CAPRICE ON SPANISH THEMES, OP. 34
I. Alborada II. Variations III. Alborada IV. Scene and Gypsy Song V. Fandango of the Asturias (Played without pause)
Rimsky-Korsakov’s Capriccio Espagnol was performed for the first time in St. Petersburg at a Russian Symphony concert, October 31, 1887. The composer conducted. The caprice was published in 1887, yet we find Tchaikovsky writing to Rimsky-Korsakov in 1886 (November 11): “I must add that your Spanish Caprice is a colossal masterpiece of instrumentation, and you may regard yourself as the greatest master of the present day.” Rimsky-Korsakov wrote in his Autobiography: “The opinion formed by both critics and public, that the capriccio is a magnificently orchestrated piece, is wrong. The capriccio is a brilliant composition for the orchestra. The change of timbres, the felicitous choice of melodic designs and figuration patterns, exactly suiting each instrument, brief virtuoso cadenzas for instrument solo, the rhythm of the percussion instruments, etc., constitute here the very essence of the composition and not its garb or orchestration. All in all, the capriccio is a purely external piece, but vividly brilliant for all that.”
The caprice is dedicated to the artists of the orchestra of the Imperial Russian Opera House of St. Petersburg. The names, beginning with M. Koehler and R. Kaminsky, are given, sixty-seven in all, on the title-page of the score. The caprice is scored for piccolo, two flutes, two oboes (and English horn), two clarinets, two bassoons, four horns, two trumpets, three trombones, bass tuba, kettledrums, side drum, bass drum, cymbals, triangle, tambourine, castanets, harp, and strings.
It was in the summer of 1887 that Rimsky-Korsakov, purposing at first to use Spanish dance themes for a virtuoso violin piece, sketched instead this caprice. He thought the third section, the “Alborada” in B flat major, to be a little less successful than the other sections, on account of the brass somewhat drowning the melodic designs of the wood-wind, but this fault could be remedied by a careful conductor. Rimsky-Korsakov tells how, at the rehearsal in St. Petersburg, the orchestra applauded vigorously after the first movement, and in fact after those succeeding, and the composer was so pleased that he dedicated the capriccio to the players. He also says that the first performance was extraordinarily brilliant, more so than when it was later led by others, even by Arthur Nikisch.
The movements, according to the direction of the composer, are to be played without intervening pauses.
I. Alborada. Vivo e strepitoso. This serenade opens with the wild, tempestuous chief theme, which is given to the full orchestra. There is a subsidiary theme for the wood-wind instruments. Both themes are repeated twice by solo clarinet, accompanied by horns and bassoons, and strings pizzicato. A delicate cadenza for solo violin brings the close, pianissimo.
II. Variations. Andante con moto, F major, 3-8. The horns give out the theme with a rocking accompaniment for strings. Before this theme is ended, the strings have the first variation. The second variation, poco meno mosso, is a dialogue between English horn and horn. The third variation is for full orchestra. The fourth, tempo primo, E major, organ-point on B, is for wood-wind, two horns, and two violoncellos, accompanied by sixteenth notes for clarinet and violins. The fifth, F major, is for full orchestra. A cadenza for solo flute brings the end.
III. Alborada. Vivo e strepitoso, B flat major, 2-4. This movement is a repetition of the first, transposed to B flat major and with different orchestration. Clarinets and violins have now exchanged their parts. The solo that was originally for clarinet is now for solo violin; the cadenza that was originally for the solo violin is now for the solo clarinet.
IV. Scene and Gypsy Song. Allegro, D minor, 6-8. This dramatic scene is a succession of five cadenzas. The movement begins abruptly with a roll of side drum, with a fanfare, quasi-cadenza, in syncopated rhythm, gypsy fashion, for horns and trumpets. The drum roll continues, now pianississimo. The second cadenza, which is for solo violin, introduces the chief theme. This is repeated by flute and clarinet. The third cadenza, freer in form, is for flute over a kettledrum roll; the fourth, also free, for clarinet over a roll of cymbals. The fifth cadenza is for harp with triangle.
The gypsy song begins after a harp glissando.
The song is attacked savagely by the violins and is punctuated by trombone and tuba chords and cymbal strokes. The cadenza theme enters, full orchestra, with a characteristic figure for accompaniment. The two themes are alternated. There is a side theme for solo violoncello. Then the strings, in guitar fashion, hint at the fandango rhythm of the finale, and accompany the gypsy song, which is now blown staccato by wood-wind instruments. The cadenza theme is enwrapped in triplets for strings alternating with harmonics pizzicato. The pace grows more and more furious, animato, and leads into the finale.
