To N. F. von Meck.“Brailov,May7th(19th),1879.“Yesterday I was talking to Marcel about the completion of the Catholic chapel, started long ago, but interrupted by order of the Government. Now the necessary permission has been obtained, and the priest has funds for the work; but another difficulty exists which you alone can overcome. One of your offices just touches the wall of the church, and could easily be transported to another spot. Last year I went into the chapel in which the service is held, and I must honestly say that I was sorry to see this obvious proof of Catholic persecution ... it is not large enough to hold a tenth part of the congregation. I am an energetic champion of religious freedom. Marcel tells me the priest did not like to trouble you with his requests, therefore I am animated with a desire to come to his assistance. I take the liberty of telling you that the Catholics of Brailov are hoping for your kind permission to have your building removed. If this should prove to beimpossible, at least forgive me, dear friend, for my untimely interference on their behalf.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Brailov,May7th(19th),1879.
“Yesterday I was talking to Marcel about the completion of the Catholic chapel, started long ago, but interrupted by order of the Government. Now the necessary permission has been obtained, and the priest has funds for the work; but another difficulty exists which you alone can overcome. One of your offices just touches the wall of the church, and could easily be transported to another spot. Last year I went into the chapel in which the service is held, and I must honestly say that I was sorry to see this obvious proof of Catholic persecution ... it is not large enough to hold a tenth part of the congregation. I am an energetic champion of religious freedom. Marcel tells me the priest did not like to trouble you with his requests, therefore I am animated with a desire to come to his assistance. I take the liberty of telling you that the Catholics of Brailov are hoping for your kind permission to have your building removed. If this should prove to beimpossible, at least forgive me, dear friend, for my untimely interference on their behalf.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Brailov,May9th(21st), 1879.“I have just been in the church attached to the monastery. There were many people, both in the church and in the courtyard of the building. I heard the blind ‘lyre singer.’ He calls himself ‘lyre singer’ on account of the instrument with which he accompanies himself, which, however, has nothing in common with the lyre of antiquity. It is curious that in Little Russia every blind beggar sings exactly the same tune with the same refrain. I have used part of this refrain in my Pianoforte Concerto.musical notation“At the present moment I am writing on the balcony. Before me is the bunch of lilies of the valley from Simakov. I am never tired of looking at these enchanting creations of nature.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Brailov,May9th(21st), 1879.
“I have just been in the church attached to the monastery. There were many people, both in the church and in the courtyard of the building. I heard the blind ‘lyre singer.’ He calls himself ‘lyre singer’ on account of the instrument with which he accompanies himself, which, however, has nothing in common with the lyre of antiquity. It is curious that in Little Russia every blind beggar sings exactly the same tune with the same refrain. I have used part of this refrain in my Pianoforte Concerto.
musical notation
“At the present moment I am writing on the balcony. Before me is the bunch of lilies of the valley from Simakov. I am never tired of looking at these enchanting creations of nature.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Kamenka,May29th(June10th), 1879.“To-day I finished the first act of my opera (The Maid of Orleans). It has grown into a somewhat bulky score. What a delight to look through a newly finished score! To a musician a score means something more than a collection of all kinds of notes and pauses. It is a complete picture, in which the central figures stand out clearly from the accessories and the background.“To me every orchestral score is not merely a foretaste of oral delight, but also a joy to look upon. For this reason I am painfully particular about my scores, and cannot bear corrections, erasures, or blots.”[68]
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kamenka,May29th(June10th), 1879.
“To-day I finished the first act of my opera (The Maid of Orleans). It has grown into a somewhat bulky score. What a delight to look through a newly finished score! To a musician a score means something more than a collection of all kinds of notes and pauses. It is a complete picture, in which the central figures stand out clearly from the accessories and the background.
“To me every orchestral score is not merely a foretaste of oral delight, but also a joy to look upon. For this reason I am painfully particular about my scores, and cannot bear corrections, erasures, or blots.”[68]
To N. F. von Meck.“Kamenka,June13th(25th), 1879.“Early this morning I had a telegram from Jurgenson, to say he had won his case against Bachmetiev, the Director of the Imperial Chapel. I think I told you that early last year my Liturgy (of St. John Chrysostom) was confiscated from Jurgenson’s by order of Bachmetiev.... Only those works which have been recognised by the Chapel can be publicly sold or performed. This is the reason why, until now, no Russian musicians have written Church music. After the confiscation of my composition, Jurgenson brought an action for damages against Bachmetiev, and has won his case.... This does not matter so much for my Liturgy, as for the principle involved.“Twenty-five years ago to-day my mother died. It was the first profound sorrow of my life. Her death had a great influence on the fate of myself and our entire family. She was carried off by cholera, quite unexpectedly, in the prime of life. Every moment of that terrible day is still as clear in my remembrances as though it had happened yesterday.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kamenka,June13th(25th), 1879.
“Early this morning I had a telegram from Jurgenson, to say he had won his case against Bachmetiev, the Director of the Imperial Chapel. I think I told you that early last year my Liturgy (of St. John Chrysostom) was confiscated from Jurgenson’s by order of Bachmetiev.... Only those works which have been recognised by the Chapel can be publicly sold or performed. This is the reason why, until now, no Russian musicians have written Church music. After the confiscation of my composition, Jurgenson brought an action for damages against Bachmetiev, and has won his case.... This does not matter so much for my Liturgy, as for the principle involved.
“Twenty-five years ago to-day my mother died. It was the first profound sorrow of my life. Her death had a great influence on the fate of myself and our entire family. She was carried off by cholera, quite unexpectedly, in the prime of life. Every moment of that terrible day is still as clear in my remembrances as though it had happened yesterday.”
On June 20th Tchaikovsky wrote to N. F. von Meck that he had received three very agreeable letters from abroad. In one Colonne expressed his respect in the kindliest manner, and assured Tchaikovsky that, in spite of the cold reception ofThe Tempest, his name should figure again in the programmes of the Châtelet. A second communication came from the ‘cellist Fitzenhagen (professor at the Moscow Conservatoire), telling him of the impression he had created with the “Variations on a Rococo theme” at the Wiesbaden Festival. Liszt remarked on this occasion, “At last here is music again.” The third letter—from Hans von Bülow—announced the great success of Tchaikovsky’s first Pianoforte Concerto at the same festival. Von Bülow had already played it with even greater success in London.
Almost on the same day Tchaikovsky also heard the good news that his Liturgy had been performed in the University Church at Kiev.
On August 7th Tchaikovsky finished the third act ofThe Maid of Orleansand, suffering from physical and nervous exhaustion, left Kamenka for Simaki,[69]as Nadejda von Meck was occupying her house at Brailov.
To N. F. von Meck.“I am enchanted. I could not imagine more beautiful surroundings. The garden in which I have just been walking with Pakhulsky has surpassed all my expectations. The house is a splendid retreat! If you only realised how much I am in need just now of all the comforts which I get as your guest in this delightful spot!“I intend to finish the orchestration of the last act of my opera while I am here, and shall begin work to-morrow. I shall get this heavy burden off my shoulders, and then I can draw breath and enjoy the incomparable sensation of having completed a long work.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“I am enchanted. I could not imagine more beautiful surroundings. The garden in which I have just been walking with Pakhulsky has surpassed all my expectations. The house is a splendid retreat! If you only realised how much I am in need just now of all the comforts which I get as your guest in this delightful spot!
