Variations on a Rococo Theme, Op.33

for cello and orchestra (arranged by Wilhelm Fitzhagen)

Moderato quasi andante - Tema: moderato semplice -

Variation 1: tempo del tema -

Variation 2: tempo del tema -

Variation 3: andante sostenuto -

Variation 4: andante grazioso -

Variation 5: allegro moderato - cadenza -

Variation 6: andante -

Variation 7: allegro vivo

Tchaikovsky not only adored Mozart - “the god of music,” he called him - but also cherished a taste for the classical style of some of his idol’s lesser contemporaries. So as well as tributes to Mozart in the Serenade for strings and the Mozartiana Suite there are salutes to the fancy manners of musical rococo in several of his operas, like Monsieur Triquet’s fussy birthday homage to Tatyana in Act Two of Eugene Onegin. The “rococo” theme conceived by Tchaikovsky for his Variations for cello and orchestra in 1876 is a rather more elegant melody than M. Triquet’s but is similarly old-fashioned in its gracious demeanour.

The Variations were written for the cellist Wilhelm Fitzenhagen who - as a German who never learned to speak Russian in spite of his long years of residence in Moscow and his teaching duties at the Conservatoire - probably preferred Tchaikovsky in neo-classical style to Tchaikovsky in full-scale Slavonic mode. Certainly, having elaborated much of the cello part himself, he was very happy with the work and enjoyed considerable success with it from its first performance in 1877 onwards. He did, however, take liberties with it. Far from restricting his revisions to the solo part, he extended them to the actual structure, shifting the cadenza and the following Andante and Allegro vivo variations from the middle of the work to the end and cutting out Tchaikovsky’s last variation altogether. Although the composer strongly disapproved of the cellist’s alterations - “That idiot Fitzenhagen,” he is quoted as saying, “Look what he’s done to my piece: he’s changed everything!” - it was in that form that the Rococo Variations were published in 1889 and it is in the Fitzenhagen version that they are usually performed (and recorded) today.

Whatever version is used, the Variations are remarkable for the extent to which Tchaikovsky, a naturally confiding composer, is able to preserve rococo decorum and, in the quicker episodes at least, keep his own style and personality at a distance. He first reveals himself neither in the gently allusive introduction nor, still less, in the graceful A major theme itself - introduced Moderato semplice by the soloist to the discreet accompaniment of the orchestral strings - but in the peculiarly plaintive comment made by woodwind immediately after it. Though the ritornello is not a common feature of real rococo variations, Tchaikovsky consistently echoes this more personal element by repeating it after or within every variation except one: the lovely C major Andante sostenuto third variation is so expressive in itself, not least in its dialogues between cello and woodwind, that further comment would be superfluous. In the other slow variation, the D minor Andante following immediately on the cadenza, he adopts a different strategy by incorporating the ritornello and slowing it down to make it more plaintive than ever. The succession of ever higher harmonics at the end of this sixth variation leads into the brilliant Allegro vivo and, in Fitzenhagen’s version, the dramatically scored coda.

Gerald Larner ©2004

Moderato quasi andante - Tema: moderato semplice -

Variation 1: tempo del tema -

Variation 2: tempo del tema -

Variation 3: andante sostenuto -

Variation 4: andante grazioso -

Variation 5: allegro moderato - cadenza -

Variation 6: andante -

Variation 7: allegro vivo

Even more surprising than Tchaikovsky’s passion for Mozart - a composer of a temperament very different from his own - was his taste for the so-called rococo style of some of his eighteenth-century hero’s lesser contemporaries. So as well as tributes to Mozart in the Serenade for strings and the Mozartiana Suite there is a salute to the fancy manners of musical rococo in Monsieur Triquet’s fussy and somewhat embarrassing birthday homage to Tatyana in Act Two of Eugene Onegin. The “rococo theme” chosen by Tchaikovsky for his Variations for cello and orchestra in 1876 is a rather more elegant melody than M. Triquet’s but is similarly old-fashioned in its gracious demeanour.

The Variations were written for (and presumably commissioned by) the cellist Wilhelm Fitzenhagen who - as a German who never learned to speak Russian in spite of his long years of residence in Moscow and his teaching duties at the Conservatoire - probably preferred Tchaikovsky in neo-classical style to Tchaikovsky in full-scale Slavonic mode. Certainly, having elaborated much of the cello part himself, he was very happy with the work and enjoyed considerable success with it from its first performance in 1877 onwards. He did, however, take liberties with it. Far from restricting his revisions to the solo part, he extended them to the actual structure, shifting the cadenza and the following Andante and Allegro vivo variations from the middle of the work to the end and cutting out Tchaikovsky’s last variation altogether. Although the composer strongly disapproved of the cellist’s alterations - “That idiot Fitzenhagen,” he is quoted as saying, “Look what he’s done to my piece: he’s changed everything!” - it was in that form that the Rococo Variations were published in 1889 and it is in the Fitzenhagen version that they are usually performed (and recorded) today.

