Arts and Letters

Bernard Rogers, composer of stature and high integrity, died on 24 May 1968, aged 75. By nature a modest, child-like, retiring man, his music reflected a sensibility both delicate and moving. He was a pupil of two of the finest musicians of this century, Nadia Boulanger and Ernest Bloch, and also of Frank Bridge. Their vast musical knowledge shaped his musical thought and stimulated a splendid creativity—dedicated and imbued with integrity. This latter virtue, rare in our time, potently influenced the more intelligent of his many pupils who studied with him at the Eastman School in Rochester, New York, where he taught for close to 39 years.

Noted for his large-scale choral works, particularly his Passion, a work of remarkable emotional power and technical mastery, he was also a master of miniature orchestral paintings, some of them delicately revealing his sense of wonder and revelation.

The modest, humble, creative man fights a desperate battle of the spirit against indifference and ego-driven superiors, so Bernard Rogers's works were often incompletely performed, inadequately rehearsed, and more talked about than heard. Like most gentle souls, his courage often deserted him and he was prone to melancholia. To keep his spirits light, fresh, and vital for his students, he was renowned for his mordant wit and outrageous puns. Sensitive men can be ruthless, but Bernard Rogers's conception of that word was a form of intolerance of mediocrity and a respect for only the best in art. Tragic events in his life eventually strengthened him so that he seemed, in Gerald Sykes's words, to "grow muscles where [his] injuries were."

He will be remembered with great tenderness by those who knew him and loved him; and his music, one hopes, will find its place in that rare company of honesty and integrity, deserving of re-evaluation and performance. His life, like his work, was an act of faith.