To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,December11th(23rd), 1885.“ ... My Third Suite was played at the last concert. The public gave me an enthusiastic ovation.... Lately we have had such lovely moonlight nights, without a breath of wind. O God, how beautiful they are! The Russian winter has a particular charm for me, but that does not prevent me from planning a journey to Italy inthe spring. I am thinking of going by sea from Naples to Constantinople, then to Batoum, and thence by train to Tiflis to visit my brother Anatol, who is already expecting me.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,December11th(23rd), 1885.
“ ... My Third Suite was played at the last concert. The public gave me an enthusiastic ovation.... Lately we have had such lovely moonlight nights, without a breath of wind. O God, how beautiful they are! The Russian winter has a particular charm for me, but that does not prevent me from planning a journey to Italy inthe spring. I am thinking of going by sea from Naples to Constantinople, then to Batoum, and thence by train to Tiflis to visit my brother Anatol, who is already expecting me.”
To S. I. Taneiev.“Maidanovo,December11th(23rd), 1885.“ ... Imagine! I am rejoicing at the thought of hearing Beethoven’s First Symphony. I had no suspicion that I liked it so much. The reason is perhaps that it is so like my idol, Mozart. Remember that on October 27th, 1887, the centenary ofDon Juanwill be celebrated.”
To S. I. Taneiev.
“Maidanovo,December11th(23rd), 1885.
“ ... Imagine! I am rejoicing at the thought of hearing Beethoven’s First Symphony. I had no suspicion that I liked it so much. The reason is perhaps that it is so like my idol, Mozart. Remember that on October 27th, 1887, the centenary ofDon Juanwill be celebrated.”
To P. Jurgenson.“December22nd(January3rd), 1885.“ ... I have only just now been able to consider this question ofManfred, of Mackar, and the fee, and this is my decision: Even wereManfreda work of the greatest genius, it would still remain a symphony which, on account of its unusual intricacy and difficulty, would only be played once in ten years. This work cannot therefore bring any profit either to you or Mackar. On the other hand, I value it highly. How is the material value of such a work to be decided? I may be wrong, but it seems to me my best composition, and a few hundred roubles would not repay me for all the work and trouble I have put into it. If you were very rich, I would unhesitatingly demand a very large sum, on the grounds that you could recover your outlay on other things—but you are not at all rich. As for Mackar—to speak frankly—I am greatly touched by his cheerful self-sacrifice, for certainly he can have made very little out of my works in France. After having just received 20,000 francs from him, we must not show ourselves too grasping, especially as we know that there is not much to be made out ofManfred.”“In short, I have made up my mind to claim nothing from Mackar, or from you, and have already told him this. I tell you also, so that you should not demand the promised thousand francs from him. The demanding of payment for restoration of his copy—is your affair.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“December22nd(January3rd), 1885.
“ ... I have only just now been able to consider this question ofManfred, of Mackar, and the fee, and this is my decision: Even wereManfreda work of the greatest genius, it would still remain a symphony which, on account of its unusual intricacy and difficulty, would only be played once in ten years. This work cannot therefore bring any profit either to you or Mackar. On the other hand, I value it highly. How is the material value of such a work to be decided? I may be wrong, but it seems to me my best composition, and a few hundred roubles would not repay me for all the work and trouble I have put into it. If you were very rich, I would unhesitatingly demand a very large sum, on the grounds that you could recover your outlay on other things—but you are not at all rich. As for Mackar—to speak frankly—I am greatly touched by his cheerful self-sacrifice, for certainly he can have made very little out of my works in France. After having just received 20,000 francs from him, we must not show ourselves too grasping, especially as we know that there is not much to be made out ofManfred.”
“In short, I have made up my mind to claim nothing from Mackar, or from you, and have already told him this. I tell you also, so that you should not demand the promised thousand francs from him. The demanding of payment for restoration of his copy—is your affair.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,January13th(25th), 1886.“Dear Friend,— ... This time I have not brought back any pleasant impressions with me from Petersburg. My operas—I do not know why—have not been given lately, and I feel this the more bitterly because, owing to the unusual success ofOniegin, it appears that the Direction has been urging that it should be given with greater frequency. The new symphonyManfredis completely ignored, for no preparations for its production are being made. In all this I do not recognise any enmity towards me personally, for in truth I have no enemies, but a kind of contempt which is a little wounding to my artistic vanity. Certainly this is an unfavourable year for me. They have decided not to giveLes Caprices d’Oxanein Moscow this season, and I had been expecting it so impatiently!“I have a piece of news for you to-day, which pleased me very much. I had observed that here in Maidanovo the village children are constantly idle and run about without any occupation, which induced me to consult with the local priest about the founding of a school. This has proved to be possible, so long as I assure them an annual sum. I have consented to do so, and the priest began to take the necessary steps about two months ago. The official permission to open a school has arrived and the instruction can begin this week. I am very glad.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,January13th(25th), 1886.
“Dear Friend,— ... This time I have not brought back any pleasant impressions with me from Petersburg. My operas—I do not know why—have not been given lately, and I feel this the more bitterly because, owing to the unusual success ofOniegin, it appears that the Direction has been urging that it should be given with greater frequency. The new symphonyManfredis completely ignored, for no preparations for its production are being made. In all this I do not recognise any enmity towards me personally, for in truth I have no enemies, but a kind of contempt which is a little wounding to my artistic vanity. Certainly this is an unfavourable year for me. They have decided not to giveLes Caprices d’Oxanein Moscow this season, and I had been expecting it so impatiently!
“I have a piece of news for you to-day, which pleased me very much. I had observed that here in Maidanovo the village children are constantly idle and run about without any occupation, which induced me to consult with the local priest about the founding of a school. This has proved to be possible, so long as I assure them an annual sum. I have consented to do so, and the priest began to take the necessary steps about two months ago. The official permission to open a school has arrived and the instruction can begin this week. I am very glad.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,January14th(26th), 1886.“ ... The priest came to see me to-day, and brought me an invitation to the opening of the school on the 19th. I am proud to have initiated this work. I hope some good will come of it. In spite of the greatest care and moderation, I suffer from dyspepsia. It is not serious, and I have no doubt a cure at Vichy will completely set me up.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,January14th(26th), 1886.
“ ... The priest came to see me to-day, and brought me an invitation to the opening of the school on the 19th. I am proud to have initiated this work. I hope some good will come of it. In spite of the greatest care and moderation, I suffer from dyspepsia. It is not serious, and I have no doubt a cure at Vichy will completely set me up.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Moscow,February4th(16th), 1886.“How difficult it is after receiving your money to say in the baldest way,‘Money received, many thanks!’ If only you had an inkling of all the happiness I owe you, and the whole meaning of that ‘independence and freedom’ which are the result of my liberty. Life is an unbroken chain of little unpleasantnesses and collision with human egoism and pride, and only he can rise above these things who is free and independent. How often do I say to myself:Well that it is so, but how if it were otherwise?“Just lately I had some very unpleasant frictions which only just fell short of open quarrels, but failed to upset me because I could appear to ignore the wrong inflicted upon me. Yes, in the last few years of my life there have been many occasions on which I have sincerely felt the debt of gratitude I owe to you. And yet I usually send you the receipt as if it were a matter of course. My gratitude has no limits, my dear.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Moscow,February4th(16th), 1886.
“How difficult it is after receiving your money to say in the baldest way,‘Money received, many thanks!’ If only you had an inkling of all the happiness I owe you, and the whole meaning of that ‘independence and freedom’ which are the result of my liberty. Life is an unbroken chain of little unpleasantnesses and collision with human egoism and pride, and only he can rise above these things who is free and independent. How often do I say to myself:Well that it is so, but how if it were otherwise?
“Just lately I had some very unpleasant frictions which only just fell short of open quarrels, but failed to upset me because I could appear to ignore the wrong inflicted upon me. Yes, in the last few years of my life there have been many occasions on which I have sincerely felt the debt of gratitude I owe to you. And yet I usually send you the receipt as if it were a matter of course. My gratitude has no limits, my dear.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,February6th(18th), 1886.“.... To-day I returned from Moscow, where I have been attending Rubinstein’s concerts once a week. Were it only a question of listening to that marvellous pianist, I should not have found the journeys at all tedious, in spite of my dislike of leaving home. But I had to go to all the dinners and suppers which were held in his honour, which I generally found intolerably wearisome and most injurious to my health. At the last concert Rubinstein played pieces by Henselt, Thalberg, Liszt, and others. There was very little artistic choice, but the performance was indeed astonishing.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,February6th(18th), 1886.
