Camille Saint-Saëns was a child prodigy, who wrote his first piano compositions at age three. At ten he made his formal debut at the Salle Pleyel in Paris, playing Mozart and Beethoven piano concertos, and offered to play any one of Beethoven’s 32 piano sonatas from memory as an encore. In his youth he was considered an innovator, but by the time he reached maturity he had become a conservative pillar of the establishment, trying to maintain the classical musical tradition in France and expressing open disdain for the new trends in music, including the “malaise” of Wagnerism. His visceral dislike of Debussy made frequent headlines in the tabloid press. As an accomplished organist and pianist, he premiered his five piano concertos himself with elegant, effortless grace. But neither his compositions nor his pianism were ever pinnacles of passion or emotion. Berlioz noted that Saint-Saëns “...knows everything but lacks inexperience.”

But Saint-Saëns did not lack a sense of humor. One of his most popular works today is the witty Carnival of the Animals, subtitled A Grand Zoological Fantasy. It began life as a private joke among friends, originally for two pianos, 2 violins, viola, cello, double bass, flute, clarinet, glass harmonica or celesta and xylophone that he dashed off in 1886 during a vacation. It pokes fun at his contemporaries: Berlioz, the comic opera composer Jacques Offenbach, music critics, “fossil” composers, clumsy dancers and talentless pianists. Deeply protective of his image and reputation as a composer of serious music, however, he forbade its performance during his lifetime, except for No. 13, “The Swan,” which acquired a life of its own. Written originally for solo cello with piano accompaniment, it is just about the only movement that doesn’t involve humor.