Reading reports of the 1,500 Modernist masterpieces that have recently turned up in the flat of a Munich pensioner, I
learned that the culprit’s name was Cornelius Gurlitt. Ah, I thought, I might
have a lead for the German police: wasn’t he the composer who hightailed it out
of Berlin when the Nazis came to power and rode out the war in Tokyo – of all
places?
Wrong on both counts it turns out, but
there is more than one Cornelius Gurlitt in this story. And you don’t have to
go too far back in the family tree before musicians start popping up all over
the place. The hoard of artworks was assembled, and presumably concealed, by
Cornelius’ father, Hildebrandt, whose brother was Wilibald Gurlitt, a name
that may be familiar to musicologists as he was one of the main exponents of Hugo
Riemann’s analytical theories in the early 20th century.
Hildebrandt and Wilibald’s father was also named Cornelius, so now we’re
on the right track. Well, no actually, this Cornelius was an art historian, and
a prominent one too by all accounts. But his uncle was also Cornelius, and he’s
the one that we’re most likely to have heard of. Anybody who got as far as I
did with Associated Board piano exams (Grade 6 – so probably quite a lot of
people) will most likely have played one of this Cornelius Gurlitt’s studies in
a cold church hall for a grumpy man in a tweed jacket.
But he never went to Tokyo this one. That was Manfred Gurlitt, who was
this Cornelius’ great nephew (keeping up at the back?). This Gurlitt was a very
interesting character who seems to have made a series of poor judgments that
have consigned him to an obscurity wholly unrelated to the quality of his
music. He left Germany in 1939 after the Nazis declared, wrongly as it turned
out, that he was of Jewish descent – it is easy to understand the problems they
had untangling this family tree. So he went to Japan and took up the baton at
the Tokyo Philharmonic. But he never distanced himself from the Nazis as they
did from him, and was regularly to be found giving performances at the German
embassy in Tokyo - a bad move as far as posterity is concerned. Then there’s
his operas, the three most famous of which are on the subjects of Wozzeck, Lulu
and Die Soldaten. His Wozzeck
premiered four months after Berg’s, which was unfortunate. He was also two
years behind Berg on Lulu (Gurlitt’s version was called Nana – another unfortunate misjudgment) although he beat Zimmermann
to Die Soldaten, a lot of good it did
him.
An interesting family then, but one that history is likely to judge
harshly for various members’ relationships with the Nazi regime, quite an irony
considering the Nazis considered them Jews.
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