Mercoledi Musicale

I mentioned yesterday that a story from Washington Irving's The Tales of the Alhambra was the source of a poem by Alexander Pushkin that gave rise to an opera by Rimsky-Korsekov.  Written in 1834 The Tale of the Golden Cockerel was the last of Pushkin's six fairy tales in verse.

Under the reactionary rule of Nicholas I, intellectuals such as Pushkin were subject to close surveillance and strong censorship.  The poet was angry and frustrated but like many others turned his outrage into his work with a particularly pointed satirical look at a bellicose Tzar who has fallen in to indolent old age - getting rid of his wise counselors and listening to the call of a golden cockerel to warn him of danger. The countries he has once waged war on are now looking of their revenge as they see the once mighty power reduced to feasting and sleeping.

Out of the devastation of the battlefield - in their ineptitude his two sons have killed each other in a fight against the foreign forces -  the enchanting Queen of Shemakha appears (right: Natalia Goncharov's design for the Queen in the Diaghilev production in 1914) .  She totally bewitches the King who leads her back to his Kingdom and proposes to make her his Queen.  However the Astrologer who presented him with the magical Cockerel demands the payment he was promised with disastrous results.

Rimsky-Korsakov saw a similarity between the story of Tsar Dodon, Tsar Nicholas II, the Russo-Japanese War and the events of Bloody Sunday.  Though he had considered The Legend of the Invisible City of Kitezh (1905) to be his last opera he decided that Pushkin's story would allow him to compose " a razor-sharp satire of the autocracy, of Russian imperialism, and of the Russo-Japanese war."  Needless to say when Zolotoy petushok (The Golden Cockerel) was completed in 1907 the  work was banned by the Palace censors.  It was premiered posthumously in 1909 - one year after the composer's death.

As the mist clears over the battlefield where Tsar Dodon has been mourning the death of his sons a tent is revealed.  As the sun rises the tent opens and the mysterious and beautiful Queen of Shemakha emerges and greets the rising sun.

The Hymn to the Sun is a concert favourite of many a coloratura soprano and has been recorded by many Russian sopranos, Amelita Galli-Curci, Beverly Sills, Mattiwilda Dobbs, Lily Pons and here the South Korean soprano Sumi Jo.  This was recorded during a live performance in Toulouse in 2003.  It's quite easy to see how the old Tsar could become besotted with a voice like this.

Though it is not produced all that often these days there have been some notable revivals and my good friend David saw and reviewed a production in London last month.  It was part of a Diaghilev festival and was a reconstruction of his 1914 production that combined dancers on stage and singers in evening dress at the side.

An illustration by Arthur J. Dixon from "The Arabian Astrologer" for an early 20th century edition of Tales of the Alhambra.

In Irving's Tale of the Arabian Astrologer Aben Habuz, the King of Granada, isn't pecked to death by the Astrologer's talisman but his old age is made miserable by the loss of the beautiful Princess, the forays of the surrounding nations into his Kingdom and the disappearance of the Palace of Delights he had been promised by Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub.  But the magical gate that was intended to led to this earthly paradise was eventually to become the Gate of Justice of the Alhambra.  And beyond it was built Al-Ḥamrā, a palace that "in some measure realizes the fabled delights of the promised Garden of Irem."

August 13 - 1792: King Louis XVI of France is formally arrested by the National Tribunal, and declared an enemy of the people.

A Guide from the Past

This little volume was created in 1240 to serve
as a travel guide for Frederick II on his visit to 
the area around Napoli. It extols the virtues of
the soothing thermal waters of the region.

There is nothing more helpful when planning a trip than a travel guide – and there have been travel guides around since Eve and Adam departed the Garden of Eden. I recall on a visit to the Augustinian Library being shown a 13th century manuscript extolling the virtues of the waters of Pozzuoli near Napoli created for a royal visitor  complete with illustrations. Of course there were no end to the travel guides written for the gilded youth of the Renaissance and Enlightenment as they did the Grand Tour. And American writers of the 19th and early 20th century flooded the bookshops with tales of innocents abroad. And in our own day we’ve seen entire stores devoted to travel guides – Baedeker, Michelin, Lonely Planet etc. – and websites and Apps by the thousands – Trip Adviser et al.