“I intend to finish the orchestration of the last act of my opera while I am here, and shall begin work to-morrow. I shall get this heavy burden off my shoulders, and then I can draw breath and enjoy the incomparable sensation of having completed a long work.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Simaki,August9th(21st), 1879.“I hasten to send you my first impressions of this place. A very, very old house, a shady garden with ancient oaks and lime trees; it is very secluded, but therein lies its charm. At the end of the garden flows a stream. From the verandah there is a fine view over the village and the forests. The absolute quiet and comfort of the place exactly suit my taste and requirements. I have at my disposal an old manservant called Leon, a cook whom Inever see, and a coachman with a phaeton and four horses. I could gladly dispense with the last, since it necessitates my driving occasionally, while in reality I prefer to walk. The proximity of Nadejda Filaretovna troubles me somewhat, although it is really folly. I know my seclusion will not be disturbed. I am so accustomed to regard her as a kind of remote and invisible genius that the consciousness of her mortal presence in my neighbourhood is rather disconcerting. Yesterday I met Pakhulsky, who spent part of the evening with me. But I told him plainly that I wanted to be left quite alone for a few days.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Simaki,August9th(21st), 1879.
“I hasten to send you my first impressions of this place. A very, very old house, a shady garden with ancient oaks and lime trees; it is very secluded, but therein lies its charm. At the end of the garden flows a stream. From the verandah there is a fine view over the village and the forests. The absolute quiet and comfort of the place exactly suit my taste and requirements. I have at my disposal an old manservant called Leon, a cook whom Inever see, and a coachman with a phaeton and four horses. I could gladly dispense with the last, since it necessitates my driving occasionally, while in reality I prefer to walk. The proximity of Nadejda Filaretovna troubles me somewhat, although it is really folly. I know my seclusion will not be disturbed. I am so accustomed to regard her as a kind of remote and invisible genius that the consciousness of her mortal presence in my neighbourhood is rather disconcerting. Yesterday I met Pakhulsky, who spent part of the evening with me. But I told him plainly that I wanted to be left quite alone for a few days.”
To N. F. von Meck.“August11th(23rd), 1879.“Pakhulsky told me that next time he came he was to bring Milochka[70]with him. I am very fond of Milochka; it is a pleasure to look at the photograph of her charming face. I am sure she is a dear, sweet, sympathetic child. I love children, and could only say ‘yes’ to such a proposal. But what I could not say to Pakhulsky I can say to you.“Forgive me, dear friend, and make fun of my mania if you like—but I am not going to invite Milochka here, for this reason: my relations towards you—as they exist at present—are my chief happiness, and of the greatest importance to my well-being. I do not want them altered by a hair’s breadth. The whole charm and poetry of our friendship lies in your being so near and so dear to me, while at the same time I do not know you at all in the ordinary sense of the word. This condition of things must extend to your nearest belongings. I will love Milochka as I have hitherto loved you. If she appeared before me—le charme serait rompu!“Every member of your family is dear to me—particularly Milochka—yet for God’s sake let everything remain as it has been. What could I say if she asked me why I never went to see her mother? I should have to open our acquaintance with alie. This would be a grief to me,even though it were a trifling falsehood. Pardon my frankness, dear and noble friend....“If you have Beethoven’s Sonatas, be so kind as to send them to me.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“August11th(23rd), 1879.
“Pakhulsky told me that next time he came he was to bring Milochka[70]with him. I am very fond of Milochka; it is a pleasure to look at the photograph of her charming face. I am sure she is a dear, sweet, sympathetic child. I love children, and could only say ‘yes’ to such a proposal. But what I could not say to Pakhulsky I can say to you.
“Forgive me, dear friend, and make fun of my mania if you like—but I am not going to invite Milochka here, for this reason: my relations towards you—as they exist at present—are my chief happiness, and of the greatest importance to my well-being. I do not want them altered by a hair’s breadth. The whole charm and poetry of our friendship lies in your being so near and so dear to me, while at the same time I do not know you at all in the ordinary sense of the word. This condition of things must extend to your nearest belongings. I will love Milochka as I have hitherto loved you. If she appeared before me—le charme serait rompu!
“Every member of your family is dear to me—particularly Milochka—yet for God’s sake let everything remain as it has been. What could I say if she asked me why I never went to see her mother? I should have to open our acquaintance with alie. This would be a grief to me,even though it were a trifling falsehood. Pardon my frankness, dear and noble friend....
“If you have Beethoven’s Sonatas, be so kind as to send them to me.”
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.“Simaki,August18th(30th), 1879.“Time slips away unobserved. Yesterday something very painful happened. About four o’clock in the afternoon I was walking in the woods, feeling sure I should not meet Nadejda Filaretovna, because it was her dinner-hour. It chanced, however, that I went out a little earlier, and she was dining somewhat later, so we ran against each other quite by chance. It was an awkward predicament. Although we were only face to face for a moment, I felt horribly confused. However, I raised my hat politely. She seemed to lose her head entirely and did not know what to do. She was in one carriage with Milochka, and the whole family followed in two others. I wandered into the forest in search of mushrooms, and when I returned to the little table where tea was prepared for me, I found my letters and newspapers awaiting me. It appears she sent a man on horseback to look for me, so that I might get my post at tea-time.”
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.
“Simaki,August18th(30th), 1879.
“Time slips away unobserved. Yesterday something very painful happened. About four o’clock in the afternoon I was walking in the woods, feeling sure I should not meet Nadejda Filaretovna, because it was her dinner-hour. It chanced, however, that I went out a little earlier, and she was dining somewhat later, so we ran against each other quite by chance. It was an awkward predicament. Although we were only face to face for a moment, I felt horribly confused. However, I raised my hat politely. She seemed to lose her head entirely and did not know what to do. She was in one carriage with Milochka, and the whole family followed in two others. I wandered into the forest in search of mushrooms, and when I returned to the little table where tea was prepared for me, I found my letters and newspapers awaiting me. It appears she sent a man on horseback to look for me, so that I might get my post at tea-time.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Simaki,August27th(September8th), 1879.“Now I can almost sayfinished! I have worked atThe Maid of Orleansfrom the end of November (Florence) to the end of August (Simaki), just nine months. It is remarkable that I began and finished this opera as the guest of my dear friend.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Simaki,August27th(September8th), 1879.
“Now I can almost sayfinished! I have worked atThe Maid of Orleansfrom the end of November (Florence) to the end of August (Simaki), just nine months. It is remarkable that I began and finished this opera as the guest of my dear friend.”
To N. F. von Meck.“August31st(September12th), 1879.“Do you not like such grey days as to-day? I love them. The beginning of autumn can only be compared to spring as regards beauty. It seems to me September, with its tender, melancholy colouring, has a special power to fill me with calm and happy feelings. Around Simaki there are many delightful spots which I like best to frequentat sunset, or on sunless days like to-day. For instance, if you turn to the right, past the kitchen garden, and take the lower path (parallel to the village) by the fen where the reeds grow. I am very fond of that spot. But by day the sun spoils the picturesque view of the village.“At evening, too, or on a cloudy day, it is delightful to sit on some high-lying spot, and look over the old willows, or poplars, across to the village, with its modest church (what a charm is given to every rural landscape by these churches), and far away to the distant forests. I often spend an hour in this way....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“August31st(September12th), 1879.
“Do you not like such grey days as to-day? I love them. The beginning of autumn can only be compared to spring as regards beauty. It seems to me September, with its tender, melancholy colouring, has a special power to fill me with calm and happy feelings. Around Simaki there are many delightful spots which I like best to frequentat sunset, or on sunless days like to-day. For instance, if you turn to the right, past the kitchen garden, and take the lower path (parallel to the village) by the fen where the reeds grow. I am very fond of that spot. But by day the sun spoils the picturesque view of the village.
