Le Sacre du printemps (The Rite of Spring)

It was P.T. Barnum who legendarily said, “There is no such thing as bad publicity.” The 19th-century circus magnate understood that anything that draws attention to your enterprise, whether it’s public adulation or public scorn, is positive, since the ultimate goal is garnering the public’s attention. Today, we frequently hear other aphorisms about apathy being society’s greatest evil—that indifference is worse than scorn. Measuring by these standards, the Paris premiere of the ballet Le Sacre du printemps (The Rite of Spring) was nothing less than a stunning triumph. All eyes were on the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées on the evening of May 29, 1913, where the audience was buzzing with excitement at the premiere of a new ballet by the Ballet Russes. With their charismatic impresario Sergei Diaghilev, matinee-idol choreographer Vaslav Nijinsky, and young, hot-shot composer Igor Stravinsky having joined forces to produce a new ballet, expectations were high that the evening would be memorable. And it was. Within seconds of the music beginning, the patrons began to grumble, and before the performance concluded, the decidedly unapathetic audience had rioted. If the goal was public attention and audience engagement, the performance was a spectacular success.

The details of that spring evening are now firmly ensconced in classical music folklore, and much has been written about Stravinsky’s score and Nijinsky’s choreography opening the door to modernism (while simultaneously pushing a startled audience through it). The two-part ballet, enacting pagan rituals of ancient Russia, featured not only primal, gyrating dancers, but music that was itself primal—undomesticated, unwashed, visceral. Gone was any notion of gentility, order, or predictability. In its place was raw, unfiltered music that refused to behave. Half of the audience was aghast, the other half was exhilarated, and the history of music was forever changed.

The idea for The Rite of Spring had first surfaced in Stravinsky’s mind while he was still composing his score to the ballet The Firebird, also for Diaghilev and the Ballet Russes. In the 1959 book Conversations with Igor Stravinsky, he noted, “One day, when I was finishing the last pages of The Firebird in St. Petersburg, I had a fleeting vision which came to me as a complete surprise, my mind at the moment being full of other things. I saw in imagination a solemn pagan rite: sage elders, seated in a circle, watched a young girl dance herself to death. They were sacrificing her to propitiate the god of spring.”

He mentioned the idea to Diaghilev, who suggested Stravinsky work with the painter and ethnographer Nicholas Roerich, who not only created the sets for the Ballet Russes, but was also a well-known expert on the rituals of ancient Russia. The resulting ballet depicts the return of spring and the renewal of the Earth through the ritual sacrifice of a virgin. Stravinsky described his score as “a musical choreographic work. It represents pagan Russia and is unified by a single idea: the mystery and the great surge of the creative power of spring …” The score was completed on March 29, 1913, and, a mere two months later, the storied premiere occurred. That the production was mounted in so short a time is amazing, considering that the orchestra was on tour until two weeks before the premiere and then required 17 rehearsals just to learn their parts prior to rehearsing with the dancers. The orchestra numbered 99 players, many more than usually play in an orchestra pit, and they struggled to all fit. The music was more difficult than anything any of the musicians had ever encountered, and even the conductor, Pierre Monteux, was not 100% sold on it.

Although there is general consensus today that Nijinsky’s unexpectedly “primal” choreography was likely the cause of much of the pandemonium in the theater, it is recorded that the unrest began within seconds of the orchestra beginning to play, before the curtain was raised. A lone bassoon, playing in its highest register, caused a stir, as the audience did not recognize what instrument was playing. When the curtain did go up, the pagan costumes and wild gyrations of the dancers only fanned the flames as the traditionalists in the audience rebelled, only to have the progressives in the audience angrily tell them to pipe down. Apparently, at some point, Stravinsky became concerned enough to leave the hall and rush backstage. The audience had grown so loud that the dancers could no longer hear the orchestra. When he arrived backstage, he found Nijinsky standing on a chair in the wings, frantically shouting the counting to the dancers. Monteux, who had been instructed by Diaghilev to keep conducting, no matter what, somehow kept the orchestra together, as the dancers struggled to hear above the din in the theater. At some point, patrons began throwing things into the orchestra pit, yet they played on. Whether or not the police were called is a matter of debate, but we do know that approximately 40 of the worst offenders were ejected from the theater during the performance. Apparently, the height of the melee had subsided by the end of the 35-minute ballet, and there were traditional curtain calls for the dancers, orchestra, Stravinsky, and Nijinsky. Incredibly, there was another ballet still to come on the program, as The Rite of Spring had been the second of three scheduled for performance that night. Diaghilev, Nijinsky, and Stravinsky had dinner together afterward, during which Diaghilev remarked that he was completely satisfied (perhaps even pleased) with the outcome of the evening.

It did not take long for the music to The Rite of Spring to begin being performed as a concert work without dance. On February 18, 1914, the first concert performance was given in St. Petersburg with conductor Serge Koussevitzky on the podium. Monteux conducted it again six weeks later, on April 5, with Stravinsky in the audience. The enormous success of these performances made it clear that The Rite had a bright future as a concert piece. Today, it is among the most frequently recorded works, and a live performance is still considered a “must-see” event. The enormous orchestral forces, extraordinary difficulty of the score for both orchestra and conductor, and the primal energy of the music continue to inspire and amaze, over 110 years after its auspicious premiere.

The Rite is structured in two broad parts, The Adoration of the Earth and The Sacrifice, with each part containing several separate scenes. Stravinsky and Roerich provided the following descriptions of each part.

First Part: Adoration of the Earth, the Spring Celebration

“It takes place in the hills. The pipers pipe and young men tell fortunes (Augurs of Spring), the old woman enters. She knows the mystery of nature and how to predict the future. Young girls with painted faces come in from the river in single file. They dance the Spring Dance. Games start (Dance of Abduction) and the Spring Khorovod (Spring Rounds), the people divide into two groups opposing each other (Ritual of the Rival Tribes). The procession of wise old men (Procession of the Sage) follows. The oldest and wisest interrupts the spring games, which comes to a stop. The people pause, trembling before the great action. The old men bless the earth. The Kiss of the Earth (The Sage) follows and the people dance passionately on the earth, sanctifying it and becoming one with it (Dance of the Earth).”

Second Part: The Great Sacrifice

“At night the virgins hold mysterious games, walking in circles (Mystic Circles of the Young Girls). One of the virgins honors her, the chosen one, with a martial dance (Glorification of the Chosen One). They invoke the ancestors and entrust the chosen one to the old wise men (Ritual Action of the Ancestors). She sacrifices herself in the presence of the old men in the great hold dance, the great sacrifice (Sacrificial Dance).”

Although there is a complete break between the two parts, within each part, the music flows seamlessly from one scene to the next, and it is not necessary to try to keep track of which scene is being portrayed. Indeed, trying to keep track can distract from the visceral impact of a live performance. Better to simply allow the extraordinary music to wash over you. Let the mystic woodwind incantations, heaving volcanic brass, otherworldly strings, and heart-stopping percussion transport you to a place where the raw energy of the Earth is both celebrated and feared, and where humans ultimately surrender to its power.

While today’s audiences frown on rioting during performances, there is no doubt that the communal experience of a live performance of The Rite of Spring remains an exhilarating way to spend 35 minutes. Hearing Stravinsky’s music, as compelling today as it was a century ago, continues to provide an opportunity for listeners to shed apathy, to be amazed at the incredible musical talent needed to bring it to life, and to be reminded of the unique power of music to reconnect us with our shared humanity.