OPUS 54.  MORCEAU DE CONCERT

The form of the Morceau de Concert op. 54, like L’Encou­ragement (op. 34) or Les Deux Amis (op. 41), is, once again, an introduction, theme with variations and coda, and a fast dance, here an Allegro in waltz time.  It is a major work, first published in Paris in 1832 or 1833, which Sor dedicated to Princess Adelaïde, sister of the king Louis-Philippe.  The Revue Musicale reviewed it in 1833-34, and although the review is unsigned, we may guess that it was written by Fétis.  Fétis did not like the guitar; but even he was obliged to acknowledge the quality of this Morceau de Concert:

Tout le monde sait que M. Sor a étendu le domaine de la guitare, et qu’il a rendu cet instrument à sa destination naturelle en le faisant un instrument d’harmonie.  Profond musicien, doué de beaucoup de goût et de la persévérance nécessaire, possédant enfin le plus beau talent d’exécution, Sor a écrit pour la guitare comme personne n’avait écrit avant lui et comme fort peu d’artistes pourront écrire en le prenant pour modèle; mais dans aucune de ses compositions on ne trouve peut-être de qualités aussi remarquables que dans le morceau que nous annonçons.  Une introduction large, et, qu’on nous passe le terme, vigoureuse comme pourrait l’être un morceau écrit pour l’orchestre, sert d’entrée à un thème d’une rare élégance écrit avec autant de pureté qu’on pourrait le faire dans de la musique pour le piano. Puis viennent des variations tantôt gracieuses, tantôt brillantes et toujours remplies de ce goût d’harmonie qu’on retrouve dans toutes les compositions de M. Sor, et qu’on ne trouve que là.  Il est beau d’agrandir ainsi l’objet de ses études et de ses travaux, et de se placer au-dessus de ce qu’on fait par la puissance de son talent.

(“Everyone knows that M. Sor has extended the domain of the guitar, and that he has guided that instrument to its natural destination in making it an instrument of harmony.  A profound musician, gifted with much taste and with the necessary perseverance, and possessing the finest talent in performance, M. Sor has written for the guitar as no-one had written before him and as very few composers will be able to write if they take him as a model; but perhaps in none of his compositions does one find such remarkable qualities as in the piece which we are discussing.  An introduction, broad and, if we may so, as vigorous as it might be if it were written for orchestra, serves to introduce a theme of rare elegance written with as much purity as one could achieve in piano music.  Then come variations, sometimes graceful, sometimes brilliant, and always filled with that taste for harmony which one finds in all M. Sor’s compositions and only there.  It is a beautiful thing to enlarge the object of one’s studies and of one’s work, and by the strength of one’s talent to elevate oneself above what one is doing.”)

*****

In Variation 2, bars 36 and 37, the original has a turn which is obviously a misprint for a rest and is here corrected. 

The notation of the beginnings and ends of each variation in the original is irregular and has here been regularised.

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OPUS 56.  SOUVENIRS D’UNE SOIRÉE À BERLIN

Published in 1833-35.  Sor had passed through Berlin in 1823 on his way to Russia, and probably again on his return to Paris in 1826.  The piece (after the introduction) is a single long swirling waltz.  If it recalls an evening in Berlin, was the event a ball, perhaps?  Or a ballet at a theatre?

First published in Paris in 1833-35, and dedicated to Sor’s friend José de Lira.

At bar 72 the figures on the last chord are hard to read in the original.  The 3 on the G could be a 5, which would also be harmonically possible.

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OPUS 57. SIX VALSES ET UN GALOP

A collection of short and simple pieces dedicated to a pupil. 

First published in Paris in 1834-35.

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OPUS 58.  FANTAISIE

A slow introduction, an Andante, and a waltz.

First published in Paris in about 1835.

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OPUS 59.  FANTAISIE ÉLÉGIAQUE

Op. 59, the Fantaisie Elégiaque à la mort de Madame Beslay, née Levavasseur, is a threnody, a lamentation on a death, a work of unrelieved grief.  In one sense it is specific, in that the title-page tells us the name of the person on whose death it was composed.  In another sense it is personal, for the composer himself had not long to live.  And in a final sense, it can be regarded as an eloquent reflection on death as part of the human condition.  This is the work of which Mitjana wrote of “une inspiration pleine de noblesse” (in A. Lavignac’s Encyclopédie de la Musique et Dictionnaire du Conservatoire, Paris, [1917?]).  A funerary urn is engraved on the cover of the original edition.  A long introduction, andante largo, leads into a funeral march, at the end of which the dead one’s name is pronounced.