“At evening, too, or on a cloudy day, it is delightful to sit on some high-lying spot, and look over the old willows, or poplars, across to the village, with its modest church (what a charm is given to every rural landscape by these churches), and far away to the distant forests. I often spend an hour in this way....”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“August31st(September12th), 1879.“I have just received a telegram from Anatol: ‘Have just been dismissed in consequence of an unpleasantness in my department. Most anxious to speak to you.’ I am starting for Petersburg at once. A great fear of the future possesses me. In spite of the many delightful moments spent here, I have had a continual foreboding of something unlucky, and always about Toly.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“August31st(September12th), 1879.
“I have just received a telegram from Anatol: ‘Have just been dismissed in consequence of an unpleasantness in my department. Most anxious to speak to you.’ I am starting for Petersburg at once. A great fear of the future possesses me. In spite of the many delightful moments spent here, I have had a continual foreboding of something unlucky, and always about Toly.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.(Early in September.)“You will be very much astonished to hear of my being in Petersburg. I was summoned by a telegram from my brother Anatol, announcing that in consequence of some unpleasantness he had to resign his position in the Government service.... I think the matter can be so arranged that he can keep his place....“I do not know how long I shall stay here. It depends upon the progress of my brother’s affairs. O detested Petersburg!”
To P. I. Jurgenson.
(Early in September.)
“You will be very much astonished to hear of my being in Petersburg. I was summoned by a telegram from my brother Anatol, announcing that in consequence of some unpleasantness he had to resign his position in the Government service.... I think the matter can be so arranged that he can keep his place....
“I do not know how long I shall stay here. It depends upon the progress of my brother’s affairs. O detested Petersburg!”
To N. F. von Meck.“Petersburg,September13th(25th), 1879.“I received your letter yesterday, dear friend. How I envied you when I read your account of the lovely autumn weather you were enjoying! The weather is not bad here, but what is the use of it to me?“I often go to the opera, but I do not enjoy it much. The impossibility of escaping from innumerable acquaintances bores me dreadfully. No matter where I hide myself, there are always idle people who poison my pleasure in the music by their kind attentions. They will worry me with the usual commonplace questions: ‘How are you?’ ‘What are you composing now?’ etc. But the invitations are the most intolerable. It requires so much courage to refuse them.“In one of your letters you asked me to tell you the whole method of procedure in order to get an opera accepted for performance. One has to send the score and pianoforte arrangement, with a written request for its performance, to the Direction of the Imperial Opera House. Then, in order to be successful, one must set in motion the whole machinery of solicitation and entreaty. This is just what I do not understand. My first two operas were performed, thanks to the assistance of the Grand Duke Constantine Nicholaevich who likes my music. How things will go this time I cannot say. I shall impress upon Jurgenson to do all that is necessary. Two days ago I was talking to Napravnik (one of the worthiest members of the musical world), who takes a lively interest in the fate of my opera. He told me it could not be performed this season, but advised me to send in the score as soon as possible.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Petersburg,September13th(25th), 1879.
“I received your letter yesterday, dear friend. How I envied you when I read your account of the lovely autumn weather you were enjoying! The weather is not bad here, but what is the use of it to me?
“I often go to the opera, but I do not enjoy it much. The impossibility of escaping from innumerable acquaintances bores me dreadfully. No matter where I hide myself, there are always idle people who poison my pleasure in the music by their kind attentions. They will worry me with the usual commonplace questions: ‘How are you?’ ‘What are you composing now?’ etc. But the invitations are the most intolerable. It requires so much courage to refuse them.
“In one of your letters you asked me to tell you the whole method of procedure in order to get an opera accepted for performance. One has to send the score and pianoforte arrangement, with a written request for its performance, to the Direction of the Imperial Opera House. Then, in order to be successful, one must set in motion the whole machinery of solicitation and entreaty. This is just what I do not understand. My first two operas were performed, thanks to the assistance of the Grand Duke Constantine Nicholaevich who likes my music. How things will go this time I cannot say. I shall impress upon Jurgenson to do all that is necessary. Two days ago I was talking to Napravnik (one of the worthiest members of the musical world), who takes a lively interest in the fate of my opera. He told me it could not be performed this season, but advised me to send in the score as soon as possible.”
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.“Moscow,September20th(October2nd), 1879.“Forgive me for not having written before to-day. Yesterday it was impossible.... Rubinstein and Jurgenson soon put in an appearance, and compelled me to leave the tea, upon which I had just started, and go out tobreakfast with them. O Moscow! Scarcely has one set foot in it before one must needs begin to drink! At five o’clock I was invited to dinner at the Jurgensons’, where we began again. I cannot tell you how strange and repugnant to me is this Moscow atmosphere of swilling.”
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.
“Moscow,September20th(October2nd), 1879.
“Forgive me for not having written before to-day. Yesterday it was impossible.... Rubinstein and Jurgenson soon put in an appearance, and compelled me to leave the tea, upon which I had just started, and go out tobreakfast with them. O Moscow! Scarcely has one set foot in it before one must needs begin to drink! At five o’clock I was invited to dinner at the Jurgensons’, where we began again. I cannot tell you how strange and repugnant to me is this Moscow atmosphere of swilling.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Grankino,September25th(October7th), 1879.“I left Moscow on the 22nd. No sooner did the train begin to move, and I saw the outskirts of the town, than the black curtain, which had hung before my eyes during the whole of my time in the two capitals, suddenly vanished. I was once more free and happy.“Here I found both your letters. I cannot tell you how glad I was to read your dear words. It was a surprise to hear our symphony was at last published, for the distracted Jurgenson forgot to mention this....“I owe you everything: my life, the possibility of going forward to distant goals, freedom, and that complete happiness which formerly I believed to be unattainable.“I read your letters with such a sense of eternal gratitude and affection that I cannot put it into words....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Grankino,September25th(October7th), 1879.
“I left Moscow on the 22nd. No sooner did the train begin to move, and I saw the outskirts of the town, than the black curtain, which had hung before my eyes during the whole of my time in the two capitals, suddenly vanished. I was once more free and happy.
“Here I found both your letters. I cannot tell you how glad I was to read your dear words. It was a surprise to hear our symphony was at last published, for the distracted Jurgenson forgot to mention this....
“I owe you everything: my life, the possibility of going forward to distant goals, freedom, and that complete happiness which formerly I believed to be unattainable.
“I read your letters with such a sense of eternal gratitude and affection that I cannot put it into words....”
To N. F. von Meck.“Kamenka,October5th(17th), 1879.“At the present moment—I do not know why—I am going through an intense Italian craze. I feel so delighted, so happy, at the mere thought that before long I, too, shall be in Italy. Naples, Pompeii, Vesuvius ... enchanting, lovely!“I found the proofs of the Suite here. In three days I corrected and sent them back, so that I can now take a holiday—read, walk, play, dream—to my heart’s desire. For how long? I do not know. At any rate, I will not undertake any work during my first days in Naples. Do you not think that in the land oflazzaroneone must be lazy too?”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kamenka,October5th(17th), 1879.
“At the present moment—I do not know why—I am going through an intense Italian craze. I feel so delighted, so happy, at the mere thought that before long I, too, shall be in Italy. Naples, Pompeii, Vesuvius ... enchanting, lovely!
“I found the proofs of the Suite here. In three days I corrected and sent them back, so that I can now take a holiday—read, walk, play, dream—to my heart’s desire. For how long? I do not know. At any rate, I will not undertake any work during my first days in Naples. Do you not think that in the land oflazzaroneone must be lazy too?”
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.“Kamenka,October7th(19th) 1879.“No news. I feel very well, only a little misanthropical now and then. To-day there are visitors. When there are none I feel quite at ease. We all sit and sew. I have hemmed and marked a pocket-handkerchief.”[71]
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.
“Kamenka,October7th(19th) 1879.