“.... To-day I returned from Moscow, where I have been attending Rubinstein’s concerts once a week. Were it only a question of listening to that marvellous pianist, I should not have found the journeys at all tedious, in spite of my dislike of leaving home. But I had to go to all the dinners and suppers which were held in his honour, which I generally found intolerably wearisome and most injurious to my health. At the last concert Rubinstein played pieces by Henselt, Thalberg, Liszt, and others. There was very little artistic choice, but the performance was indeed astonishing.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,February14th(26th), 1886.“ ... The festival which the town of Moscow held in Rubinstein’s honour was a great success. He wasvisibly touched by the energy and warmth with which the Muscovites expressed their affection for him. Indeed, everyone must recognise that Rubinstein is worthy of all such honour. He is not only a gifted artist, but also a most honourable and generous man.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,February14th(26th), 1886.
“ ... The festival which the town of Moscow held in Rubinstein’s honour was a great success. He wasvisibly touched by the energy and warmth with which the Muscovites expressed their affection for him. Indeed, everyone must recognise that Rubinstein is worthy of all such honour. He is not only a gifted artist, but also a most honourable and generous man.”
Diary.“Maidanovo,February22nd(March 8th), 1886.“What an unfathomable gulf lies between the Old and the New Testament! Read the psalms of David, and at first it is impossible to understand why they have taken such a high place from an artistic point of view; and, secondly, why they should stand beside the Gospels. David is altogetherof thisworld. He divides the whole of humanity into two unequal portions: sinners (to which belong the greatest number) and the righteous, at whose head he places himself. In every psalm he calls down God’s wrath upon the sinner and His praise upon the righteous; yet the reward and the punishment are both worldly. The sinners shall be undone, and the righteous shall enjoy all the good things of this earthly life. How little that agrees with Christ’s teaching, who prayed for His enemies, and promised the good no earthly wealth, but rather the kingdom of heaven! What touching love and compassion for mankind lies in these words: ‘Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden’! In comparison with these simple words all the psalms of David are as nothing.”
Diary.
“Maidanovo,February22nd(March 8th), 1886.
“What an unfathomable gulf lies between the Old and the New Testament! Read the psalms of David, and at first it is impossible to understand why they have taken such a high place from an artistic point of view; and, secondly, why they should stand beside the Gospels. David is altogetherof thisworld. He divides the whole of humanity into two unequal portions: sinners (to which belong the greatest number) and the righteous, at whose head he places himself. In every psalm he calls down God’s wrath upon the sinner and His praise upon the righteous; yet the reward and the punishment are both worldly. The sinners shall be undone, and the righteous shall enjoy all the good things of this earthly life. How little that agrees with Christ’s teaching, who prayed for His enemies, and promised the good no earthly wealth, but rather the kingdom of heaven! What touching love and compassion for mankind lies in these words: ‘Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden’! In comparison with these simple words all the psalms of David are as nothing.”
Diary.“February28th(March12th), 1886.“ ... At tea I read through Alexis Tolstoi’sSt. John ChrysostomandThe Sinner, which reduced me to tears. While in this agitation of spirit, into which any strong artistic enjoyment throws me, I received a telegram from the Conservatoire: ‘The Grand Duke is coming.’ So all plans go to the devil! Despair, irresolution, and even terror at the prospect of the journey. Went in and fed my landlady’s hungry dog. In the twilight I was overcome with insane depression. Played through mySecond Suite, and was glad to find it not so bad as I had imagined.”
Diary.
“February28th(March12th), 1886.
“ ... At tea I read through Alexis Tolstoi’sSt. John ChrysostomandThe Sinner, which reduced me to tears. While in this agitation of spirit, into which any strong artistic enjoyment throws me, I received a telegram from the Conservatoire: ‘The Grand Duke is coming.’ So all plans go to the devil! Despair, irresolution, and even terror at the prospect of the journey. Went in and fed my landlady’s hungry dog. In the twilight I was overcome with insane depression. Played through mySecond Suite, and was glad to find it not so bad as I had imagined.”
Diary.“March1st(13th), 1886.“.... Played throughNero, and cannot sufficiently marvel at the audacious coolness of the composer. The very sight of the score makes me fume. However, I only play this abomination because the sense of my superiority—at least, as regards conscientiousness—strengthens my energy. I believe I compose badly, but when I come across such an atrocity, written in all earnestness, I feel a certain relief. I am ashamed to show so much anger over such a publication—but there is no need to disguise one’s feelings in a diary.”
Diary.
“March1st(13th), 1886.
“.... Played throughNero, and cannot sufficiently marvel at the audacious coolness of the composer. The very sight of the score makes me fume. However, I only play this abomination because the sense of my superiority—at least, as regards conscientiousness—strengthens my energy. I believe I compose badly, but when I come across such an atrocity, written in all earnestness, I feel a certain relief. I am ashamed to show so much anger over such a publication—but there is no need to disguise one’s feelings in a diary.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,March13th(25th), 1886.“Dear Friend,—I have not written to you for a long time owing to a ten days’ visit to Moscow.... I devoted two days to the rehearsal ofManfred, and attended the concert at which it was played. I am quite satisfied; I am sure it is my best symphonic work. The performance was excellent, but it seemed to me the public were unintelligent and cold, although they gave me quite an ovation at the end....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,March13th(25th), 1886.
“Dear Friend,—I have not written to you for a long time owing to a ten days’ visit to Moscow.... I devoted two days to the rehearsal ofManfred, and attended the concert at which it was played. I am quite satisfied; I am sure it is my best symphonic work. The performance was excellent, but it seemed to me the public were unintelligent and cold, although they gave me quite an ovation at the end....”
The very short and sparse Press notices ofManfredadd nothing essential to Tchaikovsky’s words. They merely confirm the fact that the Symphony received an excellent rendering, but the author’s high opinion of his work only held good as regards the first two movements; later on he came to reckon the other movements, the Pastorale, Ariman’s Kingdom, and Manfred’s Death, as being on a level withThe Oprichnik, one of the least favoured of his works.
Although out of chronological order, I may mention here that on the occasion of a performance of this work in Petersburg (December, 1886) Cui gave it the mostenthusiastic and unreserved praise. Everything pleased him, especially the Scherzo, and his criticism closed with these words: “We must be grateful to Tchaikovsky for having enriched the treasury of our national symphonic music.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“Tiflis,April1st(13th), 1886.“ ... I left Moscow on March 23rd (April 4th), and travelled direct to Taganrog to Hyppolite, whose guest I was for two days, so as to arrive in Vladikavkas on the 28th.“Early on Sunday (30th) I started in a four-horse post-carriage, accompanied by a guard, whose sole duty is to look after the requirements and comforts of the travellers. I had not slept the preceding night on account of the horrible bed and the insects (when I think of thebesthotel in Vladikavkas I feel quite sick), and thought therefore that the beauties of the Georgian Road would make but little impression on me. The road is, however, so grand, so astonishingly beautiful, that I never thought of sleeping the whole day long. The variety of impressions did not allow my interest to flag for a moment. At first the approach to the mountains was slow, although they appeared to be quite close to us, and yet we still drove on and on. Then the valley of the Terek became narrower, and we reached the wild and gloomy Darjal Gorge. Afterwards we ascended into the region of snow. Shortly before I started on my journey there had been an avalanche, and hundreds of miserable-looking natives were busy shovelling away the snow. At last we were driving higher and higher between great snow walls, and it was necessary to put on our furs. By six o’clock we were descending into the Aragva Valley, and spent the night in Mlety. I occupied theimperial rooms. After the dirt of the Vladikavkas hotel I found the clean rooms, good beds, and daintily-set table very delightful. I dined,took a little walk by moonlight in the gallery, and went to bed at nine o’clock. Next morning I started off again. Already we could feel the breath of the south in the air; the sides of the mountains were cultivated, and constantly there came in sight picturesqueaouli[111]and all kinds of dwellings. The descent was made at a terrific pace, considering the curves of the road. Not far from Dushet such a wonderful view came in sight that I almost wept with delight. The further we descended, the more the influence of the south wind was felt. At last we reached Mtskhet (noted for the ruins of its castle and the celebrated cathedral), and at half-past five we reached Tiflis. Toly and his wife were not there; they had not expected me till later, and had gone to meet me at Mtskhet. They did not arrive till eight o’clock. Meanwhile I had had time to wash, dress, and see something of the town. It is delightful. The trees are not yet all green; the fruit trees are in full blossom; a mass of flowers in the gardens. It is as warm as in June—in a word, really spring—just as it was four years ago when we left Naples. The chief streets are very lively; splendid shops, and quite a European air. But when I came to the native quarters I found myself in entirely new surroundings. The streets mean and narrow, as in Venice; on both sides an endless row of small booths and all kinds of workshops, where the natives squat and work before the eyes of the passers-by....”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Tiflis,April1st(13th), 1886.