The person on whose death the piece is written was “Madame Beslay, née Levavasseur”, and from the list of works which Sor himself published in copies of his later opus numbers, we learn that she was “une Elève”, a pupil of his.  (The list can be seen in the Tecla facsimile edition of Sor’s works, for example in volume 5 on the reverse of the title-page of op. 37.)

Towards the end of the piece the words “Charlotte, adieu!” are printed over a phrase of music: not that they are necessarily to be sung, however, any more than Beethoven’s “Muss es sein?”.  One may consider that those words may be sung, or perhaps declaimed, or perhaps that they may be merely present in the mind of the performer and the audience.  (Curiously, the name “Charlotte” is also sung, and with similar music, in Massenet’s Werther.)

Charlotte Beslay was a pianist, associated with Rossini, who said of her: “Madame Beslay touche le piano comme une grande artiste” (“Madame Beslay plays the piano like a great artist”).  Her husband, Charles Beslay, wrote: “J’épousai, en 1833, la fille d’un colonel d’artillerie, ancien aide-de-camp du Maréchal Ney, et petite-fille de M. Delorme, propriétaire du passage qui porte son nom … Au bout de dix-huit mois, ma pauvre femme, si brillante de jeunesse et de beauté, mourut en mettant au monde un fils” (“In 1833 I married the daughter of an artillery colonel who had been aide-de-camp to Marshal Ney, and the granddaughter of M. Delorme, the proprietor of the passage which bears his name [the Passage Delorme in Paris] … After eighteen months, my poor wife, so brilliant in youth and beauty, died while bearing a son”) (Charles Beslay, Mes Souvenirs, Paris, 1873, pp. 136-9). 

A contemporary who visited Sor in the last year of his life wrote of him that “if this artist was worthy of admiration for his great ability and genius, he was no less so for the exquisite gifts of his responsive and tender heart”.  He recalled how Sor played for his visitors, at the piano, parts of a Mass which he had composed on the death of his daughter, and that when playing it he “seemed to take up into himself alone the pain of every heart that laments, at a tomb, the lost object of its love”.  So it is, surely, that the Fantaisie élégiaque also expresses the pain of death, not only of one pupil, but universally.  (See my book Fernando Sor, Composer and Guitarist, chapter 5.)

The work was first published, and probably composed, in Paris in about 1835.  It was Sor’s last work but one for solo guitar.  He had lived in Paris, with his daughter Caroline, since about 1823.  But in the following year, 1837, Caroline died, and soon Sor fell ill and himself died in 1839.  It is not fanciful to imagine that when he composed the Fantaisie élégiaque, these two deaths were in some sense already present to him.

The original edition contains an unusual number of misprints, here corrected.

The original edition also contains an “Avertissement” which appears to praise the newly invented tripodison of Aguado and also attacks some of those who write poorly for the guitar.  It says about the tripodison: “I would never have dared to impose on the guitar such an onerous task as to carry out the effects which this piece demands, without the excellent invention of my friend Aguado”, and again “Without my friend’s invention I would never have imagined that the guitar could be capable of executing at the same time the different qualities of the sound at the same time, that is the melody, the bass, and the harmonic structure, which are required in a piece of the character of this one”.  Yet however much the tripodison may help in playing the guitar correctly and easily, and in facilitating the proper performance of the different parts of the harmony, the fact remains that Sor’s op. 59 does not appear to contain any technical features which are not also found in many previous works of his where he had made no mention of Aguado’s invention.  The explanation is, I think, that this Avertissement is ironic, like those attached to his opp. 44, 48 and 51.  It will be seen, for example, that Sor does not compare using the tripodison with his own normal holding position, but rather with holding the guitar in the bad position used by certain guitarists and composers whom he is attacking.  The whole text seems to be more an attack on them than a genuine recommendation of the tripodison. 