V. Fandango of the Asturias. A major, 3-4.
The chief theme of the fandango in this Spanish Caprice is announced immediately by the trombones, and a related theme for wood-wind instruments follows. Both themes are repeated by oboes and violins, while flutes and clarinets have figured in accompaniment. There is a variation in dance form for solo violin. The chief theme in a modified version is given to bassoons and violoncellos. The clarinet has a solo with fandango accompaniment, and the dance grows more and more furious until the chief theme is heard again from the trombones. The fandango suddenly is changed into the “Alborada” of the first movement, Coda, vivo. There is a short closing presto.
CHARLES CAMILLE
SAINT-SAËNS
(Born at Paris, October 9, 1835; died at Algiers, December 16, 1921)
An enemy of Saint-Saëns—and Saint-Saëns made enemies by his barbed words—might have applied to him the lines of Juvenal:
Grammaticus, rhetor, geometres, pictor, aliptes,
Augur, Schoenobates, medicus, magus, omnia novit.
Graeculus esuriens in coelum, jusseris, ibit—[42]
for Saint-Saëns was not satisfied with the making of music or the career of a virtuoso. Organist, pianist, caricaturist, dabbler in science, enamored of mathematics and astronomy, amateur comedian, feuilletonist, critic, traveler, archæologist—he was a restless man.
He was of less than average height, thin, nervous, sick-faced; with great and exposed forehead, hair habitually short, beard frosted. His eyes were almost level with his face. His eagle-beak would have excited the admiration of Sir Charles Napier, who once exclaimed: “Give me a man with plenty of nose.” Irritable, whimsical, ironical, paradoxical, indulging in sudden changes of opinion, he was faithful to friends, appreciative of certain rivals, kindly disposed toward young composers, zealous in practical assistance as well as in verbal encouragement. A man that knew the world and sparkled in conversation; fond of society; at ease and on equal terms with leaders in art, literature, fashion. A man whose Monday receptions were long famous in Paris, eagerly anticipated by Tout Paris; yet never so happy as when acting Calchas to Bizet’s or Regnault’s Helen in Offenbach’s delightful La Belle Hélène, or impersonating in an extraordinary costume Gounod’s Marguerite surprised by the casket of jewels. An indefatigable student of Bach, he parodied the Italian opera of the ’thirties, ’forties, ’fifties in Gabriella di Vergi.
Then there is his amusing Carnival des Animaux, which was written, as his Gabriella di Vergi, without intention of publication. A Parisian from crown of head to sole of foot; yet a nomad.
In 1867 Berlioz called Saint-Saëns “one of the greatest musicians of our epoch.” In 1878 Bülow lamented in a letter to Hans von Bronsart that there was no musician in Germany like Saint-Saëns “except you and me.” Liszt’s admiration for Saint-Saëns is well known. In 1918 there were some, even in this country, who applauded him as the greatest living composer. On the other hand, there have been critics who said that he was too much of a musician to be a great composer or creator. The praise of Gounod—“Saint-Saëns will write at will a work à la Rossini, à la Verdi, à la Schumann, à la Wagner”—was counted by them a reproach; it was regarded as a courteous manner of saying, “Saint-Saëns has the unfortunate faculty of assimilation.” Hugues Imbert, discussing him, admitted that there is no graver censure than to say of an artist, “He is incapable of being himself.”
So far as an intimate knowledge of music as a science is concerned, so far as fluency and ease of expression are concerned, Saint-Saëns was beyond a doubt a remarkable musician.
An extraordinary man and musician. Possessing an uncommon technical equipment as composer, pianist, organist; French in clearness of expression, logic, exquisite taste; a master of rhythm, with a clear appreciation of tonal color and the value of simplicity in orchestration, he is seldom warm and tender; seldom does he indulge himself in sentiment, passion, imagination. With him orthodox form must always be kept in mind. Hence perhaps the reactionary attitude of his later years; his sharp criticism of the more modern school of French composers, including César Franck. His wit and brilliancy are indisputable. He seldom touches the heart or sweeps away the judgment. He was not a great creator, yet his name is ever to be mentioned with respect. Without consideration of his many admirable compositions, one should bear this in mind: In the face of difficulties, discouragement, misunderstanding, sneers, he worked steadily from his youth up, and always to the best of his ability, for righteousness in absolute music; he endeavored to introduce into French music thoughtfulness and sincerity for the advantage and the glory of the country that he dearly loved.