Ravel Edition

Whilst 1912 for Ravel was indeed the glorious year of the Ballet, we might say that 1919, following the bitter interruption of the Great War[1], was instead a time for “bread-and-butter work”, with the composer transforming several scores from black and white into technicolour orchestral masterpieces. Alborada del gracioso, reworked for symphony orchestra, was performed on 17 May by the Orchestre des “Concerts Pasdeloup” under the baton of Rhené-Baton. 

That same spring, the composer provided Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes with an orchestral imagination of Chabrier’s Menuet pompeux[2]. And swiftly after in June, not losing any momentum, Ravel then completed the orchestration of four out of the six movements of Tombeau de Couperin (according to the date hand-written after the last bar on the only manuscript remaining[3]), the original solo piano version of which had only just been performed on 11 April by Marguerite Long [4]. We don’t know exactly who or what triggered and encouraged this change of format for his homage to Couperin and others of his fallen comrades, but Ravel completed the task smoothly, relying on the loyal involvement of independent Parisian orchestras to promptly present this new version. In light of the chronological sequence of these events, culminating in the letter still intact from 21 December 1919[5], in which the composer asks Rhené-Baton about the schedule for the Concerts Pasdeloup, it seems highly likely that the French conductor himself asked Ravel to arrange the work: he had recently been appointed permanent principal conductor of the Parisian ensemble, directing the “concerts populaires” held every “Thursday, Saturday and Sunday at 3 pm” at the Cirque d’Hiver, and certainly couldn’t miss out on being associated with one of the world’s most prominent composers[6]. 

At that time, there were as many orchestral concerts as there were musical societies and taxis traversing the grand boulevards, and so programmes were put together hastily and advertised in the press very late in the day[7], with “new arrivals” often sandwiched between performances given by soloists available at the last minute or famous scores to make sure the auditorium was full. 

If we look at the programme from the matinée concert of 28 February 1920[8], still piously conserved by the Orchestre Pasdeloup, the work is not classified as a “Suite” [9]. In fact, presenting a line-up akin to a historic concert of works from the 18th Century, during which Tombeau de Couperin was positioned third[10], the programme in fact announces the initial six-movement version from April. And for those who may be pondering the disappearance of the Fugue and Forlane, it specifies: “Since [the première of the piano version], the composer of Daphnis et Chloé has orchestrated the Prélude, the Forlane, the Menuet and the Rigaudon, however has not transcribed the Fugue or the Toccata, whose writing, whilst marvellously suited to the keyboard, would have lost its characteristic colour if translated for orchestra.”  The matter was also later commented on, albeit more sparingly, by Roland-Manuel, who stated that “the other pieces were not deemed suitable for orchestration.”[11] 

The only existing orchestral manuscript, now part of the Robert O. Lehman collection at the Morgan Library in New York, is a 45x35 cm twenty-six-page booklet, with forty staves on each page. In addition to the original notation, beautifully written by Ravel in black ink with each note head exactly one millimetre in height, we also find several corrections in purple ink and blue pencil. Nevertheless, there are very few editorial notes and markings (the usual references, number of staves per page for optimisation purposes, name of the engraver and printer on the first page, etc.), without any reference at all to Durand, the legal owner of the manuscript, nor any mention of a publication number in the publisher’s catalogue. Might there be another manuscript, used by Ravel to compose the work before becoming the possession of Durand post-February 1920 for the engraving? Unfortunately, we haven’t found any trace or mention of such a document.

Our philological study touched on a matter that is still highly debated by performers: metronome markings. We were able to identify that these tempo indications, which are identical to those found in the first Durand engraving, clearly appear in the first two movements. However, the composer failed to leave any for the Menuet, and for the final Rigaudon[12]. Under the guidance of Robinson McClellan, Curator at the Morgan Library, the library laboratory was also able to carry out a photographic study to reveal markings buried underneath, which cleared up certain doubts regarding several mistakes made by the composer.[13]

According to the dates in the book of plate numbers, it was in September 1920 when Durand legally deposited the first engraving of the work (D.&F. 9794 for the orchestral score and 9812 for the individual parts, for a print run of one hundred copies). It was then in September 1923 that the pocket-sized version of Tombeau de Couperin was printed (D.&F. 10398), in five-hundred units: a more than respectable volume for an initial sales run. According to the dates that appear  on the various scores of illustrious conductors, which we were able to consult, a new engraving was produced and printed in April 1944 – with corrections subsequently made to a number of plates – and reprinted in 1947 and again in 1953. 

When it comes to the set of parts parts, the Parisian orchestras surprisingly do not possess any “historic” copies, despite them being on sale until the Second World War[15]. However, in its abundant archives, which are freely accessible online, the New York Philharmonic Orchestra [16] still possesses one of the few surviving examples of the very first engraving: 33x25 cm parts with a cover displaying an unusual drawing of four interlinking windows and several textural differences. Differences that are also visible on the Morgan Library manuscript, and which therefore must have been modified in the 1944 engraving.

