most problematic is the dating of the beginning of work on the finale. It is known that at the beginning of October 1941, Shostakovich and his family were evacuated from besieged Leningrad to Moscow, and then moved to Kuibyshev. While in Moscow, he played the finished parts of the symphony in the newspaper office " Soviet art"On October 11, a group of musicians. “Even a cursory listen to the symphony performed by the author for piano allows us to talk about it as a phenomenon of enormous scale,” testified one of the meeting participants and noted... that “There is no finale of the symphony yet."
In October-November 1941, the country experienced its most difficult moment in the fight against the invaders. Under these conditions, the optimistic ending conceived by the author (“In the finale, I want to talk about a wonderful future life, when the enemy is defeated”) did not appear on paper. The artist Nikolai Sokolov, who lived in Kuibyshev next door to Shostakovich, recalls: “Once I asked Mitya why he didn’t finish his Seventh. He replied: “... I can’t write yet... So many of our people are dying!” .. But with what energy and joy he set to work immediately after the news of the defeat of the Nazis near Moscow! Very quickly, he completed the symphony in almost two weeks." Counteroffensive Soviet troops near Moscow began on December 6, and the first significant progress brought December 9 and 16 (liberation of the cities of Yelets and Kalinin). A comparison of these dates and the work period indicated by Sokolov (two weeks) with the completion date of the symphony indicated in the final score (December 27, 1941) allows us to place with great confidence the start of work on the finale in mid-December.
Practicing it with the orchestra began almost immediately after finishing the symphony. Bolshoi Theater under the leadership of Samuil Samosud. The symphony premiered on March 5, 1942.

"Secret weapon" of Leningrad

The Siege of Leningrad is an unforgettable page in the history of the city, which evokes special respect for the courage of its inhabitants. Witnesses of the blockade, which led to the tragic death of almost a million Leningraders, are still alive. For 900 days and nights, the city withstood the siege of fascist troops. The Nazis had very high hopes for the capture of Leningrad. The capture of Moscow was expected after the fall of Leningrad. The city itself had to be destroyed. The enemy surrounded Leningrad from all sides.

Whole year he strangled him with an iron blockade, showered him with bombs and shells, and killed him with hunger and cold. And he began to prepare for the final assault. The enemy printing house had already printed tickets for the gala banquet in the best hotel in the city on August 9, 1942.

But the enemy did not know that a few months ago a new “secret weapon” appeared in the besieged city. He was delivered on a military plane with medicines that were so needed by the sick and wounded. These were four large voluminous notebooks covered with notes. They were eagerly awaited at the airfield and taken away like the greatest treasure. It was Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony!
When conductor Karl Ilyich Eliasberg, a tall and thin man, picked up the treasured notebooks and began to look through them, the joy on his face gave way to grief. For this grandiose music to truly sound, 80 musicians were needed! Only then will the world hear it and be convinced that the city in which such music is alive will never give up, and that the people who create such music are invincible. But where can you get so many musicians? The conductor sadly recalled the violinists, wind players, and drummers who died in the snows of a long and hungry winter. And then the radio announced the registration of the surviving musicians. The conductor, staggering from weakness, walked around hospitals in search of musicians. He found drummer Zhaudat Aidarov in the dead room, where he noticed that the musician’s fingers moved slightly. "Yes, he's alive!" - the conductor exclaimed, and this moment was the second birth of Jaudat. Without him, the performance of the Seventh would have been impossible - after all, he had to beat the drum roll in the “invasion theme”.

Musicians came from the front. The trombone player came from a machine gun company, and the violist escaped from the hospital. The horn player was sent to the orchestra by an anti-aircraft regiment, the flutist was brought in on a sled - his legs were paralyzed. The trumpeter stomped in his felt boots, despite the spring: his feet, swollen from hunger, did not fit into other shoes. The conductor himself looked like his own shadow.
But they still gathered for the first rehearsal. Some had arms roughened by weapons, others shaking from exhaustion, but all tried their best to hold the tools as if their lives depended on it. It was the shortest rehearsal in the world, lasting only fifteen minutes - they did not have the strength for more. But they played for those fifteen minutes! And the conductor, trying not to fall from the console, realized that they would perform this symphony. The wind players' lips trembled, the string players' bows were like cast iron, but the music sounded! Maybe weakly, maybe out of tune, maybe out of tune, but the orchestra played. Despite the fact that during the rehearsals - two months - the musicians' food rations were increased, several artists did not live to see the concert.

And the day of the concert was set - August 9, 1942. But the enemy still stood under the walls of the city and was gathering forces for the final assault. Enemy guns took aim, hundreds of enemy planes were waiting for the order to take off. And the German officers took another look at invitation cards for a banquet that was to take place after the fall of the besieged city, on August 9.

Why didn't they shoot?

The magnificent white-columned hall was full and greeted the conductor's appearance with an ovation. The conductor raised his baton and there was instant silence. How long will it last? Or will the enemy now unleash a barrage of fire to stop us? But the baton began to move - and previously unheard music burst into the hall. When the music ended and silence fell again, the conductor thought: “Why didn’t they shoot today?” The last chord sounded, and silence hung in the hall for several seconds. And suddenly all the people stood up in one impulse - tears of joy and pride rolled down their cheeks, and their palms became hot from the thunder of applause. A girl ran out from the stalls onto the stage and presented the conductor with a bouquet of wild flowers. Decades later, Lyubov Shnitnikova, found by Leningrad schoolchildren-pathfinders, will tell that she specially grew flowers for this concert.

Why didn't the Nazis shoot? No, they shot, or rather, they tried to shoot. They aimed at the white-columned hall, they wanted to shoot at the music. But the 14th artillery regiment of Leningraders brought down an avalanche of fire on the fascist batteries an hour before the concert, providing seventy minutes of silence necessary for the performance of the symphony. Not a single enemy shell fell near the Philharmonic, nothing stopped the music from sounding over the city and over the world, and the world, hearing it, believed: this city will not surrender, this people are invincible!

