From A Brief History and Analysis of Ernest Bloch's Schelomo

by Tracie D. Price

Schelomo

Following the outbreak of World War I in 1914, Bloch became increasingly concerned regarding the misery of the war. During this time, he was particularly moved by the Biblical book of Qohelet , and began sketches for a work for voice and orchestra based on the book as an outlet for his feelings regarding the pain of war. The following text which served as inspiration for what was to become Schelomo, is an excerpt from Ecclesiastes as presented by Avraham Soltes in his book Off the Willows: The Rebirth of Modern Jewish Music:

"Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.
What profit hath man of all his labor
Wherein he laboreth under the sun?
One generation passeth away and another generation cometh;
And the earth abideth forever.
The sun also ariseth,
And the sun goeth down,
And hasteth to his place where he ariseth.
The wind goeth toward the south,
And turneth about unto the north;
It turneth about continually in its circuit.
And the wind returneth again to its circuits.
All the rivers run into the sea,
Yet the sea is not full;
Unto the place whither the rivers go,
thither they go again.
All things toil to weariness:
Man cannot utter it.
The eye is not satisfied with seeing,
Nor the ear filled with hearing.
That which hath been
Is that which shall be,
And that which hath been done
Is that which shall be done;
And there is nothing new under the sun.

(Ecclesiastes 1:2-9)"

In 1933, Bloch wrote program notes for a performance of Schelomo by the Augusteo Orchestra of Rome in which he related the circumstances and inspiration that resulted in the composition of the work.

"This is the story of Schelomo. Towards the end of 1915 I was in Geneva. For years I had been sketching a musical setting of the Book of Qohelet , but neither French, German, nor English suited my purpose and I did not know enough Hebrew. Consequently the sketches accumulated-and slept. One day I met the cellist Alexander Barjansky and his wife. I heard Barjansky play and immediately became his friend. I played him my manuscript works-the Jewish Poems, the Israel Symphony, and the Psalms -- all of which were then unpublished and had failed to arouse anyone's interest. The Barjanskys were profoundly moved. While I played, Mme. Barjansky, who had borrowed a pencil and a piece of paper, sketched a little statue -- her 'sculptural thanks,' as she put it. At last, in my terrible loneliness, I had found true, warm friends. My hopes revived and I began to think about writing a work for that marvelous cellist. Why not use my Ecclesiastes material, but instead of a human voice, limited by a text, employ an infinitely grander and more profound voice that could speak all languages -- that of his violoncello? I took up my sketches , and without plan or program, almost without knowing where I was headed, I worked for days on my rhapsody. As each section was completed, I copied the solo part and Barjansky studied it. At the same time Mme. Barjansky worked on the statuette intended as a gift for me. She had first thought of sculpting a Christ, but later decided on a King Solomon. We both finished at about the same time. In a few weeks my Ecclesiastes was completed, and since the legend attributes this book to King Solomon, I gave it the title Schelomo.