OPUS 44.  24 SHORT PROGRESSIVE PIECES FOR THE GUITAR

This set of 24 short and easy pieces for beginners was first published in Paris in 1830 or early 1831, and so is contemporary with Sor’s Méthode of 1830.  The original title was Vingt-quatre petites pièces progressives pour la guitare pour servir de leçons aux élèves tout à fait commençants (24 short progressive pieces for the guitar, to serve as lessons for absolute beginners).  A preface explains why they were published separately rather than in the method itself: namely, in order that the presence of easy pieces there should not distract the reader’s attention from the essence of the method itself.  A certain bitterness of tone and sarcasm is evident in this preface, which had already been hinted at in the title of op. 43, “Mes Ennuis, six bagatelles, dediées à qui les voudra”.  (See also the notes to op. 48 in this edition).

Here is the preface in full.

On dira, sans doute, que cet ouvrage devait faire partie de ma méthode, et que par conséquent j’ai eu tort de le publier séparément.  On aurait raison si en écrivant la méthode j’eusse eu un but bien différent de celui qui m’a décidé à entreprendre ce travail.  Si le seul mobile qui me conduisait eût été le débit de mon ouvrage je n’aurais consulté que le désir de ceux qui n’en font acquisition que dans l’espoir d’y trouver beaucoup de jolis morceaux faciles à déchiffrer, auxquels ils portent exclusivement leur attention, ne regardant dans la partie instructive que le doigté de la gamme dans trois ou quatre tons tout au plus; mais je me devais à moi-même non seulement de ne point tromper le lecteur, mais encore d’empêcher qu’il se trompe, en évitant tout ce qui pourrait lui faire négliger l’objet principal.  Celui qui voudra sincèrement apprendre me saura gré d’une omission dont d’autres me blâmeront peut-être; car en exécutant les morceaux contenus dans ce cahier il y trouvera appliqués des principes qui étant déjà fixés dans sa mémoire lui donneront une lumière d’après laquelle il trouvera l’exécution bien plus facile que s’il les eût essayé avant d’être bien cimenté dans les principes fondamentaux.  Ceux qui n’aimeraient pas une méthode telle que j’entends qu’elle doit être ne doivent pas faire acquisition de la mienne; ces 24 morceaux étant tous doigtés sont assez pour les mettre à même de jouer machinalement de la musique composée dans le genre de celle que des esprits bienveillants qualifient d’injouable tout en disant qu’ils la jouent.

(“People will say, no doubt, that this work ought to be a part of my method, and therefore that I was wrong to publish it separately.  They would be right if, in writing the method, I had had an aim quite different from that which decided me to undertake that work.  If the only motive which led me had been the sale of my book, then I would have thought only of the wishes of those who would buy it only in the hope of finding there some pretty pieces easy to sight-read, to which they would give their sole attention, looking in the instruction part only at the fingering of the scale in at most three or four keys; but I owed it to myself not only not to deceive the reader, but even to make sure that he was not deceived, by avoiding everything which might cause him to neglect the principal aim.  He who sincerely wishes to learn will thank me for an omission for which others will perhaps blame me; for in playing the pieces contained in this present work he will there find applied the principles which, as they will already be fixed in his memory, will give him the light by which he will find their performance much easier than if he had attempted them before being well secured in the fundamental principles.  Those who would not like a method as I understand it, should not acquire mine; these 24 pieces, being all fingered, are sufficient to make them capable of playing mechanically music composed in the style of that which benevolent spirits call unplayable while at the same time saying that they play it.”)

  Sor’s Complete Studies, Lessons, and Exercises  (opp. 6, 29, 31, 35, and 60, together with op. 44) are also published by Tecla in a modern re-engraved edition in one book (Tecla 101).

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OPUS 45.  VOYONS SI C’EST ÇA

The title, which means “Let’s see if this is it”, is discussed in the notes to op. 48 in this edition.

First published in Paris in about 1831.

The Andante, no. 5 in this collection, was published by Isaias Savio in his anthology of works by Sor published by Ricordi in Buenos Aires, and was the first work by Sor which I played.