Heroic Symphony XX century

Let's look at the actual music of Dmitry Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony. So,
The first movement is written in sonata form. A deviation from the classical sonata is that instead of development there is a large episode in the form of variations (“invasion episode”), and after it an additional fragment of a developmental nature is introduced.
The beginning of the piece embodies images of peaceful life. The main part sounds broad and courageous and has the features of a march song. Following it, a lyrical side part appears. Against the background of a soft second-long “swaying” of violas and cellos, a light, song-like melody of the violins sounds, which alternates with transparent choral chords. A wonderful end to the exhibition. The sound of the orchestra seems to dissolve in space, the melody of the piccolo flute and muted violin rises higher and higher and freezes, fading against the background of a quietly sounding E major chord.
A new section begins - a stunning picture of the invasion of an aggressive destructive force. In the silence, as if from afar, the barely audible beat of a drum can be heard. An automatic rhythm is established that does not stop throughout this terrible episode. The “invasion theme” itself is mechanical, symmetrical, divided into even segments of 2 bars. The theme sounds dry, caustic, with clicks. The first violins play staccato, the second strike reverse side bow across the strings, violas play pizzicato.
The episode is structured in the form of variations on a melodically constant theme. The topic goes through 12 times, acquiring more and more new voices, revealing all its sinister sides.
In the first variation, the flute sounds soulless, dead in a low register.
In the second variation, a piccolo flute joins it at a distance of one and a half octaves.
In the third variation, a dull-sounding dialogue arises: each phrase of the oboe is copied by the bassoon an octave lower.
From the fourth to the seventh variation, the aggressiveness in the music increases. Copper ones appear wind instruments. In the sixth variation the theme is presented in parallel triads, brazenly and self-satisfied. The music takes on an increasingly cruel, “bestial” appearance.
In the eighth variation it reaches a terrifying fortissimo sonority. Eight horns cut through the roar and clang of the orchestra with a “primordial roar.”
In the ninth variation the theme moves to trumpets and trombones, accompanied by a groaning motif.
In the tenth and eleventh variations, the tension in the music reaches almost unimaginable strength. But here a musical revolution of fantastic genius takes place, which has no analogues in world symphonic practice. The tonality changes sharply. Enters additional group brass instruments. A few notes of the score stop the theme of invasion, and the opposing theme of resistance sounds. An episode of the battle begins, incredible in tension and intensity. Screams and groans are heard in piercing heartbreaking dissonances. With superhuman effort, Shostakovich leads the development to the main climax of the first movement - the requiem - weeping for the dead.

Konstantin Vasiliev. Invasion

The reprise begins. The main part is widely presented by the entire orchestra in the marching rhythm of a funeral procession. It is difficult to recognize the side party in the reprise. An intermittently tired monologue of the bassoon, accompanied by accompaniment chords that stumble at every step. The size changes all the time. This, according to Shostakovich, is “personal grief” for which “there are no more tears left.”
In the coda of the first part, pictures of the past appear three times, after the calling signal of the horns. It’s as if the main and secondary themes pass through in a haze in their original form. And at the very end, the theme of invasion ominously reminds itself of itself.
The second movement is an unusual scherzo. Lyrical, slow. Everything about it evokes memories of pre-war life. The music sounds as if in an undertone, in it one can hear echoes of some kind of dance, or a touchingly tender song. Suddenly an allusion to " Moonlight Sonata"Beethoven, sounding somewhat grotesque. What is this? Is it the memories of a German soldier sitting in the trenches around besieged Leningrad?
The third part appears as an image of Leningrad. Her music sounds like a life-affirming anthem beautiful city. Majestic, solemn chords alternate with expressive “recitatives” of solo violins. The third part flows into the fourth without interruption.
The fourth part - the mighty finale - is full of effectiveness and activity. Shostakovich considered it, along with the first movement, to be the main one in the symphony. He said that this part corresponds to his “perception of the course of history, which must inevitably lead to the triumph of freedom and humanity.”
The coda of the finale uses 6 trombones, 6 trumpets, 8 horns: against the backdrop of the powerful sound of the entire orchestra, they solemnly proclaim the main theme of the first movement. The conduct itself resembles the ringing of a bell.

But they waited with special impatience for “their” Seventh Symphony in besieged Leningrad.

Back in August 1941, on the 21st, when the appeal of the Leningrad City Committee of the All-Union Communist Party of Bolsheviks, the City Council and the Military Council of the Leningrad Front “Enemy at the Gates” was published, Shostakovich spoke on the city radio:

And now, when it sounded in Kuibyshev, Moscow, Tashkent, Novosibirsk, New York, London, Stockholm, Leningraders were waiting for her to come to their city, the city where she was born...

On July 2, 1942, a twenty-year-old pilot, Lieutenant Litvinov, under continuous fire from German anti-aircraft guns, breaking through the ring of fire, delivered medicines and four voluminous music notebooks with the score of the Seventh Symphony. They were already waiting for them at the airfield and taken away like the greatest treasure.

The next day, a short piece of information appeared in Leningradskaya Pravda: “The score of Dmitry Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony was delivered to Leningrad by plane. Its public performance will take place in the Great Hall of the Philharmonic.”

But when chief conductor When Carl Eliasberg opened the first of four notebooks of the score from the Great Symphony Orchestra of the Leningrad Radio Committee, he became gloomy: instead of the usual three trumpets, three trombones and four horns, Shostakovich had twice as many. And even added drums! Moreover, on the score it is written in Shostakovich’s hand: “The participation of these instruments in the performance of the symphony is mandatory”. AND "Necessarily" boldly underlined. It became clear that the symphony could not be played with the few musicians still left in the orchestra. Yes, and they are theirs last concert played on December 7, 1941.

The frosts were severe then. The Philharmonic Hall was not heated - there was nothing.