“No news. I feel very well, only a little misanthropical now and then. To-day there are visitors. When there are none I feel quite at ease. We all sit and sew. I have hemmed and marked a pocket-handkerchief.”[71]
To N. F. von Meck.“Kamenka,October9th(21st), 1879.“How can I thank you for the trouble you have taken about our symphony? I am delighted Colonne will play it. At the same time there is no doubt it will have no success whatever with the public. Perhaps it might rouse a spark of sympathy in the hearts of ten or twelve people—and that would be a great step in advance.... Only one thing troubles me. Does Colonne really want to be paid for doing the work? It would gratify me to know that his readiness to perform the symphony was not based upon pecuniary considerations.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kamenka,October9th(21st), 1879.
“How can I thank you for the trouble you have taken about our symphony? I am delighted Colonne will play it. At the same time there is no doubt it will have no success whatever with the public. Perhaps it might rouse a spark of sympathy in the hearts of ten or twelve people—and that would be a great step in advance.... Only one thing troubles me. Does Colonne really want to be paid for doing the work? It would gratify me to know that his readiness to perform the symphony was not based upon pecuniary considerations.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Kamenka,October12th(24th), 1879.“The last few days I have felt a secret dissatisfaction with myself, which has degenerated into boredom. I realised that I wanted work and began to occupy myself. The boredom immediately vanished and I felt relieved. I have begun a pianoforte concerto and intend to work at it without haste and over-fatigue.“Have you read V. Soloviev’s philosophical articles? They are admirably written; very popular in form, so that they do not overstep the intelligence of the ordinary reader, yet very clever. I do not know to what conclusions the writer will eventually come. In the last number he proves very effectively the untenableness of positivism, which denies metaphysics, yet cannot get along without philosophy. Soloviev speaks in a very striking way of thedelusion of the materialists who, because they deny metaphysics, believe they are only dealing with what actually exists, that is, with the material; whereas the material has no objective existence, and is only a phenomenon, the result of the activity of our sense and intellect. I express his ideas very indifferently, but I advise you to read this book for yourself.“Yesterday I heard from Anatol about the performance ofVakoula the Smith, which took place the previous week. The theatre was full, but the public cool, just as on former occasions. Anatol attributes this to the indifferent performance. But I can see with startling clearness that this attitude of reserve is the outcome of my own stupid mistakes. I am glad to know thatThe Maid of Orleansis free from the faults of my earlier pseudo-opera style, in which I wearied my listeners with a superfluity of details, and made my harmony too complicated, so that there was no moderation in my orchestral effects. Besides which, I gave the audience no repose. I set too many heavy dishes before them. Opera style should be broad, simple, and decorative.Vakoulais not in true opera style, but is far more like symphonic or chamber music. It is only surprising that it has not proved a complete failure. It is possible that it may find favour with the public in course of time. I place it in the front rank of my works, although I see all its defects. It was a labour of love, an enjoyment, likeOniegin, the Fourth Symphony, and the Second Quartet.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kamenka,October12th(24th), 1879.
“The last few days I have felt a secret dissatisfaction with myself, which has degenerated into boredom. I realised that I wanted work and began to occupy myself. The boredom immediately vanished and I felt relieved. I have begun a pianoforte concerto and intend to work at it without haste and over-fatigue.
“Have you read V. Soloviev’s philosophical articles? They are admirably written; very popular in form, so that they do not overstep the intelligence of the ordinary reader, yet very clever. I do not know to what conclusions the writer will eventually come. In the last number he proves very effectively the untenableness of positivism, which denies metaphysics, yet cannot get along without philosophy. Soloviev speaks in a very striking way of thedelusion of the materialists who, because they deny metaphysics, believe they are only dealing with what actually exists, that is, with the material; whereas the material has no objective existence, and is only a phenomenon, the result of the activity of our sense and intellect. I express his ideas very indifferently, but I advise you to read this book for yourself.
“Yesterday I heard from Anatol about the performance ofVakoula the Smith, which took place the previous week. The theatre was full, but the public cool, just as on former occasions. Anatol attributes this to the indifferent performance. But I can see with startling clearness that this attitude of reserve is the outcome of my own stupid mistakes. I am glad to know thatThe Maid of Orleansis free from the faults of my earlier pseudo-opera style, in which I wearied my listeners with a superfluity of details, and made my harmony too complicated, so that there was no moderation in my orchestral effects. Besides which, I gave the audience no repose. I set too many heavy dishes before them. Opera style should be broad, simple, and decorative.Vakoulais not in true opera style, but is far more like symphonic or chamber music. It is only surprising that it has not proved a complete failure. It is possible that it may find favour with the public in course of time. I place it in the front rank of my works, although I see all its defects. It was a labour of love, an enjoyment, likeOniegin, the Fourth Symphony, and the Second Quartet.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Kamenka,October15th(27th), 1879.“Only a month—and I shall be at Naples! I look forward to this as a child to his birthday, and the presents it will bring. Meanwhile things are going well with me. My latest musical creation begins to grow and display more characteristic features. I work with greater pleasure and try to curb my habitual haste, which has often been injurious to my work.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kamenka,October15th(27th), 1879.
“Only a month—and I shall be at Naples! I look forward to this as a child to his birthday, and the presents it will bring. Meanwhile things are going well with me. My latest musical creation begins to grow and display more characteristic features. I work with greater pleasure and try to curb my habitual haste, which has often been injurious to my work.”
On October 21st Nicholas Rubinstein played Tchaikovsky’s Pianoforte Sonata at a concert of the Musical Societyin Moscow. The success was so great that the famous pianist repeated it at his own concert in the course of the same season.
On November 11th the composer’s First Suite had a decided success, judging by the newspapers. The short number which Tchaikovsky once thought of cutting out of the work was encored.
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.“Berlin,November11th(23rd), 1879.“My dear Anatol,—I have had an ideal journey. I arrived in Berlin early this morning. After breakfast I went to see Kotek. The good man seemed wild with delight at seeing me again, and even I was glad. But at the end of two hours of musical tittle-tattle I was tired, and thankful he had to attend a rehearsal. Strange! The longer I live, the less I care for the society of my fellow-creatures. There is no doubt that I am fond of Kotek, but his chatter wearies me more than the severest physical exertion.”
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.
“Berlin,November11th(23rd), 1879.
“My dear Anatol,—I have had an ideal journey. I arrived in Berlin early this morning. After breakfast I went to see Kotek. The good man seemed wild with delight at seeing me again, and even I was glad. But at the end of two hours of musical tittle-tattle I was tired, and thankful he had to attend a rehearsal. Strange! The longer I live, the less I care for the society of my fellow-creatures. There is no doubt that I am fond of Kotek, but his chatter wearies me more than the severest physical exertion.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Paris,November18th(30th), 1879.“I know the Variations by Rimsky-Korsakov & Co.[72]very well. The work is original in its way and shows some remarkable talent for harmony in its authors. At the same time I do not care for it. It is too heavy and spun-out for a joke, and the everlasting repetition of the theme is—clumsy. As a work of art it is a mere nonentity. It is not surprising that a few clever men should have amused themselves by inventing all kinds of variations upon a commonplace theme; the surprising thing is their having published them. Only amateurs can suppose that every piquant harmony is worthy to be given to the public. Liszt, the old Jesuit, speaks in terms of exaggerated praise of every work which is submitted to his inspection. He isat heart a good man, one of the very few great artists who have never known envy (Wagner and in some measure Anton Rubinstein owe their success to him; he also did much for Berlioz); but he is too much of a Jesuit to be frank and sincere.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Paris,November18th(30th), 1879.