Here is the full text of the Avertissement:

Je n’aurais jamais osé imposer à la guitare une tâche si rude que celle de lui faire rendre les effets exigés par la nature de ce morceau sans l’excellente invention de mon ami Denis Aguado.  Ce pied qui en soutenant la guitare à la hauteur et à la position qui convient à chaque exécutant ajoute aux moyens d’exécution ceux qu’on devait employer à soutenir la manche avec la main gauche, ou à presser le corps de l’instrument avec le bras droit pour lui donner un peu de fixité.  N’ayant à m’occuper que du doigté et de la production du son je puis placer ma main gauche de manière à trouver sous les bouts de mes doigts ce que je serais obligé de chercher à chaque instant si je voulais la tenir à la manière des guitaristes en général; ou bien si je voulais la tenir comme il le faut, je m’exposerais à ce que le poids du manche lui fît changer de direction dans les mouvements ou la transition rapide du haut en bas le laisserait un instant en liberté, et mes doigts ne trouveraient plus la corde au point où je l’aurais visé.

Je conçois parfaitement que la plupart des guitaristes ne partagent point mon opinion à l’égard de l’invention de mon ami; cela est tout simple: la confection de leur musique n’a besoin que de la moitié de la longueur des doigts de la main gauche devant le manche, le reste se trouvant derrière pour le soutenir place le pouce à même de faire des notes de basse qui faites par l’index ou le médium donneraient à leur jeu un air de facilité qui ne produirait nullement l’effet qu’ils se proposent.  Il est vrai que cette musique est la cause du discrédit dans lequel la guitare se trouve dans le monde vraiment musical, et que Guitariste est le synonyme de pis-aller: mais, est-ce la nature de l’instrument qui discrédite l’artiste, ou le guitariste qui dégrade l’instrument? … L’invention d’Aguado va résoudre la question.  La guitare offre maintenant la facilité de l’élever au rang qui lui appartient par son aptitude à l’harmonie presque autant que la harpe, et bien plus pour la mélodie.  Celui qui aurait déjà un peu de talent ne serait point excusable s’il ne contribuait pas à étendre les bornes dans lesquelles l’ignorance et la routine ont renfermé ce puissant instrument.  Sans l’invention de mon ami je n’aurais jamais imaginé que la guitare fût capable de rendre à la fois les différentes qualités de son, de la partie chantante, de la basse, et du complément harmonique, exigées de rigueur dans un morceau du caractère de celui-ci, et sans une grande difficulté; car tout est du domaine de l’instrument.  Qu’on essaye de le jouer sans ce secours en soutenant la manche à la manière de certains guitaristes; et on verra l’impossibilité de jouer (de cette manière) d’autre chose que de la mandoline une octave en dessous, et avec une note de basse par-ci par-là: c’est-à-dire, de la pauvre musique.  En vain quelques guitaristes accumuleront des difficultés pour éblouir le vulgaire en s’emparant d’un beau morceau à succès composé pour orchestre tel que l’ouverture de Guillaume Tell, de Sémiramis, etc.  La nécessité de le dépouiller d’harmonie dans les moments où elle est plus indispensable, et même d’en mutiler le squelette pour qu’il ne dépasse point la portée de leurs doigts, raccourcis et mal placés à cause de l’usage absurde du pouce pour les notes de la sixième corde, rendra pitoyable et mesquine la musique la plus délicieuse.  Voilà pourtant ce qu’on ose appeler Arranger.

(“I would never have dared to impose on the guitar such an onerous task as to carry out the effects which this piece demands, without the excellent invention of my friend Aguado.  This foundation which by holding the guitar at the height and position which is suitable for each player adds to the powers available for performance those which one would otherwise have to spend in supporting the neck, or in pressing the body of the instrument with the right arm in order to give it some fixity.  Now that I need only concern myself with fingering and sound production I can place my left hand in such a way that I can find under the ends of my fingers that which I would have to continually seek out if I were holding the instrument in the manner of guitarists in general; or if I wanted to hold it as it ought to be held, I would be exposed to the weight of the neck causing it to change its direction during the movements, or the rapid transition from top to bottom would leave it in liberty for a moment and my fingers would no longer find the string at the point which I was aiming at.