But people still came. We came to listen to music. Hungry, exhausted, wrapped in so much clothing that it was impossible to tell where the women were, where the men were - only one face stuck out. And the orchestra played, although the brass horns, trumpets, and trombones were scary to touch - they burned your fingers, the mouthpieces froze to your lips. And after this concert there were no more rehearsals. The music in Leningrad froze, as if frozen. Even the radio didn't broadcast it. And this is in Leningrad, one of the musical capitals of the world! And there was no one to play. Of the one hundred and five orchestra members, several people were evacuated, twenty-seven died of hunger, the rest became dystrophic, unable to even move.

When rehearsals resumed in March 1942, only 15 weakened musicians could play. 15 out of 105! Now, in July, it’s true that there are more, but even the few that are able to play were collected with such difficulty! What to do?

From the memoirs of Olga Berggolts.

“The only orchestra of the Radio Committee remaining in Leningrad at that time was reduced by hunger during our tragic first winter of the siege by almost half. I will never forget how, on a dark winter morning, the then artistic director of the Radio Committee, Yakov Babushkin (died at the front in 1943), dictated to the typist another report on the state of the orchestra: - The first violin is dying, the drum died on the way to work, the horn is dying... And yet, these surviving, terribly exhausted musicians and the leadership of the Radio Committee were fired up with the idea to perform the Seventh in Leningrad at all costs... Yasha Babushkin, through the city party committee, got our musicians additional rations, but still there were not enough people to perform the Seventh Symphony. Then, in Leningrad, a call was announced through the radio for all musicians in the city to come to the Radio Committee to work in the orchestra.”.

They were looking for musicians all over the city. Eliasberg, staggering from weakness, toured hospitals. He found drummer Zhaudat Aidarov in the dead room, where he noticed that the musician’s fingers moved slightly. “Yes, he’s alive!” - the conductor exclaimed, and this moment was the second birth of Jaudat. Without him, the performance of the Seventh would have been impossible - after all, he had to beat the drum roll in the “invasion theme”. String group picked up, but a problem arose with the wind instrument: people simply physically could not blow into the wind instruments. Some fainted right during rehearsals. Later, the musicians were assigned to the City Council canteen - they received a hot lunch once a day. But there were still not enough musicians. They decided to ask for help from the military command: many musicians were in the trenches, defending the city with weapons in their hands. The request was granted. By order of the head of the Political Directorate of the Leningrad Front, Major General Dmitry Kholostov, musicians who were in the army and navy were ordered to come to the city, to the Radio House, having with them musical instruments. And they reached out. In their documents it was written: “He is sent to the Eliasberg Orchestra.” The trombone player came from a machine gun company, and the violist escaped from the hospital. The horn player was sent to the orchestra by an anti-aircraft regiment, the flutist was brought in on a sled - his legs were paralyzed. The trumpeter stomped in his felt boots, despite the spring: his feet, swollen from hunger, did not fit into other shoes. The conductor himself looked like his own shadow.

Rehearsals have begun. They lasted for five to six hours in the morning and evening, sometimes ending late at night. The artists were given special passes that allowed them to walk around Leningrad at night. And the traffic police officers even gave the conductor a bicycle, and on Nevsky Prospect one could see a tall, extremely emaciated man, diligently pedaling - hurrying to a rehearsal or to Smolny, or to the Polytechnic Institute - to the Political Directorate of the Front. During the breaks between rehearsals, the conductor hurried to settle many other matters of the orchestra. The knitting needles flashed merrily. The army bowler hat on the steering wheel clinked faintly. The city followed the progress of the rehearsals closely.

A few days later, posters appeared in the city, posted next to the proclamation “The enemy is at the gates.” They announced that on August 9, 1942, the premiere of Dmitry Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony would take place in the Great Hall of the Leningrad Philharmonic. The Big Symphony Orchestra of the Leningrad Radio Committee is playing. Conducted by K. I. Eliasberg. Sometimes right there, under the poster, there was a light table on which lay stacks of the concert program printed in the printing house. Behind him sat a warmly dressed pale woman - apparently she still couldn’t warm up after harsh winter. People stopped near her, and she handed them the concert program, printed very simply, casually, with only black ink.

On its first page there is an epigraph: “I dedicate my Seventh Symphony to our fight against fascism, our upcoming victory over the enemy, to my hometown - Leningrad. Dmitry Shostakovich." Below, large: “DIMITRI SHOSTAKOVICH’S SEVENTH SYMPHONY.” And at the very bottom, small: “Leningrad, 194 2". This program served as an entrance ticket to the first performance in Leningrad of the Seventh Symphony on August 9, 1942. Tickets sold out very quickly - everyone who could go was eager to get to this unusual concert.

One of the participants in the legendary performance of Shostakovich’s Seventh Symphony in besieged Leningrad, oboist Ksenia Matus, recalled:

“When I came to the radio, at first I felt scared. I saw people, musicians whom I knew well... Some were covered in soot, some were completely exhausted, it was unknown what they were wearing. I didn't recognize the people. The entire orchestra could not yet assemble for the first rehearsal. Many were simply unable to climb to the fourth floor, where the studio was located. Those who had more strength or stronger character took the rest under their arms and carried them upstairs. At first we rehearsed for only 15 minutes. And if not for Karl Ilyich Eliasberg, not for his assertive, heroic character, there would be no orchestra, no symphony in Leningrad. Although he was also dystrophic, like us. His wife brought him to rehearsals on a sleigh. I remember how at the first rehearsal he said: “Well, let’s...”, raised his hands, and they were shaking... So this image remained before my eyes for the rest of my life, this shot bird, these wings that -they will fall, and he will fall...

This is how we started working. Little by little we gained strength.

And on April 5, 1942, our first concert took place at the Pushkin Theater. Men first put on quilted jackets, and then jackets. We also wore everything under our dresses to keep warm. And the audience?

It was impossible to make out where the women were, where the men were, all wrapped up, packed, wearing mittens, collars raised, only one face sticking out... And suddenly Karl Ilyich comes out - in a white shirtfront, a clean collar, in general, like a first-class conductor. At the first moment his hands began to tremble again, but then it went... We played the concert in one section very well, there were no “kicks”, no hitches. But we didn’t hear any applause - we were still wearing mittens, we just saw that the whole hall was moving, animated...