The big decision is always which ones do you use when planning your trip? Which are the most dependable and up-to-date? Which can be used to help plan a trip filled with good wine, great food and incredible sights. And which are simply puff pieces put out by a local tourist authority or even worse an “enterprising” entrepreneur whose research on their subject has been restricted to cut and paste from Wikipedia.

Washington Irving and his Literary Friends at Sunnyside by Thomas Oldham Barlow, 1864
From left to right: Henry T. Tuckerman,  Oliver Wendell Holmes , William Gilmore Simms, Fitz-Greene Halleck, Nathaniel Hawthorne , Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Nathaniel Parker Willis, William H. Prescott, Washington Irving, James Kirke Paulding , Ralph Waldo Emerson, William Cullen Bryant, John Pendleton Kennedy, James Fenimore Cooper, and George Bancroft.

Operating on the theory that thus far they haven’t been far off track I tend to use Booking.com for hotels, Trip Advisor and Lonely Planet for restaurants and Wikipedia as a good general guide to a city/region. However on occasion I wander off to some obscure corner of the virtual or digital bookshelf and to find a livelier, if slightly dated, read on a place of interest.

In the early spring of 1829 Washington Irving, who was living in Madrid at the time, decided to make the arduous trek to Granada along with a friend from the Russian Embassy. After several weeks his friend was recalled to Madrid however Irving stayed on and managed to arrange a billet at the semi-derelict Alhambra until he to was required to leave in late July to fill his appointment as Secretary to the American Legation in London.  His Tales of the Alhambra was published, unusually for the time, simultaneously in England and the US in 1832. That first edition was to contain his colourful – and perhaps in some cases apocryphal (after all this was the man who had us all convinced that in the Middle-Ages people believed the earth was flat) – journey to and stay in Granada. He included a few of the exotic folk stories he had heard from his fellow lodgers at the former Great Red Fortress. He was to expand on these in a later edition (1835) and, as only he could, recounted tales that are a heady – and delightful - mixture of Arabian Nights, Spanish superstition and Andalusian story telling.  One of those tales was to be adapted by Pushkin and surfaced as Rimsky-Korsakov's opera Zolotoy petushok (The Golden Cockerel).

Unlike Irving we had need neither of the boastful Sancho with his blunderbuss to protect us nor of overnight stops as guests in small towns: the comfortable and efficient Renfe service took us on the same route in three hours.  Though it would have been a bit more romantic to have been entertained by the local Alicade and curious townsfolk.

Even the landscape has changed in the two hundred years since Irving made his journey.  Modern irrigation systems have turned what was once barren and treacherous scrub into olive groves almost to the Sierra Nevadas. 

Much has changed since Irving’s journey but much has remained the same. He describes the barren, rocky – and dangerous - road through to the Sierra Madres and the surrounding bleakly beautiful landscape. Though the road (or at least train ride) is less dangerous and the hill and mountainsides are now planted with endless olive groves there are still patches that are barren and bleak. Much of that bleakness and barrenness comes from the industrial sites on the edge of towns where concrete and rusting steel skeletons have replaced hard packed earth and leafless trees silhouetted against the burning sun.

Perhaps Irving would have recognized the names of the five intersecting Calles but I'm sure he
would have been astounded by the buildings and the confusing traffic lights. 

On the winding road up to the Alhambra,  a  local artist has left their mark.

The entrance to the Capilla Real de Granada - the burial place of that
"Servant of God" Isabella the Catholic and her slightly less Catholic
husband Ferdinand. It is a marvel of Spanish-Moorish ecclesiastical
design with a truly magnificent central grill.

Above the Capilla entrance the decorations on the Cathedral show the strong Moorish influence
of the previous rulers of Granada which are apparent throughout the core of Granada.

The entrance to an old and semi-derelict building on a side street
with a gloriously carved Moorish ceiling speaks of the city's past.

