To E. K. Pavlovskaya.“Maidanovo,March14th(26th), 1885.“I am now arranging the revised score ofVakoula, orchestrating the new numbers and correcting the old. I hope to have finished in a few weeks. The opera will be calledCherevichek,[104]to distinguish it from the numerous otherVakoulas: Soloviev’s and Stchourovsky’s for instance. The authorities have promised to produce the opera in Moscow; it will hardly be possible in Petersburg, as they have already accepted two new operas there.“As toThe Captain’s Daughter,[105]if only I could find a clever librettist, capable of carrying out such a difficult task, I would begin the work with pleasure. Meanwhile I have made a note ofThe Enchantress, by Shpajinsky. The latter has already started upon the libretto. He will make many alterations and, if I am not mistaken, it will make a splendid background for the music. You will find it your most suitable rôle. IfLes Caprices d’Oxaneshould be produced, you will continue to play the part of my ‘benefactress,’ for you give me incredibly more than I give you. But if, with God’s help, I achieveThe Enchantress, I hope I may become your benefactor in some degree. Here you shall have a fine opportunity to display your art.”
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.
“Maidanovo,March14th(26th), 1885.
“I am now arranging the revised score ofVakoula, orchestrating the new numbers and correcting the old. I hope to have finished in a few weeks. The opera will be calledCherevichek,[104]to distinguish it from the numerous otherVakoulas: Soloviev’s and Stchourovsky’s for instance. The authorities have promised to produce the opera in Moscow; it will hardly be possible in Petersburg, as they have already accepted two new operas there.
“As toThe Captain’s Daughter,[105]if only I could find a clever librettist, capable of carrying out such a difficult task, I would begin the work with pleasure. Meanwhile I have made a note ofThe Enchantress, by Shpajinsky. The latter has already started upon the libretto. He will make many alterations and, if I am not mistaken, it will make a splendid background for the music. You will find it your most suitable rôle. IfLes Caprices d’Oxaneshould be produced, you will continue to play the part of my ‘benefactress,’ for you give me incredibly more than I give you. But if, with God’s help, I achieveThe Enchantress, I hope I may become your benefactor in some degree. Here you shall have a fine opportunity to display your art.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,April3rd(15th), 1885.“My Dearest Friend,—I am once more back in Maidanovo, after a week and a half of travelling hither and thither. I worked almost without a break through the whole week before Palm Sunday and the whole of Passion Week, in order to be ready for the Easter festival. By Saturday everything was finished, and (although not well) I arrived in Moscow in time for the early service. I did not pass my holidays very pleasantly, and at the end of Easter Week I went to Petersburg, where I had to see Polonsky, author of the libretto ofVakoula, about the printing of the opera in its new form. I stayed four days in Petersburg, and spent them with my relations in the usual running about, which I found as wearisome as it was fatiguing. On Monday I travelled to Moscow in order to attend the reception of the Grand Duke Constantine Nicholaevich, who was to be present at the performance of the opera at the Conservatoire. As a member of the Musical Committee, I could not avoid taking part in the official reception to the Grand Duke, which I found a great bore. The performance went very well. Many thanks for sending me the articles in theNovoe Vremya. I had already seen them, and was very pleased with their warmth of tone. I am never offended at frank criticism, for I am well aware of my faults, but I feel very bitterly the cold and inimical note which pervades Cui’s criticisms. It is not very long since the Russian Press (principally the Petersburg organs) began to notice me in a friendly spirit. Ivanov, the author of the articles in theNovoe Vremya, had formerly no good opinion of me, and used to write in a cold and hostile manner, although in Moscow I taught him theory for three years, and did not in the least deserve his enmity, as everyone knows. I can never forget how deeply his criticism ofVakoulawounded me ten years ago.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,April3rd(15th), 1885.
“My Dearest Friend,—I am once more back in Maidanovo, after a week and a half of travelling hither and thither. I worked almost without a break through the whole week before Palm Sunday and the whole of Passion Week, in order to be ready for the Easter festival. By Saturday everything was finished, and (although not well) I arrived in Moscow in time for the early service. I did not pass my holidays very pleasantly, and at the end of Easter Week I went to Petersburg, where I had to see Polonsky, author of the libretto ofVakoula, about the printing of the opera in its new form. I stayed four days in Petersburg, and spent them with my relations in the usual running about, which I found as wearisome as it was fatiguing. On Monday I travelled to Moscow in order to attend the reception of the Grand Duke Constantine Nicholaevich, who was to be present at the performance of the opera at the Conservatoire. As a member of the Musical Committee, I could not avoid taking part in the official reception to the Grand Duke, which I found a great bore. The performance went very well. Many thanks for sending me the articles in theNovoe Vremya. I had already seen them, and was very pleased with their warmth of tone. I am never offended at frank criticism, for I am well aware of my faults, but I feel very bitterly the cold and inimical note which pervades Cui’s criticisms. It is not very long since the Russian Press (principally the Petersburg organs) began to notice me in a friendly spirit. Ivanov, the author of the articles in theNovoe Vremya, had formerly no good opinion of me, and used to write in a cold and hostile manner, although in Moscow I taught him theory for three years, and did not in the least deserve his enmity, as everyone knows. I can never forget how deeply his criticism ofVakoulawounded me ten years ago.”
To Rimsky-Korsakov.“Maidanovo,April6th(18th), 1885.“Dear Nicholas Andreievich,—Since I saw you last I have had so much to get through in a hurry that I could not spare time for a thorough revision of your primer. But now and again I cast a glance at it, and jotted down my remarks on some loose sheets. To-day, having finished my revision of the first chapter, I wanted to send you these notes, and read them through again. Then I hesitated: should I send them or not? All through my criticism of your book[106]ran a vein of irritation, a grudging spirit, even an unintentional suspicion of hostility towards you. I was afraid the mordant bitterness of my observations might hurt your feelings. Whence this virulence? I cannot say. I think my old hatred of teaching harmony crops up here; a hatred which partly springs from a consciousness that our present theories are untenable, while at the same time it is impossible to build up new ones; and partly from the peculiarity of my musical temperament, which lacks the power of imparting conscientious instruction. For ten years I taught harmony, and during that time I loathed my classes, my pupils, my text-book, and myself as teacher. The reading of your book reawakened my loathing, and it was this which stirred up all my acrimony and rancour.... Now I am going to lay a serious question before you, which you need not answer at once, only after due consideration and discussion with your wife.“Dare I hope that you would accept the position of Director of the Moscow Conservatoire should it be offered you? I can promise you beforehand so to arrange matters that you would have sufficient time for composing, and be spared all the drudgery with which N. Rubinstein was overwhelmed. You would only have the supervision of the musical affairs.“Your upright and ideally honourable character, your distinguished gifts, both as artist and as teacher, warrant my conviction that in you we should find a splendidDirector. I should consider myself very fortunate could I realise this ideal.“So far, I have not ventured to speak of it to anyone, and beg you to keep the matter quiet for the present.“Think it over, dear friend, and send me your answer....”[107]
To Rimsky-Korsakov.
