Sergey Rachmaninov (1873–1943)
The Isle of the Dead, Op. 29 (1909)
Rachmaninov admitted that he was often
prompted to compose by some literary or visual stimulus, but he
was usually reluctant to talk about these, rightly believing
that his music was eloquent enough to stand on its own without
titles or explanations. The Isle of
the Dead is a rare exception.
The title is that of the painting by the Swiss artist Arnold
Böcklin (1827–1901). It is a deliberately mysterious
picture: a rocky island, cypress trees, a tomb-like building.
Approaching the island over still, dark water is a boat with a
coffin, a solitary white-robed figure standing over it. This
scene must have made a great impression on the composer, who
once confessed that ‘light, gay colours do not come
easily to me’.
In May 1907, shortly after completing his
Second Symphony, Rachmaninov, together with Rimsky-Korsakov,
Glazunov, Scriabin and Chaliapin, was in Paris for
Diaghilev’s season of Russian music, where he played his
Second Piano Concerto and conducted the cantata Spring. It was here
that he saw a black-and-white reproduction of the Böcklin
painting (of which there are in fact five slightly different
versions; Rachmaninov may later have seen one of the originals
in Leipzig or Berlin). After composing his next major work, the
First Piano Sonata, he wrote The
Isle of the Dead between
January and March 1909 and conducted the first performance in
Moscow on 1 May. Twenty years later he made a very fine
recording of it with the Philadelphia Orchestra.
The Isle of the Dead unfolds within the same basic tempo over a 20-minute
span, a concentrated impression both of the painting’s
subject and its symbolism. There is a fluid 5/8 metre (2 + 3
quavers, sometimes changing to 3 + 2) to convey the movement of
the boat over the dark water, increasing in volume and
intensity as it approaches the island. Almost the whole
thematic material comes from the four-note figure that stalks
through so much of Rachmaninov’s music, from his First
Symphony in 1895 to his last work, the Symphonic Dances, composed
45 years later: these are the first notes of the plainchant
setting of the Dies irae, the 13th-century Latin poem describing the
terrors of the Last Judgement. Berlioz was the first to quote
it in his Symphonie fantastique (1830), followed by Liszt in his Totentanz for piano
and orchestra, which Rachmaninov both played and conducted. The
phrase was Rachmaninov’s musical symbol for death –
an ever-present spectre, sometimes feared, sometimes welcomed
– and it impregnates the whole fabric of The Isle of the Dead.
About halfway through the score, after a
change of metre to 3/4, a new theme appears in the higher
register of divided violins and woodwind. It unfolds within a
narrow compass, becoming more and more impassioned: Rachmaninov
called it the theme of life. At its climax, the Dies irae returns
to crush it. There is a last, lingering backward look before
the return to the dark, swaying movement of the opening.
Programme note by Andrew Huth © BBC
Andrew Huth is a writer and translator
working extensively in Russian, Eastern European and French
music.