Tchaikowsky and His Orchestral Music 2

Tchaikowsky and His Orchestral Music 2

MARCHES, OVERTURES, FANTASIAS, ETC.

 

 

_Marche Slave_, OPUS 31

 

The _Marche Slave_ stands foremost among Tschaikowsky’s marches,

of which he wrote numerous, including several incorporated in his

operas and suites. Most of them were composed for special purposes

or occasions. There is the _Marche Solennelle_, written “for the Law

Students,” which figured on the housewarming program at the opening

of Carnegie Hall in May, 1891, besides a _Marche Militaire_, which he

wrote for the band of the Czar’s 98th Infantry Regiment. In 1883 the

city of Moscow requisitioned a _Coronation March_ from him. Earlier,

Tschaikowsky had written a march in honor of the famous General

Skobelev. But he held it in such low esteem that he allowed it to

circulate as the work of a non-existent composer named Sinopov.

 

[Illustration: The composer at the age of twenty-three, during his

early years at the Moscow Conservatory.]

 

[Illustration: Désirée Artôt, the French soprano who, in jilting

Tschaikowsky, helped to inspire his Romeo and Juliet overture-fantasy.]

 

The _Marche Slave_ was written in 1876 for a benefit concert to raise

funds for soldiers wounded in the Turko-Serbian war, which presently

merged into a greater war between Turkey and Russia. It is based

largely on the old Russian anthem, “God Save the Emperor,” and some

South Slavonic and Serbian tunes. The main theme has been traced to the

Serbian folk song, _Sunce varko ne fijas jednako_ (“Come, my dearest,

why so sad this morning?”). Divided into three sections, the march

features fragments of the old Czarist hymn in the middle portion.

How the hymn itself came to be written is told by its author, Alexis

Feodorovich Lvov:

 

“In 1833, I accompanied the Emperor Nicholas during his travels in

Prussia and Austria. When we had returned to Russia I was informed by

Count von Benkendorf that the sovereign regretted that we Russians had

no national anthem of our own, and that, as he was tired of the English

tune which had filled the gap for many years, he wished me to see

whether I could not compose a Russian hymn.

 

“The problem appeared to me to be an extremely difficult and serious

one. When I recalled the imposing British national anthem, ‘God Save

the King,’ the very original French one and the really touching

Austrian hymn, I felt and appreciated the necessity of writing

something big, strong and moving; something national that should

resound through a church as well as through the ranks of an army;

something that could be taken up by a huge multitude and be within the

reach of every man, from the dunce to the scholar. The idea absorbed

me, but I was worried by the conditions thus imposed on the work with

which I had been commissioned.

 

“One evening as I was returning home very late, I thought out and wrote

down in a few minutes the tune of the hymn. The next day I called on

Shoukovsky to ask him to write the words; but he was no musician and

had much trouble to adapt them to the phrases of the first section of

the melody.

 

“At last I was able to announce the completion of the hymn to Count von

Benkendorf. The Emperor wished to hear it, and came on November 23 to

the chapel of the Imperial Choir, accompanied by the Empress and the

Grand Duke Michael. I had collected the whole body of choristers and

re-enforced them by two orchestras. The sovereign asked for the hymn

to be repeated several times, expressed a wish to hear it sung without

accompaniment, and then had it played first of all by each orchestra

separately and then finally by all the executants together. His Majesty

turned to me and said in French: ‘Why, it’s superb!’ and then and there

gave orders to Count von Benkendorf to inform the Minister of War that

the hymn was to be adopted for the army. The order to this effect was

issued December 4, 1883. The first public performance of the hymn was

on December 11, 1883, at the Grand Theater in Moscow. The Emperor

seemed to want to submit my work to the judgment of the Moscow public.

On December 25 the hymn resounded through the rooms of the Winter

Palace on the occasion of the blessing of the colors.

 

“As proof of his satisfaction the Emperor graciously presented me with

a gold snuff-box studded with diamonds, and in addition gave orders

that the words ‘God Save the Tsar’ should be placed on the armorial

bearings of the Lvov family.”

 

 

_Overture 1812_, OPUS 49

 

Although clearly a _pièce d’occasion_ prompted by the commemoration

of a crucial page in Russian history, the _Overture 1812_ is a minor

mystery in the Tschaikowsky catalogue. Supposedly Nicholas Rubinstein

commissioned Tschaikowsky in 1880 to write a festival overture for the

Moscow Exhibition. At least the composer admits as much in letters to

Nadezhka von Meck and the conductor Napravnik.

 

But his friend Kashkin insisted the piece was requested for the

ceremonies consecrating the Moscow Cathedral of the Saviour, intended

to symbolize Russia’s part in the Napoleonic struggle. The overture,

accordingly, pictured the great events beginning with the Battle of

Borodino (September 7, 1812) and ending with Napoleon’s flight from

Moscow, after the city was set aflame. To make it more effective, the

work was to be performed in the public square before the cathedral.