“Maidanovo,April6th(18th), 1885.
“Dear Nicholas Andreievich,—Since I saw you last I have had so much to get through in a hurry that I could not spare time for a thorough revision of your primer. But now and again I cast a glance at it, and jotted down my remarks on some loose sheets. To-day, having finished my revision of the first chapter, I wanted to send you these notes, and read them through again. Then I hesitated: should I send them or not? All through my criticism of your book[106]ran a vein of irritation, a grudging spirit, even an unintentional suspicion of hostility towards you. I was afraid the mordant bitterness of my observations might hurt your feelings. Whence this virulence? I cannot say. I think my old hatred of teaching harmony crops up here; a hatred which partly springs from a consciousness that our present theories are untenable, while at the same time it is impossible to build up new ones; and partly from the peculiarity of my musical temperament, which lacks the power of imparting conscientious instruction. For ten years I taught harmony, and during that time I loathed my classes, my pupils, my text-book, and myself as teacher. The reading of your book reawakened my loathing, and it was this which stirred up all my acrimony and rancour.... Now I am going to lay a serious question before you, which you need not answer at once, only after due consideration and discussion with your wife.
“Dare I hope that you would accept the position of Director of the Moscow Conservatoire should it be offered you? I can promise you beforehand so to arrange matters that you would have sufficient time for composing, and be spared all the drudgery with which N. Rubinstein was overwhelmed. You would only have the supervision of the musical affairs.
“Your upright and ideally honourable character, your distinguished gifts, both as artist and as teacher, warrant my conviction that in you we should find a splendidDirector. I should consider myself very fortunate could I realise this ideal.
“So far, I have not ventured to speak of it to anyone, and beg you to keep the matter quiet for the present.
“Think it over, dear friend, and send me your answer....”[107]
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.“Maidanova,April12th(24th), 1885.“My dear Emilie Karlovna,—Your exceedingly malicious criticism ofThe Enchantressnot only failed to annoy me, but awoke my gratitude, for I wanted to know your opinion. I had even thought of asking you if you would go to see the play itself and give me your impressions. My conception and vision of the type of Natasha differs entirely from yours. Of course, she is a licentious woman; but her spell does not consist merely in the fact that she can win people with her fine speeches. This spell might suffice to draw customers to her inn—but would it have power to change her sworn enemy, the Prince, into a lover? Deep hidden in the soul of this light woman lies a certain moral force and beauty which has never had any chance of development.This power is love.Natasha is a strong and womanly nature, who can only love once, and she is capable of sacrificing all and everything to her love. So long as her love has not yet ripened, Natasha dissipates her forces, so to speak, in current coin; it amuses her to make everyone fall in love with her with whom she comes in contact. She is merely a sympathetic, attractive, undisciplined woman; she knows she is captivating, and is quite contented. Lacking the enlightenment of religion and culture—for she is a friendless orphan—she has but one object in life—to live gaily. Then appearstheman destined to touch the latent chords of her better nature, and she is transfigured. Life loses all worth for her, so long as she cannot reach her goal; her beauty, which, so far, had only possessed an instinctive and elementary power of attraction, now becomes a strong weapon in her hand, by which, in a single moment, she shatters the opposingforces of the Prince—his hatred. Afterwards they surrender themselves to the mad passion which envelops them and leads to the inevitable catastrophe of their death; but this death leaves in the spectator a sense of peace and reconciliation. I speak of what is going to be in my opera; in the play everything is quite different. Shpajinsky quite understands my requirements, and will carry out my intentions in delineating the principal characters. He will soften down the hardness of Natasha’smanières d’être, and will give prominence to the power of her moral beauty.He and I—youtoo, later, if only you will be reconciled to this rôle—will so arrange things that in the last act there shall not be a dry eye in the audience. This is my own conception of this part, and I am sure itmustplease you, and that you will not fail to play it splendidly. My enthusiasm forThe Enchantresshas not made me unfaithful to the desire, so deeply rooted in my soul, to illustrate in music those words of Goethe’s: ‘The eternal feminine draws us onward.’ The fact that the womanly power and beauty of Natasha’s character remain so long hidden under a cloak of licentiousness, only augments the dramatic interest. Why do you like the part of Traviata or of Carmen? Because power and beauty shine out of these two characters, although in a somewhat coarser form. I assure you, you will also learn to likeThe Enchantress.”
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.
“Maidanova,April12th(24th), 1885.
“My dear Emilie Karlovna,—Your exceedingly malicious criticism ofThe Enchantressnot only failed to annoy me, but awoke my gratitude, for I wanted to know your opinion. I had even thought of asking you if you would go to see the play itself and give me your impressions. My conception and vision of the type of Natasha differs entirely from yours. Of course, she is a licentious woman; but her spell does not consist merely in the fact that she can win people with her fine speeches. This spell might suffice to draw customers to her inn—but would it have power to change her sworn enemy, the Prince, into a lover? Deep hidden in the soul of this light woman lies a certain moral force and beauty which has never had any chance of development.This power is love.Natasha is a strong and womanly nature, who can only love once, and she is capable of sacrificing all and everything to her love. So long as her love has not yet ripened, Natasha dissipates her forces, so to speak, in current coin; it amuses her to make everyone fall in love with her with whom she comes in contact. She is merely a sympathetic, attractive, undisciplined woman; she knows she is captivating, and is quite contented. Lacking the enlightenment of religion and culture—for she is a friendless orphan—she has but one object in life—to live gaily. Then appearstheman destined to touch the latent chords of her better nature, and she is transfigured. Life loses all worth for her, so long as she cannot reach her goal; her beauty, which, so far, had only possessed an instinctive and elementary power of attraction, now becomes a strong weapon in her hand, by which, in a single moment, she shatters the opposingforces of the Prince—his hatred. Afterwards they surrender themselves to the mad passion which envelops them and leads to the inevitable catastrophe of their death; but this death leaves in the spectator a sense of peace and reconciliation. I speak of what is going to be in my opera; in the play everything is quite different. Shpajinsky quite understands my requirements, and will carry out my intentions in delineating the principal characters. He will soften down the hardness of Natasha’smanières d’être, and will give prominence to the power of her moral beauty.He and I—youtoo, later, if only you will be reconciled to this rôle—will so arrange things that in the last act there shall not be a dry eye in the audience. This is my own conception of this part, and I am sure itmustplease you, and that you will not fail to play it splendidly. My enthusiasm forThe Enchantresshas not made me unfaithful to the desire, so deeply rooted in my soul, to illustrate in music those words of Goethe’s: ‘The eternal feminine draws us onward.’ The fact that the womanly power and beauty of Natasha’s character remain so long hidden under a cloak of licentiousness, only augments the dramatic interest. Why do you like the part of Traviata or of Carmen? Because power and beauty shine out of these two characters, although in a somewhat coarser form. I assure you, you will also learn to likeThe Enchantress.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“Maidanovo,April26th(May8th), 1885.“The business connected withCherevichekhas ended very well. Vsievolojsky put an end to the irresolution of the so-called management and ordered the opera to be produced in the most sumptuous style. I was present at a committee at which he presided, when the mounting was discussed. They will send Valetz, the scene-painter, to Tsarskoe-Selo, so that he may faithfully reproduce some of the rooms in the palace. I am very pleased.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo,April26th(May8th), 1885.