“ ... I left Moscow on March 23rd (April 4th), and travelled direct to Taganrog to Hyppolite, whose guest I was for two days, so as to arrive in Vladikavkas on the 28th.
“Early on Sunday (30th) I started in a four-horse post-carriage, accompanied by a guard, whose sole duty is to look after the requirements and comforts of the travellers. I had not slept the preceding night on account of the horrible bed and the insects (when I think of thebesthotel in Vladikavkas I feel quite sick), and thought therefore that the beauties of the Georgian Road would make but little impression on me. The road is, however, so grand, so astonishingly beautiful, that I never thought of sleeping the whole day long. The variety of impressions did not allow my interest to flag for a moment. At first the approach to the mountains was slow, although they appeared to be quite close to us, and yet we still drove on and on. Then the valley of the Terek became narrower, and we reached the wild and gloomy Darjal Gorge. Afterwards we ascended into the region of snow. Shortly before I started on my journey there had been an avalanche, and hundreds of miserable-looking natives were busy shovelling away the snow. At last we were driving higher and higher between great snow walls, and it was necessary to put on our furs. By six o’clock we were descending into the Aragva Valley, and spent the night in Mlety. I occupied theimperial rooms. After the dirt of the Vladikavkas hotel I found the clean rooms, good beds, and daintily-set table very delightful. I dined,took a little walk by moonlight in the gallery, and went to bed at nine o’clock. Next morning I started off again. Already we could feel the breath of the south in the air; the sides of the mountains were cultivated, and constantly there came in sight picturesqueaouli[111]and all kinds of dwellings. The descent was made at a terrific pace, considering the curves of the road. Not far from Dushet such a wonderful view came in sight that I almost wept with delight. The further we descended, the more the influence of the south wind was felt. At last we reached Mtskhet (noted for the ruins of its castle and the celebrated cathedral), and at half-past five we reached Tiflis. Toly and his wife were not there; they had not expected me till later, and had gone to meet me at Mtskhet. They did not arrive till eight o’clock. Meanwhile I had had time to wash, dress, and see something of the town. It is delightful. The trees are not yet all green; the fruit trees are in full blossom; a mass of flowers in the gardens. It is as warm as in June—in a word, really spring—just as it was four years ago when we left Naples. The chief streets are very lively; splendid shops, and quite a European air. But when I came to the native quarters I found myself in entirely new surroundings. The streets mean and narrow, as in Venice; on both sides an endless row of small booths and all kinds of workshops, where the natives squat and work before the eyes of the passers-by....”
To N. F. von Meck.“Tiflis,April6th(18th), 1886.“I begin to know Tiflis quite well already, and have seen the sights. I have been in the baths, built in Oriental style. Visited the celebrated churches, amongst others the Armenian church, where I was not only very much interested in the peculiarities of the service, but also in the singing; I also visited David’s monastery on the hill, where Griboiedov[112]lies buried. One evening I went to a concert given by the Musical Society, where a very poor, thin orchestra played Beethoven’s Third Symphony,Borodin’sSteppes, and my Serenade for strings, to a public which was conspicuous by its absence. Many excellent musicians live in Tiflis; the most prominent are the talented composer Ippolitov-Ivanov and the pianist Eugene Korganov, an Armenian, and a former student of the Moscow Conservatoire. They show me every attention, and although I should much prefer to remain incognito, I am much touched by this proof of the love and sympathy of my fellow-workers. I had certainly not expected to find my music so widely known in Tiflis. My operas are played oftener here than anywhere else, and I am pleased thatMazeppais such a great favourite.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Tiflis,April6th(18th), 1886.
“I begin to know Tiflis quite well already, and have seen the sights. I have been in the baths, built in Oriental style. Visited the celebrated churches, amongst others the Armenian church, where I was not only very much interested in the peculiarities of the service, but also in the singing; I also visited David’s monastery on the hill, where Griboiedov[112]lies buried. One evening I went to a concert given by the Musical Society, where a very poor, thin orchestra played Beethoven’s Third Symphony,Borodin’sSteppes, and my Serenade for strings, to a public which was conspicuous by its absence. Many excellent musicians live in Tiflis; the most prominent are the talented composer Ippolitov-Ivanov and the pianist Eugene Korganov, an Armenian, and a former student of the Moscow Conservatoire. They show me every attention, and although I should much prefer to remain incognito, I am much touched by this proof of the love and sympathy of my fellow-workers. I had certainly not expected to find my music so widely known in Tiflis. My operas are played oftener here than anywhere else, and I am pleased thatMazeppais such a great favourite.”
Diary.“Tiflis,April11th(23rd), 1886.“While waiting for Korganov I busied myself with looking through his works. He came first, then Ippolitov-Ivanov. The poor Armenian (a very nice man and a good musician) was very grieved at my criticism. Then Ivanov played his things: very good.”
Diary.
“Tiflis,April11th(23rd), 1886.
“While waiting for Korganov I busied myself with looking through his works. He came first, then Ippolitov-Ivanov. The poor Armenian (a very nice man and a good musician) was very grieved at my criticism. Then Ivanov played his things: very good.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“Tiflis,April23rd(May5th), 1886.“Modi,—I only remain a few days longer in Tiflis. I could count this month the happiest in my life, if it were not for the visitors, and for my social existence. I do not think I have yet written to you of the honour paid me on the 19th. It was simply splendid. At eight o’clock, accompanied by Pani,[113]I entered the Director’s box, which was decorated with flowers and foliage. The whole theatre rose, and amid great applause I was presented with a silver wreath and many others. A deputation from the Musical Society read an address. Then the concert began, which consisted entirely of my works. There were endless cheers! I have never experienced anything like it before. After the concert, a subscription supper, with many toasts. A most exhausting evening, but a glorious remembrance.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Tiflis,April23rd(May5th), 1886.
“Modi,—I only remain a few days longer in Tiflis. I could count this month the happiest in my life, if it were not for the visitors, and for my social existence. I do not think I have yet written to you of the honour paid me on the 19th. It was simply splendid. At eight o’clock, accompanied by Pani,[113]I entered the Director’s box, which was decorated with flowers and foliage. The whole theatre rose, and amid great applause I was presented with a silver wreath and many others. A deputation from the Musical Society read an address. Then the concert began, which consisted entirely of my works. There were endless cheers! I have never experienced anything like it before. After the concert, a subscription supper, with many toasts. A most exhausting evening, but a glorious remembrance.”
This was the first great honour in Tchaikovsky’s life, and made a most agreeable impression on him, as proving the recognition of his merit by the Russian nation. Tchaikovsky, in the depths of his heart, was well aware that fame would eventually come, and that he would be worthy of it. He did not realise, however, that what he had already created was as worthy of fame as what he should create in the future. He knew, indeed, that the popularity of his name had greatly increased in the last few years, but he was still far from suspecting the truth. The honour paid him in Tiflis revealed to him his real relation to the Russian public. This revelation was so pleasing to his artistic vanity that it overcame for a moment his characteristic timidity and his dislike of posing before the public.
Just at this time Tchaikovsky had to travel to Paris on important family business. He wished also to take this opportunity of making acquaintance with his Paris publisher, Mackar. To avoid the fatigue of the wearisome railway journey, he thought of taking the steamer from Batoum to Italy, thence by train to France. But owing to cholera at Naples, the French steamer belonging to the Batoum-Marseilles line did not call at the Italian port. Tchaikovsky therefore gave up his idea of visiting Italy, and took a through ticket for Marseilles by one of the steamers of the “Packet Company.”