“I know the Variations by Rimsky-Korsakov & Co.[72]very well. The work is original in its way and shows some remarkable talent for harmony in its authors. At the same time I do not care for it. It is too heavy and spun-out for a joke, and the everlasting repetition of the theme is—clumsy. As a work of art it is a mere nonentity. It is not surprising that a few clever men should have amused themselves by inventing all kinds of variations upon a commonplace theme; the surprising thing is their having published them. Only amateurs can suppose that every piquant harmony is worthy to be given to the public. Liszt, the old Jesuit, speaks in terms of exaggerated praise of every work which is submitted to his inspection. He isat heart a good man, one of the very few great artists who have never known envy (Wagner and in some measure Anton Rubinstein owe their success to him; he also did much for Berlioz); but he is too much of a Jesuit to be frank and sincere.”
To P. Jurgenson.“Paris,November19th(December1st), 1879.“Dear Friend,—What happiness to get right away from one’s own country! Not until I had passed the frontiers, did I breathe freely and feel at ease. On the journey I came across Joseph Wieniawsky, who was in the same corridor train. I immediately told him I was not alone, but travelling with a lady, upon which he winked at me slyly, as much as to say, ‘Of course, we know, shocking dog!’“At present I want to work slowly at my Concerto; later I mean to look through my old works, especially the Second Symphony, which I intend to revise thoroughly.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Paris,November19th(December1st), 1879.
“Dear Friend,—What happiness to get right away from one’s own country! Not until I had passed the frontiers, did I breathe freely and feel at ease. On the journey I came across Joseph Wieniawsky, who was in the same corridor train. I immediately told him I was not alone, but travelling with a lady, upon which he winked at me slyly, as much as to say, ‘Of course, we know, shocking dog!’
“At present I want to work slowly at my Concerto; later I mean to look through my old works, especially the Second Symphony, which I intend to revise thoroughly.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Paris,November21st(December3rd), 1879.“To-day, being a Saint’s Day, Alexis went to church, and told me the Grand Duke Nicholas Nicholaevich, with all his suite in full uniform, had attended the service. I could not account for this until I took up theGauloisat breakfast, and read of an attempt made in Moscow on the Tsar’s life.... The Emperor escaped unharmed.“I do not believe, dear friend, that we are in immediate danger of a war with Prussia. Such a war, although inevitable, is improbable during the lives of the present emperors. How can it be possible to think of war, when such horrors are taking place in our midst?... I think the Tsar would do well to assemble representatives throughout all Russia, and take counsel with them how to prevent the recurrence of such terrible actions on the part of mad revolutionaries. So long as all of us—the Russian citizens—are not called to take part in the government of the country, there is no hope of a better future.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Paris,November21st(December3rd), 1879.
“To-day, being a Saint’s Day, Alexis went to church, and told me the Grand Duke Nicholas Nicholaevich, with all his suite in full uniform, had attended the service. I could not account for this until I took up theGauloisat breakfast, and read of an attempt made in Moscow on the Tsar’s life.... The Emperor escaped unharmed.
“I do not believe, dear friend, that we are in immediate danger of a war with Prussia. Such a war, although inevitable, is improbable during the lives of the present emperors. How can it be possible to think of war, when such horrors are taking place in our midst?... I think the Tsar would do well to assemble representatives throughout all Russia, and take counsel with them how to prevent the recurrence of such terrible actions on the part of mad revolutionaries. So long as all of us—the Russian citizens—are not called to take part in the government of the country, there is no hope of a better future.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Paris,November26th(December8th), 1879.“I am not altogether at one with you as regards Cui. I do not recognise in him any great creative power, although his music has a certain elegance, agreeable harmonies, and shows good taste, in which he is distinguished from the other members of ‘the band,’ especially Moussorgsky. By nature Cui is more drawn towards light and piquantly rhythmic French music; but the demands of ‘the band’ which he has joined compel him to do violence to his natural gifts and to follow those paths of would-be original harmony which do not suit him. Cui is now forty-four years of age and has only composed two operas and two or three dozen songs. He was engaged for ten years upon his operaRatcliff. It is evident that the work was composed piecemeal, hence the lack of any unity of style.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Paris,November26th(December8th), 1879.
“I am not altogether at one with you as regards Cui. I do not recognise in him any great creative power, although his music has a certain elegance, agreeable harmonies, and shows good taste, in which he is distinguished from the other members of ‘the band,’ especially Moussorgsky. By nature Cui is more drawn towards light and piquantly rhythmic French music; but the demands of ‘the band’ which he has joined compel him to do violence to his natural gifts and to follow those paths of would-be original harmony which do not suit him. Cui is now forty-four years of age and has only composed two operas and two or three dozen songs. He was engaged for ten years upon his operaRatcliff. It is evident that the work was composed piecemeal, hence the lack of any unity of style.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Paris,November27th(December9th), 1879.“Now I will answer your question. MyVoyevodeis undoubtedly a very poor opera. I do not speak of the music only, but of all that goes to the making of a good opera. The subject is lacking in dramatic interest and movement, and the work was written hastily and carelessly. I wrote music to the words without troubling to consider the difference between operatic and symphonic style. In composing an opera the stage should be the musician’s first thought, he must not abuse the confidence of the theatre-goer who comesto seeas well asto hear. Finally, the style of music written for the stage should be the same as the decorative style in painting, clear, simple, and highly coloured. A picture by Meissonier would lose half its charm if exhibited on the stage; and subtle, delicately harmonised music would be equally inappropriate, since the public demands sharply defined melodies on a background of subdued harmony. In myVoyevodeI have been chiefly concerned with filigree work, and have forgotten the requirements of the stage.“The stage often paralyses a composer’s inspiration, thatis why symphonic and chamber music are so far superior to opera. A symphony or sonata imposes no limitations, but in opera, the first necessity is to speak the musical language of the great public.... The final defect ofThe Voyevodelies in the heaviness of its orchestration, which overpowers the soloists. These are all the faults of inexperience; we must leave a whole series of failures behind us before we can attain to perfection. This is the reason why I am not ashamed of my first opera. It has taught me useful lessons. And you see, dear friend, how strenuously I have endeavoured to correct my errors. EvenUndine(the opera I burnt),The Oprichnik, andVakoulaare not what they should be. I find this branch of art very difficult! I thinkThe Maid of Orleansat last fulfils every requirement, but perhaps I deceive myself. If it is so, if it turns out that I have failed to grasp the true opera style, even in this work, then I shall be convinced of the justice of the opinion that I am by nature only a symphonic composer and should not attempt dramatic music. In that case, I shall abandon all attempts at opera.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Paris,November27th(December9th), 1879.
“Now I will answer your question. MyVoyevodeis undoubtedly a very poor opera. I do not speak of the music only, but of all that goes to the making of a good opera. The subject is lacking in dramatic interest and movement, and the work was written hastily and carelessly. I wrote music to the words without troubling to consider the difference between operatic and symphonic style. In composing an opera the stage should be the musician’s first thought, he must not abuse the confidence of the theatre-goer who comesto seeas well asto hear. Finally, the style of music written for the stage should be the same as the decorative style in painting, clear, simple, and highly coloured. A picture by Meissonier would lose half its charm if exhibited on the stage; and subtle, delicately harmonised music would be equally inappropriate, since the public demands sharply defined melodies on a background of subdued harmony. In myVoyevodeI have been chiefly concerned with filigree work, and have forgotten the requirements of the stage.