The time that elapsed between the orchestration being completed and first performed logically indicates that the choice to use a Mozart-sized orchestra, with no lower brass or percussion, was not influenced by the 18th-Century-style programme curated by Rhené-Bâton and Wanda Landowska – with the notable exception of Debussy’s overabundant La Mer at the end of the concert. And so, the inclusion of the six double bases clearly requested by Ravel on his manuscript, solely for the Musette section in the Menuet – a large force for what in reality is just a few bars – is still very much open to discussion, bearing in mind the reduced timbres prevailing elsewhere and the practicalities of a three-piece double bass section. 

Regarding the string forces, although we don’t know what was initially employed in 1920, L. Bernstein, in 1953, presented a somewhat streamlined 10-10-8-8-6[17]. However, in Pierre Boulez’s pocket-sized score, which according to the conductor’s/composer’s handwriting he acquired in 1946, we find 14-12-10-8-6 written in red pen in the margin, despite the conductor returning to a more reasonable four double basses for the magnificent concert series he directed with the Berliner Philharmoniker in 2003. And so, in addition to the gripping enigma of the unusual number of cellos in Debussy’s Trois Esquisses, we can now add the puzzling presence of this opulent double bass section, which jars against the reduced orchestra that Ravel envisioned for this treasured arrangement. It seems that in saluting Couperin, Ravel found a close ally in the composer who had paid homage to Rameau in 1905.

François Dru - February 2024  (Any reproduction, in part or in whole, is prohibited without prior authorisation from Ravel Edition.)

[1] Ravel was discharged in June 1917 and finished Tombeau de Couperin for solo piano, which he had started in 1914, during a residency in Normandy between the summer and October of 1917.

[2] Performed in July 1919 in London by the Ballets Russes under the baton of E. Ansermet.

[3] R252.T656 / 115 535, Robert Owen Lehman Collection, Morgan Library, New York City. The same library owns seventeen pages of drafts for the solo piano version. 

[4] During an SMI concert at the Salle Gaveau in Paris, showcasing the Odes chinoises de G. Grovlez, performed by J. Bathori, Roland-Manuel’s String Trio with H. Jourdan-Morhange, Pièces for violin and piano by Marguerite Gauthier-Villars, and F. Schmitt's Quintet. On 5 April, Le Figaro reported that the young Tatiana de Sanzewitch, in early April during a private concert for the wife of President Wilson during a visit to Paris, gave the première performance of Rigaudon at the Maison des étudiantes de l’Université de Paris.

[5] In Maurice Ravel, L’Intégrale, Correspondance (1895-1937) écrits et entretiens, edited by M. Cornejo, Le Passeur Éditeur, Paris, 2018.

[6] Between the very end of December 1919 and January 1920, Rhené-Baton conducted several performances of Ma Mère l’Oye with his Orchestre Pasdeloup, and presented the Shéhérazade cycle with Gaëtane Vicq on 5 February 1920 (cf. L’Oeuvre from 2 February 1920, page 44). On 18 April 1920, again at the Cirque d’Hiver, Rhené-Baton, the Orchestre Pasdeloup and Madeleine Grey gave the premiere performance of Mélodies hébraïques.

[7] An announcement regarding the “orchestral première” was published on 23 February in Comoedia, and on the 25th of the same month in Le Figaro.

[8] It should be noted that according to the letter written on the same day in Lapras, Ardèche where Ravel orchestrated La Valse (BnF LA-RAVEL MAURICE 70), the composer did not attend the première of his new orchestral work. We couldn’t find any record of another Parisian performance of Tombeau de Couperin taking place before an abridged arrangement of the Prélude was performed as a ballet at the Théâtre des Champs-Elysées, by the Ballets Suédois under the baton of D.E. Inghelbrecht in November 1920. There is therefore nothing to confirm that Ravel was able to listen to and check his work in situ before these dance performances. 

[9] No mention found on the manuscript either.

[10] Preceding Ravel’s work were J.S. Bach’s Italian Concerto and Chacone [sic] from Dardanus by J.P. Rameau, with Wanda Landowska on harpsichord.

[11] Maurice Ravel et son œuvre dramatique, by Roland-Manuel, Les Éditions musicales de la Librairie de France, Paris, 1928

[12] It’s astonishing to compare this with the meticulously noted timings recorded by Olivier Messiaen on his copy for piano (BnF RES-VMA MS-1507): 2’30 – 3’30 – 4’45 – 2’30 – 4’ – 4’, totalling 21’15. The piano manuscript of Tombeau de Couperin is currently in the Taverne private collection, and we therefore don’t know what metronome markings Ravel provided initially.

[13] For example, in the Prélude, bar 44, Violin 1 part, the first incorrect D, which was scratched out and poorly corrected by the composer.

[14] M. Le Roux, I. Markevitch, P. Boulez (BnF), C. Münch, L. Bernstein (NYPO Archives), R. Désormière (Musée de la Musique, Paris).

[15] Did Durand recall the parts when the publisher switched to a hire system?

[16] It was W. Damrosch, on 6 November 1921, who was the first to conduct the work with the New York Philharmonic Orchestra (premièred in the USA on 19 November 1920 by the Boston Symphony Orchestra under the baton of P. Monteux). Ravel later directed his score at the helm of the New York ensemble on 8 March 1928 during his legendary American tour.

[17] 10 first violins, 10 second violins, 8 violas, 8 cellos and 6 double basses. Cf. note 14.