Ravinia 2026 Issue 3

an exuberant stroll through the balmy calle . The middle movement, “The Scents of the Night,” offers more sensual and atmospheric music in- spired by the fragrances of juniper, lemon, and fir trees in the cool Andalucian night air. March- like rhythms instill a “distant, alert, and joyous” quality in “The Morning of a Festive Day.” The ending of Ibéria greatly troubled Debussy, who created three competing options. “Should I toss a coin to see which one to use,” the exas- perated composer confessed to his publisher, “or look for a fourth?” Once a decision had been reached—whether heads, tails, or otherwise— Debussy completed this symphonic “image” and dated the final manuscript on December 25, 1908. IGOR STRAVINSKY (1882–1971) The Firebird : Ballet in Two Tableaux after the Russian Folk Tale Scored for three flutes and two piccolos, three oboes and English horn, three clarinets, piccolo clarinet, and bass clarinet, three bassoons and two contrabassoons, four horns, three trumpets, three trombones, tuba, timpani, triangle, tambourine, crash cymbals, bass drum, tam-tam, glockenspiel, xylophone, celesta, piano, three harps, strings, plus an onstage ensemble of three trumpets, three tenor trombones, two bass trombones, and two glockenspiels The magical Firebird was a universally known mythical figure in 19th-century Russia and other Slavic cultures, one that appeared in countless fairy tales, including “The Tale of Ivan Tsarev- ich, the Firebird, and the Grey Wolf ” published in Alexander Afanasyev’s monumental collec- tion of 600 Russian Fairy Tales (1855–63). Chil- dren encountered the story of this brilliantly plumed creature at an early age. Its dazzling feathers shine like flames, bringing light and renewal into the world and guiding the heroic soul through trials, challenges, and darkness. A single feather contains magical powers that offer salvation to those who seek it with humility, wis- dom, and perseverance. In contrast, characters who attempt to capture the Firebird or wield its powers recklessly often face swift and ruinous consequences. The familiarity and moral character of this fairy tale made it an ideal—and strategically astute— choice for the 1910 Ballets Russes season in Par- is. Alexandre Benoit, the ballet company’s sce- nic and costume designer, had two years earlier suggested that “a true ‘Russian (or perhaps Sla- vonic) mythology’ would make its appearance in ballet.” Diaghilev needed a guaranteed suc- cess to anchor the Ballets Russes’ second sea- son. The idea for a Firebird ballet originated with Pyotr Petrovich Potyomkin, a chess mas- ter, ballet critic, and minor Symbolist poet who published under several noms de plume . Poty- omkin’s point of reference was Yakov Polonsky’s fantastical children’s poem “A Winter Journey” (1844) with its ride on a wolf ’s back, battle with a sorcerer-tsar, a captive princess, and Firebirds eating golden fruits in the garden. Diaghilev assembled a team of collaborators to transform Polonsky’s poetic verses into something more sophisticated—“a fairy tale for grownups,” ac- cording to Benoit. This artistic committee included Benoit, com- poser Nikolay Cherepnin, choreographer Mikhail Fokine, painters Dmitriy Stelletsky and Alexander Golovin, and a couple writers. Together, they endeavored to produce a con- ceptually integrated production, an approach similar to Richard Wagner’s Gesamtkunstwerk (“total artwork”). Fokine assumed the leading role in developing the ballet scenario, which in- corporated elements of other folk tales in Afa- nasyev’s collection, Vladimir Vasilievich Stasov’s synopsis “Tale of the Firebird” (1868), and the Symbolist poet Konstantin Balmont’s recently published collection of 119 folk-styled poems, The Firebird; or, the Panpipes of a Slav (1907). Russian Symbolist poets found the Firebird an especially appealing figure, for she represented, in the words of musicologist Richard Taruskin, “an embodiment of pure, heartless, unattainable beauty … traditionally aloof from, even hos- tile toward, men. … Gorgeous yet enigmatic, a thing of preternatural, elemental freedom.” In addition, Fokine inserted a scene for 13 dancing princesses, which he originally conceived for a 1909 stage adaptation of Fyodor Sologub’s dra- matic fairy tale in three acts, Nocturnal Dances . Having woven together characters and scenes from several Russian fairy tale sources, Fokine and the committee emerged with a workable ballet scenario. The immortal Kashchey, who abducts unsuspecting maidens and turns young men into stone, dwells within a magic garden. His soul is locked away in an egg-shaped chest. A kind-spirited Firebird glides among the gold- en apple trees, eating their fruit. One night, Ivan Bilibin’s Prince Ivan and the Firebird (1901) Prince Ivan Tsarevich wanders into the garden, captures the Firebird, then accepts a single mag- ic feather in exchange for her release. Twelve princesses, including the entrancing Tsarevna of Great Beauty, enter the garden to dance and play in the moonlight. Ivan watches from behind a shrub. At daybreak, he follows the Tsarevna of Great Beauty into Kashchey’s palace, only to be seized by guards. Moments before being turned to stone, the Prince pulls out the magical feather. The Firebird appears and tells Ivan of Kashchey’s secret chest. Ivan destroys the egg, and the wick- ed overlord vanishes. It was assumed that Cherepnin, as the Ballets Russes staff composer and a member of Di- aghilev’s committee, would provide the Fire- bird score. He did, in fact, begin working on the ballet music but, for an unknown reason, withdrew from the project. Some writers sug- gest that he found Fokine’s notoriously uncom- promising personality intolerable. Cherepnin later redirected his sketches to the orchestral tone poem The Enchanted Kingdom , op. 39 (1909–10), which he subtitled “For the Firebird Fairy Tale.” The score is prefaced by a 12-line poem by composer-poet Nikolay Alexan- drovich Sokolov that invokes both the Firebird and Kashchey, a pairing of fairy-tale figures found only in the ballet scenario. Diaghilev next offered the commission to Ana- tol Lyadov, a professor at the St. Petersburg Conservatory. In a letter dated September 4, 1909, the impresario detailed the commission proposal and production timeline and issued an impassioned invitation to compose “the first Russian ballet, for there is no such thing as yet.” Then, in an undisguised act of flattery, Diaghi- lev stated, “It is the plain and simple truth that Benoit, Bakst, Fokine, [writer and secretary of the Ballets Russes, Walter] Nouvel, and I—not to mention others—have all long been dreaming of working with you, and we all consider you our foremost, our most interesting and accom- plished musical talent.” Diaghilev and Lyadov met in person sometime later. After expressing Sergei Diaghilev by Léon Bakst (1905) RAVINIA.ORG • RAVINIAMAGAZINE 79