PRÉLUDE À “L’APRÈS-MIDI FAUNE” (PRELUDE TO “THE AFTERNOON OF A FAUN”)

Claude Debussy (1862-1918)

Written / 1892-94

Movements / One

Style / Impressionistic

Duration / Ten minutes

“Was it a dream I loved?” asks the mythological faun in the opening lines of Stéphane Mallarmé’s poem The Afternoon of a Faun. Were those sensuous nymphs he carried off real or just imagined? When the young composer Claude Debussy met Mallarmé, and heard The Afternoon of a Faun, he was intrigued by the idea of turning the poem into a ballet. Debussy worked for the better part of two years on the brief opening scene and soon realized that the symbolism of Mallarme’s poem was not easily suited to the theater. He contented himself by reworking the opening section as an orchestral concert piece and called it a “prelude.”

“The music of this prelude is a very free illustration of Mallarmé’s beautiful poem,” he wrote. “By no means does it claim to be a synthesis of it. Rather, there is a succession of scenes through which pass the desires and dreams of the faun in the heat of the afternoon.”

By the time Debussy wrote the Prélude to “The Afternoon of a Faun,” he was already known as someone who was willing to break the established rules of composition. “Any sounds in any combination and in any succession are henceforth free to be used in a musical continuity,” he said. Debussy intentionally left dissonances unresolved, using them solely for their colorful effect. Debussy used scales other than the traditional major and minor ones. He also handled rhythm differently. Instead of having a clearly defined beat grouped into distinct measures, Debussy purposely confused the rhythm. Others considered Debussy’s music dangerous. “Better not listen to it,” Nicholas Rimsky-Korsakov once facetiously said. “You risk getting used to it, and then end up by liking it.”

The flute, representing the faun’s panpipe, begins the Prélude, but its theme seems to lack any definable key and sputters out, giving way to the horns. The flute begins again and gives way to the oboe. For the third time the flute starts, and this time extends the theme into a full-blown melody. The clarinet introduces a new theme that grows in intensity and passion as the whole orchestra joins in. Suddenly, the oboe and English horn play a tune that mimics a dream dissipating, and the flute returns with the opening theme. Just like the beginning, it fades away, leaving us to ask, “Was it a dream?”

After hearing Debussy’s Prélude to his L’après-midi d’un faune,” Mallarmé wrote a little poem on a copy of the music: “Sylvan creature of the first breath/if your flute has succeeded/hearken to all light/which Debussy will breathe into it.”

© 2022 John P. Varineau

SUITE FROM “THE FIREBIRD”

Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971)

Written / 1909-10

Movements / Five

Style / Contemporary

Duration / Twenty-three minutes

A quick series of events led to the rapid rise of Igor Stravinsky from unknown composer to the enfant terrible of the musical world. In 1908, Stravinsky wrote a short piece (Fireworks) to celebrate the wedding of the daughter of his beloved teacher, Nicholas RimskyKorsakov. Just a few days after he completed the score, Rimsky-Korsakov passed away and Stravinsky lost an important advocate for his music. Then, a few months later, Stravinsky gained a new champion when the great ballet impresario Sergei Diaghilev heard a performance of Fireworks.

Because of that hearing, Diaghilev asked Stravinsky to arrange a few pieces by other composers (Chopin and Grieg) for the opening season of the Ballets Russes in Paris. The success of those pieces didn’t immediately help Stravinsky. Diaghilev and the choreographer Michel Fokine asked another Russian composer, Anatol Liadov, to write the music for a new ballet based on the story of The Firebird. Liadov was something of a procrastinator so, needing music soon, Diaghilev turned to the young Stravinsky. He started work on The Firebird in November 1909, and had the completed score ready for Diaghilev by April 1910. “Mark him well,” Diaghilev said to the prima ballerina during a rehearsal. “He is a man on the eve of celebrity.” Indeed he was. Between 1910 and 1913, Stravinsky wrote three ballets for the Ballet Russes: The Firebird, Petrouchka, and The Rite of Spring. The success of those ballets put Stravinsky at the head of the avant-garde, and forever changed “classical” music.

Stravinsky based The Firebird on a number of Russian folk tales. Prince Ivan catches a magic bird who, in exchange for her release, grants one of her feathers to him with the promise that she will come to Ivan’s aid if he ever needs it. Later, the Prince stumbles upon the ancient castle of the evil King Kastchei, who holds thirteen princesses captive. The prince falls in love with one of them, and then Kastchei captures him.

Ivan remembers the magic feather and summons the Firebird. She arrives and causes all of the evil inhabitants of the castle to dance themselves to exhaustion. After lulling everyone to sleep, the Firebird leads Ivan to a huge egg that contains Kastchei’s evil soul. He smashes the egg, Kastchei dies, and the prince and princess marry.

Stravinsky produced three separate suites from the full-length ballet. The one from 1911 uses a huge orchestra. The one most frequently performed (and used tonight) comes from 1919. It uses a more standard-sized orchestra. In 1946, while living in America, Stravinsky extracted a third suite, again using a smaller orchestra, but including more selections from the ballet.

In the first movement of this suite, we hear the Prince as he is wandering around at night. A sudden shimmering announces the Firebird and the second movement: her solo dance. The third movement is the dance of the princesses outside of the castle. The fourth movement abruptly shatters the stillness of the princesses’ dance. It is the frenetic dance of King Kastchei and all of his entourage. The final movement is the Firebird’s song that lulls all of the enemies to sleep. It leads directly to the brilliant and majestic ending of the ballet. When the brilliant Russian pianist and composer Sergei Rachmaninoff heard The Firebird, his only comment was, “Lord, how much more than genius this is—it is real Russia!”