“The business connected withCherevichekhas ended very well. Vsievolojsky put an end to the irresolution of the so-called management and ordered the opera to be produced in the most sumptuous style. I was present at a committee at which he presided, when the mounting was discussed. They will send Valetz, the scene-painter, to Tsarskoe-Selo, so that he may faithfully reproduce some of the rooms in the palace. I am very pleased.”
FRAGMENT FROM A LETTER IN WHICH TCHAIKOVSKY SKETCHES A THEME FOR “THE ENCHANTRESS”FRAGMENT FROM A LETTER IN WHICH TCHAIKOVSKY SKETCHES A THEME FOR“THE ENCHANTRESS”
To P. Jurgenson.“Maidanovo,April26th(May8th), 1885.“The position of my budget is as follows: I possess (together with the Moscow royalty which I have not yet received) 6,000 roubles. From Petersburg and Moscow there must still be about 800 or 1,000 roubles to come in; the honorarium from the church music, 300 roubles; the honorarium from the Moscow Musical Society, 300 roubles.“Total: 6000 + 800 + 300 + 300 = 7,500 (sic!).“Up to the present I have not received more than 3,000 roubles from you.“Consequently the capital which you have in hand amounts to 4,500-5000 roubles. A nice little sum.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Maidanovo,April26th(May8th), 1885.
“The position of my budget is as follows: I possess (together with the Moscow royalty which I have not yet received) 6,000 roubles. From Petersburg and Moscow there must still be about 800 or 1,000 roubles to come in; the honorarium from the church music, 300 roubles; the honorarium from the Moscow Musical Society, 300 roubles.
“Total: 6000 + 800 + 300 + 300 = 7,500 (sic!).
“Up to the present I have not received more than 3,000 roubles from you.
“Consequently the capital which you have in hand amounts to 4,500-5000 roubles. A nice little sum.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Moscow,May26th(June7th), 1885.“ ... I am completely absorbed in the affairs of the Conservatoire, and have decided that the position of Director shall be offered to Taneiev. If I do not succeed in this, I shall retire from the Committee. Finally, I can tell you what, so far, I have said to no one here: I hate every public office more than ever. Oh, God! how many disappointments have I experienced and how many bitter truths I have learnt! No! next year I must get right away.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Moscow,May26th(June7th), 1885.
“ ... I am completely absorbed in the affairs of the Conservatoire, and have decided that the position of Director shall be offered to Taneiev. If I do not succeed in this, I shall retire from the Committee. Finally, I can tell you what, so far, I have said to no one here: I hate every public office more than ever. Oh, God! how many disappointments have I experienced and how many bitter truths I have learnt! No! next year I must get right away.”
Tchaikovsky actually succeeded in getting Taneiev chosen as Director of the Conservatoire. Through him Hubert, who had long been absent from the Conservatoire, was once more reinstated as a teacher. To support Taneiev’s authority Tchaikovsky determined to resume his place upon the teaching staff, and undertook the gratuitous class for composition. This only necessitated his attendance once a month to supervise the work of the few (two to three) students of which the class was composed.
To S. I. Taneiev.“Maidanovo,June13th(25th), 1885.“Alexeiev has told me that according to the rules of the Conservatoire it is not permissible for me to be both teacher and member of Committee. Of course, I will not go back on my word, and I leave it to you to decide which would be the most useful—to remain on the Committee, or undertake the somewhat honorary post of professor. I think it would be best to remain on the Committee, but just as you like. In any case I will do my duty conscientiously, on the condition that my freedom is not curtailed and that I may travel whenever I please....“So, my dear chief, my fate lies in your hands.“After some hesitation I have made up my mind to composeManfred, because I shall find no rest until I have redeemed my promise, so rashly given to Balakirev in the winter. I do not know how it will turn out, but meantime I am very discontented. No! it is a thousand times pleasanter to compose without any programme. When I write a programme symphony I always feel I am not paying in sterling coin, but in worthless paper money.”
To S. I. Taneiev.
“Maidanovo,June13th(25th), 1885.
“Alexeiev has told me that according to the rules of the Conservatoire it is not permissible for me to be both teacher and member of Committee. Of course, I will not go back on my word, and I leave it to you to decide which would be the most useful—to remain on the Committee, or undertake the somewhat honorary post of professor. I think it would be best to remain on the Committee, but just as you like. In any case I will do my duty conscientiously, on the condition that my freedom is not curtailed and that I may travel whenever I please....
“So, my dear chief, my fate lies in your hands.
“After some hesitation I have made up my mind to composeManfred, because I shall find no rest until I have redeemed my promise, so rashly given to Balakirev in the winter. I do not know how it will turn out, but meantime I am very discontented. No! it is a thousand times pleasanter to compose without any programme. When I write a programme symphony I always feel I am not paying in sterling coin, but in worthless paper money.”
Tchaikovsky began the composition ofManfredin June. The following letter from Balakirev, dated 1882, led him to choose this subject for a symphonic work.
M. Balakirev to P. Tchaikovsky.“Petersburg,October28th(November9th), 1882.“Forgive me for having left your last letter so long unanswered. I wanted to write to you in perfect peace and quiet, but many things hindered me. You are more fortunate than we are, for you do not need to give lessons, and can devote your whole time to art. I first offered the subject about which I spoke to you to Berlioz, who declined my suggestion on account of age and ill_health.YourFrancescagave me the idea that you were capable of treating this subject most brilliantly, provided you took great pains, subjected your work to stringent self-criticism, let your imagination fully ripen, and did not hurry. This fine subject—Byron’sManfred—is no use to me, for it does not harmonise with my intimate moods.“Let me tell you first of all that your Symphony—like the Second Symphony of Berlioz—must have anidée fixe(theManfredtheme), which must be carried through all the movements. Now for the programme:—“First Movement.Manfred wandering in the Alps. His life is ruined. Many burning questions remain unanswered; nothing is left to him but remembrance. The form of the ideal Astarte floats before his imagination; he calls to her in vain: the echo of the rocks alone repeats her name. Thoughts and memories burn in his brain and prey upon him; he implores the forgetfulness that none can give him (F♯ minor, second theme D major and F♯ minor).“Second Movement.In complete contrast to the first. Programme: The customs of the Alpine hunters: patriarchal, full of simplicity and good humour. Adagio Pastorale (A major). Manfred drops into this simple life and stands out in strong contrast to it. Naturally at the beginning a little hunting theme must be introduced, but in doing thisyou must take the greatest care not to descend to the commonplace. For God’s sake avoid copying the common German fanfares and hunting music.“Third Movement.Scherzo fantastique (D major). Manfred sees an Alpine fairy in the rainbow above a waterfall.“Fourth Movement.Finale (F♯ minor). A wild Allegro representing the caves of Ariman, whither Manfred has come to try and see Astarte once more. The appearance of Astarte’s wraith will form the contrast to these infernal orgies (the same theme which was employed in the first movement in D major now reappears in D♭ major; in the former it dies away like a fleeting memory, and is immediately lost in Manfred’s phase of suffering—but now it can be developed to its fullest extent). The music must be light, transparent as air, and ideally virginal. Then comes the repetition of Pandemonium, and finally the sunset and Manfred’s death.“Is it not a splendid programme? I am quite convinced that if you summon up all your powers it will be yourchef-d’œuvre.“The subject is not only very deep, but in accordance with contemporary feeling; for all the troubles of the modern man arise from the fact that he does not know how to preserve his ideals. They crumble away and leave nothing but bitterness in the soul. Hence all the sufferings of our times.”