After this concert, we somehow perked up at once, pulled ourselves up: “Guys! Our life begins! We started real rehearsals, they even gave us extra food, and suddenly - the news that the score of Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony is flying to us on a plane, under bombing. Everything was organized instantly: the parts were planned, more musicians were recruited from military bands. And finally, the parts are on our consoles and we begin to practice. Of course, something didn’t work out for someone, people were exhausted, their hands were frostbitten... Our men worked in gloves with their fingers cut off... And just like that, rehearsal after rehearsal... We took the parts home to learn. So that everything is flawless. People from the Committee on Arts came to us, some commissions constantly listened to us. And we worked a lot, because at the same time we had to learn other programs. I remember such an incident. They played some fragment where the trumpet had a solo. And the trumpeter has the instrument on his knee. Karl Ilyich addresses him:

— First trumpet, why don’t you play?
- Karl Ilyich, I don’t have the strength to blow! No forces.
- What, do you think we have strength?! Let's work!

It was phrases like these that made the whole orchestra work. There were also group rehearsals, at which Eliasberg approached everyone: play me this, like this, like this, like this... That is, if it weren’t for him, I repeat, there would be no symphony.

…August 9th, the day of the concert, finally approaches. There were posters hanging in the city, at least in the center. And here is another unforgettable picture: there was no transport, people were walking, women were in elegant dresses, but these dresses hung as if on cross-bracelets, too big for everyone, men were in suits, also as if from someone else’s shoulder... The military approached the Philharmonic cars with soldiers - to the concert... In general, there were quite a lot of people in the hall, and we felt an incredible excitement, because we understood that today we were taking a big exam.

Before the concert (the hall was not heated all winter, it was icy) spotlights were installed upstairs to warm the stage, so that the air was warmer. When we went to our consoles, the spotlights were turned off. As soon as Karl Ilyich appeared, there was deafening applause, the whole hall stood up to greet him... And when we played, we also received a standing ovation. From somewhere a girl suddenly appeared with a bouquet of fresh flowers. It was so amazing!.. Backstage everyone rushed to hug each other and kiss. It was a great holiday. Still, we created a miracle.

This is how our life began to continue. We have risen. Shostakovich sent a telegram and congratulated us all.»

We were preparing for the concert on the front line. One day, when the musicians were just writing out the score of the symphony, the commander of the Leningrad Front, Lieutenant General Leonid Aleksandrovich Govorov, invited the artillery commanders to his place. The task was stated briefly: During the performance of the Seventh Symphony by composer Shostakovich, not a single enemy shell should explode in Leningrad!

And the artillerymen sat down to their “scores”. As usual, first of all the timing was calculated. The performance of the symphony lasts 80 minutes. Spectators will begin to gather at the Philharmonic in advance. That's right, plus another thirty minutes. Plus the same amount for the departure of the audience from the theater. Hitler's guns must remain silent for 2 hours and 20 minutes. And therefore, our guns must speak for 2 hours and 20 minutes - perform their “fiery symphony”. How many shells will this require? What calibers? Everything should have been taken into account in advance. And finally, which enemy batteries should be suppressed first? Have they changed their positions? Have new guns been brought in? Intelligence had to answer these questions. The scouts coped with their task well. Not only the enemy's batteries were marked on the maps, but also their observation posts, headquarters, and communications centers. Guns were guns, but the enemy artillery had to also be “blinded” by destroying observation posts, “stunned” by interrupting communication lines, “decapitated” by destroying headquarters. Of course, to perform this “fiery symphony,” the artillerymen had to determine the composition of their “orchestra.” It included many long-range guns, experienced artillerymen who had been conducting counter-battery warfare for many days. The “bass” group of the “orchestra” consisted of the main caliber guns of the naval artillery of the Red Banner Baltic Fleet. For artillery support musical symphony the front allocated three thousand large-caliber shells. The commander of the artillery of the 42nd Army, Major General Mikhail Semenovich Mikhalkin, was appointed “conductor” of the artillery “orchestra”.

So two rehearsals went on side by side.

One sounded with the voice of violins, horns, trombones, the other was carried out silently and even for the time being secretly. The Nazis, of course, knew about the first rehearsal. And they were undoubtedly preparing to disrupt the concert. After all, the squares of the central sections of the city had long been targeted by their artillerymen. Fascist shells more than once rumbled on the tram ring opposite the entrance to the Philharmonic building. But they knew nothing about the second rehearsal.

And the day came August 9, 1942. 355th day of the Leningrad blockade.

Half an hour before the start of the concert, General Govorov went out to his car, but did not get into it, but froze, intently listening to the distant rumble. He looked at his watch again and remarked to the artillery generals standing nearby: “Our “symphony” has already begun.”

And on the Pulkovo Heights, Private Nikolai Savkov took his place at the gun. He did not know any of the orchestra musicians, but he understood that now they would be working with him, at the same time. The German guns were silent. Such a barrage of fire and metal fell on the heads of their artillerymen that there was no time to shoot: they should hide somewhere! Bury yourself in the ground!

The Philharmonic hall was filled with listeners. The leaders of the Leningrad party organization arrived: A. A. Kuznetsov, P. S. Popkov, Ya. F. Kapustin, A. I. Manakhov, G. F. Badaev. General D.I. Kholostov sat next to L.A. Govorov. Writers prepared to listen: Nikolai Tikhonov, Vera Inber, Vsevolod Vishnevsky, Lyudmila Popova...

And Karl Ilyich Eliasberg waved his baton. He later recalled:

“It’s not for me to judge the success of that memorable concert. Let me just say that we have never played with such enthusiasm before. And there is nothing surprising in this: the majestic theme of the Motherland, over which the ominous shadow of the invasion finds itself, a pathetic requiem in honor fallen heroes- all this was close and dear to every orchestra member, to everyone who listened to us that evening. And when the crowded hall burst into applause, it seemed to me that I was again in peaceful Leningrad, that the most brutal of all wars that had ever raged on the planet was already over, that the forces of reason, goodness and humanity had won.”