To A. Tchaikovsky.“Steamship‘Armenia,’May3rd(15th), 1886.“ ... I am feeling less home-sick to-day, and better able to enjoy the sea, the mountains, and the sun ... but how stupid it is, that one can only be alone in one’s cabin! On deck, scarcely a quarter of an hour passes withoutsomeone beginning a conversation. I know all the passengers already, but have not taken to anyone. The captain talks to me about music, and enrages me by his stupid opinions. A Frenchman, a doctor from Trebizond, also sets up to be a lover of music, and thinks it his duty—now he has discovered I am a musician—to talk to me about this detestable art, which seems to possess the quality of interesting everybody....”
To A. Tchaikovsky.
“Steamship‘Armenia,’May3rd(15th), 1886.
“ ... I am feeling less home-sick to-day, and better able to enjoy the sea, the mountains, and the sun ... but how stupid it is, that one can only be alone in one’s cabin! On deck, scarcely a quarter of an hour passes withoutsomeone beginning a conversation. I know all the passengers already, but have not taken to anyone. The captain talks to me about music, and enrages me by his stupid opinions. A Frenchman, a doctor from Trebizond, also sets up to be a lover of music, and thinks it his duty—now he has discovered I am a musician—to talk to me about this detestable art, which seems to possess the quality of interesting everybody....”
To A. Tchaikovsky.“Archipelago,May6th(18th), 1886.“The day before yesterday, about midday, we reached the Bosphorus in the most glorious weather. It is wonderfully beautiful, and the further one goes the more beautiful it becomes. About three o’clock we arrived at Constantinople. The motion was very great during the passage into the harbour. About five o’clock we got into a boat, and were rowed over to the town. The captain had made up his mind to stay twenty-four hours in Constantinople, so I thought I would spend the night at an hotel. The next day I visited the places of interest. The cathedral of St. Sophia delighted and astonished me. But, on the whole, I do not much care for Constantinople, and the famous Constantinople dogs simply make me feel sick. By 5 p.m. we were once more on board, and started immediately. New passengers had joined the ship. I preferred to remain in my own snug little cabin; the whole evening I watched the water and the moonlight, and absorbed all the poetry of a sea journey. To-day is a little rougher. Many are ill—even men. I am quite well, and find a certain pleasure in the motion, and in watching the foaming blue waves. No trace of fear. I am quite accustomed to my surroundings, and have made friends with everyone, especially a Turkish officer, who is travelling to Paris.”
To A. Tchaikovsky.
“Archipelago,May6th(18th), 1886.
“The day before yesterday, about midday, we reached the Bosphorus in the most glorious weather. It is wonderfully beautiful, and the further one goes the more beautiful it becomes. About three o’clock we arrived at Constantinople. The motion was very great during the passage into the harbour. About five o’clock we got into a boat, and were rowed over to the town. The captain had made up his mind to stay twenty-four hours in Constantinople, so I thought I would spend the night at an hotel. The next day I visited the places of interest. The cathedral of St. Sophia delighted and astonished me. But, on the whole, I do not much care for Constantinople, and the famous Constantinople dogs simply make me feel sick. By 5 p.m. we were once more on board, and started immediately. New passengers had joined the ship. I preferred to remain in my own snug little cabin; the whole evening I watched the water and the moonlight, and absorbed all the poetry of a sea journey. To-day is a little rougher. Many are ill—even men. I am quite well, and find a certain pleasure in the motion, and in watching the foaming blue waves. No trace of fear. I am quite accustomed to my surroundings, and have made friends with everyone, especially a Turkish officer, who is travelling to Paris.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“‘Armenia,’May8th(20th), 1886.“ ... To-day the sea is just like a mirror. So far we have been very lucky, and it is impossible to imagineanything more beautiful than such a journey. Of course there are some wearisome moments, especially when they begin to talk of music. The chief offender is an Englishman, who continually bothers me with questions as to whether I like this or that song by Tosti, Denza, etc. Also a French doctor, who has invented a new piano in which every sign for transposition (♯, ♭, x, ♭♭) has its own keynote. He talks incessantly of his awful invention, and gives me long pamphlets on the subject. We have already passed Sicily and the heel of the Italian boot. Etna is smoking a little, and to the left there is a horrible pillar of smoke and fire which excites us all very much. The captain cannot say for certain what it means, and seems somewhat disturbed by it. Consequently I, too, feel a little afraid.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“‘Armenia,’May8th(20th), 1886.
“ ... To-day the sea is just like a mirror. So far we have been very lucky, and it is impossible to imagineanything more beautiful than such a journey. Of course there are some wearisome moments, especially when they begin to talk of music. The chief offender is an Englishman, who continually bothers me with questions as to whether I like this or that song by Tosti, Denza, etc. Also a French doctor, who has invented a new piano in which every sign for transposition (♯, ♭, x, ♭♭) has its own keynote. He talks incessantly of his awful invention, and gives me long pamphlets on the subject. We have already passed Sicily and the heel of the Italian boot. Etna is smoking a little, and to the left there is a horrible pillar of smoke and fire which excites us all very much. The captain cannot say for certain what it means, and seems somewhat disturbed by it. Consequently I, too, feel a little afraid.”
To A. Tchaikovsky.“‘Armenia,’May9th(21st), 1886.“The pillar of smoke and fire about which I wrote yesterday proves to be a terrible eruption of Mount Etna, not at the top, but at the side. This eruption was distinctly visible at a distance of three hundred versts, and the nearer we came the more interesting was the sight. Alexis woke me at two in the morning, that I might see this unique spectacle. We were in the Straits of Messina; the sea, which had been quite calm all day, was now very rough; I cannot describe the beauties of the moonlight, the fire from Mount Etna, and the swelling waves. At 3 a.m. I went back to bed and at five the captain sent a sailor to wake me, so that I might see the town of Messina, the sunrise, and the eruption on the other side. Later we passed between the volcano Stromboli and a new little island giving forth smoke; at least, the captain, who knows these parts well, has never suspected a volcano here and thinks it may portend a serious eruption. To-day the weather is splendid and the sea much quieter.”
To A. Tchaikovsky.
“‘Armenia,’May9th(21st), 1886.
“The pillar of smoke and fire about which I wrote yesterday proves to be a terrible eruption of Mount Etna, not at the top, but at the side. This eruption was distinctly visible at a distance of three hundred versts, and the nearer we came the more interesting was the sight. Alexis woke me at two in the morning, that I might see this unique spectacle. We were in the Straits of Messina; the sea, which had been quite calm all day, was now very rough; I cannot describe the beauties of the moonlight, the fire from Mount Etna, and the swelling waves. At 3 a.m. I went back to bed and at five the captain sent a sailor to wake me, so that I might see the town of Messina, the sunrise, and the eruption on the other side. Later we passed between the volcano Stromboli and a new little island giving forth smoke; at least, the captain, who knows these parts well, has never suspected a volcano here and thinks it may portend a serious eruption. To-day the weather is splendid and the sea much quieter.”
Diary.“Paris,May21st(June2nd), 1886.“I decided to go and see Mackar. What I suffered, and how excited I was, passes description. Ten times I tried to go in, and always turned away again—even a large glass of absinthe did not help me. At last I went. He was expecting me. I had pictured him a little man like Wuchs. He is astonishingly like Bessel. We talked a little (someone near me was buying my works), and then I left. Naturally I felt a weight off my heart.”
Diary.
“Paris,May21st(June2nd), 1886.
“I decided to go and see Mackar. What I suffered, and how excited I was, passes description. Ten times I tried to go in, and always turned away again—even a large glass of absinthe did not help me. At last I went. He was expecting me. I had pictured him a little man like Wuchs. He is astonishingly like Bessel. We talked a little (someone near me was buying my works), and then I left. Naturally I felt a weight off my heart.”
To P. V. Tchaikovsky.[114]“Paris,June1st(13th), 1886.“ ... Yesterday I had breakfast with old Madam Viardot. She is such a stately and interesting woman; I was quite enchanted. Although seventy, she only looks about forty. She is very lively, amiable, gay, and sociable, and knew how to make me feel at home from the very first moment.”