M. Balakirev to P. Tchaikovsky.
“Petersburg,October28th(November9th), 1882.
“Forgive me for having left your last letter so long unanswered. I wanted to write to you in perfect peace and quiet, but many things hindered me. You are more fortunate than we are, for you do not need to give lessons, and can devote your whole time to art. I first offered the subject about which I spoke to you to Berlioz, who declined my suggestion on account of age and ill_health.YourFrancescagave me the idea that you were capable of treating this subject most brilliantly, provided you took great pains, subjected your work to stringent self-criticism, let your imagination fully ripen, and did not hurry. This fine subject—Byron’sManfred—is no use to me, for it does not harmonise with my intimate moods.
“Let me tell you first of all that your Symphony—like the Second Symphony of Berlioz—must have anidée fixe(theManfredtheme), which must be carried through all the movements. Now for the programme:—
“First Movement.Manfred wandering in the Alps. His life is ruined. Many burning questions remain unanswered; nothing is left to him but remembrance. The form of the ideal Astarte floats before his imagination; he calls to her in vain: the echo of the rocks alone repeats her name. Thoughts and memories burn in his brain and prey upon him; he implores the forgetfulness that none can give him (F♯ minor, second theme D major and F♯ minor).
“Second Movement.In complete contrast to the first. Programme: The customs of the Alpine hunters: patriarchal, full of simplicity and good humour. Adagio Pastorale (A major). Manfred drops into this simple life and stands out in strong contrast to it. Naturally at the beginning a little hunting theme must be introduced, but in doing thisyou must take the greatest care not to descend to the commonplace. For God’s sake avoid copying the common German fanfares and hunting music.
“Third Movement.Scherzo fantastique (D major). Manfred sees an Alpine fairy in the rainbow above a waterfall.
“Fourth Movement.Finale (F♯ minor). A wild Allegro representing the caves of Ariman, whither Manfred has come to try and see Astarte once more. The appearance of Astarte’s wraith will form the contrast to these infernal orgies (the same theme which was employed in the first movement in D major now reappears in D♭ major; in the former it dies away like a fleeting memory, and is immediately lost in Manfred’s phase of suffering—but now it can be developed to its fullest extent). The music must be light, transparent as air, and ideally virginal. Then comes the repetition of Pandemonium, and finally the sunset and Manfred’s death.
“Is it not a splendid programme? I am quite convinced that if you summon up all your powers it will be yourchef-d’œuvre.
“The subject is not only very deep, but in accordance with contemporary feeling; for all the troubles of the modern man arise from the fact that he does not know how to preserve his ideals. They crumble away and leave nothing but bitterness in the soul. Hence all the sufferings of our times.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,June13th(25th), 1885.“Dear Friend.—I can at last congratulate you on the beautiful weather. I should enjoy it twice as much if Maidanovo were more congenial to me. But alas! the lovely park, the beautiful views, and the splendid bath, are all alike spoiled by thesummer visitors. I cannot take a step in the park without coming across some neighbour. It was beautiful in the winter, but I ought to have thought of the summer and the summer tourist.“I am deep in the composition of a new symphonic work. Shpajinsky could not send me the first act ofThe Enchantressat the date agreed upon, so without losing any time, in April I set to work upon the sketches for a programme Symphony, upon the subject of Byron’sManfred. I am now so deep in the composition of this work that the opera will probably have to be laid aside for some time. The Symphony gives me great trouble. It is a very complicated and serious work. There are times when it seems to me it would be wise to cease from composing for a while; to travel and rest. But an unconquerable desire for work gains the upper hand and chains me to my desk and piano.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,June13th(25th), 1885.
“Dear Friend.—I can at last congratulate you on the beautiful weather. I should enjoy it twice as much if Maidanovo were more congenial to me. But alas! the lovely park, the beautiful views, and the splendid bath, are all alike spoiled by thesummer visitors. I cannot take a step in the park without coming across some neighbour. It was beautiful in the winter, but I ought to have thought of the summer and the summer tourist.
“I am deep in the composition of a new symphonic work. Shpajinsky could not send me the first act ofThe Enchantressat the date agreed upon, so without losing any time, in April I set to work upon the sketches for a programme Symphony, upon the subject of Byron’sManfred. I am now so deep in the composition of this work that the opera will probably have to be laid aside for some time. The Symphony gives me great trouble. It is a very complicated and serious work. There are times when it seems to me it would be wise to cease from composing for a while; to travel and rest. But an unconquerable desire for work gains the upper hand and chains me to my desk and piano.”
To E. K. Pavlovskya.“Maidanovo,July20th(August1st), 1885.“ ... I have been playing through some numbers fromHarold. A very interesting work and a clever one, well thought out and full of talent. But are you not surprised that Napravnik, who is so against Wagner, should havewritten a genuine Wagnerian opera? I was filled with astonishment.”
To E. K. Pavlovskya.
“Maidanovo,July20th(August1st), 1885.
“ ... I have been playing through some numbers fromHarold. A very interesting work and a clever one, well thought out and full of talent. But are you not surprised that Napravnik, who is so against Wagner, should havewritten a genuine Wagnerian opera? I was filled with astonishment.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,August3rd(15th), 1885.“The horizon has been shrouded for days in thick mist, caused, they say, by forest fires and smouldering peat-mosses. This mist gets thicker and thicker, and I begin to fear we shall be suffocated. It has a very depressing effect. In any case my mental condition has been very gloomy of late. The composition of theManfredSymphony—a work highly tragic in character—is so difficult and complicated that at times I myself become a Manfred. All the same, I am consumed with the desire to finish it as soon as possible, and am straining every nerve: result—extreme exhaustion. This is the eternalcercle vicieuxin which I am for ever turning without finding an issue. If I have no work, I worry and bore myself; when I have it, I work far beyond my strength.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,August3rd(15th), 1885.