I understand perfectly that most guitarists do not share my opinion with regard to my friend’s invention; the reason is very simple; the way in which their music is made necessitates only half the length of the fingers of the left hand being in front of the neck, the rest being behind and holding it up make it possible for the thumb to stop bass notes which, if they were played with the index or middle finger, would give their playing the appearance of being very easy, which is not at all what they want.  It is true that that music is the reason for the discredit in which the guitar finds itself in the truly musical world, and that Guitarist is a synonym for making do; however, is it the nature of the instrument which discredits the player, or is it the guitarist who degrades the instrument? … Aguado’s invention will resolve this question.  The guitar now offers the facility of being elevated to the rank which it occupies by its aptitude to harmony almost as much as the harp, and a good deal more when it comes to melody.  Anyone who already had some talent would be inexcusable if he did not contribute to extending the boundaries within which ignorance and humdrum playing have shut in this powerful instrument.  Without the invention of my friend I would never have imagined that the guitar could be capable of executing at the same time the different qualities of sound at the same time, that is the melody, the bass, and the harmonic structure, which are required in a piece of the character of this one, and without great difficulty; for everything is within the domain of the instrument.  Let one try to play this piece without this aid and supporting the neck in the manner of certain guitarists, and one will see the impossibility of playing (in that way) anything another than mandolin music an octave lower and with the occasional bass note here and there; that is to say, poverty-struck music.  In vain do certain guitarists pile up apparent difficulties to dazzle the multitude in adapting some fine successful piece composed for orchestra such as the overture of William Tell or of Semiramis, etc.  The necessity of stripping it of harmony at the moments where it is the most indispensable, or even of mutilating its skeleton so that it does not exceed the reach of their fingers, shortened and badly placed because of the absurd use of the thumb for notes on the sixth string, will make the most delicious music pitiful and mean.  However, that is what they dare to call: Arranging.”)

  On Aguado’s tripodison, see Aguado’s New Guitar Method published in English translation by Tecla Editions.

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OPUS 60.  INTRODUCTION TO THE STUDY OF THE GUITAR

Sor’s last work for solo guitar.  He says in a preface that this is an important work for beginners, because he has taken care that the pieces, though simple, shall be composed according to principles which are compatible with further progress towards the performance of more advanced music.  He has not published them together with his Méthode, because he believes that the text of the Méthode is what is important, rather than the mere presence of easy pieces.  (It will be remembered that he said exactly the same thing with reference to his op. 44.)  Certainly this is one of the best collections of easy pieces for the guitar ever written.  It was first published in Paris in about 1836-37 with the title Introduction à l’étude de la guitare en vingt cinq leçons progressives (Introduction to the study of the guitar in 25 progressive lessons).

This original edition contains fingering which of course is Sor’s own.  It is of the greatest value to anyone who is interested in the performance practice of the early nineteenth century. 

There is a preface, as follows:

Cet ouvrage est, selon moi, d’une grande importance, en ce qu’il remplit deux objets ordinairement incompatibles: celui qui voulant apprendre à jouer de la guitare ne viserait qu’à l’acquisition d’un talent médiocre se trouverait l’ayant faite (au moyen de ces leçons) à peu de frais d’étude: et loin de se trouver engagé dans une route opposée à celle qu’on doit suivre pour aboutir à un grand talent, j’ai eu soin que malgré la facilité des morceaux, leur texture renfermât les principes d’exécution qui forment la base de ce qu’il peut y avoir de plus compliqué; et il serait dans le cas de continuer, s’il le voulait, sans la nécessité (malheureusement trop commune) d’être obligé de désapprendre pour chercher un autre point de départ.

On trouvera, d’après cela, que cet ouvrage devrait faire partie de ma méthode: ma conscience m’a empêché d’agir ainsi.  Celui qui ne désire plus que ce que cet ouvrage peut enseigner, pour ainsi dire, machinalement, n’a pas besoin d’acheter un livre aussi coûteux: et au surplus, je serais tombé dans ce que je blâme; c’est à dire, dans cet usage de remplir une méthode d’exemples faciles à exécuter, qui flattent l’oreille, et qui contribuent à ce qu’on ne regarde pas le texte, qui est selon moi ce qui constitue la véritable méthode.

(“This work is, I believe, of great importance, in that it fulfils two objects which are usually incompatible.  He who, wishing to learn to play the guitar, would aim only at acquiring a moderate talent, would find himself having achieved that (through these lessons) at the cost of little study.  And far from finding himself embarked on a route opposite to that which one would have to follow if one wished to end by achieving an advanced talent, I have taken care that despite the easiness of the pieces, their texture should contain those principles of performance which form the basis of whatever might be most complicated; and he would be in a position to continue, if he wished, without the need (unfortunately too common) of having to unlearn in order to seek a different point of departure.