 And other than recognizing the Great Cathedral, some of the monasteries and the honeycomb of Calles and Tendrilles in Centro he would have some difficulty finding his way around modern Granada. Broad avenues – with a confusing system of traffic lights that even Irving’s brave muleteer Sancho would have found daunting – are lined with buildings in the grand Spanish style of the 19th-20th century. The narrow roadway up to the Alhambra allows for the passage of one car – right of way controlled by a system of lights – but still allows glimpses of the city spread out below. Some of that spread being the urban sprawl typical to, and identical to, any modern city. What Irving would recognize is the crowds of people on the main streets and down the winding Calles, eating, drinking, battering, selling, buying and socializing the way they did long before he arrived in this little corner of Andalusia.

As dusk falls over the Sierra Nevadas the Alhambra glows like the jewel it is.  A truly glorious sight.

Once at his old residence I have a feeling he’d be, if not lost, then certainly astounded. What was a dusty – howbeit to his eyes romantic – pile of ruins and decaying fortifications, untended gardens and rutted passageways and terraces has been restored to much of its former glory. The remarkable 12th century water system – partially restored by the departing French troops in 1812 and remarked on by Irving - now refreshes and cools all the tile and marble courtyards. Once again it irrigates roses, vines, orchards, sentinel stands of cypress and sculptured rows of myrtle and brings the music of cascading water into fantasy festooned galleries. Much of the splendour he had heard spoken of in the legends told around the table of the aged Dona Antonia and saw crumbling evidence of during his residence has been lovingly and carefully restored. And the work is on going: an eight-year plan to restore the rows of trained myrtle trees in the Generalife is at its halfway point.

One of several of the rooms that Washington Irving lived in during his stay at the Alhambra - a residence he shared with a wonderful cast of eccentrics and local characters.  The fantastical stories they wove over the evening meal and by the fireside are an enchanting mixture of Arabian Nights, Andalusian folklore and religious superstition.

One small suite of rooms has remained largely unchanged since Irving’s departure in late July of 1829. The rooms he occupied in the Nasrid Palace and where he was tended to by little dark-eyed Dolores, the stuttering Pepe and the faithful Matteo – a true son of the Alhambra - are as Spartan as he first found them. Nothing remains of the furnishings – even at the time they were only odds and ends from other rooms – but there is a simple plaque that tells us he stayed and wrote in these rooms. There is even the suggestion that his writings may have been the catalyst that began renewed interest in the once forgotten fortress.

Neither my words nor, unfortunately, my camera could capture the thousands of details that make up the glories of the Nasrid Palace.  The artisans who created the stone, wood and inlay; the architects who meticulously planed the graceful arches, open spaces and cooling waterways; the gardeners who nurtured the groves and floral beds are all anonymous but their work creates a harmony that speaks of a culture advanced far beyond the one that replaced it.

I had the highly romantic notion that it might be possible to follow his path when exploring the palaces, gardens and fortresses that make up the complex: discovering them as he discovered them. However a nighttime visit to the Nasrid Palace meant being restricted to certain areas only; though wandering through the illuminated rooms and gardens did conjure up the magic of the tales he tells. The crowds on a Saturday were even more restrictive and plans to go beyond the Portal of Wine and into the old Fortress had to be abandoned. Plans for another visit perhaps?

Two things that Irving would find unchanged in Granada:  the good earthy taste of salmorejo.  No doubt this simple soup of tomato, garlic and olive oil was a staple in the kitchen of Dona Antonia.  And.....

....  the welcoming charm of a lovely Granaina!  Carolina and her family at La Parrala provide
a warm and friendly atmosphere and homemade dishes paired with great local wines.

Irving is a writer who appears to have fallen out of favour in our time; one critic has referred to his writing as “all style with no substance” – as if style were a fault. For the first time I’ve read beyond The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Rip Van Winkle and find his style elegant and sophisticated and there is more than enough substance in his prose. Descriptive narrative, history, personal anecdotes, food critiques (perhaps a little out of date where price, location and fare are concerned) and fables mix to paint a picture of one of the treasures of our Western heritage. All delightfully written from a very personal perspective. What more could you ask for from a travel guide?

August 12 - 1676: Praying Indian John Alderman shoots and kills Metacomet, the Wampanoag war chief, ending King Philip's War.

A Winter's Tale

MAMILLIUS
A sad tale's best for winter: I have one
Of sprites and goblins.

HERMIONE
Let's have that, good sir.
Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best
To fright me with your sprites; you're powerful at it.