“The horizon has been shrouded for days in thick mist, caused, they say, by forest fires and smouldering peat-mosses. This mist gets thicker and thicker, and I begin to fear we shall be suffocated. It has a very depressing effect. In any case my mental condition has been very gloomy of late. The composition of theManfredSymphony—a work highly tragic in character—is so difficult and complicated that at times I myself become a Manfred. All the same, I am consumed with the desire to finish it as soon as possible, and am straining every nerve: result—extreme exhaustion. This is the eternalcercle vicieuxin which I am for ever turning without finding an issue. If I have no work, I worry and bore myself; when I have it, I work far beyond my strength.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,August31st(September12th), 1885.“ ... My fate, that is to say the question of my future home, is at last decided. After a long and unsuccessful search I have agreed to my landlady’s proposal to remain at Maidanovo. I shall not stay in the uncomfortable and unsuitable house in which I have been living, but in one which she herself has occupied. This house stands somewhat apart from the others, and a large piece of the garden is to be fenced in and kept for my especial use; the house itself was thoroughly done up last summer. Although the neighbourhood is not what I could wish, yet, taking into consideration the proximity of a large town with station, shops, post, telegraph office, doctor and chemist—and also my dislike for searching further—I have decided to take this place for two years. It is pleasant and comfortable, and I think I shall feel happy there. I am now starting to furnish, and shall enter on my tenancy on September 15th. If during the next two years I feel comfortably settled, I shall not search any more, but remain there tothe end of my days. It is indeed time that I had a settled home.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,August31st(September12th), 1885.
“ ... My fate, that is to say the question of my future home, is at last decided. After a long and unsuccessful search I have agreed to my landlady’s proposal to remain at Maidanovo. I shall not stay in the uncomfortable and unsuitable house in which I have been living, but in one which she herself has occupied. This house stands somewhat apart from the others, and a large piece of the garden is to be fenced in and kept for my especial use; the house itself was thoroughly done up last summer. Although the neighbourhood is not what I could wish, yet, taking into consideration the proximity of a large town with station, shops, post, telegraph office, doctor and chemist—and also my dislike for searching further—I have decided to take this place for two years. It is pleasant and comfortable, and I think I shall feel happy there. I am now starting to furnish, and shall enter on my tenancy on September 15th. If during the next two years I feel comfortably settled, I shall not search any more, but remain there tothe end of my days. It is indeed time that I had a settled home.”
All the important epochs in Tchaikovsky’s life were preceded by a transition period in which he tried, as it were, whether the proposed change would be feasible or not. From 1861-2, before he became a student at the Conservatoire, he was half-musician, half-official; in 1866, before he became a professor at the Conservatoire, and entirely a Muscovite, he was for eight months half-Petersburger and half-Muscovite; in 1877, before he gave up his professorship and started on what he called “the nomadic life” of the last seven years, he was half-professor and half-tourist; now, from February to September, 1885, he was rather a summer visitor than an inhabitant of the village of Maidanovo, but he had proved the firmness of his decision to remain there. It was only in the beginning of September that he became the true “hermit of Klin,” who, alas, was often compelled to leave his hermitage. As he had now decided to settle down in a home of his own, he proceeded to make it comfortable.... With a school-girl’snaïvetéin all practical questions of life, Tchaikovsky could not do much himself towards furnishing his little home, and handed over the task to his servant Alexis. He himself only helped by purchasing the most unnecessary things (for example, he bought two horses, which he sold again with great difficulty, also an old English clock, which proved quite useless), or by furnishing his library with books and music. He was as pleased as a child, and was never tired of talking of “my cook,” “my washerwoman,” “my silver,” “my tablecloths,” and “my dog.” He considered all these to be of the very best, andpraised them to the skies. With the exception of some portraits and ikons, all the remainder of Tchaikovsky’s movable property dates its existence from this time.
In comparison with the luxurious houses of other men in his position, painters, writers, and artists, Tchaikovsky’s home was very modest. It contained only what was absolutely necessary. He did not possess beautiful or luxurious things, because his means were decidedly smaller than those of his colleagues in Western Europe, and also because he paid but little attention to outward appearances. If tables, cupboards, or curtains fulfilled their purpose fairly well, he was quite content. Workmanship and material were matters of indifference to him. He also troubled very little about “style” (he could not distinguish one style from another); even if a table was shaky, or the door of a cupboard refused to close, he took it all quite calmly. He would not surround himself with luxury, because his money belonged less to himself than to others, and because, even at the close of his life, when his income was 20,000 roubles a year, he remained free from all pretentious notions.
Little as Tchaikovsky troubled about buying furniture, he cared still less about the placing of it. He entrusted the matter entirely to the will of his servant, who, knowing and taking into consideration his little fancies and habits, arranged everything just as “his master liked it,” without paying any heed to beauty or tastefulness. Tchaikovsky preferred that nothing should be altered in his surroundings; he found it most disagreeable to have to accustom himself to anything new, still more to miss any of his old friends. Henceforth a certain tradition which surrounded every piece of furniture was always considered, if possible, at each removal, so that wherever Tchaikovsky might be, the appearance of his room remained the same. The division of his time in Klin was never changed to the end of his life.
Tchaikovsky rose between seven and eight a.m. Took tea (generally without anything to eat) between eight and nine, and then read the Bible. After which he occupied himself with the study of the English language, or with reading such books as provided not only recreation, but instruction. In this way he read Otto Jahn’sLife of Mozartin the original, the philosophical writings of Spinoza, Schopenhauer, and many others. He next took a walk for about three-quarters of an hour. If Tchaikovsky talked while taking his morning tea, or took his walk in company with a visitor, it signified that he did not intend to compose that day, but would be scoring, writing letters, or making corrections. During his life at Klin, when engaged on a new work, he could not endure company, not only in the morning, but also during the day. In earlier days in Moscow, abroad, or in Kamenka, he had to content himself with the solitude of his room during his hours of active work. The presence of his servant Alexis did not in any way disturb him. The latter, the sole witness of the creative process of the majority of his master’s works, did not even appear to hear them, and only once unexpectedly gave expression to his enthusiasm for the Chorus of Maidens in the third scene ofEugene Oniegin, to the great astonishment and perturbation of his master. To his “perturbation,” because he feared in future to be continually overheard and criticised. But this was fortunately the only flash of enlightenment which penetrated Safronov’s musical darkness.
Manfredwas the last work Tchaikovsky composed in anything but complete isolation, and this is probably the reason why the task proved so difficult, and cost him such moments of depression. The principal advantage of his new surroundings was the enjoyment of complete solitude during his hours of work.