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OPUS 46.  SOUVENIR D’AMITIÉ

A long piece dedicated to the child prodigy Giulio Regondi, who was only eight years old at the time and who later produced splendid virtuoso music for the guitar.  The title means “Memento of friendship”.

First published in Paris in about 1831.

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 OPUS 47.  SIX PETITES PIÈCES PROGRESSIVES

 First published in Paris in about 1832.

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OPUS 48.  EST-CE BIEN ÇA?

First published in Paris in about 1832.

The original edition of this work has a preface, as follows:

Messieurs,

Cet ouvrage m’a été demandé en 1814, mais je ne voudrais pas laisser croire que j’y travaille depuis cette époque.  Ne me sentant pas encore converti j’ajournai.  La demande me fut réitérée à mon retour de Russie; j’essayai enfin: je composai mon Oeuvre 45, mais avec la méfiance dont porte le cachet son titre: Voyons si c’est ça. Hélas! Ce n’était point encore ça … on me l’a dit.  “Il y a trop de notes à doigter dans la basse; je suis assez jouable jusqu’au No. 4; mais l’andante No. 5 commence à pencher vers l’harmonie, et la Valse No. 6 est presque toute à trois parties.”  J’ai donc tâché de faire aujourd’hui comme les auteurs qui ne tombent point dans ces inconvénients; j’ai écrit pour l’Editeur; aussi bien je suis le mien depuis mon Oeuvre 34.  J’ai suivi mes modèles dans leur marche mélodique et dans celle de la basse; j’ai omis seulement certaines transitions que je n’ai pu m’expliquer et dont peut-être ne se rendraient pas raison non plus Haydn Mozart ni Beethoven, car je n’en ai jamais trouvé de pareilles dans leur musique.

Si votre approbation me prouve que j’ai réussi je ne désespère pas de produire encore quelqu’ouvrage qui vous fasse dire: C’est ça.

Agréez en attendant, le témoignage du respect le plus profond avec lequel j’ai l’honneur d’être

                           Votre très humble Serviteur

                           Ferdinand Sor.

(“Sirs,

This work was asked of me in 1814, but I would not like it to be thought that I have been working on it ever since then.  As I was not yet convinced, I put it off.  The request was repeated on my return from Russia, and then I tried: I composed my op. 45, but with the doubts which are seen in its title: Voyons si c’est ça, Let’s see if this is it.  Alas! It was not yet it.  People said to me: ‘There are too many notes to finger in the bass; I’m fairly playable up to no. 4, but the andante no. 5 begins to move a bit too much towards harmony, and the waltz no. 6 is almost all in three parts.’ So now, in this present work, I have tried to do as those composers do who do not suffer from this inconvenience: I have written for the publisher, and indeed I am my own publisher since my op. 34.  I have followed my models in their melodic structure and in that of the bass; I have only omitted certain transitions which I have not been able to explain to myself and which also perhaps Haydn Mozart and Beethoven could not explain, for I have never found any such in their music. 

If your approval proves to me that I have succeeded, I do not despair of eventually producing some work which may cause you to say: That’s it.

Meanwhile please believe the deepest respect with which I have the honour to be

                           Your humble servant

                           Ferdinand Sor”)

Op. 48 is one of a series of works by Sor which have a polemical context, and in order to understand that context we must go back a little.

In 1828 Sor had published his op. 31, a series of relatively easy “lessons” for the guitar, designed specifically for beginners.  They are at a lower level of technical difficulty than his earlier studies, op. 6 and op. 29.  Yet we gather from his op. 35 itself that it is an attempt to provide pieces of practical value to beginners which shall be even easier than those of op.31.

In 1830 he published his Méthode pour la Guitare, and his should be studied for the whole background to his opinions about what constitutes “easy” music and what constitutes “difficult”.  It is clear that a certain bitterness is present.  Some months later appeared his op. 43, whose full title is: Mes Ennuis, Six Bagatelles pour la Guitare, Composées et Dédiées à qui les voudra, which, translated, means: “My cares (or: troubles), six bagatelles, composed and dedicated to anyone who cares to have them”.  There is, however, no preface, and the music itself gives no clues, consisting only of six moderately easy pieces. 

