Pohádka (1910–1923)

Introduction: moderato – Andante

Con moto

Allegro

Adagio – allegro

The resurrection of the four-movement version of Janácek’s Pohádka – which has recently been published by Bärenreiter as a supplement to the long familiar three-movement version of 1923 – owes much to Steven Isserlis’s interest in the work. "When the authorized Janácek edition came out,” he says, “some copies had an extra movement at the back; it was pure chance which version one bought.” The extra movement did not exist when a three-movement Pohádka, which was to be completed later, was heard at the Brno Organ School in 1910. It was added for a performance by Antonín Váña at the Vyskov Academic Club in 1912    but then dropped and excluded from the work (or some copies of it) when it was published in 1923. Reluctant to renounce “four extra minutes of beautiful Janácek music,” even though the composer suppressed it, Isserlis has recorded the extra movement along with the 1923 version and a posthumously published Presto which he believes (because of material it has in common with the extra movement) also belongs to Pohádka.

This performance is based on a surviving copy of the 1912 version, the first three movements of which correspond to the 1923 version, though with some significant differences. The following (slightly abbreviated) programme note was written, possibly by the composer himself, for the performance at the Vyskov Academic Club: “Zhukovsky’s tale about tsar Berendyev was the inspiration of Janácek’s composition, which does not illustrate the plot of the story but presents four mood pictures based on it, in the form of a suite. Tsar Berendyev lived happily with his wife for three years but had no children (1st movement: calm tinged with sadness and an unfulfilled longing for a family; 2nd movement: doubt and hopes). So the tsar set off into his kingdom to discover the lives and needs of his subjects (3rd movement: the king sets out with his glittering retinue and the procession eventually is lost in the distance). Meanwhile, however, his wife bears him a son. On his return he realises that his child is the most precious treasure that he has pledged to a fiend (4th movement: lullaby and then consternation at the pledge).”   

Like the Violin Sonata,    Pohádka (A Tale) was inspired at least in part by Janácek’s attachment to Russia, its language and its culture – in this case the narrative poem Skazka o tsare Berendyeye (The Tale of Tsar Berendyey) by Andreyevich Zhukovsky.    Exactly what aspects of Zhukovsky’s epic interested him we wouldn’t know but for a programme note written, probably by Janack himself, for a performance of a four-movement version of Pohádka in 1912: “Janácek’s composition, which does not illustrate the plot of the story but presents four mood pictures based on it, is in the form of a suite. Tsar Berendyev lived happily with his wife for three years but had no children (1st movement: calm tinged with sadness and an unfulfilled longing for a family; 2nd movement: doubt and hopes). So the Tsar set off into his kingdom to discover the lives and needs of his subjects (3rd movement: the king sets out with his glittering retinue and the procession eventually is lost in the distance). Meanwhile, however, his wife bears him a son. On his return he realises that his child is the most precious treasure that he has pledged to a fiend (4th movement: lullaby and then consternation at the pledge).”

Although the fourth movement was dropped before the work was published in its definitive version in three movements in 1923, the description given above is still relevant. In the first movement of the version to be performed today there is a “calm” G flat major introduction on piano punctuated by brief but eloquent pizzicato comments from the cello and “sadness” is implied by the F sharp minor cello melody when the tempo changes to Andante – although the passion developed by way of characteristic ostinato figures seems to go beyond mere sadness. Indeed, in the closing bars of the present version the cello seems to fall into despair. If the cheerful staccato motif introduced by piano and echoed by cello pizzicato at the beginning of the second movement reflects “hope,” the “doubts” suggested by the expressive piano as the tempo changes to Adagio seem to be more fundamental to the piece. Anyway the Tsar marches off confidently enough in G flat major at the beginning of the Allegro and, although he has time for reflection in a rather slower tempo, the retinue is finally “lost in the distance.” In this version we are spared the bitter irony of his return home.

Like the Violin Sonata,    Pohádka (A Tale) was inspired at least in part by Janácek’s attachment to Russia, its language and its culture – in this case the epic poem Skazka o tsare Berendyeye (The Tale of Tsar Berendyey) by Andreyevich Zhukovsky. It could be that the story appealed to him also because of the parallels between the Tsar’s longing for a child and the composer’s grief    at the loss of his daughter Olga a few years earlier.

A programme note (probably written by Janácek himself) for a performance of a four-movement version of Pohádka in 1912, seems to support the latter theory: “Zhukovsky’s tale about tsar Berendyev was the inspiration of Janácek’s composition, which does not illustrate the plot of the story but presents four mood pictures based on it, in the form of a suite. Tsar Berendyev lived happily with his wife for three years but had no children (1st movement: calm tinged with sadness and an unfulfilled longing for a family; 2nd movement: doubt and hopes). So the tsar set off into his kingdom to discover the lives and needs of his subjects (3rd movement: the king sets out with his glittering retinue and the procession eventually is lost in the distance). Meanwhile, however, his wife bears him a son. On his return he realises that his child is the most precious treasure that he has pledged to a fiend (4th movement: lullaby and then consternation at the pledge).” The fourth movement, which was added in 1912 to the three-movements first performed in 1910, was dropped when the work was published in 1923 and, although (thanks not least to Steven Isserlis) the 1912 version has been resurrected, the three-movement version remains the standard text.

The first movements of the 1912 and 1923 versions respectively are not exactly the same but they have enough in common for the description given above to apply to both. There is a “calm” G flat major introduction on piano punctuated by brief but eloquent pizzicato comments from the cello and “sadness” is implied by the F sharp minor cello melody when the tempo changes to Andante – although the passion developed by way of characteristic ostinato figures seems to go beyond mere sadness. Indeed, in the closing bars of the present version the cello seems to fall into despair. If the cheerful staccato motif introduced by piano and echoed by cello pizzicato at the beginning of the second movement reflects “hope,” the “doubts” suggested by the expressive piano melody as the tempo changes to Adagio seem to be more fundamental to the piece, in spite of reminders of the staccato motif on both instruments and echoes of the pizzicato comments from the first movement. Anyway the Tsar marches off confidently enough in G flat major at the beginning of the Allegro and, although he has time for reflection in a rather slower tempo, the retinue is finally “lost in the distance.” In this version we are spared the bitter irony of his return home.