Variations on a Theme by Tchaikovsky, Op. 35a

Program notes

About the Work

This is music written in mourning and in love. When Tchaikovsky died in 1893, the younger Anton Arensky, who revered him, paid tribute the following year in the slow movement of his String Quartet No. 2, building it as a set of variations on one of Tchaikovsky’s own melodies. The quartet itself is a curiosity, scored for the unusual combination of violin, viola and two cellos, which gives it a dark, rich, elegiac sonority. It was this central variations movement that proved the most popular, and Arensky arranged it for full string orchestra as his Opus 35a, the form in which it has become his most beloved work.

The theme he chose is itself touching: ‘Legend’ (known in some English sources as ‘The Crown of Roses’), the fifth of Tchaikovsky’s Sixteen Songs for Children, Op. 54: a simple, hymn-like little song about the child Jesus tending a garden of roses. Around this gentle, devout melody Arensky spins a sequence of variations of great tenderness and craft, by turns songful, playful and grave, exploiting the warm, blended sound of a string orchestra to the full. It is a perfect curtain-raiser for tonight’s programme of musical homages, itself a homage from one Russian master to another, and it leads naturally into Tchaikovsky’s own great set of variations that follows.

What to Listen For

First, fix the theme in your ear: after a brief introduction, the strings present Tchaikovsky’s ‘Legend’ melody (simple, hymn-like and a little melancholy), which will underlie everything that follows. Then enjoy how Arensky transforms it across the variations.

Listen for the changing characters: hushed and prayerful in some variations, light and dancing in others, with passages of rich, warm harmony that show off the velvety sound of a good string orchestra. Notice how he varies the mood and texture as well as the melody: now a delicate filigree above the tune, now a darker, more impassioned treatment, now a return to the theme’s original serenity. The whole is short, beautifully proportioned and deeply felt, ending as gently as it began, a quiet act of remembrance before the programme’s brighter music.