Opus 44 followed, a series of 24 very easy pieces for beginners.  A preface says that some people might think that these easy pieces ought rightly to have been published with the Méthode; but that such a belief is wrong, because if they had been published there, they might have dis­tracted the reader’s attention from the principal point, which is the inculcation of proper technique.  Once the basic principles have been grasped, the reader can pass on to pieces such as these.  Sor attacks those who buy a method simply for the easy pieces which it might contain.

The next work in the series is op. 45, Voyons si c’est ça, six petites pièces faciles pour la guitare dont le but est de conduire graduellement à ce que l’on est convenu d’appeler difficulté, composées et dédiées à celui qui aura le moins de patience; or: “Let’s see if this is it.  Six short easy pieces whose aim is to lead gradually to what people call difficulty, dedicated to whoever has the least patience.”  The sarcasm is obvious, against a wrong attitude to so-called “difficulty”, and the dedication itself is ironic, to the person who has the least patience—that is, who is the most impatient to play the guitar quickly and without effort, an aim which Sor rightly dismissed as improper in the first place.  There is no preface, and once again the music gives no clues, being of moderate difficulty (it includes, incidentally, one of Sor’s most charming pieces, the Andante, No. 5).

With opus 48 we at last begin to penetrate the matter, for there is a preface; there are footnotes; and the music itself is ironic.  The title is Est-ce bien ça? (“Is this it?”).  The preface says that this work had been asked of him already in 1814 (that is, when he arrived in Paris from Spain); that he had not wished to write it then; that it had been asked of him again on his return from Russia (in 1826) and that this time he had tried, with his op. 45, Voyons si c’est ça. But (people said to him) the pieces in op. 45 had too many notes in the bass which could not be played on open strings, and they were written in too many parts.  Now, as we know, the pieces in op. 45 are in fact not difficult: it follows that Sor is saying ironically that his critics were demanding music which was unreasonably easy.  He goes on to say that with this present op. 48, he is trying again, and this time he is writing for the publisher—that is, of course, himself.  Moreover (he says), in writing this music he is following his models in their melodies and in their bass, omitting only certain transitions of which, he says, Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven would not approve.  Can we determine who these (ironic) models were? To do so we must turn to the music. 

No. 1 is an utterly childish march which is unlike anything else that Sor wrote.  It has a faux-naïf footnote pretending obtuseness about the pitch of the guitar.  No. 2 is an anodyne waltz.  No. 3 is a minuet mostly in two parts, with three simple variations; it contains a footnote about the use of the left-hand thumb to stop a note on the sixth string which, in view of Sor’s known strong views against that practice, is manifestly ironic.  No. 4 is a deliberately absurd waltz, using nothing but open strings for the bass at the beginning, and pompous scale passages towards the end.  This piece, more than any other, makes fun of his still anonymous “models”.  No. 5 uses rapid runs but combines them with nothing else that has any musical interest.  No. 6 is an apparently innocuous ron­deau, but as it approaches its end, it becomes enmeshed in an enormously long-drawn-out sequence of quasi-cadences, until a foolish little phrase, noteworthy only by being somewhat different from what has preceded it, is marked “très expressif”.  That says it all. 

With op. 51 the story continues.  A la bonne heure! or, At last!  A preface says that certain “connaisseurs” have pointed out that the music in op. 48 “ne ressemble du tout à la mienne”, is not written at all in Sor’s usual style.  They said that he should write music which, while being in his own style (“de ma musique”), should have basses of the kind familiar from certain other works; and they also said that op. 48 was still not easy enough for someone to play who cannot be bothered to study (!).  So, says Sor with sarcasm, he has written these six waltzes of op. 51, using open strings as far as possible for the basses, and fingering them until there are almost as many fingerings as notes; and one of the anonymous “connaisseurs”, on seeing the first two waltzes, cried out: “At last!” —a title which, says Sor, he then gave to the collection.  When we look at the first two waltzes, we find that they are deliberately absurd, using many open strings and banal musical phrases, and the remaining four are scarcely better.  The whole work, title, preface, music, and all, is in fact a savage satirical attack. 

