Scheherazade Op.35 (1888)

The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship

The Tale of the Kalendar Prince

The Young Prince and the Princess

The Festival at Bagdad

Rimsky-Korsakov was always at pains to point out that his “symphonic suite” Sheherazade was not just another piece of programme music. “I had in mind an orchestral suite in four movement which would be knit together by the themes and motives they have in common and which would also present a kaleidoscope of fairy-tale images of oriental character.” At one time, indeed, he intended to give the four movements purely musical titles – Prelude, Ballade, Adagio and Finale – and so avoid associating them with anything more specific than the exotic aura of the Arabian Nights stories which inspired the work.

On the publication of the score, however, the composer retreated from that purist position and provided not only the present descriptive titles but also an explanatory preface: The Sultan Schahriar, persuaded of the falseness and faithlessness of all women, had sworn to put to death each of his wives after the first night. But the Sultana Scheherazade saved her life by arousing his interest in tales which she told him during a thousand and one nights. Driven by curiosity, the Sultan put off his wife’s execution from day to day and at last gave up his bloody plan altogether…

Even then, the details of the Arabian Nights stories, on which the music is closely based at some points, the composer left to the individual listener’s imagination. If he confused the literal analyst by repeating themes from movement to movement, so preventing their exclusive identification with any one character or event in any one story, he didn’t mind at all. There can be little doubt, however, that the grim theme proclaimed by the brass in primitive octaves in the opening bars represents the misogynist Sultan and that the eloquent solo violin – which makes its first entry after a woodwind echo of Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream has invoked the fairy-tale atmosphere – represents the civilised story-telling Sultana herself. And yet the main theme of The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship, repeated in innumerable variations over the rising and falling movement of the sea, is none other than that already attributed to the menacing Sultan Schahriar. A secondary theme heard briefly on the solo violin is derived from Scheherazade’s recitative.

The Sultan’s theme appears again, on pizzicato lower strings, near the middle and towards the end of the second movement. Otherwise, after Scheherazade’s intriguing introduction, The Tale of the Kalendar Prince is devoted to the chanting bassoon theme with which it begins and the aggressive fanfare material introduced in a dramatic middle section. Which kalendar prince Rimsky had in mind – there are several princes in The Arabian Nights who disguise themselves as kalendars or beggar-priests – he never actually revealed. There are also many characters like the hero and heroine of the Young Prince and the Princess whose romantic story is represented here by the encounter of a seductively exotic melody on the strings with a naively cheerful tune on woodwind – a story evidently so touching that Scheherazade herself is moved to intervene before the end.

Up to this point in the score Rimsky has not only drawn on exotic sources for his melodic material but has also, to some extent at least, built his constructions on the oriental model of repetition and variation. In the last movement the Western musician in him takes over and presents a comprehensive recapitulation of what has been heard before. He has not, however, forgotten the exotic setting of the work. He now postulates a Festival at Bagdad where – after a peremptory command from strings and brass and a particularly spectacular introduction from the solo violin – themes and characters from previous movements take part in frenzied dance set in motion by flutes but eventually involving the whole orchestra. At the climax of the dance a cinematic cut changes the scene to a storm at sea, a shipwreck and a recapitulation of the thematic events of the first movement. Calm follows the storm and, after a final recitative from the solo violin and a farewell to Mendelssohn’s magic harmonies, Scheherazade is at last able to get some sleep, the no longer misogynist Sultan snoozing peacefully beside her.

The most brilliantly scored of all Rimsky-Korsakov’s orchestral works, and one of the last he wrote before devoting himself almost exclusively to opera, Scheherazade was written between February and July 1888 and first performed in St Petersburg the following year.

Gerald Larner © 2008   

arranged for piano by Paul Gilson

The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship

The Tale of the Kalendar Prince

The Young Prince and the Princess

The Festival at Bagdad

Celebrated as a masterpiece of orchestration, Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade seems an unlikely score to attract a piano arrangement – particularly since a solo violin has such an eloquent and prominent part to play in it. In fact, however, there are several piano transcriptions, including one for piano duet by the composer himself, one for 2 pianos by Georges Humbert (1870-1936), another for piano duet and the present version for piano solo by the Belgian composer Paul Gilson (1865-1942), himself a master of orchestration.

Rimsky was always at pains to point out that his “symphonic suite” Scheherazade was not just another piece of programme music. “I had in mind an orchestral suite in four movements which would be knit together by the themes and motives they have in common and which would also present a kaleidoscope of fairy-tale images of oriental character.” At one time, indeed, he intended to give the four movements purely musical titles – Prelude, Ballade, Adagio and Finale – and so avoid associating them with anything more specific than the exotic aura of the Arabian Nights stories which inspired the work.

On the publication of the score, however, the composer retreated from that purist position and provided not only the present descriptive titles but also an explanatory preface: “The Sultan Schahriar, persuaded of the falseness and faithlessness of all women, had sworn to put to death each of his wives after the first night. But the Sultana Scheherazade saved her life by arousing his interest in tales which she told him during a thousand and one nights. Driven by curiosity, the Sultan put off his wife’s execution from day to day and at last gave up his bloody plan altogether…”

Even then, the details of the Arabian Nights stories, on which the music is closely based at some points, the composer left to the individual listener’s imagination. If he confused the literal analyst by repeating themes from movement to movement, so preventing their exclusive identification with any one character or event in any one story, that was for the better. There can be little doubt, however, that the grim theme proclaimed (by the brass in the original) in primitive octaves in the opening bars represents the misogynist Sultan and the high-lying line in eloquent triplets    – that makes its first entry after a (woodwind) echo of Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream has invoked the fairy-tale atmosphere – represents the civilised story-telling Sultana herself. And yet the main theme of The Sea and Sinbad’s Ship, repeated in innumerable variations over the rising and falling movement of the sea, is none other than that already attributed to the menacing Sultan Schahriar. A secondary theme heard briefly (on the solo violin) is derived from Scheherazade’s recitative.

The Sultan’s theme appears again (on pizzicato lower strings), near the middle and towards the end of the second movement. Otherwise, after Scheherazade’s intriguing introduction, The Tale of the Kalendar Prince is devoted to the chanting (bassoon) theme with which it begins and the aggressive fanfare material introduced in a dramatic middle section. Which kalendar prince Rimsky had in mind – there are several princes in The Arabian Nights who disguise themselves as kalendars or beggar-priests – he never actually revealed. There are also many characters like the hero and heroine of the Young Prince and the Princess whose romantic story is represented here by the encounter of a seductively exotic melody (on the strings) with a naively cheerful tune (on woodwind) – a story evidently so touching that Scheherazade herself is moved to intervene before the end.

Up to this point in the score Rimsky has not only drawn on exotic sources for his melodic material but has also, to some extent at least, built his constructions on the oriental model of repetition and variation. In the last movement the Western musician in him takes over and presents a comprehensive recapitulation of what has been heard before. He has not, however, forgotten the exotic setting of the work. He now postulates a Festival at Bagdad where – after a peremptory command (strings and brass) and a particularly spectacular introduction from Scheherazade – themes and characters from previous movements take part in frenzied dance.

At the climax of the dance a cinematic cut changes the scene to a storm at sea, a shipwreck and a recapitulation of the thematic events of the first movement. Calm follows the storm and, after a final recitative from Scheherazade and a farewell to Mendelssohn’s magic harmonies, Scheherazade is at last able to get some sleep, the no longer misogynist Sultan snoozing peacefully beside her.