“The stage often paralyses a composer’s inspiration, thatis why symphonic and chamber music are so far superior to opera. A symphony or sonata imposes no limitations, but in opera, the first necessity is to speak the musical language of the great public.... The final defect ofThe Voyevodelies in the heaviness of its orchestration, which overpowers the soloists. These are all the faults of inexperience; we must leave a whole series of failures behind us before we can attain to perfection. This is the reason why I am not ashamed of my first opera. It has taught me useful lessons. And you see, dear friend, how strenuously I have endeavoured to correct my errors. EvenUndine(the opera I burnt),The Oprichnik, andVakoulaare not what they should be. I find this branch of art very difficult! I thinkThe Maid of Orleansat last fulfils every requirement, but perhaps I deceive myself. If it is so, if it turns out that I have failed to grasp the true opera style, even in this work, then I shall be convinced of the justice of the opinion that I am by nature only a symphonic composer and should not attempt dramatic music. In that case, I shall abandon all attempts at opera.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Paris,December1879.“I have read the proclamation you mention. It is impossible to conceive anything more astounding and cynical. How will such revolutionary proceedings forward the reforms with which, sooner or later, the Tsar will crown his reign? That which the Socialists are doing in the name of Russia is foolish and insolent. But equally false is their pretence of readiness to shake hands with all parties and to leave the Emperor in peace as soon as he summons a Parliament. This is not what they really aim at, for they mean to go further—to a socialist-republic, or to anarchy. But no one will swallow this bait. Even were a constitution granted to Russia in the remote future, the first act of theZemstvoshould be extermination of this band of murderers who hope to become the leaders of the country.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Paris,December1879.
“I have read the proclamation you mention. It is impossible to conceive anything more astounding and cynical. How will such revolutionary proceedings forward the reforms with which, sooner or later, the Tsar will crown his reign? That which the Socialists are doing in the name of Russia is foolish and insolent. But equally false is their pretence of readiness to shake hands with all parties and to leave the Emperor in peace as soon as he summons a Parliament. This is not what they really aim at, for they mean to go further—to a socialist-republic, or to anarchy. But no one will swallow this bait. Even were a constitution granted to Russia in the remote future, the first act of theZemstvoshould be extermination of this band of murderers who hope to become the leaders of the country.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Paris,December3rd(15th), 1879.“The sketch of my Concerto is finished and I am very pleased with it, especially with the Andante. Now I shall take in hand the revision of my Second Symphony, of which only the last movement can be left intact. I published this work through Bessel in 1872, as a return for the trouble he took over the performance ofThe Oprichnik.... For seven years he has led me a dance over the engraving of the score—always putting me off with the assurance that it would soon be ready. I was sometimes furious with him, but his lack of conscience has proved itself a blessing in disguise!... If I succeed in working steadily in Rome, I shall make a good work out of my immature, mediocre symphony.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Paris,December3rd(15th), 1879.
“The sketch of my Concerto is finished and I am very pleased with it, especially with the Andante. Now I shall take in hand the revision of my Second Symphony, of which only the last movement can be left intact. I published this work through Bessel in 1872, as a return for the trouble he took over the performance ofThe Oprichnik.... For seven years he has led me a dance over the engraving of the score—always putting me off with the assurance that it would soon be ready. I was sometimes furious with him, but his lack of conscience has proved itself a blessing in disguise!... If I succeed in working steadily in Rome, I shall make a good work out of my immature, mediocre symphony.”
After spending a few days in Turin, Tchaikovsky reached Rome on December 8th (20th), 1879. From thence he wrote, on the 12th (24th), to Frau von Meck:—
“Yesterday we made a pilgrimage to S. Pietro in Montorio. Probably you know the place, therefore I need not describe the beauty of the view from the terrace below the church. To-day I visited San Giovanni in Laterano and carried away some profound artistic impressions. I also went to Scala Santa. High Mass was being celebrated in the church. The choir sang a Massa capellaand also with the organ. Quite modern music, utterly unsuitable in church, but beautifully sung. What voices there are in Italy! The tenor gave a solo, in the style of a wretched operatic aria, in such a magnificent voice that I was quite carried away. But the Mass itself lacks that solemn, poetical atmosphere with which our liturgy is surrounded.”
“Yesterday we made a pilgrimage to S. Pietro in Montorio. Probably you know the place, therefore I need not describe the beauty of the view from the terrace below the church. To-day I visited San Giovanni in Laterano and carried away some profound artistic impressions. I also went to Scala Santa. High Mass was being celebrated in the church. The choir sang a Massa capellaand also with the organ. Quite modern music, utterly unsuitable in church, but beautifully sung. What voices there are in Italy! The tenor gave a solo, in the style of a wretched operatic aria, in such a magnificent voice that I was quite carried away. But the Mass itself lacks that solemn, poetical atmosphere with which our liturgy is surrounded.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Rome,December13th(25th), 1879.“It is Christmas here to-day. We went to Mass at St. Peter’s. What a colossal edifice—this cathedral!”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Rome,December13th(25th), 1879.
“It is Christmas here to-day. We went to Mass at St. Peter’s. What a colossal edifice—this cathedral!”
To N. F. von Meck.“Rome,December15th(27th), 1879.“Yesterday we went up Monte Testaccio, with its lovely view of Rome and the Campagna. From there we visited S. Paolo Fuori le Mura, a basilica of huge proportions and vast wealth. To-day I am going for the first time to ‘do’ the Forum thoroughly. This has a three-fold interest for me because I am just reading Ampère’sHistoire romaine à Rome, in which all that has taken place in this building is minutely described.“I have a very good piano now. I got a few volumes of Bach’s works from Ricordi, and play a number of them, alone, or four-handed, with my brother Modeste. But work will not come back to me. Rome and Roman life are too characteristic, too exciting and full of variety, to permit of my sticking to my writing-table. However, I hope the power of work will gradually return. Yesterday I heard a charming popular song, of which I shall certainly make use some future day.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Rome,December15th(27th), 1879.
“Yesterday we went up Monte Testaccio, with its lovely view of Rome and the Campagna. From there we visited S. Paolo Fuori le Mura, a basilica of huge proportions and vast wealth. To-day I am going for the first time to ‘do’ the Forum thoroughly. This has a three-fold interest for me because I am just reading Ampère’sHistoire romaine à Rome, in which all that has taken place in this building is minutely described.
“I have a very good piano now. I got a few volumes of Bach’s works from Ricordi, and play a number of them, alone, or four-handed, with my brother Modeste. But work will not come back to me. Rome and Roman life are too characteristic, too exciting and full of variety, to permit of my sticking to my writing-table. However, I hope the power of work will gradually return. Yesterday I heard a charming popular song, of which I shall certainly make use some future day.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.“Rome,December19th(31st), 1879.“Dear Friend,— ... Nicholas Rubinstein’s opinion that my Suite is so difficult that it is impossible, has surprised and annoyed me very much. Either Rubinstein is mistaken, or I must give up composing; one or the other. Why, it is my chief anxiety to write more easily and simply as time goes on, and the more I try—the worse I succeed! It is dreadful!“I asked Taneiev to write and tell me what actually constituted these terrible difficulties. I feel a little hurt that none of my friends telegraphed to me after the performance. I am forgotten. The one interest whichbinds me to life is centred in my compositions. Every first performance marks an epoch for me. Can no one realise that it would have been a joy to receive a few words of appreciation, by which I should have known that my new work had been performed and had given pleasure to my friends?“I do not understand what you say about the ‘Marche Miniature.’ We never cut it out. The March was to be kept, but as it was not suitable as No. 5 it was to be published at the end of the Suite.... For God’s sake answer my letters quicker. Your communication has upset my nerves and I feel as ill as a dog.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.
“Rome,December19th(31st), 1879.
“Dear Friend,— ... Nicholas Rubinstein’s opinion that my Suite is so difficult that it is impossible, has surprised and annoyed me very much. Either Rubinstein is mistaken, or I must give up composing; one or the other. Why, it is my chief anxiety to write more easily and simply as time goes on, and the more I try—the worse I succeed! It is dreadful!