We may mention that his reserve as to his compositions dates from this time. In the earlier days of his musicallife Tchaikovsky had been very communicative about his work; even before his compositions were finished he was ready to discuss them. In the evening he would ask the opinion of those with whom he lived upon what he had composed in the morning, and was always willing to let them hear his work. In course of time, however, the circle of those to whom he communicated the fruits of his inspiration became ever smaller, and when he played any of his compositions he begged his hearers to keep their opinions to themselves. From 1885 he ceased to show his works to anyone. The first to make acquaintance with them was the engraver at Jurgenson’s publishing house.
Tchaikovsky never wasted time between 9.30 and 1 p.m., but busied himself in composing, orchestrating, making corrections, or writing letters. Before he began a pleasant task he always hastened to get rid of the unpleasant ones. On returning from a journey he invariably began with his correspondence, which, next to proof-correcting, he found the most unpleasant work. In the nineties his correspondence had attained such volume that Tchaikovsky was frequently engaged upon it from morning till night, and often answered thirty letters a day.
Tchaikovsky dined punctually at 1 p.m., and, thanks to his excellent appetite, always enjoyed any fare that was set before him, invariably sending a message of thanks to the cook by Safronov. As he was always very abstemious and plain in his meals, it often happened that his guests, instead of complimenting the cook, felt inclined to do just the contrary. Wet or fine, Tchaikovsky always went for a walk after dinner. He had read somewhere that, in order to keep in health, a man ought to walk for two hours daily. He observed this rule with as much conscientiousness and superstition as though some terrible catastrophe would follow should he return five minutes too soon. Solitude was as necessary to him during this walk asduring his work. Not only a human being, but even a favourite dog was a bother.
Every witness of his delight in nature spoilt his enjoyment; every expression of rapture destroyed the rapture itself, and in the very moment when he said to his companion, “How beautiful it is here!” it ceased to be beautiful in his eyes.
Most of the time during these walks was spent in composition. He thought out the leading ideas, pondered over the construction of the work, and jotted down fundamental themes. In Klin there are carefully preserved many little exercise books, which he had used for this purpose. If in absence of mind Tchaikovsky had left his note-book at home, he noted down his passing thoughts on any scrap of paper, letter, envelope, or even bill, which he chanced to have with him. The next morning he looked over these notes, and worked them out at the piano. With the exception of two scenes inEugene Oniegin, some piano pieces, and songs, he always worked out his sketches at the piano, so that he should not trust entirely to his indifferent memory. He always wrote out everything very exactly, and here and there indicated the instrumentation. In these sketches the greater part of a work was generally quite finished. When it came to the orchestration he only copied it out clearly, without essentially altering the first drafts. When he was not busy with music during his walks, he recited aloud or improvised dramatic scenes (almost always in French). Sometimes he occupied himself by observing insects. In the garden at Grankino was an ant-hill, to which he played the part of benefactor, providing it with insects from the steppe.
During the first year of his life at Maidanovo Tchaikovsky himself ruined the charm of these walks. Like every good-hearted summer visitor he had given tips lavishly to the village children. At first it was a pleasure, but afterwards turned into a veritable nuisance. The childrenwaited for him at every corner, and when they noticed that he began to avoid them, they surprised him in the most unexpected places in the forest. This quest of pennies spread from the children to the young people of the village, nay, even to the men and women, so that at last he could hardly take a step without being waylaid by beggars. There was nothing left for Tchaikovsky but to keep within the precincts of his park.
About 4 p.m. Tchaikovsky went home to tea, read the papers if he was alone, but was very pleased to talk if he had visitors. At five he retired once more and worked till seven. Before supper, which was served at 8 p.m., Tchaikovsky always took another constitutional. This time he liked to have company, and generally went into the open fields to watch the sunset. In the autumn and winter he enjoyed playing the piano either alone, or arrangements for four hands if Laroche or Kashkin were there. After supper he sat with his guests till 11 p.m., playing cards or listening while one of them read aloud. Laroche was his favourite reader, not because he showed any particular talent that way, but because at every phrase his face expressed his enjoyment, especially if the author of the book happened to be Gogol or Flaubert. When there were no visitors, Tchaikovsky read a number of historical books dealing with the end of the eighteenth or beginning of the nineteenth century, or played patience—and was a little bored. At 11 p.m. he went to his room, wrote up his diary, and read for a short time. He never composed in the evening after the summer of 1866.
Unexpected guests were treated most inhospitably, but to invited guests he was amiability itself, and often gave himself the pleasure of gathering together his Moscow friends—Kashkin, Hubert, Albrecht, Jurgenson, and Taneiev. But those who stayed with him longest and most frequently were Laroche, Kashkin, and myself.
In the beginning of the eighties Tchaikovsky’s fame greatly increased in Europe and America, not only without any co-operation on his part, but even without his being aware of it. More and more frequently came news of the success of one or other of his works, and letters from various celebrated artists who had played his compositions, or wished to do so. The Committees of the Paris “Sebastian Bach Society” and the Association for the National Edition of Cherubini’s works both elected him an honorary member. Nevertheless it surprised him greatly to learn that a Paris publisher (Félix Mackar) had proposed to P. Jurgenson to buy the right of bringing out his works in France. The sum which Jurgenson received was not indeed excessive, but it testified to the fact that Tchaikovsky’s fame had matured and reached the point when it might bring him some material advantage. Incidentally it may be mentioned that P. Jurgenson, without any legal obligation, handed over to Tchaikovsky half the money he received from F. Mackar, so that the former became quite suddenly and unexpectedly a capitalist, although at the end of the year he was not a single kopek to the good. After F. Mackar had become the representative of Tchaikovsky’s interests in Paris he pushed his works with great zeal. First of all he induced him to become a member of the Society of Composers and Publishers, the aim of which was to enforce a certain fee for every work by one of its members performed in public. The yearly sum which Tchaikovsky now began to draw from France can be taken as an authentic proof of the growth of his popularity in that country. This sum increased every year until 1893. After Tchaikovsky’s death it suddenly decreased in a very marked manner. Elsewhere I will give some explanation of this curious fact.
Mackar also started his gratuitousAuditionsof Tchaikovsky’s works. TheseAuditions, in spite of the free admission, were not very well patronised by the Paris public, who were satiated with music. But they produced one very important result. The best artists (Marsick, Diemer, and others) willingly took part in them, and henceforth Tchaikovsky’s name appeared more often in the programmes of the Paris concerts.
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.“Maidanovo,September9th(21st), 1885.“ ...Manfredis finished, and I have set to work upon the opera without losing an hour.... The first act (the only one in hand) is splendid: life and action in plenty. If nothing prevents me I hope to have the sketch ready by the spring: so that I may devote next year to the instrumentation and working out. The opera can then be produced in the season 1887-8. Dear E. K., do please say a good word on every possible occasion forThe Enchantress.”
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.
“Maidanovo,September9th(21st), 1885.
