“This quintet represents the music that passes through the streets of Madrid at sunset, from the Ave María bell to the retreta… This piece is absolutely useless and even ridiculous outside Spain, as those who listen to it can never understand its meaning and the musicians cannot play it as it should be played“.
Luigi Boccherini
At the service of Don Luis de Borbón
The quintetino La Musica notturna delle strade di Madrid – Op. 30, nº 6 (G.324) – is undoubtedly one of the most popular works of its composer, the Tuscan Luigi Boccherini (1743-1805). Composed in 1780, despite its obvious identification with Madrid, it was not born in the Villa y Corte, but in the town of Arenas de San Pedro in Avila, where the composer lived with his family in the service of the Infante Don Luis de Borbón as chamber virtuoso and composer.
The years spent working for the Infante (1770-1785) were a quiet period for Boccherini -although perhaps also somewhat monotonous-, in which he also enjoyed a generous salary; on the other hand, the exile of D. Luis, by order of his brother Carlos III, kept him away from the Court and its circles of influence, without this being an obstacle for his work to enjoy great appreciation and spread throughout Europe, marketed by some of the most prestigious publishers.
We cannot avoid comparing Boccherini’s situation during this period of his life with another similar case. Yes, we are referring to Franz Joseph Haydn. During his years as chapel master of the Prince of Esterházy, the Austrian composer had to reside most of the year in the residence of his patron, the Palace of Esterháza -near the southern shore of Lake Neusiedl and known as the Hungarian Versailles-, which did not prevent his fame as an artist to transcend this geographical area and his work was known and appreciated throughout the entire European continent.
Both geniuses, who are considered the fathers of the quartet, never had the opportunity to meet in person, but they did so through their music, professing mutual admiration for each other:
“If any of you know Sigr. Giuseppe Haidn a composer admired in the highest degree by me and by the whole world, I beg to pay my respects to him by letting him know that I am one of his most ardent supporters and admirers both of his genius and of his musical compositions, which are received here with all the esteem which in strict justice they deserve.”
Letter from Boccherini to the Viennese publisher Artaria, February 1781.
“In reply to Mr. Boccherini’s letter please convey to him my most sincere compliments. No one here has been able to tell me where this place, Arenas, which is surely near Madrid, is located. Please be so kind as to inform me on this point so that I can write personally to Mr. Boccherini”.
Letter from F. J. Haydn to the Viennese publisher Artaria, May 27, 1781.
However, while Haydn in Esterhaza had at his disposal an orchestra and singers – even an opera house – Boccherini had to stick to the much more limited means available to his employer, essentially a small chamber ensemble, which meant that his production during those years was focused on chamber music, the most frequent genre being the string quintet with two cellos, among them the one that is the subject of this article.
This is what Madrid sounded like
As if the title he gave to this piece were not illustrative enough in itself, Boccherini noted on the title page of the score This quintet represents the music that passes through the streets of Madrid at sunset, from the Ave. Maria bell to the retreta. Anything that does not conform to the rules of composition can be forgiven for the sake of the truth of the matter to be represented.
I don’t know if the reader, like me, will have been struck by the last sentence: Anything that does not conform to the rules of composition can be forgiven for the sake of the truth of the subject to be depicted. It is surprising to read in the handwriting of an artist whose work developed within the Enlightenment, framed in the style known as the gallant style, his willingness to sacrifice classical rules, if they prevented him from reflecting reality, a stance more typical of a Realism that was still to come than of the era in which he lived.
Boccherini therefore sets out to paint with music, to narrate with notes what the musical atmosphere of a Madrid night was like. And if Goya stated in his engravings of Desastres de la Guerra that he was a witness to those atrocities, Yo lo vi, the Tuscan could well have signed his score with Yo lo oí, since until he entered the service of D. Luis he had been a resident of Madrid – living first in Calle de Leganitos Alta and later in Calle Atocha. When he wrote this piece years later in Arenas de San Pedro, he was pouring his memories into the score, quite possibly with a certain nostalgia.
This was not the first time that the composer had tackled the descriptive genre – he had done so nine years earlier with his quintet in D major, Op. 11 No. 6 (G.276) L’Uccelleria – but on this occasion he goes further. In search of the aural truth he sought, he gives meticulous and profuse indications of how certain passages should be approached in order to adhere to their sonorous memory.