And soldier Nikolai Savkov, the performer of another “fiery symphony,” after its completion suddenly writes poetry:

...And when as a sign of the beginning
The conductor's baton rose
Above the front edge, like thunder, majestic
Another symphony has begun -
The symphony of our guards guns,
So that the enemy does not attack the city,
So that the city can listen to the Seventh Symphony. ...
And there’s a squall in the hall,
And along the front there is a squall. ...
And when people went to their apartments,
Full of high and proud feelings,
The soldiers lowered their gun barrels,
Protecting Arts Square from shelling.

This operation was called “Squall”. Not a single shell fell on the streets of the city, not a single plane managed to take off from enemy airfields while the spectators were going to the concert in the Great Hall of the Philharmonic, while the concert was going on, and when the spectators after the end of the concert were returning home or to their military parts. There was no transport, and people walked to the Philharmonic. Women are in elegant dresses. On the emaciated Leningrad women they hung like on a hanger. The men were in suits, also as if they were from someone else... Military vehicles drove up to the Philharmonic building directly from the front line. Soldiers, officers...

The concert has begun! And to the roar of the cannonade - It thundered all around, as usual - The invisible announcer said to Leningrad: "Attention! The blockade orchestra is playing!.." .

Those who could not get into the Philharmonic listened to the concert on the street near loudspeakers, in apartments, in dugouts and pancake houses on the front line. When the last sounds died down, an ovation broke out. The audience gave the orchestra a standing ovation. And suddenly a girl rose from the stalls, approached the conductor and handed him a huge bouquet of dahlias, asters, and gladioli. For many it was some kind of miracle, and they looked at the girl with some kind of joyful amazement - flowers in a city dying of hunger...

The poet Nikolai Tikhonov, returning from the concert, wrote in his diary:

“Shostakovich’s symphony... was played not as grandly, perhaps, as in Moscow or New York, but the Leningrad performance had its own - Leningrad, something that merged the musical storm with the battle storm rushing over the city. She was born in this city, and perhaps only in it could she have been born. This is her special strength.”

The symphony, which was broadcast on the radio and loudspeakers of the city network, was listened to not only by the residents of Leningrad, but also by the German troops besieging the city. As they later said, the Germans simply went crazy when they heard this music. They believed that the city was almost dead. After all, a year ago Hitler promised that on August 9 German troops would march through Palace Square, and a gala banquet will take place at the Astoria Hotel!!! A few years after the war, two tourists from the GDR, who found Karl Eliasberg, confessed to him: “Then, on August 9, 1942, we realized that we would lose the war. We felt your strength, capable of overcoming hunger, fear and even death..."

The conductor’s work was equated to a feat, awarded the Order of the Red Star “for the fight against the Nazi invaders” and the title “Honored Artist of the RSFSR.”

And for Leningraders, August 9, 1942 became, in the words of Olga Berggolts, “Victory Day in the midst of war.” And the symbol of this Victory, the symbol of the triumph of Man over obscurantism, became the Seventh Leningrad Symphony of Dmitry Shostakovich.

Years will pass, and the poet Yuri Voronov, who survived the siege as a boy, will write about this in his poems: “...And the music rose above the darkness of the ruins, Destroying the silence of the dark apartments. And the stunned world listened to her... Could you do this if you were dying?..”

« 30 years later, on August 9, 1972, our orchestra, -recalls Ksenia Markyanovna Matus, -
I again received a telegram from Shostakovich, who was already seriously ill and therefore did not come to the performance:
“Today, like 30 years ago, I am with you with all my heart. This day lives in my memory, and I will forever retain a feeling of deep gratitude to you, admiration for your dedication to art, your artistic and civil feat. Together with you, I honor the memory of those participants and eyewitnesses of this concert who did not live to see today. And to those who have gathered here today to celebrate this date, I send my heartfelt greetings. Dmitry Shostakovich."

There are examples in the history of music that make you wonder who a musician or composer really is: a person who naturally has certain psychological characteristics- or a prophet?

At the end of the 1930s. decided to repeat the experiment carried out in the famous "" - to write variations on the melody of an ostinato. The melody was simple, even primitive, in the rhythm of a march, but with some hint of “dancing”. It seemed harmless, but the timbre and texture variations gradually turned the theme into a real monster... Apparently, the author perceived it as a kind of composer’s “experiment” - he did not publish it, did not care about the execution, and did not show it to anyone except his colleagues and students. So these variations would have remained a “prototype”, but very little time passed - and not a musical, but a real monster revealed itself to the world.

During the Great Patriotic War, Dmitry Dmitrievich lived the same life with his fellow citizens - under the slogan “Everything for the front!” Everything for Victory! Digging trenches, being on duty during air raids - he participated in all this along with other Leningraders. He also devotes his talent as a composer to the cause of the fight against fascism - front-line concert brigades received many of his arrangements. At the same time he is thinking about a new symphony. In the summer of 1941, its first part was completed, and in the fall, after the start of the blockade, the second. And although he completed it already in Kuibyshev - in evacuation - the name “Leningradskaya” was assigned to Symphony No. 7, because its concept matured in besieged Leningrad.

The wide, “endlessly” unfolding melody of the main part opens the symphony, epic power is heard in its unisons. The image of a happy, peaceful life is complemented by a cantilena side part - the rhythm of calm swaying in the accompaniment makes it similar to a lullaby. This theme dissolves in the high register of the solo violin, giving way to an episode that is usually called the “theme of the fascist invasion.” These are the same timbre and texture variations created before the war. Although at first the theme, carried out alternately by the woodwinds against a backdrop of drumming, does not seem particularly scary, its hostility to the themes of the exposition is obvious from the very beginning: the main and secondary parts are of a song nature - and this marching theme is absolutely devoid of such. The squareness, which is not characteristic of the main part, is emphasized here, the themes of the exposition are extended melodies - and this one breaks up into short motives. In its development, it reaches colossal power - it seems that nothing can stop this soulless war machine - but the tonality suddenly changes, and a decisive descending theme (“theme of resistance”) appears in the brass, entering into a fierce struggle with the theme of invasion. And although there was no development involving the themes of the exposition (it is replaced by the “invasion” episode), in the reprise they appear in a transformed form: main party turns into a desperate appeal, the side one - into a mournful monologue, only briefly returning to its original appearance, but at the end of the movement the drum roll and echoes of the invasion theme appear again.