To P. V. Tchaikovsky.[114]
“Paris,June1st(13th), 1886.
“ ... Yesterday I had breakfast with old Madam Viardot. She is such a stately and interesting woman; I was quite enchanted. Although seventy, she only looks about forty. She is very lively, amiable, gay, and sociable, and knew how to make me feel at home from the very first moment.”
Later Tchaikovsky wrote the following details to Nadejda von Meck concerning his acquaintance with Madame Viardot:—
“ ... Madame Viardot often speaks about Tourgeniev, and described to me how he and she wrote ‘The Song of Love Triumphant’ together. Have I already told you that I was with her for two hours while we went through theoriginal scoreof Mozart’sDon Juan, which thirty years ago her husband had picked up very cheaply and quite by accident? I cannot tell you what I felt at the sight of this musical relic. I felt as if I had shaken Mozart by the hand and spoken to him!...”
“ ... Madame Viardot often speaks about Tourgeniev, and described to me how he and she wrote ‘The Song of Love Triumphant’ together. Have I already told you that I was with her for two hours while we went through theoriginal scoreof Mozart’sDon Juan, which thirty years ago her husband had picked up very cheaply and quite by accident? I cannot tell you what I felt at the sight of this musical relic. I felt as if I had shaken Mozart by the hand and spoken to him!...”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“June23rd(11th), 1886.“Yesterday, at the invitation of Ambrose Thomas, I visited the Conservatoire during the examination of thepianoforte class. He is a very nice, friendly old man. A certain Madame Bohomoletz, a rich lady (half Russian), gave a dinner in my honour, followed by a musical evening, at which my quartet was played (Marsick and Brandoukov) and my songs were sung.... Leo Délibes has visited me; this touched me very deeply. Certainly it seems I am not as unknown in Paris as I thought....”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“June23rd(11th), 1886.
“Yesterday, at the invitation of Ambrose Thomas, I visited the Conservatoire during the examination of thepianoforte class. He is a very nice, friendly old man. A certain Madame Bohomoletz, a rich lady (half Russian), gave a dinner in my honour, followed by a musical evening, at which my quartet was played (Marsick and Brandoukov) and my songs were sung.... Leo Délibes has visited me; this touched me very deeply. Certainly it seems I am not as unknown in Paris as I thought....”
I will add to this short and disjointed account that Tchaikovsky was received in a most friendly manner by Professor Marmontel, a warm admirer of his works, also by the composers Lalo, Lefèbre, Fauré, and others. The meeting with Colonne and Lamoureux is described by Tchaikovsky himself in a later letter:—
“ ... I saw Colonne several times. He was very friendly, and expressed a wish to give a concert of my compositions. He asked me to send him some of my new scores to Aix-les-Bains, so that he could arrange a programme during the course of the summer. He continually lamented hispovertyand the ‘terribleConcurrence Lamoureux.’ As to Lamoureux, he was amiability itself, and made me a thousand promises.”
“ ... I saw Colonne several times. He was very friendly, and expressed a wish to give a concert of my compositions. He asked me to send him some of my new scores to Aix-les-Bains, so that he could arrange a programme during the course of the summer. He continually lamented hispovertyand the ‘terribleConcurrence Lamoureux.’ As to Lamoureux, he was amiability itself, and made me a thousand promises.”
Tchaikovsky was thrown into close contact with many other artists, several of whom, like the well-known pianist Diemer, for instance, remained his devoted friends to the end.
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,June18th(30th), 1886.“How glad I am to be at home once more! How dear and cosy is my little house which, when I left, lay deep in snow, and is now surrounded by foliage and flowers! The three months I spent abroad were lost time as regards work, but I feel I have gained in strength, and can now devote my whole time to it without exhausting myself.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,June18th(30th), 1886.
“How glad I am to be at home once more! How dear and cosy is my little house which, when I left, lay deep in snow, and is now surrounded by foliage and flowers! The three months I spent abroad were lost time as regards work, but I feel I have gained in strength, and can now devote my whole time to it without exhausting myself.”
Diary.“July8th(20th), 1886.“ ... Worked atrociously again. And yet people say I am a genius! Nonsense!”
Diary.
“July8th(20th), 1886.
“ ... Worked atrociously again. And yet people say I am a genius! Nonsense!”
To P. Jurgenson.“Maidanovo,July19th(31st), 1886.“Dear Friend,—I completely understand the difficulties of your situation. One of my letters to you is wanted for publication. You possess hundreds of my letters, but not one suitable to the case. Very natural; our correspondence was either too business-like, or too intimate. How can I help you? I cannot commit forgery, even for the pleasure of appearing in Mme. La Mara’s book;[115]I cannot write a letter especially for her collection and take this lucky opportunity of displaying myself in the most favourable light as musician, thinker, and man. Such a sacrifice on the altar of European fame is repugnant to me, although, on the other hand, it would be false to say that Mme. La Mara’s wish to place me among the prominent musicians of our time did not flatter me in the least. On the contrary, I am very deeply touched and pleased by the attention of the well-known authoress, and openly confess I should be very glad to be included in the company of Glinka, Dargomijsky, and Serov. If she were not in such a hurry, it would be better to send to one of my musical friends, such as Laroche, who could not fail to find among all my letters some with detailed effusions about my musical likes and dislikes; in short, a letter in which I speak quite candidly as a musician. But there is no time, and Laroche is away. Is it not curious that it should be difficult to find a suitable letter from a man who has carried on—and still carries on—the widest correspondence, dealing not only with business matters, but with artistic work? I am continually exchanging letters with four brothers, a sister, several cousins, and many friends, besides a quantity of casual correspondencewith people often unknown to me. The necessity of sacrificing so much of my time to letter-writing is such a burden to me that, from the bottom of my heart, I curse all the postal arrangements in the world. The post often causes me sad moments, but it also brings me the greatest joy. One person plays the chief part in the story of the last ten years of my life: she is my good genius; to her I owe all my prosperity and the power to devote myself to my beloved work. Yet I have never seen her, never heard her voice; all my intercourse with her is through the post. I can certainly say I flood the world with my correspondence, and yet I am not in a position to help you out of your difficulty.“There is nothing to be done, but to send this letter itself to Mme. La Mara. If it does not represent me in the least as a musician, it will at any rate give the authoress a chance of satisfying her flattering wish to place me among the prominent musicians of the day.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Maidanovo,July19th(31st), 1886.
“Dear Friend,—I completely understand the difficulties of your situation. One of my letters to you is wanted for publication. You possess hundreds of my letters, but not one suitable to the case. Very natural; our correspondence was either too business-like, or too intimate. How can I help you? I cannot commit forgery, even for the pleasure of appearing in Mme. La Mara’s book;[115]I cannot write a letter especially for her collection and take this lucky opportunity of displaying myself in the most favourable light as musician, thinker, and man. Such a sacrifice on the altar of European fame is repugnant to me, although, on the other hand, it would be false to say that Mme. La Mara’s wish to place me among the prominent musicians of our time did not flatter me in the least. On the contrary, I am very deeply touched and pleased by the attention of the well-known authoress, and openly confess I should be very glad to be included in the company of Glinka, Dargomijsky, and Serov. If she were not in such a hurry, it would be better to send to one of my musical friends, such as Laroche, who could not fail to find among all my letters some with detailed effusions about my musical likes and dislikes; in short, a letter in which I speak quite candidly as a musician. But there is no time, and Laroche is away. Is it not curious that it should be difficult to find a suitable letter from a man who has carried on—and still carries on—the widest correspondence, dealing not only with business matters, but with artistic work? I am continually exchanging letters with four brothers, a sister, several cousins, and many friends, besides a quantity of casual correspondencewith people often unknown to me. The necessity of sacrificing so much of my time to letter-writing is such a burden to me that, from the bottom of my heart, I curse all the postal arrangements in the world. The post often causes me sad moments, but it also brings me the greatest joy. One person plays the chief part in the story of the last ten years of my life: she is my good genius; to her I owe all my prosperity and the power to devote myself to my beloved work. Yet I have never seen her, never heard her voice; all my intercourse with her is through the post. I can certainly say I flood the world with my correspondence, and yet I am not in a position to help you out of your difficulty.
