The protagonist of Saint-Saëns’ Proserpine, premiered at the Opéra-Comique on 14 March 1887, is no reincarnation of the ancient goddess, but a Renaissance courtesan well versed in culpable amours. According to the composer, she is ‘a damned soul for whom true love is a forbidden fruit; as soon as she approaches it, she experiences torture’. Yet for all the innocence of her rival Angiola, the unexpected happens: ‘It is the bloodthirsty beast that is admirable; the sweet creature is no more than pretty and likeable.’ Visibly enraptured by this delight in horror, Saint-Saëns indulges in unprecedented orchestral modernity, piling on the dissonances beneath his characters’ cries of rage or despair. He concluded thus: ‘Proserpine is, of all my stage works, the most advanced in the Wagnerian system.’ The least-known, too, and one which it was high time to reveal to the public, in its second version, revised in 1899.
In Bulgaria, both folk and art music evince an ancient tradition that strikes awe even in some of the great music nations today. The way Pancho Vladigerov incorporated these folk-music themes into his concert pieces shows not only his affinity for them but also suggests that he felt something of a calling to promulgate and champion the folk-traditions of his central European homeland. The most-performed work of Pancho Vladigerov’s is undoubtedly his Bulgarian Rhapsody op.16 “Vardar” from 1922. The most outstanding must be his Seven Symphonic Bulgarian Dances op.23 (1931), with which he might have wanted to create a counterpart to Brahms’ Hungarian Dances, Dvorák’s Slavonic Dances, or Grieg’s Norwegian Dances or similar such popular aural nationalistic postcards.