Maurice Ravel “Don Quichotte à Dulcinée,” for baritone and

Maurice Ravel
“Don Quichotte à Dulcinée,” for baritone and orchestra,
on poems by Paul Morand
First performance: December 1, 1934, Concerts Colonne, Paris, Martial Singher, baritone soloist.
Only previous Boston Symphony Orchestra performances : December 19 and 20, 1952, Charles
Munch cond., Gérard Souzay, soloist, with repeat performances on December 16 (in Brooklyn) and
17 (in New York City), 1953.
What is it about the farcically heroic figure of Don Quichotte that resonates so strongly among
musicians? Cervantes’ protagonist (his original Spanish identity Don Quixote), an erstwhile chivalric
knight roaming a land of painful banality, has inspired more than 100 musical works from the
seventeenth century on. For Maurice Ravel the Don seems a natural muse: Ravel took pride in his
Basque heritage from his mother’s side, valued literature as art and inspiration, and frequently
showed a crusading, non-conformist streak that did not endear him to the dominant circle of the
French music scene, the Société Nationale. Having precipitated scandal during his years at the
Conservatoire with a series of high-profile failures to win the Prix de Rome, Ravel joined a group of
artists and intellectuals called Les Apaches (“The Ruffians”) in his twenties, cementing his artistic
roots in the culture of fin-de-siècle France.
Nevertheless, much of his later head-butting was the result of resistance to cultural chauvinism.
Always fascinated by the music of foreign places, Ravel was a staunch supporter of new music from
Germany, Italy, Russia, and America, vigorously defending the performance of Schoenberg,
Stravinsky, and American jazz when the suitability of such works came under attack in the patriotic
fervor of World War I. It might even be said that Ravel’s devotion to his homeland had a quixotic
quality to it, driven as it was by idealism rather than any nationalistic rallying cry. He persisted in his
attempts to enlist despite multiple refusals from the air force on health grounds, finally becoming a
driver in the motor transport corps in 1916. (He named his truck Adélaïde after his ballet.) He
publically refused the Légion d’Honneur in 1920, however. Ravel’s undisputed status as France’s
leading composer, after Debussy’s death in 1918, combined with his popularity abroad and an
obvious lack of desire to make himself agreeable to Paris’s artistic circles, alienated him from many
of his contemporaries.
Ravel’s setting of contemporary French writer Paul Morand’s Don Quichotte-inspired poetry came at
the very end of his creative life, and only upon a commission from the Austrian filmmaker G.W.
Pabst. Pabst was plainly not devoted to Ravel’s work, however; when Ravel was slow in producing
the specified scores, Pabst readily accepted music from Jacques Ibert instead. The result of this
aborted collaboration, Ravel’s set of three songs entitled Don Quichotte à Dulcinée ended up being
his last completed work. In 1932, injuries sustained in a car accident led to a diagnosis of ataxia and
aphasia, brain conditions that made coherent expression difficult for him through words and music
alike.
Of course, even words and music at their finest are an imperfect expression of that most mysterious
of emotions, love. The eponymous Dulcinée, in the manner of any target of courtly love, is not so
much a woman as the embodiment of the various forms of Don Quichotte’s chivalric yearnings.
“Chanson romanesque” (“Romantic Song”) is an ardent parody of devotion, as the Don chronicles
ever more exorbitant feats to be undertaken on Dulcinée’s behalf. The song ends, ironically, with a
subsumation of Don Quichotte’s own identity in that of his romantic construct: he would readily lay
down his life to let the very act of death prove his fidelity to her. The orchestration shows Ravel at his
refined, sensuous best, hints of muted brass, snatches of woodwind harmony, and a brief violin solo
adding to the pizzicato underpinning of the strings. Ravel based each song on a traditional Spanish
dance; “Chanson romanesque” is a quajira, which alternates bars of 3/4 and 6/8.
Although “Chanson épique” (“Epic Song”) is hymnlike, introduced with a low woodwind chorale, it
too is a dance: the 5/4 Basque zortzico. The zortzico’s naturally languid rhythm is here extrapolated to
a state of reverent suspension, as Don Quichotte invokes the medieval patrons Saint Michael and
Saint George as witnesses to the purity of his love. The simple expedient of the flatted seventh over a
tonic pedal tone in the last phrase is achingly representative of both holiness and longing.