Another aspect that makes this quintetino such a special work is its relationship with popular music, an influence that is present throughout many of his works in the form of turns, rhythms, harmonies or dances – such as the tirana in the quartet Op. 44/4, G. 223 or the fandango in the quintet with guitar G.448 – but which here goes far beyond that. The essence of the Madrilenian is breathed throughout this Música nocturna, it is the root that sustains. With such characteristics, which made it an unusual work, Boccherini felt that this quintetino was a work that would be difficult to market in other countries:
‘In opus 30, the Quintets, you will see that one is entitled ‘La Musica Notturna delle strade di Madrid’. This piece is absolutely useless and even ridiculous outside Spain, since those who listen to it can never understand its meaning and the musicians cannot play it properly. I am therefore sending you an additional Sinfonia in its place’.
Letter to the Parisian publisher Ignaz Pleyel of 10 July 1797
However, the work did become widespread during the composer’s lifetime. A manuscript of this work travelled to the Prussian court. The reason for this is to be found in his appointment in 1786 as Chamber Composer to Frederick William II of Prussia, a great music lover and amateur cellist. Boccherini held his post until the death of the monarch in 1797, regularly sending his compositions to Potsdam – where the Prussian court held court – and it was in one of these shipments that this quintetino travelled; these works are now preserved in the Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin-Preußischer Kulturbesitz.
There is also another manuscript copy – this time in the form of a particella – which was once part of the extensive collection assembled by his first biographer, Louis Picquot, and which after his death passed to the Bibliothèque-Musée de l’Opéra de Paris.
It should be noted that the two copies, the Berlin and the Parisian, differ from each other, as shown in the following example:
Brief analysis of the work
Le campane di´l Ave Maria
The bells of the Ave Maria.
Boccherini notes at the beginning of the movement Tutti pizzicato imitando il tocco delle campane quando suonan l’Ave Maria [All pizzicato imitating the sound of the bells when the Ave Maria is rung]. This indication does not appear in the copy preserved in Paris, where Ave Maria delle Parrochie [Ave Maria of the parishes] is indicated on the first violin part and Imitando il tocco dell’ Ave Maria della Parrochia [Imitating the playing of the Ave Maria of the parishes] on the rest of the instruments.
Paradoxically, the work begins with an ending, that of the day. The ringing of the church bells invites the faithful to pray the three evening aves marias and marks the end of the working day.
This movement consists of only three bars in which a dry dissonant chord in pizzicato is repeated over and over again, imitating the sound of bells, played by the second violin, the viola and both cellos.
Il tamburo dei Soldati
The soldiers’ drum
The Berlin manuscript contains the notation Doppo questo, il primo violino (forte più che puote) entrara imitando il tamburo del quartier dei Soldati, quando ancor essi suonano, e recitano l’Ave Maria del modo che segue [Next, the first violin (as loud as possible) will enter imitating the drum of the Soldiers’ Barracks, while it is still beating, and recite the Ave Maria in the following manner].
In the Parisian copy only Ave Maria del Quartiere [Hail Mary of the Barracks] is indicated.
This is an even simpler movement than the previous one, in which the first violin plays alone a series of rhythmic motifs on a single note – the central C – simulating the roll of a military drum.
Minuetto dei Ciechi
Minuet of the Blind
In this sonorous journey through the Madrid of Carlos III, Boccherini now introduces us to blind musicians begging for alms in the streets. They play a minuet, but they do so clumsily, clumsily playing violins and guitars, instruments that we imagine to be of a quality equal to that of their performance.
And in order to capture this musical picture as faithfully as possible – remember the note at the head of the work – Boccherini demands that the performers put aside their neatness and academic correctness and play clumsily, without grace – Con mala grazia, in the Berlin copy; squajalamente in the Parisian copy – and even harshly – con asprezza, only in the Parisian copy -; he also asks cellists to hold their instruments on their knees and to imitate the sound of a guitar in pizzicato using their fingernails – Con mala grazia. I violoncelli si mettranno attraversato suelle ginocchia e pizzicaranno con le ugnie di tutta la mano posta al rovescio, come chi suona una chitarra -Berlin copy-; I violoncelli collocheranno l’instrumento in traverso sopra i ginocchi, e con le anglie di tutta la mano imitanno che suona una chitarra -Paris copy-.