Who are the objects of Sor’s satire? So far we know that they advocated very easy music; that they provided such easy music in order to achieve sales for the music publisher; that they advocated using the left hand thumb to stop notes on the sixth string; that they used open basses as far as possible; and that they wrote exceedingly dull music which is parodied in Sor’s op. 48 and op. 51. 

Sor’s last words on the subject are to be found in the preface to his op. 59, in which he attacks those who have degraded (his own word) the guitar by ignorance and “routine”, which is a pejorative word meaning habit for habit’s sake, and by writing “de la pauvre musique” for the instrument.  He even gives two examples, the overtures to Rossini’s Guillaume Tell and Semiramide, both fine works in their original versions, he says, but mutilated (his own word) by guitar arrangements which, because they follow bad principles are themselves necessarily bad, and which “[rendent] pitoyable et mesquine la musique la plus délicieuse”.  If we try to identify the objects of his attacks, we find that the overture to Rossini’s Semiramide was in fact arranged for solo guitar by Matteo Carcassi as his op. 30, and selections from Rossini’s Guillaume Tell as his op. 36 (this latter is available in Carcassi: Selected Works for the Guitar, ed. Noad, New York, 1976), and that at least twelve Rossini overtures were arranged for two guitars, and for guitar and piano, by Ferdinando Carulli.  It would appear, then, that this whole series of works by Sor, with their unusual titles, and with the irony of their prefaces and even sometimes of the music itself, may be regarded as documents in a controversy between Sor and the followers of Carcassi and of Carulli.  When more research has been done on the music of this period, it will be possible see whether that is so, and to set these documents in their full and proper context. 

The first footnote in op. 48 is at no. 1 bar 12, last beat, and reads as follows:

“Ceux qui regardent les choses de trop près diront qu’ayant l’air de représenter les cors je devais écrire cette phrase une octave en dessus pour que la guitare qui joue une octave en dessous ne produise pas un effet qui n’a jamais été produit par les cors.  En ce cas ne sachant que répondre je prie les auteurs des ouvrages qui m’ont servi de modèles de venir à mon secours.” (“Those who look too closely at things will say that, apparently imitating horns, I should have written this phrase an octave higher, in order that the guitar, which sounds an octave lower than written, should not produce an effect which has never been produced by horns.  In such a case, not knowing what to reply, I beg the composers of the pieces which served me as models to come to my help.”)

The next footnote is in no. 3, bar 3, at the word pouce: “Mais … le pouce! … oui: le pouce pour le Sol dièse; c’est la position naturelle du poignet.” (“But … the thumb! … yes, the thumb for the G sharp; it is the natural position of the wrist.”)

And finally at the last bar of no. 3 (bar 64, second time bar): “Si la critique trouve cette terminaison trop brusque je dirai que c’est un genre tout comme un autre, et que je l’ai adopté parce qu’il est très commode et très simple.” (“If critics find this ending too abrupt, I will say that it is a style just like another, and that I have adopted it because it is very convenient and very simple.”)

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OPUS 50.  LE CALME, CAPRICE

A long and interesting work, first published in Paris in about 1832.

The piece entitled Meditación, published in an appendix at the end of volume 7 of this edition, may be derived from this work.

OPUS 51.  À LA BONNE HEURE, SIX WALTZES

For a discussion of this work, see the notes to op. 48 in this edition.  The title means “At last!”.

First published in Paris in about 1832.

A preface at the beginning of this work reads as follows:

Messieurs,

Mon oeuvre 48 est une preuve du désir qui m’anime de satisfaire les vôtres.  J’espérais avoir réussi, mais des observations très judicieuses faites par des connoisseurs ont détruit mon illusion.  D’abord cette musique ne ressemble du tout à la mienne, et il s’agissait de faire de ma musique avec des basses dans le genre de celles qui vous sont plus familières (cette tâche est plus difficile à remplir qu’elle ne paraît l’être), quoique mon ouvrage soit dans le style auquel vous êtes accoutumés il n’est pas encore assez facile pour que ceux qui n’ont pas le temps ni l’envie d’étudier puissent la jouer sans se creuser la tête à chercher le doigté ni fatiguer leurs doigts à exercer les passages.