The second movement, a scherzo at a moderate tempo, sounds unexpectedly soft after the horrors of the first movement: chamber orchestration, grace of the first theme, length, songfulness of the second, conducted by the solo oboe. Only in the middle section do images of war remind of themselves with a terrible, grotesque theme in the rhythm of a waltz, turning into a march.

The third movement - adagio with its pathetic, majestic and at the same time heartfelt themes - is perceived as a chanting hometown, to whom the Leningrad Symphony is dedicated. The intonation of the requiem is heard in the choral introduction. The middle section is characterized by drama and intense feelings.

The third part flows into the fourth without interruption. Against the background of the tremolo of the timpani, intonations gather, from which emerges the energetic, impetuous main part of the finale. The theme sounds like a tragic requiem in the rhythm of a saraband, but the main part sets the tone for the finale - its development leads to a coda, where the brass solemnly proclaim the main part of the first movement.

Symphony No. 7 was first performed in March 1942 by the Bolshoi Theater Orchestra, which was then in evacuation in Kuibyshev, conducted by. But true example heroism was the Leningrad premiere, held in August. The score was delivered to the city on a military plane along with medicines, the registration of the surviving musicians was announced on the radio, and the conductor looked for performers in hospitals. Some musicians who were in the army were sent to military units. And so these people gathered for the rehearsal - exhausted, with hands roughened by weapons, the flutist had to be brought in on a sleigh - his legs were paralyzed... The first rehearsal lasted only a quarter of an hour - the performers were not able to stand any more. Not all orchestra members lived to see the concert, which took place two months later - some died from exhaustion... To perform a difficult task in such conditions symphonic work it seemed unthinkable - but the musicians, led by the conductor, did the impossible: the concert took place.

Even before the Leningrad premiere - in July - the symphony was performed in New York under the direction of. The words of an American critic who was present at this concert are widely known: “What devil can defeat a people capable of creating music like this!”

Musical Seasons

Orchestra composition: 2 flutes, alto flute, piccolo flute, 2 oboes, cor anglais, 2 clarinets, piccolo clarinet, bass clarinet, 2 bassoons, contrabassoon, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, 5 timpani, triangle, tambourine, snare drum, cymbals, big drum, tom-tom, xylophone, 2 harps, piano, strings.

History of creation

It is not known exactly when, in the late 30s or in 1940, but in any case, even before the start of the Great Patriotic War, Shostakovich wrote variations on an unchanging theme - the passacaglia, similar in concept to Ravel's Bolero. He showed it to his younger colleagues and students (since the autumn of 1937, Shostakovich taught composition and orchestration at the Leningrad Conservatory). The theme is simple, as if dancing, developed against the background of the dry knock of a snare drum and grew to enormous power. At first it sounded harmless, even somewhat frivolous, but it grew into a terrible symbol of suppression. The composer shelved this work without performing or publishing it.

On June 22, 1941, his life, like the lives of all people in our country, changed dramatically. The war began, previous plans were crossed out. Everyone began to work for the needs of the front. Shostakovich, along with everyone else, dug trenches and was on duty during air raids. He made arrangements for concert brigades sent to active units. Naturally, there were no pianos on the front lines, and he rearranged accompaniments for small ensembles and did other necessary work, as it seemed to him. But as always, this unique musician-publicist - as was the case since childhood, when momentary impressions of the turbulent revolutionary years were conveyed in music - a major symphonic plan began to mature, dedicated directly to what was happening. He began writing the Seventh Symphony. The first part was completed in the summer. He managed to show it to his closest friend I. Sollertinsky, who on August 22 was leaving for Novosibirsk with the Philharmonic, artistic director which was for many years. In September, already in blockaded Leningrad, the composer created the second part and showed it to his colleagues. Started working on the third part.

On October 1, by special order of the authorities, he, his wife and two children were flown to Moscow. From there, half a month later, he traveled further east by train. Initially it was planned to go to the Urals, but Shostakovich decided to stop in Kuibyshev (as Samara was called in those years). The Bolshoi Theater was based here, there were many acquaintances who initially took the composer and his family into their home, but very quickly the city leadership allocated him a room, and in early December - two-room apartment. A piano was placed in it, loaned to the local music school. It was possible to continue working.

Unlike the first three parts, which were created literally in one breath, work on the final progressed slowly. It was sad and anxious at heart. Mother and sister remained in besieged Leningrad, which experienced the most terrible, hungry and cold days. The pain for them did not leave for a minute. It was bad even without Sollertinsky. The composer was accustomed to the fact that a friend was always there, that one could share one’s most intimate thoughts with him - and this, in those days of universal denunciation, became the greatest value. Shostakovich wrote to him often. He reported literally everything that could be entrusted to censored mail. In particular, about the fact that the ending “is not written.” It is not surprising that the last part took a long time to come through. Shostakovich understood that in the symphony, dedicated to events war, everyone expected a solemn victorious apotheosis with a choir, a celebration of the coming victory. But there was no reason for this yet, and he wrote as his heart dictated. It is no coincidence that the opinion later spread that the finale was inferior in importance to the first part, that the forces of evil were embodied much stronger than the humanistic principle opposing them.

On December 27, 1941, the Seventh Symphony was completed. Of course, Shostakovich wanted it to be performed by his favorite orchestra - the Leningrad Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Mravinsky. But he was far away, in Novosibirsk, and the authorities insisted on an urgent premiere: the performance of the symphony, which the composer called Leningrad and dedicated to the feat of his native city, was given political significance. The premiere took place in Kuibyshev on March 5, 1942. The Bolshoi Theater Orchestra conducted by Samuil Samosud played.