Don Quichotte is human after all, and he boisterously comes back down to earth in the final song,
called, inevitably “Chanson à boire” (“Drinking Song”). Underlying this song is the quick, sexily
accented 3/4 of the jota. The orchestra interjects measures of raucous clatter in between stanzas,
through which the drunken hero laughs and swoops with gusto. “I drink to joy!” are the final words
of our misguided but sincere protagonist, a brave man risking ridicule and torment in his quest for
love.
ZOE KEMMERLING
A Boston-based violist and writer, TMC Publications Fellow Zoe Kemmerling is recipient of the
Tanglewood Music Center’s Northern California Fellowship this summer.
MAURICE RAVEL
“Don Quichotte à Dulcinée”
Chanson romanesque
Romantic Song
Si vous me disiez que la terre
If you told me that the earth
a tant tourner vous offensa,
By turning so, offended you,
je lui dépêcherais Pança:
I would dispatch Panza to you:
vous la verriez fixe et se taire.
You would see it fixed and be silent.
Si vous me disiez que l’ennui
If you told me that you were weary
vous vient du ciel trop fleuri d’astres,
Of a sky too spangled with stars,
déchirant les divins cadastres,
Tearing up the books of divine law,
je faucherais d’un coup la nuit.
I would cut down the night with a single
stroke.
Si vous me disiez que l’espace
If you told me that space
ainsi vidé ne vous plaît point,
Thus emptied, did not please you,
chevalier dieu, la lance au poing,
Knight of God, lance in hand
j’étoilerais le vent qui passe.
I would stud stars into the passing wind.
Mais si vous disiez que mon sang
But if you told me that my blood
est plus à moi qu’à vous ma Dame,
Is more mine than yours, my lady,
je blêmirais dessous le blâme
I would pale under the reproach
et je mourrais vous bénissant.
And, blessing you, would die.
O Dulcinée.
O Dulcinea.
Chanson épique
Epic Song
Bon Saint Michel qui me donnez loisir
Good Saint Michael who gives me leave
de voir ma Dame et de l’entendre,
To see my lady and to hear her,
bon Saint Michel qui me daignez choisir
Good Saint Michael who deigns to
choose me
pour lui complaire et la défendre,
To please her and defend her,
bon Saint Michel veuillez descendre
Good Saint Michael, descend, I pray,
avec Saint Georges sur l’autel
With Saint George to the altar
de la Madone au bleu mantel.
Of the blue-robed Madonna.
D’un rayon du ciel bénissez ma lame
With a ray from heaven bless my blade
et son égale en pureté
And its equal in purity
et son égale en piété
And its equal in piety
comme en pudeur et chasteté:
As in modesty and chastity:
Ma Dame.
My lady.
(O grands Saint Georges et Saint
(O great Saint George and Saint
Michel)
Michael!)
L’ange qui veille sur ma veille,
The angel who keeps watch over my
watch,
ma douce Dame si pareille
My sweet lady so alike
a Vous, Madone au bleu mantel!
To you, blue-robed Madonna!
Amen.
Amen.
Chanson à boire
Foin du bâtard, illustre Dame,
qui pour me perdre à vos doux yeux
dit que l’amour et le vin vieux
mettent en deuil mon cœur, mon âme!
Ah, je bois à la joie!
La joie est le seul but
où je vais droit...lorsque j’ai...
Drinking Song
Down with the bastard, illustrious lady,
Who to drive me from your two sweet eyes
Says that love and old wine
Put my heart and soul in mourning.
Ah, I drink to joy!
Joy is the only goal
To which I go strait...when I’ve...
lorsque j’ai bu!
Ah, ah, la joie!
La, la, je bois,
À la joie!
Foin du jaloux, brune maîtresse,
qui geind, qui pleure et fait serment
D’être toujours ce pâle amant
qui met de l’eau dans son ivresse!
Ah, je bois à la joie!, etc.
PAUL MORAND
When I’ve drunk!
Ah, ah, joy!
La, la, I drink
To joy!
Down with the jealous one, dark-haired
mistress,
Who whines, who weeps, and makes oaths
To be always this pale lover
Who dilutes his drunkenness with water!
Ah, I drink to joy!, etc.
Trans. ZOE KEMMERLING