“There is nothing to be done, but to send this letter itself to Mme. La Mara. If it does not represent me in the least as a musician, it will at any rate give the authoress a chance of satisfying her flattering wish to place me among the prominent musicians of the day.”
Diary.“August1st(13th), 1886.“ ... PlayedManonat home. It pleased me better than I expected. I spent moments of longing and loneliness.”
Diary.
“August1st(13th), 1886.
“ ... PlayedManonat home. It pleased me better than I expected. I spent moments of longing and loneliness.”
“August2nd(14th).“ ... PlayedManon. To-day Massenet seems to cloy with sweetness.”
“August2nd(14th).
“ ... PlayedManon. To-day Massenet seems to cloy with sweetness.”
“August4th(16th).“ ... Played Massenet at home. How stale he has grown! The worst of it is, that in this staleness I trace a certain affinity to myself.”
“August4th(16th).
“ ... Played Massenet at home. How stale he has grown! The worst of it is, that in this staleness I trace a certain affinity to myself.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,August4th(16th), 1886.“ ... I feel at my best when I am alone; when trees, flowers, and books take the place of human society. O God, how short life is! How much I have yet to accomplish before it is time to leave off! How many projects!When I am quite well—as I am at present—I am seized with a feverish thirst for work, but the thought of the shortness of human life paralyses all my energy. It was not always so. I used to believe I could, and must, carry out all my ideas to completion; therefore my impulses towards creative work were then more lasting and more fruitful. In any case I hope to have the outline of the opera (The Enchantress) ready in a month’s time, and then to begin the orchestration.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,August4th(16th), 1886.
“ ... I feel at my best when I am alone; when trees, flowers, and books take the place of human society. O God, how short life is! How much I have yet to accomplish before it is time to leave off! How many projects!When I am quite well—as I am at present—I am seized with a feverish thirst for work, but the thought of the shortness of human life paralyses all my energy. It was not always so. I used to believe I could, and must, carry out all my ideas to completion; therefore my impulses towards creative work were then more lasting and more fruitful. In any case I hope to have the outline of the opera (The Enchantress) ready in a month’s time, and then to begin the orchestration.”
Diary.
Diary.
“August6th(18th), 1886.“Played the conclusion of the sicklyManonand Lefèbre’s inanities to the end.”
“August6th(18th), 1886.
“Played the conclusion of the sicklyManonand Lefèbre’s inanities to the end.”
“August15th(27th).“ ... Worked a little before and after supper. Kouma’s Arioso is finished. Read Loti’sPêcheurs d’Islande. Not very pleased with it. The tone of the descriptions remind me of that ... Zola and....”
“August15th(27th).
“ ... Worked a little before and after supper. Kouma’s Arioso is finished. Read Loti’sPêcheurs d’Islande. Not very pleased with it. The tone of the descriptions remind me of that ... Zola and....”
“August18th(30th).“Walked in the garden. Worked and completely finished the rough sketches for the opera. Thank God!”
“August18th(30th).
“Walked in the garden. Worked and completely finished the rough sketches for the opera. Thank God!”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“Maidanova,September, 9th(21st), 1886.“ ... I have been all through Vietinghov-Scheel’s opera. Good heavens! what a weak piece of work! He is a child, and no mature artist. It is a shame such a work should be given at the Imperial Opera. However, in this way the Direction have done Rubinstein a great service. HisDemonappears a masterpiece in comparison with that little Scheel affair. To tell the truth, at present the best operas in the world are composed by P. I. Tchaikovsky, andThe Enchantressis the most beautiful of them all. A gem all round. At least so it appears to me at this moment. Probably it appears to Vietinghov that hisTamarais far more beautiful; and God alone knows which of us is right.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanova,September, 9th(21st), 1886.
“ ... I have been all through Vietinghov-Scheel’s opera. Good heavens! what a weak piece of work! He is a child, and no mature artist. It is a shame such a work should be given at the Imperial Opera. However, in this way the Direction have done Rubinstein a great service. HisDemonappears a masterpiece in comparison with that little Scheel affair. To tell the truth, at present the best operas in the world are composed by P. I. Tchaikovsky, andThe Enchantressis the most beautiful of them all. A gem all round. At least so it appears to me at this moment. Probably it appears to Vietinghov that hisTamarais far more beautiful; and God alone knows which of us is right.”
Diary.“September20th(October 2nd), 1886.“Tolstoi never speaks with love and enthusiasm of any prophet of Truth (with the exception of Christ), but rather with contempt and hatred. We do not know how he regards Socrates, Shakespeare, or Gogol. We do not know if he cares for Michael Angelo and Raphael, Tourgeniev, George Sand, Dickens and Flaubert. Perhaps his sympathies and antipathies in the sphere of philosophy and art are known to his intimates, but this inspired talker has never openly let fall a word which could enlighten us as to his attitude towards those great spirits who are on an equality with him. For instance, he has told me that Beethoven had no talent (as compared with Mozart), but he has never expressed himself in writing either on music or any kindred subject. Truly I think this man inclines only before God or the people, before humanity as a whole. There is no individual before whom he would bow down. Suitaiev was not an individual in Tolstoi’s eyes, but the people itself, the personified wisdom of the people. It would be interesting to know what this giant liked or disliked in literature.“Probably after my death it will be of some interest to the world to hear of my musical predilections and prejudices, the more so that I have never expressed them by word of mouth.“I will begin by degrees, and when touching upon contemporary musicians I shall also speak of their personalities.“To begin with Beethoven, whom I praise unconditionally, and to whom I bend as to a god. But what is Beethoven to me? I bow down before the grandeur of some of his creations, but I do not love Beethoven. My relationship to him reminds me of that which I felt in my childhood to the God Jehovah. I feel for him—for my sentiments are still unchanged—great veneration, but also fear. He has created the heaven and the earth, and although I fall down before him, I do not love him. Christ, on the contrary, calls forth exclusively the feelingoflove. He is God, but also Man. He has suffered like ourselves. We pity Him and love in Him the ideal side of man’s nature. If Beethoven holds an analogous place in my heart to the God Jehovah, I love Mozart as the musical Christ. I do not think this comparison is blasphemous. Mozart was as pure as an angel, and his music is full of divine beauty.“While speaking of Beethoven I touch on Mozart. To my mind, Mozart is the culminating point of all beauty in the sphere of music. He alone can make me weep and tremble with delight at the consciousness of the approach of that which we call the ideal. Beethoven makes me tremble too, but rather from a sense of fear and yearning anguish. I do not understand how to analyse music, and cannot go into detail.... Still I must mention two facts. I love Beethoven’s middle period, and sometimes his first; but I really hate hislast, especially the latest quartets. They have only brilliancy, nothing more. The rest is chaos, over which floats, veiled in mist, the spirit of this musical Jehovah.“I love everything in Mozart, for we love everything in the man to whom we are truly devoted. Above all,Don Juan, for through that work I have learnt to know what music is. Till then (my seventeenth year) I knew nothing except the enjoyablesemi-musicof the Italians. Although I love everything in Mozart, I will not assert that every one of his works, even the most insignificant, should be considered a masterpiece. I know quite well that no single example of his Sonatas is a great creation, and yet I like each one, because it is his, because he has breathed into it his sacred breath.“As to the forerunner of both these artists, I like to play Bach, because it is interesting to play a good fugue; but I do not regard him, in common with many others, as a great genius. Handel is only fourth-rate, he is not even interesting. I sympathise with Glück in spite of his poor creative gift. I also like some things of Haydn. These four great masters have been surpassed by Mozart. They are rays which are extinguished by Mozart’s sun.”
Diary.
“September20th(October 2nd), 1886.
“Tolstoi never speaks with love and enthusiasm of any prophet of Truth (with the exception of Christ), but rather with contempt and hatred. We do not know how he regards Socrates, Shakespeare, or Gogol. We do not know if he cares for Michael Angelo and Raphael, Tourgeniev, George Sand, Dickens and Flaubert. Perhaps his sympathies and antipathies in the sphere of philosophy and art are known to his intimates, but this inspired talker has never openly let fall a word which could enlighten us as to his attitude towards those great spirits who are on an equality with him. For instance, he has told me that Beethoven had no talent (as compared with Mozart), but he has never expressed himself in writing either on music or any kindred subject. Truly I think this man inclines only before God or the people, before humanity as a whole. There is no individual before whom he would bow down. Suitaiev was not an individual in Tolstoi’s eyes, but the people itself, the personified wisdom of the people. It would be interesting to know what this giant liked or disliked in literature.