It is very interesting what the “official writer” of that time, Alexey Tolstoy, wrote about the symphony: “The seventh symphony is dedicated to the triumph of the human in man. Let's try (at least partly) to get into the path musical thinking Shostakovich - into formidable dark nights Leningrad, under the roar of explosions, in the glow of fires, it led him to write this frank work.<...>The Seventh Symphony arose from the conscience of the Russian people, who without hesitation accepted mortal combat with the black forces. Written in Leningrad, it has grown to the size of great world art, understandable at all latitudes and meridians, because it tells the truth about man in an unprecedented time of his misfortunes and trials. The symphony is transparent in its enormous complexity, it is both stern and masculinely lyrical, and all flies into the future, revealing itself beyond the victory of man over the beast.

The violins talk about stormless happiness - trouble lurks in it, it is still blind and limited, like that of that bird that “walks merrily along the path of disasters”... In this well-being, from the dark depths of unresolved contradictions, the theme of war arises - short, dry, clear, similar to a steel hook. Let’s make a reservation: the man of the Seventh Symphony is someone typical, generalized, and someone beloved by the author. Shostakovich himself is national in the symphony, his Russian enraged conscience is national, bringing down the seventh heaven of the symphony on the heads of the destroyers.

The theme of war arises remotely and at first looks like some kind of simple and eerie dance, like learned rats dancing to the tune of the pied piper. Like a rising wind, this theme begins to sway the orchestra, it takes possession of it, grows, and becomes stronger. The rat catcher, with his iron rats, rises from behind the hill... This is war moving. She triumphs in the timpani and drums, the violins answer with a cry of pain and despair. And it seems to you, squeezing the oak railings with your fingers: is it really, really, everything has already been crushed and torn to pieces? There is confusion and chaos in the orchestra.

No. Man is stronger than the elements. The string instruments begin to struggle. The harmony of violins and human voices of bassoons is more powerful than the rumble of a donkey skin stretched over drums. With the desperate beating of your heart you help the triumph of harmony. And the violins harmonize the chaos of war, silence its cavernous roar.

The damned rat catcher is no more, he is carried away into the black abyss of time. Only the thoughtful and stern human voice of the bassoon can be heard - after so many losses and disasters. There is no return to stormless happiness. Before the gaze of a person, wise in suffering, is the path traveled, where he seeks justification for life.

Blood is shed for the beauty of the world. Beauty is not fun, not delight and not festive clothes, beauty is the re-creation and arrangement of wild nature with the hands and genius of man. The symphony seems to touch with a light breath the great heritage of the human journey, and it comes to life.

Average (third - L.M.) part of the symphony is a renaissance, the rebirth of beauty from dust and ashes. It is as if the shadows of great art, great goodness were evoked before the eyes of the new Dante by the force of stern and lyrical reflection.

The final movement of the symphony flies into the future. A majestic world of ideas and passions is revealed to the listeners. This is worth living for and worth fighting for. The powerful theme of man now speaks not about happiness, but about happiness. Here - you are caught up in the light, you are as if in a whirlwind of it... And again you are swaying on the azure waves of the ocean of the future. With increasing tension, you wait... for the completion of a huge musical experience. The violins pick you up, you can’t breathe, as if on mountain heights, and together with the harmonic storm of the orchestra, in unimaginable tension, you rush into a breakthrough, into the future, towards the blue cities of a higher order...” (“Pravda”, 1942, February 16) .

After the Kuibyshev premiere, the symphonies were held in Moscow and Novosibirsk (under the baton of Mravinsky), but the most remarkable, truly heroic one took place under the baton of Carl Eliasberg in besieged Leningrad. To perform a monumental symphony with a huge orchestra, musicians were recalled from military units. Before the start of rehearsals, some had to be admitted to the hospital - fed and treated, since all ordinary residents of the city had become dystrophic. On the day the symphony was performed - August 9, 1942 - all the artillery forces of the besieged city were sent to suppress enemy firing points: nothing should have interfered with the significant premiere.

And the white-columned hall of the Philharmonic was full. Pale, exhausted Leningraders filled it to hear music dedicated to them. The speakers carried it throughout the city.

The public around the world perceived the performance of the Seventh as an event of great importance. Soon, requests began to arrive from abroad to send the score. Competition broke out between the largest orchestras in the Western Hemisphere for the right to perform the symphony first. Shostakovich's choice fell on Toscanini. A plane carrying precious microfilms flew across a war-torn world, and on July 19, 1942, the Seventh Symphony was performed in New York. Her victorious march across the globe began.

Music

First part begins in a clear, light C major with a wide, sing-song melody of an epic nature, with a pronounced Russian national flavor. It develops, grows, and is filled with more and more power. The side part is also songlike. It resembles a soft, calm lullaby. The conclusion of the exhibition sounds peaceful. Everything breathes the calm of peaceful life. But then, from somewhere far away, the beat of a drum is heard, and then a melody appears: primitive, similar to the banal couplets of a chansonette - the personification of everyday life and vulgarity. This begins the “invasion episode” (thus, the form of the first movement is a sonata with an episode instead of a development). At first the sound seems harmless. However, the theme is repeated eleven times, increasingly intensifying. It does not change melodically, only the texture becomes denser, more and more new instruments are added, then the theme is presented not in one voice, but in chord complexes. And as a result, she grows into a colossal monster - a gnashing machine of destruction that seems to erase all life. But opposition begins. After a powerful climax, the reprise comes darkened, in condensed minor colors. The melody of the side part is especially expressive, becoming melancholy and lonely. A most expressive bassoon solo is heard. It's no longer a lullaby, but rather a cry punctuated by painful spasms. Only in the coda for the first time does the main part sound in a major key, finally affirming the so hard-won overcoming of the forces of evil.

Second part- scherzo - designed in soft, chamber tones. The first theme, presented by the strings, combines light sadness and a smile, slightly noticeable humor and self-absorption. The oboe expressively performs the second theme - a romance, extended. Then other brass instruments enter. Themes alternate in a complex tripartite, creating an attractive and bright image, in which many critics see musical picture Leningrad on transparent white nights. Only in the middle section of the scherzo do other, harsh features appear, and a caricatured, distorted image is born, full of feverish excitement. The reprise of the scherzo sounds muffled and sad.