One might find, following that, that this work ought to form a part of my method.  However, my conscience has prevented me from doing that.  He who wishes nothing more than what this work can teach as it were mechanically, does not need to purchase such an expensive book; and besides, I would have fallen into that which I disapprove of, namely into the practice of filling a method with examples which are easy to play, which flatter the ear, and which contribute to not looking at the text, which I consider is what constitutes a true method.”)

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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Appendix: MEDITACIÓN

This work is found in a printed edition of three pages without place, date, or plate number, with no title-page but with a heading on the first page which reads “Meditación escrita para el célebre Huertas por Fernando Sor” (“Meditación, composed by Fernando Sor for the celebrated Huertas”).  The Spanish title and the appearance of the music suggest that it was published perhaps in Madrid in about 1850.  I have based this edition on a copy in the collection of the late Robert Spencer.  That copy may be a late printing, and possibly further details of the publisher may once have existed on the plate but were erased by the time of this printing, something which was not uncommon at that time. 

The work, which purports to have been written by Sor for the famous guitarist Trinidad (or Trinitario) Huerta (1804-75), may or may not be authentic.  It has similarities to Sor’s Le Calme, op. 50.  Because Huerta and Sor were in Paris at the same time in the 1830s, it is indeed possible that the work is authentic and that it was written by Sor for Huerta. Against authenticity, however, are the title, which is not very like the title of any other work of Sor’s, and the fact that the similarities to Le Calme are suspiciously close; if the work had been authentic, one might have expected it to be more original.  If it is not by Sor, then there are various other possibilities: either it could be a forgery, or, for example, it could have been written in good faith by someone else in the style of Le Calme, and then later published in Spain, perhaps by someone else again in good faith, as a piece by Sor when it fact it was not.  The piece was discussed by Stephen Kenyon in an article in Classical Guitar, February 1995.  For more on the question of the piece’s authenticity, and its style, see below.

The notation of the original is poorly printed and there are passages which present problems.  Some editorial changes have been made, for example in bar 85 where an extra B and an extra rest at the end of the bar threw the time out and have here been omitted; and again at bar 93 where extra notes threw the time out and have here been omitted.

The work was later published by Daniel Fortea, and by Anzaghi in his Anthology for guitar, 1962.

An early manuscript of this work is referred to as follows in the Catálogo Breve, the catalogue of the collection of guitar music of the late Eleuterio F. Tiscornia, which was published in Buenos Aires in 1948:

Mi ejemplar de Meditación, dedicada por Sor al famoso Huerta, procede del Archivo del Dr. Martín Ruiz Moreno, y está impreso en Madrid.  En el de D. Juan Valler (sevillano que murió en Buenos Aires en 1926 a los 93 años de edad) existe una copia manuscrita de esa obra, que mi buen amigo D. Antonio Valler, hijo de D. Juan, me ha permitido examinar.  En ella hay una nota de gran interés que copio textualmente:

‘Meditación para guitarra sola. Pieza sencilla pero expresiva, compuesta para D. T. Huerta por su amigo F. Sor.

En prueba de que hallo en V. otra cualidad más preciosa que la agilidad, y sin la cual se pueden ejecutar mis notas, mas no mi música.

Esta cualidad es sin duda la espresión tierna, afectuosa y delicada que posee Huerta, y el tono claro, limpio, sostenido y vibrante, en lo que se cifra o compendia todo el secreto y arte de tocar’.

(“My copy of Meditación, dedicated by Sor to the famous Huerta, comes from the collection of Dr. Martín Ruiz Moreno and was printed in Madrid.  In the collection of D. Juan Valler (a native of Seville who died in Buenos Aires in 1926 at the age of 93) there is a manuscript copy of this work, which my good friend D. Antonio Valler, the son of D. Juan, has allowed me to examine.  In the manuscript is a note of much interest which I here copy exactly:

‘Meditación for guitar solo.  A simple but expressive piece, composed for T. Huerta by his friend F. Sor.

In proof that I find in you a quality more precious than agility, and without which my notes can be played but not my music.