“Probably after my death it will be of some interest to the world to hear of my musical predilections and prejudices, the more so that I have never expressed them by word of mouth.
“I will begin by degrees, and when touching upon contemporary musicians I shall also speak of their personalities.
“To begin with Beethoven, whom I praise unconditionally, and to whom I bend as to a god. But what is Beethoven to me? I bow down before the grandeur of some of his creations, but I do not love Beethoven. My relationship to him reminds me of that which I felt in my childhood to the God Jehovah. I feel for him—for my sentiments are still unchanged—great veneration, but also fear. He has created the heaven and the earth, and although I fall down before him, I do not love him. Christ, on the contrary, calls forth exclusively the feelingoflove. He is God, but also Man. He has suffered like ourselves. We pity Him and love in Him the ideal side of man’s nature. If Beethoven holds an analogous place in my heart to the God Jehovah, I love Mozart as the musical Christ. I do not think this comparison is blasphemous. Mozart was as pure as an angel, and his music is full of divine beauty.
“While speaking of Beethoven I touch on Mozart. To my mind, Mozart is the culminating point of all beauty in the sphere of music. He alone can make me weep and tremble with delight at the consciousness of the approach of that which we call the ideal. Beethoven makes me tremble too, but rather from a sense of fear and yearning anguish. I do not understand how to analyse music, and cannot go into detail.... Still I must mention two facts. I love Beethoven’s middle period, and sometimes his first; but I really hate hislast, especially the latest quartets. They have only brilliancy, nothing more. The rest is chaos, over which floats, veiled in mist, the spirit of this musical Jehovah.
“I love everything in Mozart, for we love everything in the man to whom we are truly devoted. Above all,Don Juan, for through that work I have learnt to know what music is. Till then (my seventeenth year) I knew nothing except the enjoyablesemi-musicof the Italians. Although I love everything in Mozart, I will not assert that every one of his works, even the most insignificant, should be considered a masterpiece. I know quite well that no single example of his Sonatas is a great creation, and yet I like each one, because it is his, because he has breathed into it his sacred breath.
“As to the forerunner of both these artists, I like to play Bach, because it is interesting to play a good fugue; but I do not regard him, in common with many others, as a great genius. Handel is only fourth-rate, he is not even interesting. I sympathise with Glück in spite of his poor creative gift. I also like some things of Haydn. These four great masters have been surpassed by Mozart. They are rays which are extinguished by Mozart’s sun.”
To the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich.“September, 1886.“Your Imperial Highness,—Permit me to thank you cordially for your valued present and your sympathetic letter. Very highly do I esteem the attention of which you have thought me worthy.“I only regret, your Highness, that while looking for poems for my songs which are to be dedicated to her Majesty, I had not as yet the pleasure of possessing that charming little book which, thanks to your flattering attention, is now in my hands. How many of your poems glow with that warm and sincere feeling which makes them suitable for musical setting! When I read your collection of verses I determined at once to select some for my next song-cycle, and to dedicate them, with your gracious permission, to your Highness. I should be much pleased if you would accept this dedication as the expression of my sincere devotion.”
To the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich.
“September, 1886.
“Your Imperial Highness,—Permit me to thank you cordially for your valued present and your sympathetic letter. Very highly do I esteem the attention of which you have thought me worthy.
“I only regret, your Highness, that while looking for poems for my songs which are to be dedicated to her Majesty, I had not as yet the pleasure of possessing that charming little book which, thanks to your flattering attention, is now in my hands. How many of your poems glow with that warm and sincere feeling which makes them suitable for musical setting! When I read your collection of verses I determined at once to select some for my next song-cycle, and to dedicate them, with your gracious permission, to your Highness. I should be much pleased if you would accept this dedication as the expression of my sincere devotion.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,October5th(17th), 1886.“ ... What you say aboutmy conductingis as balm to my wounded heart. The consciousness of my inability to conduct has been a torment and a martyrdom to me all my life. I think it is contemptible and shameful to have so little self-control that the mere thought of stepping into the conductor’s desk makes me tremble with fright This time too—although I have already promised to conduct myself—I feel when the time comes my courage will vanish and I shall refuse.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,October5th(17th), 1886.
“ ... What you say aboutmy conductingis as balm to my wounded heart. The consciousness of my inability to conduct has been a torment and a martyrdom to me all my life. I think it is contemptible and shameful to have so little self-control that the mere thought of stepping into the conductor’s desk makes me tremble with fright This time too—although I have already promised to conduct myself—I feel when the time comes my courage will vanish and I shall refuse.”
Diary.“Maidanovo,October7th(19th), 1886.“Played Brahms. It irritates me that this self-conscious mediocrity should be recognised as a genius. In comparison with him, Raff was a giant, not to speak of Rubinstein, who was a much greater man. And Brahms is so chaotic, so dry and meaningless!”
Diary.
“Maidanovo,October7th(19th), 1886.
“Played Brahms. It irritates me that this self-conscious mediocrity should be recognised as a genius. In comparison with him, Raff was a giant, not to speak of Rubinstein, who was a much greater man. And Brahms is so chaotic, so dry and meaningless!”
At the end of October Tchaikovsky went to Petersburg, to be present at the first performance of Napravnik’s opera,Harold. But as the performance was constantly postponed, he finally returned to Maidanovo without waiting for it. Nevertheless, the journey was not without results, for Vsievolojsky, Director of the Imperial Opera, commissioned Tchaikovsky for the first time to compose a ballet. Joukovsky’sUndinewas chosen as a subject.
Judging from all accounts, this visit to Petersburg must have convinced Tchaikovsky of his great popularity there. Not only did he meet with a very friendly reception from the composers, with Rimsky-Korsakov at their head, but he received from an anonymous well-wisher, through the medium of Stassov, a premium of 500 roubles, usually bestowed on the best musical novelty of the season, judged in this instance to beManfred. He was also honoured by a brilliant gathering on the occasion of his election as honorary member of the St. Petersburg Chamber Music Society.
To Rimsky-Korsakov.“October30th(November11th), 1886.“Dear Nicholas Andreievich,—I have a favour to ask. Arensky is now quite recovered, although I find him somewhat depressed and agitated. I like him so much and wish you would sometimes take an interest in him, for, as regards music, he venerates you more than anyone else. The best way of doing this would be to give one of his works at one of your next concerts. There, where all Russian composers find a place, should be a little room for Arensky, who, at any rate, is as good as the rest. But as you would not like to offend anyone, I propose that you should put one of Arensky’s works in the programme of your fourth concert instead of myRomeooverture.He needs stirring up; and such an impulse given by you would count for so much with him, because he loves and respects you. Please think it over and grant my wish. Thereby you will make your deeply devoted pupil (Arensky) very happy.“In conclusion, I must add that your ‘Spanish Capriccio’ is acolossal masterpiece of instrumentation, and you may regard yourself as the greatest master of the present day.”
To Rimsky-Korsakov.
“October30th(November11th), 1886.
“Dear Nicholas Andreievich,—I have a favour to ask. Arensky is now quite recovered, although I find him somewhat depressed and agitated. I like him so much and wish you would sometimes take an interest in him, for, as regards music, he venerates you more than anyone else. The best way of doing this would be to give one of his works at one of your next concerts. There, where all Russian composers find a place, should be a little room for Arensky, who, at any rate, is as good as the rest. But as you would not like to offend anyone, I propose that you should put one of Arensky’s works in the programme of your fourth concert instead of myRomeooverture.He needs stirring up; and such an impulse given by you would count for so much with him, because he loves and respects you. Please think it over and grant my wish. Thereby you will make your deeply devoted pupil (Arensky) very happy.
“In conclusion, I must add that your ‘Spanish Capriccio’ is acolossal masterpiece of instrumentation, and you may regard yourself as the greatest master of the present day.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“Moscow,November19th(December1st), 1886.“ ... I arrived in Moscow early to-day. There has already been a rehearsal. I was ill again after my last letter to you. This time I was so bad that I decided to send for the doctor. It seemed to me that I was about to have a strange illness. Suddenly I received a telegram saying that I must be at the rehearsal.[116]I answered that the rehearsal was not to be thought of, for I could not travel. But at the end of half an hour I suddenly felt so well that—in spite of terrible disinclination—I went to Moscow. Every trace of headache, which for ten days had so affected me, vanished. Is not this a curious pathological case?”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Moscow,November19th(December1st), 1886.
