Spring has arrived, that long-awaited time when the ice begins to melt and hope for renewed strength begins to awaken. But not every spring brings joy; sometimes it is necessary not only to show courage, but also to fill the spring with a striving to overcome the hardships that each new day brings, to kindle the last sparks in weakened minds and souls to strike the final blow.
The 5th of March 1942 was just such a day. There was frost outside, about twenty degrees below zero. On the calendar it was already spring, but there was no point in waiting for warmth yet, and thoughts were occupied with something completely different. The barracks door creaked, the light from the door illuminated the snow cover around it; a young soldier stepped out onto the street, and frosty air hit him sharply in the face. In such circumstances, one does not particularly want to smoke. In his homeland, in Germany, there are no such frosts, and the siege of this city had already lasted 209 days. Indignant voices shouted from the barracks, demanding that the door be closed—the so-called spring had already burst into the room with an icy draft. The door made a hoarse sound again and slammed shut.
The sky was dark; night would come soon. The soldier took a deep breath and looked around. Under the canopy, several of his comrades were tending a fire and warming bread on it; their conversation was gloomy, with no jokes or stories about the girls they would meet at home, or about the new boots they would buy as soon as the war ended. The soldier approached the fire, took out a pack, and pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette. The sparks from the lit match mingled with the flames of the fire. He looked at the sky; the wind was driving gray clouds, rare snowflakes were falling to the ground, swirling in flurries around the trees and settling on his greatcoat. The soldier looked around in search of something that could occupy his thoughts, to distract himself from the situation around him. He slowly surveyed the canopy and stopped at the beam that supported its roof. A radio was hanging on a nail, protruding out of the support. In the next instant, the man was already standing by the receiver and trying to tune the frequency. Click, click... the receiver hissed and produced interference, but suddenly the signal steadied, and finally something could be made out. Something was announced in a foreign language, and then applause rang out. Who in our time and in this country would applaud? The lads by the fire turned toward where the receiver was broadcasting. After the ovation, silence fell, which was broken by music.
***
Dmitry Dmitrievich Shostakovich, the great Soviet composer and pianist, was born on the 12th (25th) of September 1906 in Saint Petersburg. Even as a child, he decided to take music seriously. When he was thirteen years old, Shostakovich had already entered the Petrograd Conservatory in the piano department, and two years later, the composition department.
Dmitry Shostakovich. Photo: Monastery.ru
In 1927, the composer participated in the first international Chopin piano competition in Warsaw, where the conductor and composer Bruno Walter asked Shostakovich to send the score of his first symphony to Berlin. It was performed in Germany and the United States. A year after the premiere, Shostakovich’s First Symphony was being played by orchestras all over the world. In 1934, the opera Lady Macbeth of the Mtsensk District premiered; it was performed in Moscow and Leningrad more than 200 times, and was also played in theaters in Europe and North America.
In 1934, Joseph Stalin saw the opera. Just after this, an article appeared in the newspaper Pravda entitled, “Muddle Instead of Music.” The opera was declared “anti-people.”
Shostakovich became a symbol of his time, the creator of a new genre, combining classical forms and innovative harmonies in his works. Despite strict censorship and widespread rejection of his work, he managed to create many works that laid the foundation for a new sound in music, and became the voice of resistance and hope.
One of such works is the Leningrad Symphony (Seventh), written in 1941. According to some sources, Shostakovich began writing this work in mid-July, 1941. At that time, he worked as a firefighter in the city’s air defense fire brigade. Initially, the composer did not plan to create something large-scale and wanted to limit himself to a one-movement form of the symphony, but in the process of composing, Shostakovich abandoned this idea and began work on a full-fledged four-movement cycle with an expanded orchestra. Highly enthusiastic about composing the symphony, Shostakovich noted in the press that the composition was progressing unusually quickly—the first movement was finished on the 3rd of September, the second—on the 17th of September, and the third—on the 29th of September. On the 1st of October, Shostakovich was evacuated together with his family from Leningrad to Kuibyshev, where on December 27, 1941 he completed the writing of the Leningrad Symphony.
“The sight of the hall is extraordinarily exciting, imposing as ever, with its beautiful combination of dazzling whiteness, gilding and soft tones of crimson velvet, with its impeccable architectural proportions and acoustic purity... The hall is whimsically illuminated by a halo of sun rays penetrating through the open sashes of the high ‘ceiling’ windows, boarded up with plywood... One cannot speak of the impression from the symphony. This is not an impression, but shock...” wrote the musicologist Valerian Bogdanov-Berezovsky, who attended the general rehearsal of the Leningrad Symphony.
This work became a symbol of the victory of the human spirit, a symbol of resistance to fascism in the language of music
While working on the piece, Shostakovich often showed excerpts to his friends, comrades, and colleagues, and at one such showing, its first performer—Samuil Abramovich Samosud—heard the symphony. Soon he performed the symphony first in Kuibyshev, and then in Moscow. The performance was broadcast on the radio not only throughout the Soviet Union, but throughout the world. This work became a symbol of the victory of the human spirit, a symbol of resistance to fascism in the language of music.
The first movement—Allegretto. It begins with an anxious, almost obsessive motif that gradually builds up, as if symbolizing the advance of the enemy and the growing threat. This rhythmic pulse, repeating like an ominous march, becomes the leitmotif around which the musical action unfolds. Here one hears tense struggle, fear, and determination, and the orchestra seems to bring to life the picture of the besieged city, where every sound is a step of the enemy, every chord—an explosion and destruction.
The second movement is Allegro non troppo. This is an energetic, almost dance-like sketch that contrasts with the gloomy first movement. Here folk motifs are heard, rhythms reminiscent of dances, which give the music a shade of life and resistance. This movement seems to convey the spirit of the people, their unsubmissiveness and inner strength, despite all trials.
The third movement is Adagio. This is a deep, penetrating lyrical reflection. The music here is slow, filled with tragedy and sorrow, like the voice of those who have lost loved ones, who have experienced the horrors of war. The melodies sound like a lament, but there is also a bright hope in them, a quiet expectation of peace and rebirth.
The fourth movement is Allegro non troppo. The finale is a solemn and at the same time tense moment. The music acquires scale and drama, as if reflecting the victory of the spirit over darkness. Here powerful orchestral explosions are heard, contrasts and climaxes that lead to a triumphant—albeit not without bitterness—finale.
“The Seventh Symphony is dedicated to the triumph of humanity in man. Let us try (at least in part) to penetrate the path of Shostakovich’s musical thinking. The formidable dark nights of Leningrad, under the roar of explosions, in the glow of fires, led him to write this frank work,” wrote Alexei Tolstoy.
The Seventh Symphony in Blockaded Leningrad. Photo: Monastery.ru
The Seventh Symphony is not just a musical work, but an epic leitmotif about courage and suffering, about destruction and hope, embodied in sounds that convey to the listener the full depth of human experiences in the times of the great battle and the coming Great Victory…
The music subsided, the broadcast was interrupted, and silence fell. There were no longer three soldiers by the fire, but a whole crowd. People stood silently and listened, the fire was dying out. Someone began to light a cigarette, others exchanged glances and did not know what to say or what to do next. The wind was blowing up collars, a blizzard was beginning, and the weather was becoming more and more severe. The soldier who had turned on the radio reached for the switch, the hissing and interference ceased. He turned to his comrades and said only one thing: “We will never take this city.” No one argued with him after what they had heard. Everyone silently dispersed to the barracks, the light went out, and it became completely dark.