This quality is no doubt the tender, affectionate and delicate expression which Huerta possesses, and the clear, clean, sustained and vibrant tone in which is counted and comprised the whole secret and art of playing.’”)

According to Domingo Prat’s Diccionario de Guitarristas (Buenos Aires, 1934), article “Valler”, Juan Valler knew Huerta personally, so there is a direct connection.  However, it is hard to tell exactly what the inscription means.  If it is indeed an accurate transcription of the writing on the manuscript in the Valler collection, then who wrote which part of it?  Was the paragraph beginning “En prueba” written by Sor on this manuscript?  Or is this manuscript a copy from another on which Sor might have written such a dedication?  If he did write it, then did he write it in Spanish, or was it perhaps in French, since if it were authentic, then he and Huerta would both have been in Paris at the time?  And did this Valler manuscript include the textual problems which are found in the printed version?  Until such time as it may be possible to examine the Valler manuscript or until another source is found, it is not possible to be sure.

On Huerta, Soriano Fuertes wrote as follows in his Historia de la Música Española, IV, Madrid, 1859, page 214:

Don Francisco Trinidad Huerta, natural de Orihuela, debe su habilidad á su ingenio.  La prensa periódica ha hecho el apoteósis de este tocador de guitarra, que habiendo corrido gran parte de Europa, y lucido delante de príncipes y reyes, la que lo es de España, Isabel II, le concedió en premio de su mérito la cruz de caballero de la órden de Cárlos III.  El principal mérito de Huerta consiste en la dulzura de los sonidos que produce cantando sobre una cuerda.  Hace con primor las terceras, y un arpegio sumamente complicado, que se debe á su invento.  Su música se resiente de falta de conocimientos armónicos.  Con sus pasos mas delicados mezcla contínuamente una especie de rasguéo, á que dá el nombre de Tutis, con los cuales apaga la ilusion que inflama cuando pulsa las cuerdas con halago.  Este contraste de bueno y malo, fué causa de que Sors le definiese con el nombre de sublime barbero, y de que Aguado dijese, que ultrajaba el instrumento. Si Huerta aventase su música, como el labrador avienta su mies trillada para dar el grano á los racionales y la paja á las bestias, no cabe duda de que seria admirado de los profesores mas severos, porque cuando canta encanta.

(“Francisco Trinidad Huerta, a native of Orihuela, owes his dexterity to his own genius.  The periodical press has raised to an apotheosis this player of the guitar, who when he had travelled through much of Europe, and had shone before princes and kings, she who is now the Queen of Spain, Isabel II, decorated him with the order of Knight of the Order of Carlos III.  Huerta’s chief merit is the sweetness of the sounds which he produces in a singing fashion on one string.  He plays thirds exquisitely, and a highly complicated arpeggio which is owed to his invention.  His music suffers from a lack of harmonic knowledge.  He continually mixes with his most delicate passages a kind of rasgueo which he calls Tutis, with which he dampens the enthusiasm which he arouses when he strikes the strings caressingly.  This contrast of good and bad was the reason why Sor called him a sublime barber, and why Aguado said that he abused the instrument.  If Huerta were to fan his music, as a farmer fans his threshed grain in order to give the seed to humans and the chaff to animals, there is no doubt that he would be admired by the severest of professors, for when he sings, he enchants.”).

Also, a long and detailed biography of Huerta is in Saldoni’s Diccionario … de Efemérides de Músicos Españoles, volume 2, Madrid, 1880, pp. 519 ff., who took it from the Boletín Oficial de la provincia de Málaga of 24 September 1835.  It includes the following passage:

En Nueva York dió varios conciertos que le produjeron montones de plata, y aún cantó en El Barbero [the Barber of Seville of Rossini], con García [Manuel García the famous singer], durante una enfermedad del bajo de la compañia italiana de aquella ciudad.

(“In New York he gave various concerts which produced mountains of money for him, and he even sang in the Barber of Seville with García during an illness of the bass of the Italian company of that city.”)

