To Ippolitov-Ivanov.“October27th(November8th), 1888.“I cannot possibly give you any definite news as to my journey to Tiflis. It will be two or three weeks, at the earliest, before I know when I shall have to go abroad.... I only know thatI will come to Tiflis, even if I am dying. As to my fee, we will not speak of it. Before I take anything from you, something must be there. Let us see how the concert succeeds, and then we can settle how much you shall give me as ‘a tip.’ If it is not a success, I shall accept nothing.”
To Ippolitov-Ivanov.
“October27th(November8th), 1888.
“I cannot possibly give you any definite news as to my journey to Tiflis. It will be two or three weeks, at the earliest, before I know when I shall have to go abroad.... I only know thatI will come to Tiflis, even if I am dying. As to my fee, we will not speak of it. Before I take anything from you, something must be there. Let us see how the concert succeeds, and then we can settle how much you shall give me as ‘a tip.’ If it is not a success, I shall accept nothing.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Frolovskoe,October27th(November8th), 1888.“Now we are having sharp frosts, without snow, and fine, sunny days. It depresses me to think that I mustsoon leave my quiet home, my regular life, and daily constitutionals. Three days hence I go to Petersburg, where my concert takes place on November 5th (17th). On the 12th (24th) I take part in the Musical Society’s concert, and leave for Prague the next day to attend the rehearsals forEugene Oniegin. I have been working very hard lately. The orchestration of theHamletoverture is now finished. I have made innumerable corrections in the Symphony, and have been preparing everything I have to conduct at the forthcoming concerts.“I hope to spend December here, for I have to return direct from Prague in order to conduct the new Symphony in Moscow, and then I shall hasten to my harbour of refuge.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Frolovskoe,October27th(November8th), 1888.
“Now we are having sharp frosts, without snow, and fine, sunny days. It depresses me to think that I mustsoon leave my quiet home, my regular life, and daily constitutionals. Three days hence I go to Petersburg, where my concert takes place on November 5th (17th). On the 12th (24th) I take part in the Musical Society’s concert, and leave for Prague the next day to attend the rehearsals forEugene Oniegin. I have been working very hard lately. The orchestration of theHamletoverture is now finished. I have made innumerable corrections in the Symphony, and have been preparing everything I have to conduct at the forthcoming concerts.
“I hope to spend December here, for I have to return direct from Prague in order to conduct the new Symphony in Moscow, and then I shall hasten to my harbour of refuge.”
The Philharmonic concert in St. Petersburg was apparently a great success, but the Press notices of the new Symphony (No. 5) were far from satisfactory. On November 12th (24th) Tchaikovsky conducted it once more at the Musical Society, and on this occasion the fantasia-overtureHamletwas heard for the first time. Both works were well received by the public.
On this occasion Prague received Tchaikovsky less hospitably than on his first visit. “The rehearsal,” he wrote to Nadejda von Meck, “took place the very day I arrived. Last year, if you remember, I conducted two grand patriotic concerts, without a fee. To show their gratitude for my having come to the performance of the opera here, the management of the Prague Theatre organised a concert, of which I was to receive half the profits. But they chose such a bad day, and arranged everything so stupidly, that the concert only realised three hundred florins. After being received like a princelast year, when the enthusiasm which greeted me almost amounted to a frenzy, I felt somewhat hurt at this meagre offering on the part of the Prague public. I therefore declined the money, and made it over to the Musicians’ Pension Fund. This was soon made public, and the Theatre Direction was overwhelmed with reproaches. The whole Press took up the matter, and thanks to this, the performance ofOniegin, which I conducted the evening before last, gave rise to a series of enthusiastic ovations. Yesterday I left Prague, crowned with laurels; but, alas! my laurel wreaths were all I carried away. I do not know how to look after my pecuniary interests.”
The success ofOnieginin Prague was extraordinary, and the opera has kept its place in the repertory up to the present time.
Amid the chorus of praise, in which both the public and the Press united, one voice was especially valued by Tchaikovsky—that of his famous colleague, Anton Dvořák.
A. Dvořák to P. Tchaikovsky.“Prague,January2nd(14th), 1889.“Dear Friend,—When you were lately with us in Prague I promised to write to you on the subject of your operaOniegin. I am now moved to do so, not only in answer to your request, but also by my own impulse to express all I felt on hearing your work. I confess with joy that your opera made a profound impression on me—the kind of impression I expect to receive from a genuine work of art, and I do not hesitate to tell you that not one of your compositions has given me such pleasure asOniegin.“It is a wonderful creation, full of glowing emotion and poetry, and finely elaborated in all its details; in short, this music is captivating, and penetrates our hearts so deeply that we cannot forget it. Whenever I go to hear it I feel myself transported into another world.“I congratulate both you and ourselves upon this work. God grant you may give us many another like it.“I embrace you, and remain your sincerely devoted“Anton Dvořák.”