Whatever version is used, the Variations are remarkable for the extent to which Tchaikovsky, a naturally confiding composer, is able to preserve rococo decorum and, in the quicker episodes at least, keep his own style and personality at a distance. He first reveals himself neither in the gently allusive introduction nor, still less, in the graceful A major theme itself - introduced Moderato semplice by the soloist to the discreet accompaniment of the orchestral strings - but in the peculiarly plaintive comment made by woodwind immediately after it. Though the ritornello is not a common feature of real rococo variations, Tchaikovsky consistently echoes this more personal element by repeating it after or within every variation except one: the lovely C major Andante sostenuto third variation is so expressive in itself, not least in its dialogues between cello and woodwind, that further comment would be superfluous. In the other slow variation, the D minor Andante following immediately on the cadenza, he adopts a different strategy by incorporating the ritornello and slowing it down to make it more plaintive than ever. The succession of ever higher harmonics at the end of this sixth variation leads into the brilliant Allegro vivo and, in Fitzenhagen’s version, the dramatically scored coda.

Tchaikovsky definitely did not approve of the version of the Rococo Variations that was published in 1889. “That idiot Fitzenhagen,” he is quoted as saying, “Look what he’s done to my piece - he’s altered everything!”

His angry reaction to a version which changed the order of the variations as he had written them, and which actually cut one of them out altogether, is quite understandable. What is more difficult to understand is why, when asked what he was going to do about it, he replied, “The devil take it! Let it stand as it is!” His publisher, Jurgenson, had warned him ten years earlier that the “loathsome Fitzenhagen” - the cellist for whom the work was written and who had enjoyed considerable success with it ever since he had first performed it in Moscow in 1877 - was determined to alter the piece. “He says you have given him full authority to do this,” Jurgenson added.

Certainly, Tchaikovsky took Fitzenhagen’s advice as far as the cello writing was concerned: much of the solo part in the manuscript is in Fitzenhagen’s hand. Structural alterations are another matter, however, and well beyond the competence of a soloist - unless, that is, the soloist had a more than usually creative role in the composition of the work. Though Tchaikovsky never needed much persuasion to indulge himself in nostalgia for the musical manners of the eighteenth century, it is quite possible that in the case of the Rococo Variations it was Fitzenhagen’s idea. Wilhelm Fitzenhagen was not Russian but German - he never took the trouble to learn the Russian language, in spite of his long residence in Moscow and his teaching duties at the Conservatoire - and it could well be that it was to suit the cellist that the composer avoided the vernacular in this particular work and turned to the German rococo style instead. Fitzenhagen might even have had something to do with the choice of the rococo theme on which the variations are based.

Whatever Tchaikovsky’s motives in allowing the publication of a corrupt version of the Rococo Variations to go ahead, Fitzenhagen’s motives in promoting it are quite clear. From his experience of early performance of the work the cellist had concluded that the most effective parts of it were the long cadenza leading into the Andante in D minor, that variation itself, and the following Allegro vivo in A major. In the original score, however, the Andante and the Allegro vivo are the third and fourth variations respectively, which is far too far from the end to elicit maximum applause from the audience. So he moved them along, discarding Tchaikovsky’s own last variation entirely and tacking the coda on to the Allegro vivo.

Incredibly, Fitzenhagen’s revision remains the standard version and is still commonly performed and recorded, even though the original - which, happily, will be presented on this occasion - has been available for some time.

Tchaikovsky’s own style and personality are most in evidence not in the gently allusive introduction, still less in the decorous A major theme itself - introduced Moderato semplice in A major by the soloist to the discreet accompaniment of the orchestral strings - but in the peculiarly plaintive comment made by woodwind immediately after it. Though the ritornello is not a common feature of real rococo variations, Tchaikovsky insists on the plaintive comment by repeating it after or within every variation. He hints at it in the cadenzas and masterfully incorporates its falling fifth in the lovely C major Andante sostenuto. That seventh variation, which creates fresh melodic interest out of the original theme - rather than imposing new rhythmic figurations on the familiar outline - is the most inspired, more even than the D minor Andante third variation which Fitzenhagen admired so much, and it is rightly restored to its original place just before the end.