J’ai senti la force de ces observations que j’aurais peut-être jadis regardé comme des réflexions d’éditeur qui ne vise qu’à la vente; mais devenu éditeur moi-même j’y ai trouvé une solidité que je n’y aurais pas trouvée autrefois.

J’ai donc essayé de vous contenter en composant les six valses que j’ai l’honneur de vous offrir.  J’ai tâché de n’employer que des positions que je crois les plus usitées: j’ai profité des cordes à vide autant qu’il m’a été possible pour les basses: j’ai mis presque autant de numéros que de notes: enfin: j’ai fait tout ce qu’il fallait.  Aussi m’ont-ils dit que j’suis ben genti, c’est-à-dire; qu’un de vous en voyant mes deux premières valses s’est écrié A LA BONNE HEURE!   Cette exclamation a tellement flatté mon amour-propre que je l’ai donné pour titre à mon ouvrage: puisse votre approbation en assurer le succès.

Veuillez bien agréer, Messieurs, le témoignage du respect le plus profond avec lequel j’ai l’honneur d’être  

                           Votre très humble serviteur

                           Ferdinand Sor.

(“Sirs,

My op. 48 is a proof of the desire which spurs me on to satisfy your desires.  I had hoped that I had succeeded, but some very judicious observations made by some connoisseurs have destroyed my belief.  First of all (they say), that music (op. 48) does not at all resemble my style of music, and what was needed was for me to compose music in my style but using basses of the kind which are more familiar to you (that task is more difficult to fulfil than it seems); and although my work is indeed in the style to which you are accustomed, it is still not so easy that those who do not have the time or the wish to study can play it without fatiguing their head in looking for the fingering or tiring their fingers in practising the passages.

I have felt the force of these observations which in the past I would perhaps have regarded as the thoughts of a publisher aiming at nothing but sales; but now that I have myself become a publisher I have found a solidity in them which I would not previously have found.

I have therefore tried to content you by composing the six waltzes which I now have the honour to offer to you.  I have tried to use only the positions which I believe to be the most common; I have made use of the open strings as far as possible for the basses; I have put almost as many fingering numbers as there are notes; in short, I have done everything that was needed.  And so they said to me that that’s very nice of you!  That is to say that one of you, on seeing my first two waltzes cried out: AT LAST!  That exclamation flattered my self-esteem so much that I have given it to my work as its title: may your approval bring about its success.

Please believe, Sirs, the deepest respect with which I have the honour to be

                           Your very humble servant

                           Ferdinand Sor”)

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OPUS 52.  FANTAISIE VILLAGEOISE

An impressionistic piece with the gaiety of a village dance, first published in Paris in about 1832.  Sor performed it in his last known benefit concert, on April 24th 1836.  The Revue et Gazette Musicale de Paris (III, 1836, p. 136) reported:  “L’auditoire se composait principalement d’Espagnols accourus pour applaudir un artiste compatriote et un instrument national” (“The audience consisted prin­cipally of Spaniards come to applaud their countryman and a national instrument”), and “On a distingué une fantaisie villageoise [op. 52], composé et exécuté par le bénéficiaire, et un duo de guitare entre lui et son émule, M. Aguado” (“There was a Fantaisie villageoise, composed and played by the beneficiary, and a guitar duet, played by him and his disciple M. Aguado”).  See my book Fernando Sor, Composer and Guitarist, chapter 5.

Two interesting technical effects are used which are rare in Sor’s work.  In the section headed “Prière”, a melody is played on two strings in unison.  And towards the end of the piece, again and again a harmonic is used at the sixth fret.  There is no doubt whatsoever that it is indeed at the sixth fret, however unusual that may be on the guitar, because it occurs so many times.  The effect seems to be that of distant church bells.  Because of these technical effects and the precise instructions which Sor has given, the full effect of this work in performance can be obtained only by following those instructions to the letter. 

  *****

At bar 265, in the second chord, the lowest note is G in the original edition and has here been amended.

At bars 301-5 the indication “har” for harmonic is given in the original edition, but no figure to indicate which harmonic is intended.  I have guessed 5.

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Volume 6

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