The minuet, which has a simple binary form, is to be repeated in its entirety after a brief pause.
In the sainetes of Ramón de la Cruz – a contemporary of Boccherini and author of the libretto of his only zarzuela Clementina – we also find the popular figure of the blind musicians – as in La Petra y la Juana o el buen casero, El reverso del sarao or El careo de los majos – and they also appear in numerous stage tonadillas, of which by way of example I will cite Lo que pasa en la calle de la Comadre el día de la Minerva by Luis de Mison, in which two blind men play the following minuet with their guitars:
Minuet which can be heard here: It would not be fair for the reader to get the misleading idea that all blind musicians were bad performers, like these we have encountered in our wanderings. The Italian writer and traveller Giuseppe Baretti, who toured Spain between 1761 and 1765, recounts that while in Madrid he summoned ‘one of these bands, which was singing under my windows. It was made up of three men and a boy, who could not put an eye between the four of them. Two played the guitar, one the violin and one the cello. If I hadn’t had them in front of me, I wouldn’t have guessed that they were blind by hearing them play, I would have thought that they had a piece of music in front of them, such was their mastery of playing’.
Il Rosario
The Rosary.
Unlike the preceding numbers, this movement has a tempo indication, Largo assai. Moreover, it is nuanced dolce e con gracia e senza rigor di battuta.
We are now led into a church where the rosary is being prayed. The prayer is led by the officiant, represented by the monotonous singing of the first violin – in its low register – doubled by the first violoncello – in its high register – in sixths and thirds, while the second violin imitates in pizzicato the sound of the acolyte’s bell. The response of the faithful is an energetic and jubilant allegro – in a measure of ¾ – intoned in unison by all five instruments. In the re-exposition the officiant’s prayer is now played by the violins – the second a third lower – while the first violoncello accompanies them with the indication tutto sulla terza corda imitating the bassoon – it was customary in the liturgy to use the bassoon or bassoon – and the viola now emulates the tinkling of the little bell with its pizzicato.
Pasa calle
Allegro vivo
Both this movement and the one that closes the work are undoubtedly the most famous numbers of this quintet, although as we shall see below, the theme of the movement that closes the work is not original to the Tuscan.
The manuscript preserved in Berlin reads Modo di Suono, e Canto, chiamato dagli Spagnoli Passa calle, cio è Passa strada con i quale, o con altro poco differente, si divertono per le strade la notte cantando, e suonando -A form of playing and singing, called by the Spaniards Passa calle, which is Passa strada with which, or with others little different, they amuse themselves in the streets at night singing, and playing-.
The Parisian manuscript is more sparse: Los Manolos. Passa Caille, and one line below Los Manolos, Chanteurs des rues [street singers].
But who are these Manolos, these Chanteurs des rues who give the title to this passacaglia? To clear up our doubts, we turn first to the dictionary of the Real Academia de la Lengua Española, which in its first meaning defines Manolo as ‘From the 18th and early 19th centuries, a person of the popular classes of Madrid who was distinguished by his costume and nonchalance’. This already gives us an idea, but it is Mesonero Romanos who best describes this popular type from Madrid:
‘We will not go into cloying erudite research to seek in such or such races the origin of this part of the lower town of Madrid, surnamed the Manolería, which has its main seat in the famous Lavapiés barracks, although it overflows into the immediate neighbourhoods of the Inclusa, the Rastro and the Vistillas. For us it is evident that the type of Manolo was formed spontaneously with the population of our town and the addition of the infinite number of people who from all parts of the kingdom came to it from the beginning to seek their fortune […] all of whom, mixing naturally with the humblest classes of our Matritan population, indoctrinating it with their wit and mischief, awakening its natural shrewdness, its carefree and arrogance, helped to form in the Manolos of Madrid a marked character, an original and very special type, although composed of Andalusian grace and boastfulness, Valencian mischief and liveliness, and Castilian seriousness and intonation’.
Now that we know these Manolos better, we can better understand the music with which Boccherini depicts them.