The third part- a majestic and soulful adagio. It opens with a choral introduction, sounding like a requiem for the dead. This is followed by a pathetic statement from the violins. The second theme is close to the violin theme, but the timbre of the flute and a more songlike character convey, in the words of the composer himself, “the rapture of life, admiration for nature.” The middle episode of the part is characterized by stormy drama and romantic tension. It can be perceived as a memory of the past, a reaction to the tragic events of the first part, aggravated by the impression of enduring beauty in the second. The reprise begins with a recitative from the violins, the chorale sounds again, and everything fades into the mysteriously rumbling beats of the tom-tom and the rustling tremolo of the timpani. The transition to the last part begins.

At first finals- the same barely audible timpani tremolo, the quiet sound of muted violins, muffled signals. There is a gradual, slow gathering of strength. In the twilight darkness the main theme arises, full of indomitable energy. Its deployment is colossal in scale. This is an image of struggle, of popular anger. It is replaced by an episode in the rhythm of a saraband - sad and majestic, like a memory of the fallen. And then begins a steady ascent to the triumph of the conclusion of the symphony, where main topic the first part, as a symbol of peace and impending victory, sounds dazzling from trumpets and trombones.

Dmitry Shostakovich began writing his seventh (Leningrad) symphony in September 1941, when the blockade ring closed around the city on the Neva. In those days, the composer submitted an application with a request to be sent to the front. Instead, he received orders to prepare to be sent to the “Mainland” and soon he and his family were sent to Moscow, and then to Kuibyshev. There the composer finished work on the symphony on December 27.

The premiere of the symphony took place on March 5, 1942 in Kuibyshev. The success was so overwhelming that the very next day a copy of her score was flown to Moscow. The first performance in Moscow took place in the Hall of Columns of the House of Unions on March 29, 1942.

Major American conductors - Leopold Stokowski and Arturo Toscanini (New York Radio Symphony Orchestra - NBC), Sergei Koussevitzky (Boston Symphony Orchestra), Eugene Ormandy (Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra), Arthur Rodzinsky (Cleveland Symphony Orchestra) appealed to the All-Union Society for Cultural Relations with Foreign Countries (VOKS) with a request to urgently send by plane to the United States four copies of photocopies of the notes of Shostakovich’s “Seventh Symphony” and a tape recording of the performance symphonies in the Soviet Union. They reported that they would be preparing the “Seventh Symphony” at the same time and the first concerts would take place on the same day - an unprecedented case in musical life USA. The same request came from England.

Dmitri Shostakovich wearing a fireman's helmet on the cover of Time magazine, 1942

The symphony's score was sent to the United States by military plane, and the first performance of the "Leningrad" symphony in New York was broadcast by radio stations in the USA, Canada and Latin America. About 20 million people heard it.

But they waited with special impatience for “their” Seventh Symphony in besieged Leningrad. On July 2, 1942, a twenty-year-old pilot, Lieutenant Litvinov, under continuous fire from German anti-aircraft guns, broke through the ring of fire and delivered medicines and four voluminous music books with the score of the Seventh Symphony to the besieged city. They were already waiting for them at the airfield and taken away like the greatest treasure.

Carl Eliasberg

But when the chief conductor of the Bolshoi Symphony Orchestra of the Leningrad Radio Committee, Carl Eliasberg, opened the first of four notebooks of the score, he became gloomy: instead of the usual three trumpets, three trombones and four horns, Shostakovich had twice as many. And even added drums! Moreover, on the score it is written in Shostakovich’s hand: “The participation of these instruments in the performance of the symphony is mandatory.” And “required” is underlined in bold. It became clear that the symphony could not be played with the few musicians still left in the orchestra. And they played their last concert back in December 1941.

After the hungry winter of 1941, only 15 people remained in the orchestra, and more than a hundred were needed. From the story of the siege orchestra flutist Galina Lelyukhina: “They announced on the radio that all musicians were invited. It was hard to walk. I had scurvy and my legs hurt a lot. At first there were nine of us, but then more came. The conductor Eliasberg was brought in on a sleigh because he was completely weak from hunger. Men were even called from the front line. Instead of weapons, they had to pick up musical instruments. The symphony required great physical effort, especially the wind parts - a huge burden for a city where it was already hard to breathe.” Eliasberg found drummer Zhaudat Aidarov in the dead room, where he noticed that the musician’s fingers moved slightly. “Yes, he’s alive!” Reeling from weakness, Karl Eliasberg walked around hospitals in search of musicians. Musicians came from the front: a trombonist from a machine-gun company, a horn player from an anti-aircraft regiment... A violist ran away from the hospital, a flutist was brought in on a sled - his legs were paralyzed. The trumpeter came in felt boots, despite the summer: his feet, swollen from hunger, did not fit into other shoes.

Clarinet player Viktor Kozlov recalled: “At the first rehearsal, some musicians physically could not go up to the second floor, they listened below. They were so exhausted by hunger. Now it is impossible to even imagine such a degree of exhaustion. People could not sit, they were so thin. I had to stand during rehearsals.”

On August 9, 1942, in besieged Leningrad, the Bolshoi Symphony Orchestra conducted by Carl Eliasberg (German by nationality) performed Dmitri Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony. The day of the first performance of Dmitry Shostakovich's Seventh Symphony was not chosen by chance. On August 9, 1942, the Nazis intended to capture the city - they even had invitation tickets prepared for a banquet in the restaurant of the Astoria Hotel.

On the day the symphony was performed, all artillery forces of Leningrad were sent to suppress enemy firing points. Despite the bombs and airstrikes, all the chandeliers in the Philharmonic were lit. The symphony was broadcast on the radio, as well as over the loudspeakers of the city network. It was heard not only by the residents of the city, but also by the German troops besieging Leningrad, who believed that the city was practically dead.

After the war, two former German soldiers, who fought near Leningrad, found Eliasberg and confessed to him: “Then, on August 9, 1942, we realized that we would lose the war.”