“I asked Taneiev to write and tell me what actually constituted these terrible difficulties. I feel a little hurt that none of my friends telegraphed to me after the performance. I am forgotten. The one interest whichbinds me to life is centred in my compositions. Every first performance marks an epoch for me. Can no one realise that it would have been a joy to receive a few words of appreciation, by which I should have known that my new work had been performed and had given pleasure to my friends?
“I do not understand what you say about the ‘Marche Miniature.’ We never cut it out. The March was to be kept, but as it was not suitable as No. 5 it was to be published at the end of the Suite.... For God’s sake answer my letters quicker. Your communication has upset my nerves and I feel as ill as a dog.”
To N. F. von Meck.Rome,December22nd(January3rd, 1880), 1879.“To-day I went to the Capitol with Modeste. We spent an hour and a half in the Hall of the Emperors. The busts are highly characteristic! What a revolting, sensual, animal face Nero has! How sympathetic is Marcus Aurelius! How fine the old Agrippina! How repulsive Caracalla! Some of these countenances in no way bear out one’s idea of the originals. For instance, Julius Cæsar altogether lacks power and greatness; he looks like a Russian Councillor of State. And Trajan? Who could guess from his narrow forehead, prominent chin, and commonplace expression, that the original of the portrait was a great man?...”
To N. F. von Meck.
Rome,December22nd(January3rd, 1880), 1879.
“To-day I went to the Capitol with Modeste. We spent an hour and a half in the Hall of the Emperors. The busts are highly characteristic! What a revolting, sensual, animal face Nero has! How sympathetic is Marcus Aurelius! How fine the old Agrippina! How repulsive Caracalla! Some of these countenances in no way bear out one’s idea of the originals. For instance, Julius Cæsar altogether lacks power and greatness; he looks like a Russian Councillor of State. And Trajan? Who could guess from his narrow forehead, prominent chin, and commonplace expression, that the original of the portrait was a great man?...”
A few days later, Tchaikovsky recounted to Nadejda von Meck his impressions of the treasures of the Vatican:—
“The frescoes of Michel Angelo now appear less incomprehensible to me, although I do not share Modeste’s enthusiasm for them. His athletic, muscular figures, and the gloomy vastness of his pictures, are gradually becoming more intelligible. His art now interests and overcomes me, but it does not delight me, or touch my heart. Raphael is still my favourite—the Mozart of painters. Guercino’s pictures please me very much, some of his Madonnas are soangelically beautiful, they fill me with silent ecstasy. However, I must confess that I am not gifted by nature with a fine appreciation of the plastic arts, for very few pictures make an impression upon me.... To study all the art treasures of Rome conscientiously would need a whole lifetime. To-day I discovered once more how important it is to look long and carefully at a picture. I sat before Raphael’s ‘Annunciation,’ and at first I did not see much in the picture, but the longer I looked the more profoundly was I penetrated with its beauty as a whole, and the wonder of its details. Alas! I had only just begun to really enjoy the work, when Modeste came to tell me it was three o’clock and time to go on to the Sistine Chapel.... I do not think I could live long in Rome. There are too many interests; it leaves no time for reflection, no time to deepen one’s own nature. I should prefer Florence as a permanent place of residence; it is quieter, more peaceful. Rome is richer and grander; Florence more sympathetic.“I agree with Goethe’s characteristic opinion of Rome.... ‘It would be a fine thing to spend a few centuries there in Pythagorean silence.’”
“The frescoes of Michel Angelo now appear less incomprehensible to me, although I do not share Modeste’s enthusiasm for them. His athletic, muscular figures, and the gloomy vastness of his pictures, are gradually becoming more intelligible. His art now interests and overcomes me, but it does not delight me, or touch my heart. Raphael is still my favourite—the Mozart of painters. Guercino’s pictures please me very much, some of his Madonnas are soangelically beautiful, they fill me with silent ecstasy. However, I must confess that I am not gifted by nature with a fine appreciation of the plastic arts, for very few pictures make an impression upon me.... To study all the art treasures of Rome conscientiously would need a whole lifetime. To-day I discovered once more how important it is to look long and carefully at a picture. I sat before Raphael’s ‘Annunciation,’ and at first I did not see much in the picture, but the longer I looked the more profoundly was I penetrated with its beauty as a whole, and the wonder of its details. Alas! I had only just begun to really enjoy the work, when Modeste came to tell me it was three o’clock and time to go on to the Sistine Chapel.... I do not think I could live long in Rome. There are too many interests; it leaves no time for reflection, no time to deepen one’s own nature. I should prefer Florence as a permanent place of residence; it is quieter, more peaceful. Rome is richer and grander; Florence more sympathetic.
“I agree with Goethe’s characteristic opinion of Rome.... ‘It would be a fine thing to spend a few centuries there in Pythagorean silence.’”
S.I. Taneiev to Tchaikovsky.“Moscow.“N. Rubinstein has pointed out to me all those parts in the score of your Suite which he considers awkward.“The difficulties are chiefly centred in the wind instruments, especially in the wood-wind. They are as follows:—“(1) Too few pauses; the wood-wind have to play for too long at a time without opportunities for breathing. In those places where you have doubled the strings (as in the Fugue) it does not matter so much, they can make a slight break without its being observable. But it is very different when they are playing alone. For instance, in the newly added movement there is a part for three flutes which have to play triplets for twenty-two bars, without a break.“(2) Difficult passages: these occur very often in the wood-wind and demandvirtuosito execute them properly. In the Andante the passages leading to the second theme are extremely difficult (where oboe and clarinet, and thesecond time flute and clarinet, have triplets of semi-quavers). This part went very badly at the rehearsals, and even at the concert, although the musicians had practised their parts at home. It offers such difficulties that it is impossible to render it with the expression marks indicated, for the musicians have enough to do to get their right note (the double flat for clarinet is particularly awkward).“(3) The compass of all the wood-wind instruments is too extended. The first bassoon usually plays in the tenor register, while the second takes the lower notes. Not only the musicians, but also their instruments, have got accustomed to this; the lower notes of the first bassoon are not quite in tune; the same thing applies to the upper notes of the second bassoon. But your Suite opens with a unison passage for both fagotti, which employs almost the entire range of these instruments: frommusical notationIn the march the oboes have the following notes:—musical notationwhich Z. played at the first rehearsal as:—musical notationWhen Rubinstein asked him why he did not play the notes as they were written, he replied that he could do so, but it would be very bad for his lips, because they lay too high. The French oboe players, he continued, could bring out these high notes better, because they had different and finer mouthpieces; but with these mouthpieces the middle and lower notes suffered.“(4) Difficult rhythms which make the execution irregular. The absence, too, of what the Germans call “Anhaltspunkt” (punctuation)—the absence of notes on the strong beats of the bar. Take this rhythm in the Scherzo for instance:—musical notationthe last notes come on the second crotchet, and the pause on the third beat. In consequence, it is very difficult to play these notes equally, they always sound a little one on the top of the other. The same with the following passage:—musical notationAltogether the Scherzo requires enormous virtuosity, which most members of the orchestra do not possess.“Apparently some passages do not sound as you thought they would. At the beginning of the Scherzo (where the wood-wind enters) there is a modulation to B♭ major through the dominant chord on F.musical notationThe superfluity of chromatic harmonies, as well as the difficulty of executing clearly all that is written for the wind, causes these passages to sound unintelligible and to have the effect of a series of wrong notes....”
S.I. Taneiev to Tchaikovsky.
“Moscow.