We leave the seclusion of the church and the monochordic chanting of incense-scented prayers to continue our stroll through the streets. We come across a lively group of ‘manolos’ who are having a good time, singing and dancing ‘seguidillas’ accompanied by the strumming of their guitars.
‘Swing, seguidillas,
bow tie and guitar
are the very character
of our Spain’.
Seguidillas from La españolizada [ca. 1774], a scenic tonadilla by Jacinto Valedor.
This passacaglia has a binary form, where in the first part the first violoncello -again with mala grazia– sings over the strumming of the violins -which now imitate the guitars- and the pizzicato of the viola and second violoncello; in the second part the second violin, solo, plays an arpeggiated theme.
Il primo violino imitando il tamburo
The first violin imitating the drum
Ran rataplán! Again we hear the call of the drum. The title, similar to that of the second movement, could lead us to the misunderstanding that this is a mere repetition of it, but this is not the case. Boccherini now shapes this drum roll in only five bars, with a different rhythmic figure, though again entrusted to the first violin, which soloizes on the central C.
Ritirata
Retreta
Maestoso in the Berlin manuscript.
Tempo di Marcia in the Parisian copy.
The Royal Ordinances of Charles III specified that ‘The sound of the Retreta will be used at the hour indicated by the General in the Campaign, the Governor in the Garrison, and the Commander of the Barracks, for the Soldiers who have not yet been withdrawn to retire to their Tents or Barracks, as well as for the Troops marching forward to turn to the left and execute their retreat’. Until well into the 19th century, it was customary for small bands of soldiers to the sound of fifes and drums to march through the city at dusk, to signal to soldiers who were on leave – either strolling, visiting taverns and taverns or flirting with the Madrilenian women – that it was time for them to go to their respective barracks.
And this is how Boccherini puts a fitting end to our musical journey, bidding us farewell to the martial sound of the retreta. This music was included in the Libro de la ordenanza de los toques de pifanos y tambores que se tocan nuevamente en la ynfanta. [Spanish infantry] (1761), a collection of pieces composed by Manuel Espinosa de los Monteros – chamber musician to Charles III – which also includes the grenadier march that has given rise to Spain’s national anthem.
Well, Boccherini takes this melody and elaborates from it eleven variations, each of which corresponds to the effect on the listener of hearing the military band approaching from a distance, then passing by us and continuing its round, moving away. And to make the interpretation as accurate as possible, the manuscript of the work preserved in Paris abounds in descriptions. At the beginning, Si figura che la ritirata cominci a farsi sentire de lontano assis, percio dovra sononarsi con piano, che a pena si senta, il crescendo, e marcando sará poi conforme si andera avertendo [It is believed that the retreat begins to be heard from afar, so it will have to be played softly, so that it is barely heard, the crescendo and marcato will then be in keeping with what is to be heard]. The violins carry the indication flautato sul diapason, trying to recreate the sound of the fife, while viola and cellos figure the roll of the drum.
In the third variation Se comenci a sentir più da vecino [It begins to be heard closer] and in the sixth Forte quanto si possa [As loud as possible], now the band is passing right next to us! In the eighth the sound begins to fade progressively – a messa voce [half-voice] – piu piano [softer] in the tenth, reaching a pianissimo in the eleventh which becomes a che a pena si senta to end, like a distant echo, morendo in the last bars.
Boccherini was so satisfied with this movement that he used it again in two later works:
- in the Quintet with Piano Op. 57 No. 6, G. 418 (III Movement, Variazioni sulla Ritirata notturna di Madrid). A piece which he transposed for the usual string quintet – two violins, two violas and violoncello – and which appears in his catalogue as G. 390,,
- in the quintet with guitar no. 9, G. 453 (IV movement, La ritirata di Madrid).
The ritirata in the century XX
This retreta would still find new accommodations, although on these occasions they no longer came from the hand of Boccherini.
The first of these came about as a result of a commission made in 1975 by the orchestra of the Teatro alla Scala in Milan to the composer Luciano Berio, in which he was asked to write an overture. Berio was directly inspired by this Ritirata, creating from it an arrangement rich in timbral effects and in the interplay of sound volumes, which he entitled Quattro versioni originali dalla ritirata notturna di Madrid di L. Boccherini sovrapposte e trascritte per orchestra.