“ ... I arrived in Moscow early to-day. There has already been a rehearsal. I was ill again after my last letter to you. This time I was so bad that I decided to send for the doctor. It seemed to me that I was about to have a strange illness. Suddenly I received a telegram saying that I must be at the rehearsal.[116]I answered that the rehearsal was not to be thought of, for I could not travel. But at the end of half an hour I suddenly felt so well that—in spite of terrible disinclination—I went to Moscow. Every trace of headache, which for ten days had so affected me, vanished. Is not this a curious pathological case?”
To A. S. Arensky.“November24th(December6th), 1886.“Dear Friend Anton Stepanovich,—I only received your welcome letter yesterday; I knew already from Taneiev that you had composedMarguerite Gautierand dedicated it to me. Thank you cordially for this dedication. The attention and honour you have shown me touch me deeply.Margueritelies beside me on the table, and—in my free moments, which are not many—I cast a glance at it here and there, with much interest and pleasure. Please do not feel hurt that I did not write you my impressions at once. At the first glance I found the work very interesting, because you have entirely departed from your accustomed style.Margueritehas so little resemblance to the Suite and the Symphony that one couldeasily suppose it came from the pen of a different man. The elegance of form, harmony, and orchestration are the same, but the character of the theme and its working out are quite different. Naturally the question arises: Is it better than the Symphony and the Suite? At present I cannot answer.”
To A. S. Arensky.
“November24th(December6th), 1886.
“Dear Friend Anton Stepanovich,—I only received your welcome letter yesterday; I knew already from Taneiev that you had composedMarguerite Gautierand dedicated it to me. Thank you cordially for this dedication. The attention and honour you have shown me touch me deeply.Margueritelies beside me on the table, and—in my free moments, which are not many—I cast a glance at it here and there, with much interest and pleasure. Please do not feel hurt that I did not write you my impressions at once. At the first glance I found the work very interesting, because you have entirely departed from your accustomed style.Margueritehas so little resemblance to the Suite and the Symphony that one couldeasily suppose it came from the pen of a different man. The elegance of form, harmony, and orchestration are the same, but the character of the theme and its working out are quite different. Naturally the question arises: Is it better than the Symphony and the Suite? At present I cannot answer.”
Although somewhat anticipating my narrative, I will insert here an extract from a later letter of Tchaikovsky’s, in which he gives Arensky his opinion ofMarguerite Gautier.
To A. Arensky.“Maidanovo,April2nd(14th), 1887.“Dear Anton Stepanovich,—I wrote to you in August that I would pronounce judgment onMarguerite Gautieras soon as I had heard the work and had leisure to study the score. I held it all the more my duty to wait because, although I value your talent very highly, I do not like your Fantasia. It is very easy to praise a man who is highly esteemed. But to say to him: ‘Not beautiful; I do not like it,’ without basing one’s judgment on a full explanation, is very difficult....“I must state my opinion briefly. First the choice of subject. It was very painful and mortifying to me, and to all your friends, that you had chosenLa Dame aux Cameliasas the subject of your Fantasia. How can an educated musician—when there are Homer, Shakespeare, Gogol, Poushkin, Dante, Tolstoi, Lermontov, and others—feel any interest in the production of Dumasfils, which has for its theme the history of a demi-mondaine adventuress which, even if written with French cleverness, is in truth false, sentimental, and vulgar? Such a choice might be intelligible in Verdi, who employed subjects which could excite people’s nerves at a period of artistic decadence; but it is quite incomprehensible in a young and gifted Russian musician, who has enjoyed a good education, and is, moreover, a pupil of Rimsky-Korsakov and a friend of S. Taneiev.“Now for the music: (1)The Orgies.—If we are to realise in these orgies a supper after a ball at the house of a lightwoman, in which a crowd of people participate, eat mayonnaise with truffles, and afterwards dance thecancan, the music is not wantingin realism, fire, and brilliancy. It is, moreover, saturated with Liszt, as is the whole Fantasia. Its beauty—if one looks at it closely—is purely on the surface; there are no enthralling passages. Such beauty is nottruebeauty, but only a forced imitation, which is rather a fault than a merit. We find this superficial beauty in Rossini, Donizetti, Bellini, Mendelssohn, Massenet, Liszt, and others. But they were also masters in their own way, though their chief characteristic was not the Ideal, after which we ought to strive. For neither Beethoven, nor Bach (who is wearisome, but still a genius), nor Glinka, nor Mozart, ever strove after this surface beauty, but rather the ideal, often veiled under a form which at first sight is unattractive.“(2)Pastorale in Bougival.—Oh God! If you could only understand how unpoetical and unpastoral this Bougival is, with its boats, its inns, and itscancans! This movement is as good as most conventional pastoral ballets that are composed by musicians of some talent.“(3)The Love Melodymusical notationis altogether beautiful. It reminds me of Liszt. Not of any particular melody, but it is in his style, after the manner of his semi-Italian melodies, which are wanting in the plasticity and simplicity of the true Italian folk airs. Moreover, the continuation of your theme:musical notationis not only beautiful, but wonderful; it captivates both the ear and the heart.“No one can ever reproach you with regard to the technical part of your work, which deserves unqualified praise.”
To A. Arensky.
“Maidanovo,April2nd(14th), 1887.
“Dear Anton Stepanovich,—I wrote to you in August that I would pronounce judgment onMarguerite Gautieras soon as I had heard the work and had leisure to study the score. I held it all the more my duty to wait because, although I value your talent very highly, I do not like your Fantasia. It is very easy to praise a man who is highly esteemed. But to say to him: ‘Not beautiful; I do not like it,’ without basing one’s judgment on a full explanation, is very difficult....
“I must state my opinion briefly. First the choice of subject. It was very painful and mortifying to me, and to all your friends, that you had chosenLa Dame aux Cameliasas the subject of your Fantasia. How can an educated musician—when there are Homer, Shakespeare, Gogol, Poushkin, Dante, Tolstoi, Lermontov, and others—feel any interest in the production of Dumasfils, which has for its theme the history of a demi-mondaine adventuress which, even if written with French cleverness, is in truth false, sentimental, and vulgar? Such a choice might be intelligible in Verdi, who employed subjects which could excite people’s nerves at a period of artistic decadence; but it is quite incomprehensible in a young and gifted Russian musician, who has enjoyed a good education, and is, moreover, a pupil of Rimsky-Korsakov and a friend of S. Taneiev.
“Now for the music: (1)The Orgies.—If we are to realise in these orgies a supper after a ball at the house of a lightwoman, in which a crowd of people participate, eat mayonnaise with truffles, and afterwards dance thecancan, the music is not wantingin realism, fire, and brilliancy. It is, moreover, saturated with Liszt, as is the whole Fantasia. Its beauty—if one looks at it closely—is purely on the surface; there are no enthralling passages. Such beauty is nottruebeauty, but only a forced imitation, which is rather a fault than a merit. We find this superficial beauty in Rossini, Donizetti, Bellini, Mendelssohn, Massenet, Liszt, and others. But they were also masters in their own way, though their chief characteristic was not the Ideal, after which we ought to strive. For neither Beethoven, nor Bach (who is wearisome, but still a genius), nor Glinka, nor Mozart, ever strove after this surface beauty, but rather the ideal, often veiled under a form which at first sight is unattractive.
“(2)Pastorale in Bougival.—Oh God! If you could only understand how unpoetical and unpastoral this Bougival is, with its boats, its inns, and itscancans! This movement is as good as most conventional pastoral ballets that are composed by musicians of some talent.
“(3)The Love Melody
musical notation
is altogether beautiful. It reminds me of Liszt. Not of any particular melody, but it is in his style, after the manner of his semi-Italian melodies, which are wanting in the plasticity and simplicity of the true Italian folk airs. Moreover, the continuation of your theme:
musical notation
is not only beautiful, but wonderful; it captivates both the ear and the heart.
“No one can ever reproach you with regard to the technical part of your work, which deserves unqualified praise.”