“ ...Manfredis finished, and I have set to work upon the opera without losing an hour.... The first act (the only one in hand) is splendid: life and action in plenty. If nothing prevents me I hope to have the sketch ready by the spring: so that I may devote next year to the instrumentation and working out. The opera can then be produced in the season 1887-8. Dear E. K., do please say a good word on every possible occasion forThe Enchantress.”
To A. P. Merkling.“Maidanovo,September13th(25th), 1885.“ ... Annie, first of all I am going to flatter you a little and then ask you to do something for me. After much searching and trouble I have rented a very pretty house here in Maidanovo.... I am now furnishing this house ... now ... some good people ... have promised ... if I am not mistaken ... that is, how shall I express myself?... to sew ... woollenportières... or curtains ... that is, I would like to know ... perhaps at once ... if you would ... I, in a word ... oh! how ashamed I am ... write please, how what... now, I hope, I have made myself understood....”[108]
To A. P. Merkling.
“Maidanovo,September13th(25th), 1885.
“ ... Annie, first of all I am going to flatter you a little and then ask you to do something for me. After much searching and trouble I have rented a very pretty house here in Maidanovo.... I am now furnishing this house ... now ... some good people ... have promised ... if I am not mistaken ... that is, how shall I express myself?... to sew ... woollenportières... or curtains ... that is, I would like to know ... perhaps at once ... if you would ... I, in a word ... oh! how ashamed I am ... write please, how what... now, I hope, I have made myself understood....”[108]
To A. S. Arensky.“Maidanovo,September25th(October7th), 1885.“Dear Anton Stepanovich,—Pardon me if I force my advice upon you. I have heard that 5/4 time appears twice in your new Suite. It seems to me that the mania for 5/4 time threatens to become a habit with you. I like it well enough if it is indispensable to the musical idea, that is to say if the time signature and rhythmic accent respectively form no hindrance. For example, Glinka, in the chorus of the fourth act ofA Life for the Tsar, clearly could not have written in anything else but 5/4 time: here we find an actual 5/4 rhythm that is a continual and uniform change from 2/4 to 3/4:musical notation“It would be curious, and certainly ‘an effort to be original,’ to write a piece with a simple rhythm of 2/4 or 3/4 time in 5/4 time. You will agree with me that it would have been very stupid of Glinka to have written his music thus:musical notation“It would be the same to the ear whether 2/4 or 3/4: it would not be a mathematical blunder, but a very clumsy musical one.“You have made just such a mistake in your otherwise beautifulBasso ostinato. I made the discovery yesterday that in this instance 5/4 time was not at all necessary. You must own that a series of three bars of 5/4 is mathematically equal to a similar series of 3/4 time;[109]in music, on the contrary, the difference between them is quite as sharp as between 3/4 and 6/8.“In my opinion, yourBasso ostinatoshould be written in 3/4 or 6/4 time, but not in 5/4.musical notation“I cannot imagine a more distinct five-bar rhythm in 3/4 time. What do you think?”
To A. S. Arensky.
“Maidanovo,September25th(October7th), 1885.
“Dear Anton Stepanovich,—Pardon me if I force my advice upon you. I have heard that 5/4 time appears twice in your new Suite. It seems to me that the mania for 5/4 time threatens to become a habit with you. I like it well enough if it is indispensable to the musical idea, that is to say if the time signature and rhythmic accent respectively form no hindrance. For example, Glinka, in the chorus of the fourth act ofA Life for the Tsar, clearly could not have written in anything else but 5/4 time: here we find an actual 5/4 rhythm that is a continual and uniform change from 2/4 to 3/4:
musical notation
“It would be curious, and certainly ‘an effort to be original,’ to write a piece with a simple rhythm of 2/4 or 3/4 time in 5/4 time. You will agree with me that it would have been very stupid of Glinka to have written his music thus:
musical notation
“It would be the same to the ear whether 2/4 or 3/4: it would not be a mathematical blunder, but a very clumsy musical one.
“You have made just such a mistake in your otherwise beautifulBasso ostinato. I made the discovery yesterday that in this instance 5/4 time was not at all necessary. You must own that a series of three bars of 5/4 is mathematically equal to a similar series of 3/4 time;[109]in music, on the contrary, the difference between them is quite as sharp as between 3/4 and 6/8.
“In my opinion, yourBasso ostinatoshould be written in 3/4 or 6/4 time, but not in 5/4.
musical notation
“I cannot imagine a more distinct five-bar rhythm in 3/4 time. What do you think?”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,September27th(October9th), 1885.“The first act ofThe Enchantresslies finished before me, and I am growing more and more enthusiastic over the task in prospect.“Dear friend, I like your arrogant views upon my opera. You are quite right to regard this insincere form of art with suspicion. But for a composer opera has some irresistible attraction; it alone offers him the means of getting into touch with the great public. MyManfredwill be played once or twice, and then disappear; with the exception of a few people who attend symphony concerts, no one will hear it. Opera, on the contrary—and opera alone—brings us nearer to our fellows, inoculates the public with our music, and makes it the possession, not only of a small circle, but—under favourable circumstances—of the whole nation. I do not think this tendency is to be condemned; that is to say, Schumann, when he wroteGenoveva, and Beethoven, when he wroteFidelio, were not actuated by ambition, but by a natural desire to increase the circle of their hearers and to penetrate as far as possible into the heart of humanity. Therefore we must not only pursue what is merely effective, but choose subjects of artistic worth which are both interesting and touching.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,September27th(October9th), 1885.
“The first act ofThe Enchantresslies finished before me, and I am growing more and more enthusiastic over the task in prospect.
“Dear friend, I like your arrogant views upon my opera. You are quite right to regard this insincere form of art with suspicion. But for a composer opera has some irresistible attraction; it alone offers him the means of getting into touch with the great public. MyManfredwill be played once or twice, and then disappear; with the exception of a few people who attend symphony concerts, no one will hear it. Opera, on the contrary—and opera alone—brings us nearer to our fellows, inoculates the public with our music, and makes it the possession, not only of a small circle, but—under favourable circumstances—of the whole nation. I do not think this tendency is to be condemned; that is to say, Schumann, when he wroteGenoveva, and Beethoven, when he wroteFidelio, were not actuated by ambition, but by a natural desire to increase the circle of their hearers and to penetrate as far as possible into the heart of humanity. Therefore we must not only pursue what is merely effective, but choose subjects of artistic worth which are both interesting and touching.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“Maidanovo,October1st(13th), 1885.“What a wretch Zola is!! A few weeks ago I accidentally took up hisGerminal, began to read it, got interested, and only finished it late at night. I was so upset that I had palpitations, and sleep was impossible. Next day I was quite ill, and now I can only think of the novel as of some fearful nightmare....”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo,October1st(13th), 1885.
“What a wretch Zola is!! A few weeks ago I accidentally took up hisGerminal, began to read it, got interested, and only finished it late at night. I was so upset that I had palpitations, and sleep was impossible. Next day I was quite ill, and now I can only think of the novel as of some fearful nightmare....”