So if Sor did indeed call Huerta a sublime barbero, a sublime barber, then perhaps his comment may have had an ironic side to it.  On the one hand, it might mean that Huerta was like a barber playing a guitar in a barber’s shop, for in Spain it was normal for a guitar to be kept there to be played either by the barber or else by people waiting for their appointments. (Incidentally, while that may perhaps no longer be so in Spain, I have myself seen and heard it in Mexico where older traditions often survive.)  But on the other hand perhaps it was also a reference to Huerta’s having sung in the Barber of Seville, in which the character of Figaro, although after all a top-rank musical role, is still a rogue.  (That is, assuming that the role which Huerta sang, replacing a bass who was ill, was indeed that of Figaro and not either of the basses Dr. Bartolo or Don Basilio.  García will have sung the role of the Count.)  I am not sure whether or not it helps us in deciding whether or not Sor might have written a piece for Huerta.  Personally I should think that if Sor did make that remark, then it is rather less likely that he would have composed a piece for him.

In the passage which Saldoni copied from the Boletín Oficial de la provincia de Málaga is a letter which the French poet Victor Hugo is supposed to have written to Huerta:

Puesto que da V. algun valor, señor de Huerta, á una opinion tan poco importante como la mia, me contemplo feliz al explicarle hasta qué punto me ha encantado su habilidad.  La guitarra, ese instrumento tan circunscrito, no reconoce límites entre sus manos.  Usted le hace producir todos los sonidos, los acordes todos, todos los cantos.  Usted sabe sacar de esas pocas cuerdas las notas más variadas, las que hablan al alma, al entendimiento, al corazón.  La guitarra de V. es una orquesta. Gusto mucho de la España y de los españoles, señor de Huerta, y por consiguiente de la guitarra; pero sobre todo en las manos de V.: en ellas no es ya solamente una cuerda que suspira; es una voz, una verdadera voz que canta, que habla y que llora: una de esas voces profundas que hacen pensar á los que son dichosos y que inclinan á la meditación á los que están tristes.  Crea V., señor de Huerta, que tengo el mayor placer en comunicar mis ideas á V. en este particular, ya acepte las seguridades del deseo que tengo de servirle.  París 16 de Febrero de 1834.  -Víctor Hugo.

(“Sr. Huerta, since you give some value to an opinion as unimportant as my own, I am happy to explain to you how far your skill has enchanted me.  The guitar, that so limited instrument, recognizes no bounds in your hands.  You make it produce all sounds, all chords, all melodies.  You know how to obtain from those few strings the most varied notes, those which speak to the soul, to the understanding, to the heart.  Your guitar is an orchestra.  Sr. Huerta, I very much like Spain and the Spanish, and therefore also the guitar, but above all in your hands, in which it is not only a string which sighs, it is a voice, a true voice which sings, which speaks and which weeps: one of those profound voices which cause to think those who are happy, and incline to meditation those who are sad.  Please believe, Sr. Huerta, that I take the greatest pleasure in communicating my ideas about this to you, and be assured of the desire which I have to serve you.  Paris, 16 February 1834.  – Victor Hugo.”)

No doubt it would originally have been in French, but its French version is not known.  The texts by Soriano Fuertes and Saldoni, by the way, are both reproduced in Prat’s Diccionario de Guitarristas. 

One’s suspicions are aroused by the presence in this text of the word meditación (“que inclinan á la meditación”), the same word as the title of this piece.  It makes it only too easy to imagine that possibly the musical piece was written after the text, as a kind of justification or illustration of the words.  Moreover, the text attributed to Hugo and the text in the Valler manuscript are suspiciously close in their sentiments, making it at least possible that it was not in fact Sor who wrote the piece itself or the Valler words, but rather someone else who knew the Hugo text and was influenced by it. 

If we now look again at the piece in the light of the above, we see that it has passages which not only are unlike Sor’s style but seem to suit particularly well the style in which Huerta is said to have excelled.  For example, towards the end at bars 77-81 there are two bars with just a single line of music, quite unlike Sor’s style but suitable for Huerta’s style of playing (“El principal mérito de Huerta consiste en la dulzura de los sonidos que produce cantando sobre una cuerda.”).  And the arpeggios or rasgueos in bars 82-84 are again quite unlike Sor’s style but suitable for Huerta.  I don’t think it at all likely that Sor changed his style especially to accommodate Huerta’s way of playing.  Rather, my own guess is that Meditación is not by Sor but rather was probably composed by Huerta or someone else starting from Sor’s Le Calme op. 50 as a model.  If it was originally composed by Sor, then it seems likely to me that someone made major changes to it before it was printed.  But in the present state of evidence we cannot yet know for certain.

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Volume 7

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