MAMILLIUS
There was a man--

HERMIONE
Nay, come, sit down; then on.

MAMILLIUS
Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it softly;
Yond crickets shall not hear it.

HERMIONE
Come on, then,
And give't me in mine ear.

Act 2 Scene 1

The Winter's Tale (1610-11)

William Shakespeare

I was reminded of both the title of and the beginning of this scene from Shakespeare's play while watching a BBC Christmas ghost story early last week.  And then again when my friend Jenn mentioned a series of Christmas Ghost Stories that appeared in the Guardian Magazine a few days before Christmas.

In 1862 Sir John Everett Millais (1829-96) pubished his watercolour Christmas Story-telling based on a sketch created for that year's Christmas edition of the Illustrated London News.  Perhaps not as atmospheric as Irving's 1819 description of the old Parson thrilling his Christmas night listeners but a good indication of a long-held tradition

A Christmas Ghost story?   Well yes a Christmas Ghost story!  After all what is, arguably, the most famous English Christmas story (pax the KJV nativity) of all time?  A Christmas Carol!  And what is A Christmas Carol about?  A visit by...   ghosts!  There are people that trace the telling - and selling I might add - of Christmas Ghost stories to Charles Dickens and his four Christmas books and short stories for Christmas periodicals.  But even in 1610 young Mamillius, unknowning of his own terrible fate and tragic events that are to befall his family, was very much aware that stories of sprites, goblins and graveyards were best kept for wintertide.  And when is the depths of wintertide?  December 21!  Christmastide, of course!

Dickens' first Christmas ghost story (The Christmas Carol) was published in 1843 but back in 1819 Washington Irving - who is fast becoming one of my favourite to-oft-neglected authors - described Christmas at an English country house in his The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent.  Mr Crayon's Sketch Book topics ranged far and wide and included The Legend of Sleepy Hallow, one of the most famous ghost stories in American literature as well as the story of Rip Van Winkle.  But many of his stories and essays trace the author's travels through Britain of the time. Crayon, Irving's literary alter-ego throughout much of his writing career, visits Bracebridge Hall and the good Squire extends the hospitality of Yuletide to him with all the traditional fare and entertainments of the season.  Crayon tells us that on that Christmas day: 

When I returned to the drawing-room, I found the company seated around the fire, listening to the parson, who was deeply ensconced in a high-backed oaken chair, the work of some cunning artificer of yore, which had been brought from the library for his particular accommodation. From this venerable piece of furniture, with which his shadowy figure and dark weazen face so admirably accorded, he was dealing forth strange accounts of popular superstitions and legends of the surrounding country, with which he had become acquainted in the course of his antiquarian researches.

But the tradition of telling stories to thrill and frighten goes back beyond Shakespeare and certainly beyond Irving or Dickens.    It is a tradition shared by every culture known since stories were first shared.  It is a tradition as old as the dark of midwinter and the gathering of folks around a comforting warmth and reassuring light of a fire.

With advancing technology the narrator may have changed by even with the advent of radio and then television,  listening to the Christmas Ghost Story is still a tradition in many places.  Photo:  Corbis

 In more recent times that light has come from the dial of a radio or the screen of a television but the stories are still the same.  Mamillius's goblins, sprites and churchyards still thrill and chill in many places.  In the early years BBC featured annual radio dramatizations of Christmas Ghost stories on the days leading up to December 25; normally starting on December 21 - the longest, darkest night of the year.  The tradition continued with the advent of television and reached its peak in A Ghost Story for Christmas - a series of adaptions first broadcast in the 1970s.  Many of the stories came from the pen of M. R. James a preeminent writer of ghost stories in the early 20th century.

Here's Robert Hardy and Clive Swift telling a fearful story of two ungodly carvings in The Stalls of Barchester from the BBC in 1972.

Though the medium has changed these stories still had the ability to send a chill through the body and have you bending forward reflexively to catch the warmth of the fire and take that chill from your bones.

• M. R. James' The Stalls of Barchester Cathedral is available here.  
• The Guardian's five stories taking us from that dark night of December 21 until the "light" of Christmas Day can be found here. (Thanks to Jenn for reminding me about them.)

January 3 - 1962:  Pope John XXIII excommunicates Fidel Castro.