An electric connection on the conductor’s desk would set off salvos

of real artillery, and all Moscow would thrill with thoughts of its

heroic past. In any case Tschaikowsky finished the overture at Kamenka

in 1880, and though the cathedral was dedicated in the summer of 1881,

there is no record of the planned street scene having come off.

 

Instead, we find Tschaikowsky offering the overture to Eduard

Napravnik, then directing the Imperial Musical Society of St.

Petersburg: “Last winter, at Nicholas Rubinstein’s request, I composed

a Festival Overture for the concerts of the exhibition, entitled

‘1812.’” Tschaikowsky then makes a statement that possibly suggests

an earlier rebuff: “Could you possibly manage to have this played? It

is not of great value, and I shall not be at all surprised or hurt if

you consider the style of the music unsuitable to a symphony concert.”

Apparently Napravnik turned down the overture, and its première was

postponed to August 20, 1882, when it figured on an all-Tschaikowsky

concert in the Art and Industrial Exhibition at Moscow.

 

Tschaikowsky’s attitude to the work is further expressed in the

letter to his patroness-saint Mme. von Meck. There he speaks of the

overture as “very noisy” and having “no great artistic value” because

it was written “without much warmth of enthusiasm.” And in a diary

entry of the time he refers to it as having “only local and patriotic

significance.”

 

The “patriotic significance,” of course, is what gives the overture

its _raison d’être_ as a motion picture of historical events.

Tschaikowsky’s brushstrokes are bold and obvious. The French and

Russians are clearly depicted through the use of the Czarist National

Anthem and the _Marseillaise_. Fragments of Cossack and Novgorod folk

songs enter the scheme, and the battle and fire scenes are as plain as

pictures. As the overture develops, one envisions the clash of arms

at Borodino, with the Russians stiffly disputing every step and the

_Marseillaise_ finally rising dominant. The Russians are hurled back;

the French are in Moscow. Finally the city is ablaze and the dismal

rout begins, as cathedral bells mingle with the roll of drums and the

hymn, _God Preserve Thy People_, surges out in a paean of victory.

 

 

_Capriccio Italien_, OPUS 45

 

Described by Edwin Evans as a “bundle of Italian folk-tunes,” the

_Capriccio Italien_ draws partly on published collections of such

melodies and partly on popular airs heard by Tschaikowsky in 1880 while

touring Italy. “I am working on a sketch of an ‘Italian Fantasia’ based

on folksongs,” he notifies his patroness-confidante, Nadeshka von Meck,

from Rome on February 17, 1880. “Thanks to the charming themes, some of

which I have heard in the streets, the work will be effective.”

 

[Illustration: A facsimile of a piece of Tschaikowsky’s music, signed

by the composer.]

 

Tschaikowsky’s room at the Hotel Constanzi overlooked the barracks of

the Royal Cuirassiers. Apparently the bugle-call sounded nightly in

the barracks yards contributed another theme “heard in the streets,”

for it may be heard in the trumpet passage of the introduction. The

_Italian Fantasia_ was fully sketched out in Rome and the orchestration

begun. With the title now changed to _Capriccio Italien_, the work was

completed that summer on Tschaikowsky’s return to Russia. Nicholas

Rubinstein directed the première at Moscow on December 18, 1880. Six

years later Walter Damrosch introduced it to America at a concert in

the Metropolitan Opera House, the precise date being November 6, 1886.

 

After the introductory section, the strings chant a lyric theme of

slightly melancholy hue, which the orchestra then develops. Later

the oboes announce, in thirds, a simple folk melody of less sombre

character. This, too, is elaborately worked out, before the tempo

changes and violins and flutes bring in another tune. This promptly

subsides as a brisk march section sets in, followed by a return of

the opening theme. There is a transition to a lively tarantella, then

another bright theme in triple rhythm, and finally the Presto section,

with a second tarantella motif leading to a brilliant close.

 

“It is a piece of music which relies entirely on its orchestration for

its effects,” writes Evans in the Master Musicians Series. “Its musical

value is comparatively slight, but the coloring is so vivid and so

fascinating, and the movement throughout so animated, that one does not

realize this when listening to the work. It is only afterwards that

one experiences certain pangs of regret that such a rich garment should

bedeck so thin a figure.”

 

 

SUITE FOR STRINGS, _Souvenir de Florence_, OPUS 70

 

Compared with his output in other forms, Tschaikowsky’s chamber music

is small, consisting of an early quartet, of which only the first

movement survives, three complete string quartets, a trio, and the

_Souvenir de Florence_, written for violins, violas, and ’cellos in

pairs.

 

As the title implies, the work grew out of a visit to Italy early in

1890, though as a clew to the mood and manner of the music, _Souvenir