Galloping Through the Story of Rossini's William Tell Overture
The Backstory

William Tell Overture

Rossini presenting the backstory of his William Tell Overture
I'm Gioachino Rossini, and this is the backstory of my William Tell Overture. Here you'll learn how a contract I signed with the French government in 1824 grew into the opera that this overture opens, and why that deal still shapes the music you know today. Why not  test yourself with the Trainer  right now, since on this site my fellow composers and I help you recognize our pieces the moment you hear them.
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A Contract With Strings Attached

In 1824 I signed a contract with the French government, and I should have read the small print a little more slowly. It asked me for a grand opera for the Académie Royale de Musique and another opera for the Théâtre-Italien. That made me a composer with a deadline, and a rather important one, because the customer was a government. William Tell grew out of that agreement, and it turned out to be the largest piece of homework of my life.

Swiss Rebels, Borrowed From a German Play

The story comes from Schiller's play Wilhelm Tell, about a Swiss archer who stands up to Austrian rulers. Victor-Joseph Étienne de Jouy and Hippolyte Bis turned it into a French libretto, so the opera is called Guillaume Tell in Paris. An Italian composer, a German playwright and two French writers all had a hand in a story about Switzerland. I never found it odd, because good tales travel easily and nobody checks their passports.

Five Years in the Making

IMSLP lists the composition period as 1824 to 1829, so I was not rushing this one. The opera was first staged on 3 August 1829 at the Salle Le Peletier in Paris, by the Paris Opéra. Even the name of the man on the podium is disputed, since some say Henri Valentino and others say François Habeneck. I can tell you the music was there that evening, but who waved the baton is a question historians still argue about.

The Audience Reaches for the Scissors

The reception was mixed, which is a polite way of saying that not everyone was thrilled. Within three performances the cuts had begun, and after a year only three acts were being given. The opera is long, and theatres have always been quick to shorten whatever keeps people from their dinner. The overture, on the other hand, was short enough and strong enough to go on and live its own life.

The Man Who Stopped at Thirty-Nine

Guillaume Tell was my last opera, the thirty-ninth, and I wrote no more after it. Why I stopped is still debated, and people have suggested ill health, comfortable wealth, the rise of grand opera and the revolution of 1830. That revolution did hit me in the wallet, because the new government cut my annuity, and I fought for it until I won in 1835. I will admit that writing this opera took a toll on my health, so I was not entirely in the mood for another one.

A Very Busy Retirement

Stopping with opera did not mean I stopped composing, and I lived almost forty more years. I wrote cantatas, sacred music and more than 150 light pieces that I called Péchés de vieillesse, or sins of old age. In 1864 my Petite messe solennelle was performed for the first time, and it is neither petite nor all that solemn. I was born in Pesaro on 29 February 1792, a date that only comes around every fourth year, and I died in Passy in 1868.

A Symphony in Disguise

The overture lasts about twelve minutes and has four parts that follow each other without a pause. Berlioz, who usually did not care for my music, called it a symphony in four parts, and I have always treasured that. To get that range of colour I used a piccolo, a flute, oboes, clarinets, bassoons, horns, trumpets, trombones and a full set of percussion, along with the strings. I also asked the horns and trumpets to play without valves, so the players had to be skilled and a little brave.

The Piano and the Dance Floor Take a Turn

In 1838 Liszt made a piano transcription of the overture, and it became a staple of his concert repertoire. That meant one pianist with ten fingers had to sound like a whole orchestra, and he managed it. Johann Strauss I borrowed the finale for his William Tell Galop, Op. 29b, so people could dance to it. Shostakovich later quoted it in his Symphony No. 15, which shows how far a tune can travel.

Where the Horses Really Came From

The finale is a fast galop in E major, opened by trumpets, and it is called the March of the Swiss Soldiers. It depicts the Swiss victory over Austrian repression, and there is no cavalry charge anywhere in the opera. The galloping horses arrived much later, when the finale became the theme of The Lone Ranger on radio, television and film. That theme is only the fourth part of the overture, so the other three have been waiting patiently for their share of the credit.

From Cartoons to Sneakers

Once the horses had been attached to the music, it turned up almost everywhere, including Disney's The Band Concert. Kubrick used it in A Clockwork Orange, in an electronic version by Wendy Carlos, and in 2001 a Reebok advertisement used a version by DJ Shadow. The story goes that an intellectual is someone who can hear the overture without thinking of the Lone Ranger, though people disagree about who said it first. I find it rather flattering that a tune I wrote for Swiss mountains can still make a room full of people feel like riding.
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I've told you this story for a while now, and I hope it left you with a little more to listen for the next time the cellos begin. Did you enjoy learning about the backstory of William Tell Overture? I hope so, because there's still a lot more to explore. Berlioz, who didn't care much for my music, called the overture a symphony in four parts, and I'd be glad to tell you why that description fits so well. The finale has also travelled far beyond the opera house, and that journey is a story of its own. If you're curious, please click on the links below to explore William Tell Overture further. I'd love for you to hear it again with fresh ears.