Overture: William Tell

The overture to Rossini’s last opera William Tell, which was first performed in Paris in 1829, is like no other work of its kind. Far from following the familiar pattern observed by most of Rossini’s other overtures, it amounts to nothing less than a small-scale tone poem. While it clearly reflects something of the Alpine scenery in which the opera is set, and while it vividly anticipates the eventual victory of William Tell and his Swiss-patriot companions over Austrian oppression, it has its own unique construction and, for the most part, its own material.

Perhaps the most inspired aspect of the work is the slow introduction for an ensemble of five solo cellos united in an eloquent evocation of peace in nature - or, as Berlioz more poetically described it in the Gazette musicale de Paris, “the calm of profound solitude, that solemn silence of nature when the elements and human passions are at rest.” Nature does not long remain long at rest, however. Foreshadowed by drum rolls while the cellos are still luxuriating in their profound solitude, a storm develops: breezes swirl on violins and rain drops fall in the woodwind as the pressure rises towards a climax of raging winds on trombones, flashes of lightning on piccolo and peals of thunder on timpani. The storm dies away and peace is restored in a pastoral episode featuring a traditional Alpine herdsman’s melody, a ranz des vaches, piped on cor anglais and answered by an exuberantly virtuoso flute. Peace is again interrupted, this time by a fanfare announcing the entry of a troop of Swiss cavalry in an unstoppable gallop to ultimate victory.

The overture to Rossini’s last opera William Tell is like no other work of its kind. Far from following the familiar pattern observed by most of Rossini’s other overtures, it amounts to nothing less than a small-scale tone poem. While it clearly reflects the Alpine scenery in which the opera is set and while it vividly anticipates the eventual victory of William Tell and his Swiss-patriot companions over Austrian oppression - though without making any reference to the famous scene in which Tell is challenged to aim his arrow at an apple balanced on his son’s head - it has its own unique construction and, for the most part, its own material.

Perhaps the most inspired aspect of the work is the slow introduction for an ensemble of five solo cellos united in an eloquent evocation of peace in nature - or, as Berlioz more poetically described it in the Gazette musicale de Paris, “the calm of profound solitude, that solemn silence of nature when the elements and human passions are at rest.” Nature does not long remain long at rest, however. Foreshadowed by drum rolls while the cellos are still luxuriating in their profound solitude, a storm develops: breezes swirl on violins and rain drops fall in the woodwind as the pressure rises towards a climax of raging winds on trombones, flashes of lightning on piccolo and peals of thunder on timpani. The storm dies away and peace is restored in a pastoral episode featuring a traditional Alpine herdsman’s melody, a ranz des vaches, piped on cor anglais and answered by an exuberantly virtuoso flute. Peace is again interrupted, this time by a fanfare announcing the entry of a troop of Swiss cavalry in an unstoppable gallop to ultimate victory.

William Tell was not only the last of Rossini’s operas, incidentally, but also one of the longest. So, although it was a great success when it was first performed in Paris in 1829, it wasn’t long before the Opéra took to presenting the second act only. “What, really?” asked Rossini, “All of it?”