To P. Jurgenson.“Maidanovo,October9th(21st), 1885.“Dear Friend,—Hubert tells me you do not think it possible to publishManfredthis season. Is this true? The question is this, I cannot allow two opportunities to slip: (1) Bülow is conducting in Petersburg; (2) Erdmannsdörfer is conducting in Moscow—perhaps his last season—and, in spite of all, he is one of the few people on whom I can depend. On the other hand, I am not in a position to spend an incredible amount of trouble on a work which I regard as one of my very best, and then wait till it is playedsome time. As far as I am concerned, it is all the same to me whether it is played from written or printed notes—so long as it is done. I believe it might be ready by February. But if you think that this is quite impossible, then I propose that you declineManfredaltogether (this will not offend me at all, for I know you cannot do the impossible for the sake of my whims). Only understand that I cannot on any account wait till next season, and cost what it may, I will seeManfredproduced. Do not take my caprice (if it is a caprice) amiss, and answer me at once.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Maidanovo,October9th(21st), 1885.
“Dear Friend,—Hubert tells me you do not think it possible to publishManfredthis season. Is this true? The question is this, I cannot allow two opportunities to slip: (1) Bülow is conducting in Petersburg; (2) Erdmannsdörfer is conducting in Moscow—perhaps his last season—and, in spite of all, he is one of the few people on whom I can depend. On the other hand, I am not in a position to spend an incredible amount of trouble on a work which I regard as one of my very best, and then wait till it is playedsome time. As far as I am concerned, it is all the same to me whether it is played from written or printed notes—so long as it is done. I believe it might be ready by February. But if you think that this is quite impossible, then I propose that you declineManfredaltogether (this will not offend me at all, for I know you cannot do the impossible for the sake of my whims). Only understand that I cannot on any account wait till next season, and cost what it may, I will seeManfredproduced. Do not take my caprice (if it is a caprice) amiss, and answer me at once.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,October11th(23rd), 1885.“ ... As regards the lofty significance of symphony and chamber music in comparison with opera, let me only add that to refrain from writing operas is the work of ahero, and we have one such hero in our time—Brahms. Cui has justly remarked in one of his recent articles that Brahms, both as man and artist, has only followed the highest ideals—those which were worthy of respect and admiration. Unfortunately his creative gift is poor, and does not correspond to his great aspirations. Nevertheless he is a hero. This heroism does not exist in me, for the stage with all its glitter attracts me irresistibly.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,October11th(23rd), 1885.
“ ... As regards the lofty significance of symphony and chamber music in comparison with opera, let me only add that to refrain from writing operas is the work of ahero, and we have one such hero in our time—Brahms. Cui has justly remarked in one of his recent articles that Brahms, both as man and artist, has only followed the highest ideals—those which were worthy of respect and admiration. Unfortunately his creative gift is poor, and does not correspond to his great aspirations. Nevertheless he is a hero. This heroism does not exist in me, for the stage with all its glitter attracts me irresistibly.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,November19th(December1st), 1885.“ ... I spent a week in Moscow, and was present at three concerts. The first, given by Siloti, who has just returned from abroad to serve his time in the army. He has made great progress. Then the Musical Society gave a concert and quartet-matinée, at which the celebrated Paris violinist, Marsick, played. All three concerts gave me great pleasure, as I have not heard any good music for so long. For a musician who writes as much as I do it is very necessary and refreshing to hear foreign music from time to time. Nothing inspires me more than listening to a great foreign work: immediately I want to write one equally beautiful.“I have also been once or twice to the Conservatoire, and was very pleased to notice that Taneiev is just the Director we wanted under the circumstances. His work shows resolution, firmness, energy, and also capability. I hear nothing aboutLes Caprices d’Oxane, and begin to fear the work will not be produced this season.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,November19th(December1st), 1885.
“ ... I spent a week in Moscow, and was present at three concerts. The first, given by Siloti, who has just returned from abroad to serve his time in the army. He has made great progress. Then the Musical Society gave a concert and quartet-matinée, at which the celebrated Paris violinist, Marsick, played. All three concerts gave me great pleasure, as I have not heard any good music for so long. For a musician who writes as much as I do it is very necessary and refreshing to hear foreign music from time to time. Nothing inspires me more than listening to a great foreign work: immediately I want to write one equally beautiful.
“I have also been once or twice to the Conservatoire, and was very pleased to notice that Taneiev is just the Director we wanted under the circumstances. His work shows resolution, firmness, energy, and also capability. I hear nothing aboutLes Caprices d’Oxane, and begin to fear the work will not be produced this season.”
The following letter was written after Ippolitov-Ivanov had communicated the success ofMazeppain Tiflis.
To M. M. Ippolitov-Ivanov.[110]“December6th(18th), 1885.“ ...As toMazeppa, accept my warmest thanks. My brother and his wife, who live in Tiflis, and had seen the opera in Moscow and Petersburg, tell me it went splendidly.“For some time I have been longing to find a subject—not too dramatic—for an opera, and then to write a work suitable to the resources of the provincial stage. Should God grant me a long life, I hope to carry out this plan, and thus to obliterate the unpleasant recollections of the immeasurable trouble which the rehearsals ofMazeppamust have left with you. But the harder your task, the warmer my thanks.”
To M. M. Ippolitov-Ivanov.[110]
“December6th(18th), 1885.
“ ...As toMazeppa, accept my warmest thanks. My brother and his wife, who live in Tiflis, and had seen the opera in Moscow and Petersburg, tell me it went splendidly.
“For some time I have been longing to find a subject—not too dramatic—for an opera, and then to write a work suitable to the resources of the provincial stage. Should God grant me a long life, I hope to carry out this plan, and thus to obliterate the unpleasant recollections of the immeasurable trouble which the rehearsals ofMazeppamust have left with you. But the harder your task, the warmer my thanks.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Maidanovo,December9th(21st), 1885.“I am going to Moscow on December 14th (26th), principally to decide the fate ofLes Caprices d’Oxane. I shall make heroic efforts to have my opera produced. I am advised to conduct it myself, and it is possible I may decide to do so. In any case, I shall spend the holidays in Petersburg.... I am working very hard at the corrections ofManfred. I am still convinced it is my best work. MeanwhileThe Enchantressis laid aside, but the first act is quite finished. The libretto is splendid. In this I am lucky.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo,December9th(21st), 1885.
“I am going to Moscow on December 14th (26th), principally to decide the fate ofLes Caprices d’Oxane. I shall make heroic efforts to have my opera produced. I am advised to conduct it myself, and it is possible I may decide to do so. In any case, I shall spend the holidays in Petersburg.... I am working very hard at the corrections ofManfred. I am still convinced it is my best work. MeanwhileThe Enchantressis laid aside, but the first act is quite finished. The libretto is splendid. In this I am lucky.”