“N. Rubinstein has pointed out to me all those parts in the score of your Suite which he considers awkward.
“The difficulties are chiefly centred in the wind instruments, especially in the wood-wind. They are as follows:—
“(1) Too few pauses; the wood-wind have to play for too long at a time without opportunities for breathing. In those places where you have doubled the strings (as in the Fugue) it does not matter so much, they can make a slight break without its being observable. But it is very different when they are playing alone. For instance, in the newly added movement there is a part for three flutes which have to play triplets for twenty-two bars, without a break.
“(2) Difficult passages: these occur very often in the wood-wind and demandvirtuosito execute them properly. In the Andante the passages leading to the second theme are extremely difficult (where oboe and clarinet, and thesecond time flute and clarinet, have triplets of semi-quavers). This part went very badly at the rehearsals, and even at the concert, although the musicians had practised their parts at home. It offers such difficulties that it is impossible to render it with the expression marks indicated, for the musicians have enough to do to get their right note (the double flat for clarinet is particularly awkward).
“(3) The compass of all the wood-wind instruments is too extended. The first bassoon usually plays in the tenor register, while the second takes the lower notes. Not only the musicians, but also their instruments, have got accustomed to this; the lower notes of the first bassoon are not quite in tune; the same thing applies to the upper notes of the second bassoon. But your Suite opens with a unison passage for both fagotti, which employs almost the entire range of these instruments: from
musical notation
In the march the oboes have the following notes:—
musical notation
which Z. played at the first rehearsal as:—
musical notation
When Rubinstein asked him why he did not play the notes as they were written, he replied that he could do so, but it would be very bad for his lips, because they lay too high. The French oboe players, he continued, could bring out these high notes better, because they had different and finer mouthpieces; but with these mouthpieces the middle and lower notes suffered.
“(4) Difficult rhythms which make the execution irregular. The absence, too, of what the Germans call “Anhaltspunkt” (punctuation)—the absence of notes on the strong beats of the bar. Take this rhythm in the Scherzo for instance:—
musical notation
the last notes come on the second crotchet, and the pause on the third beat. In consequence, it is very difficult to play these notes equally, they always sound a little one on the top of the other. The same with the following passage:—
musical notation
Altogether the Scherzo requires enormous virtuosity, which most members of the orchestra do not possess.
“Apparently some passages do not sound as you thought they would. At the beginning of the Scherzo (where the wood-wind enters) there is a modulation to B♭ major through the dominant chord on F.
musical notation
The superfluity of chromatic harmonies, as well as the difficulty of executing clearly all that is written for the wind, causes these passages to sound unintelligible and to have the effect of a series of wrong notes....”
To S. I. Taneiev.“Rome,January4th(16th), 1880.“Nicholas Rubinstein’s explanation is not at all satisfactory. From all he says, I can plainly see that he wasout of temper and visited it upon the Suite. No one will induce me to believe this passagemusical notationis difficult to play on the oboe or clarinet, or that the flutes cannot play twenty-two bars of triplets in a rapid tempo. They could easily manage to play such a passage for 220 bars. It would be very innocent to imagine that this must be done in one breath. They can breathe every time. I play the flute a little myself and am certain of it. Difficulty is a relative matter: for a beginner it would not only be difficult, but impossible, but for an averagely good orchestral player it is not hard. I do not lay myself out to write easy things; I know my instrumentation is almost always rather difficult. But you must admit that compared withFrancesca, or the Fourth Symphony, the Suite is child’s play. Altogether Rubinstein’s criticisms are such that—were they accurate—I should have to lay down my pen for ever. What? For ten years I have taught instrumentation at the Conservatoire (not remarkably well perhaps, but without compromising myself), and two years later remarks are made to me which could only be addressed to a very backward pupil! One of two things: either I never understood anything about the orchestra, or this criticism of my Suite is on a par with N. R.’s remarks upon my Pianoforte Concerto in 1875: that it was impracticable. What was impossible in 1875 was proved quite possible in 1878.“I explain the whole affair thus: the oboist Herr Z. was in a bad temper—which not infrequently happens with him—and this infected Rubinstein. I like the idea that the high notes are ruination to Herr Z.’s lips!!! It is a thousand pities these precious lips, from which Frau Z. has stolen so many kisses, should be spoilt for ever by the E in alt. But this will not hinder me from injuring these sacred lips by writing high notes—notes moreover that every oboist can easily play, even without a French mouthpiece!”
To S. I. Taneiev.
“Rome,January4th(16th), 1880.
“Nicholas Rubinstein’s explanation is not at all satisfactory. From all he says, I can plainly see that he wasout of temper and visited it upon the Suite. No one will induce me to believe this passage
musical notation
is difficult to play on the oboe or clarinet, or that the flutes cannot play twenty-two bars of triplets in a rapid tempo. They could easily manage to play such a passage for 220 bars. It would be very innocent to imagine that this must be done in one breath. They can breathe every time. I play the flute a little myself and am certain of it. Difficulty is a relative matter: for a beginner it would not only be difficult, but impossible, but for an averagely good orchestral player it is not hard. I do not lay myself out to write easy things; I know my instrumentation is almost always rather difficult. But you must admit that compared withFrancesca, or the Fourth Symphony, the Suite is child’s play. Altogether Rubinstein’s criticisms are such that—were they accurate—I should have to lay down my pen for ever. What? For ten years I have taught instrumentation at the Conservatoire (not remarkably well perhaps, but without compromising myself), and two years later remarks are made to me which could only be addressed to a very backward pupil! One of two things: either I never understood anything about the orchestra, or this criticism of my Suite is on a par with N. R.’s remarks upon my Pianoforte Concerto in 1875: that it was impracticable. What was impossible in 1875 was proved quite possible in 1878.
“I explain the whole affair thus: the oboist Herr Z. was in a bad temper—which not infrequently happens with him—and this infected Rubinstein. I like the idea that the high notes are ruination to Herr Z.’s lips!!! It is a thousand pities these precious lips, from which Frau Z. has stolen so many kisses, should be spoilt for ever by the E in alt. But this will not hinder me from injuring these sacred lips by writing high notes—notes moreover that every oboist can easily play, even without a French mouthpiece!”
To N. F. von Meck.“Rome,January2nd(14th), 1880.“When I look back upon the year that has flown, I feel I must sing a hymn of thanksgiving to fate which has brought me so many beautiful days in Russia and abroad. I can say that throughout the whole year I have led a calm and cheerful life, and have been happy, so far as happiness is possible.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Rome,January2nd(14th), 1880.
“When I look back upon the year that has flown, I feel I must sing a hymn of thanksgiving to fate which has brought me so many beautiful days in Russia and abroad. I can say that throughout the whole year I have led a calm and cheerful life, and have been happy, so far as happiness is possible.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.“Rome,January11th(23rd), 1880.“My health is bad, and my mental condition not very good. I have had sad news from Petersburg: my sister is ill and also her daughter. Yesterday I heard of my father’s death. He was eighty-five, so this news did not altogether take me by surprise. But he was such a wonderful, angelic old soul. I loved him so much, it is a bitter grief to feel I shall never see him again.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.
“Rome,January11th(23rd), 1880.
“My health is bad, and my mental condition not very good. I have had sad news from Petersburg: my sister is ill and also her daughter. Yesterday I heard of my father’s death. He was eighty-five, so this news did not altogether take me by surprise. But he was such a wonderful, angelic old soul. I loved him so much, it is a bitter grief to feel I shall never see him again.”
On hearing this news, Tchaikovsky burst into tears. Afterwards he became quiet and resigned. But the peaceful end of this venerable old man could not make a great gap in the busy life of his son, to whom, notwithstanding, he had been very dear.