Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971)
Les noces (1914–17;
orch. 1923)
Part One
Scene 1: At the Bride’s House
Scene 2: At the Groom’s House
Scene 3: The Bride’s Departure
Part Two
Scene 4: The Wedding Feast
Stravinsky’s first idea for a ballet
about a peasant wedding dates back at least to the autumn of
1912, when he was still at work on The Rite of Spring.
The following March, the Moscow journal Muzïka printed
an announcement that actually gave the ballet its eventual
Russian title, Svadebka (‘Little Wedding’). Nobody could
have guessed that it would be another 10 years before the work
reached the stage, or have predicted the circumstances –
political and artistic – that would stand in its way.
Stravinsky spent much of the year following the riotous
premiere of The Rite of
Spring in May 1913 finishing off
his pre-Firebird opera, The
Nightingale, to a commission from
the newly established Moscow Free Theatre; and it was only in
the summer of 1914 that he was able to turn his attention
properly to what he must have known would be a complicated and
perhaps long-drawn-out project.
The problem was that, unlike its
predecessors, Svadebka (or to give it the French title, Les noces,
which has clung to it since its first performance) was from the
start planned as a sung ballet, to be based on authentic
Russian wedding texts – its actual generic title is
‘Russian Choreographic Scenes with Singing and
Music’. There was nothing particularly new about the
stage presentation of folk weddings, and Stravinsky’s own
ballets had made fertile use of folk music and pagan ritual
– an obsession also of his teacher Rimsky-Korsakov and of
Russian Silver Age art in general. But this wedding ballet
would be subtly different. Early sketches show that Stravinsky
quickly became preoccupied with intricate details of the
Russian texts, their peculiar rhythmic and prosodic character,
and above all their musical potential in relation to the
complex rhythmic idiom he had evolved in Petrushka and The Rite of Spring. More or less trapped in Switzerland at the outbreak
of war in August 1914, he buried his head in the textual and
musical materials he had managed to rescue from his house in
the Ukraine the previous month, and for the next three years he
worked intensively on settings that richly exploit the strong
but mobile accentuations of Russian folk poetry. They include a
number of brilliant little songs, which seem to invent a
completely new kind of modernistic folk music out of oddities
in the poetry and distilled elements of Stravinsky’s own
recent music; and they include two stage masterpieces, the
so-called burlesque, Renard, and Les
noces itself, both of them
built up through extensions and elaborations of the same
essential ingredients.
Musically, Les noces was
virtually complete by 1917. But Diaghilev, who had adored the
work from the moment he first heard about it, was in no
position to stage so unusual and complex a ballet under wartime
conditions, and in any case he was soon engaged in a blood row
with Stravinsky over royalties. Meanwhile the composer’s
orchestral image of the work underwent drastic change. Having
originally accompanied the voices with a large chamber
orchestra with attributes of a peasant band, in 1919 he came up
with a new orchestration involving his current mechanical
craze, the pianola, plus harmonium and a pair of cimbaloms
– to the understandable despair of Diaghilev, who
grumbled to Ernest Ansermet that it ‘leaves idle the
musicians I’ve got, and asks me for only four, one of
whom, however, I have to get from Honolulu, another from
Budapest, and the others from God knows where’. The
eventual scoring, for four pianos with percussion, reflects the
preoccupations of Stravinsky’s music around 1920, much of
which is (or was first intended) for piano. In this form, Les noces at
last reached the stage of the Gaîté Lyrique in
Paris in June 1923, in a production by Bronislava Nijinska
which itself brilliantly reflected the constructivist
tendencies of art in the young Soviet Union, where she had
recently been working. The conductor was Ansermet, and the work
was sung in its original language by the Russian Choir of
Vasily Kibalchich.
Stravinsky’s texts, chosen mainly
from a 19th-century anthology of wedding rituals edited by
Pyotr Kireyevsky, deal exclusively with the pagan aspects of a
wedding that is, nevertheless, clearly understood to be
Christian. They invoke the saints Cosmo and Damien (the patron
saints of weddings), and in particular the Virgin Mary. But the
church ceremony as such is excluded. In the first of the four
tableaux (or scenes), the weeping bride has her hair braided,
as a symbol of the loss of her virginity and her entrapment in
marriage; her mother and the bridesmaids call on the Blessed
Virgin to attend and help prepare the bride. In scene 2 the
bridegroom also invokes the Mother of God as his hair, too, is
combed for what he calls the assault ‘against the strong
wall of stone’ (one of many more or less overt sexual
images in the old Russian text). The saints Luke, Cosmo and
Damien are summoned to the wedding. At the end of scene 3,
after the bride has been seen off to the church, the two
mothers – not permitted by custom to attend the wedding
– sing a ritual lament for their lost children. Finally
the wedding feast (scene 4: the title translates literally as
‘The Beautiful Table’) concludes, after a good deal
of ribaldry usually much softened in translation, with the
ceremonial bedding of the newly-wed couple. The Svat
(Marriage-Broker) invokes the act of procreation while bells
(inspired, it may be, by those of St Paul’s in London, of
which Stravinsky made notations in the summer of 1914) clinch
this moment of greatest tribal solemnity, the sacrifice which,
like the more violent one in The Rite of Spring,
guarantees the continuity of life.
Programme note © Stephen Walsh
Stephen Walsh is the author of a major
recent two-volume biography of Stravinsky and holds a Chair in
Music at Cardiff University.