‘The Ritirata notturna di Madrid for string quintet was once [writes Berio himself] such a popular piece that Luigi Boccherini transcribed it four times for different instrumental combinations. In 1975, when I was asked to write a short piece for the opening of a La Scala orchestra concert, I decided to superimpose these four versions of the Ritirata and transcribe them for orchestra with minimal adaptations and highlighting, towards the end, some clever harmonic ‘conflicts’’.
The work was premiered on 17 June 1975, conducted by Piero Bellugi.
Berio’s orchestral line-up is formidable: piccolo, 2 flutes, 2 oboes, English horn, 2 clarinets, 2 bassoons, 4 horns, 2 trumpets, 3 trombones, tuba, 2 harps, celesta, strings, with a percussion section featuring timpani, bass drum, cymbals, glockenspiel, snare drum, suspended cymbal, tam-tam, tambourine and triangle.
The second work belongs to the Spanish composer José Luis Turina, and was also commissioned by the Coro de Cámara de la Comunidad de Madrid to celebrate the 25th anniversary of its creation in 2009. It has the curiosity of being written for mixed a cappella choir. This Ritirata Notturna, as the piece is called, was premiered at the Auditorio Nacional de Música in Madrid on 9 January 2010, conducted by Jordi Casas. Turina describes it in the following words:
‘This Ritirata Notturna takes as its constructive starting point the eleven recurring appearances of the Espìnosa de los Monteros melody in Boccherini’s work, albeit with major variations in terms of tonalities and, especially, harmonisation. Each of these interventions is linked to the one preceding and following it by a linking section of very different character, in which both imitative effects (snare and suspended cymbal rolls, cymbal clashes) and simple noises (whistles, clapping, heel-clapping) are used, as well as various vocal procedures, together with more conventional areas, often of a contrapuntal character, which act as modulating transitions between the appearances of the retreta melody.
The sung parts have no text, but at some points, especially after the middle of the work, after the climax of a section of great harmonic and contrapuntal complexity, each of the singers goes on to recite different articles from Title II of the Ordinances of Charles III (‘Del Cabo’) concerning the duties of the leader of the squadron performing the Retreta’.
Ritirata Notturna, by José Luis Turina.
Premiere recording: Coro de la Comunidad de Madrid
Source: joseluisturina.com
La Musica notturna dalle strade di Madrid. Recordings and versions
La Musica notturna dalle strade di Madrid has been committed to disc on several occasions and under different versions -some more fortunate than others-; that of the Casals Quartet, Le Concert Des Nations conducted by Jordi Savall or that of Karajan conducting the Berliner Philharmoniker are just some of them. You can also find different interpretations on platforms such as Youtube, and among these I have selected to share in this article the one performed by the Bremer Barockorchester in the church of Unser Lieben Frauen in Bremen, because I think that the freshness of this interpretation -well, little dance apart- is quite in keeping with the spirit that Boccherini breathed into this quintetino, La Musica notturna dalle strade di Madrid .
Bibliography
- «La música española en el siglo XIX», de Emilio Casares Rodicio y Celsa Alonso González. Universidad de Oviedo, 1995.
- «España en los grandes músicos», de Andrés Ruiz Tarazona. Siruela. Madrid. 2018.
- «Boccherini en Madrid», de Ramón Barce. Instituto de Estudios Europeos en Madrid, 1992.
Internet
- Manuscript of the work available at Staatsbibliothek zu Berlin – Preußischer Kulturbesitz
- Manuscript of the work available at Bibliothèque nationale de France.
- «Seguidillas en la tradicion oral del siglo XVIII. El testimonio de G. Baretti viajero por España en 1760», by Juan Antonio de Zamácola
- «Sones militares en la historia de Madrid», by Antonio Mena Calvo. Revista de Historia Militar. Madrid, arte y milicia
- «Quattro versioni originali della Ritirata Notturna di Madrid di L. Boccherini». Centro Studi Luciano Berio
- José Luis Turina’s website, specifically the section referring to his Ritirata Notturna.
- Biblioteca Nacional
- Memoria de Madrid
This article is the English version of the article ‘La música nocturna de las calles de Madrid, de Boccherini’ by the same author and also published in this blog. Translated with DeepL.com (free version)
- La Musica notturna delle strade di Madrid - 1 October, 2024