A. Dvořák to P. Tchaikovsky.
“Prague,January2nd(14th), 1889.
“Dear Friend,—When you were lately with us in Prague I promised to write to you on the subject of your operaOniegin. I am now moved to do so, not only in answer to your request, but also by my own impulse to express all I felt on hearing your work. I confess with joy that your opera made a profound impression on me—the kind of impression I expect to receive from a genuine work of art, and I do not hesitate to tell you that not one of your compositions has given me such pleasure asOniegin.
“It is a wonderful creation, full of glowing emotion and poetry, and finely elaborated in all its details; in short, this music is captivating, and penetrates our hearts so deeply that we cannot forget it. Whenever I go to hear it I feel myself transported into another world.
“I congratulate both you and ourselves upon this work. God grant you may give us many another like it.
“I embrace you, and remain your sincerely devoted
“Anton Dvořák.”
On his way home from Prague to Vienna, Tchaikovsky heard of the death of his niece, Vera Rimsky-Korsakov,néeDavidov. Although he had long since given up all hope of her recovery, this news affected him deeply.
From Prague he returned to Frolovskoe for a short time. On December 10th (22nd) he conducted his new works at a Symphony Concert in Moscow. These included the new Symphony (No. 5, E minor) and the second Pianoforte Concerto, with Sapellnikov as soloist; both works achieved great success.
December 17th (29th) found him again in Petersburg, where, at the fourth of Belaiev’s “Russian Symphony Concerts,” he conducted hisTempestoverture, and on the following day was present at a performance of theOprichnikgiven by the pupils of the Petersburg Conservatoire. Tchaikovsky was interested to renew his impressions of this work, and to prove whether his prejudice against it was well founded. In spite of a very good performance, his opinion of the opera remained unaltered.
The next work which Tchaikovsky took in hand after his return from Prague was the music of the ballet,The Sleeping Beauty, the programme of which had been prepared by Vsievolojsky, Director of the Imperial Opera. Tchaikovsky was charmed with the subject and the proposed mounting of the work, and retired to Frolovskoe late in December, in order to devote himself to the task.
In view of the great popularity to which his Fifth Symphony has since attained, it is interesting to read the composer’s own judgment of the work, recorded within a few weeks of its first performance. Writing to Nadejda von Meck, in December, 1888, he says:—
“ ... After two performances of my new Symphony in Petersburg, and one in Prague, I have come to the conclusion that it is a failure. There is something repellent, something superfluous, patchy, and insincere, which the public instinctively recognises. It was obvious to me that the ovations I received were prompted more by my earlier work, and that the Symphony itself did not really please the audience. The consciousness of this brings me a sharp twinge of self-dissatisfaction. Am I really played out, as they say? Can I merely repeat and ring the changes on my earlier idiom? Last night I looked throughourSymphony (No. 4). What a difference! How immeasurably superior it is! It is very, very sad!”
“ ... After two performances of my new Symphony in Petersburg, and one in Prague, I have come to the conclusion that it is a failure. There is something repellent, something superfluous, patchy, and insincere, which the public instinctively recognises. It was obvious to me that the ovations I received were prompted more by my earlier work, and that the Symphony itself did not really please the audience. The consciousness of this brings me a sharp twinge of self-dissatisfaction. Am I really played out, as they say? Can I merely repeat and ring the changes on my earlier idiom? Last night I looked throughourSymphony (No. 4). What a difference! How immeasurably superior it is! It is very, very sad!”
Such attacks of pessimism as to his creative powers were often, as we have already seen, the forerunner of a new tide of inspiration. This was now the case. SinceEugene OnieginTchaikovsky had never worked at anything with the ease and enthusiasm which inspired him in the first four tableaux of this ballet,The Sleeping Beauty, the sketch of which was completely finished by January 18th (30th).
The monotony of these six weeks’ work was relieved by news of the success of the Fifth Symphony in Moscow, and also by the kindness of his friend, Peter Jurgenson, who surprised him at Christmas with a beautiful and valuable gift—the complete edition of Mozart’s works. These he commissioned Alexis to present to his master, together with a tiny Christmas-tree.
On January 24th (February 5th), 1889, Tchaikovsky started on his second concert tour abroad. He experienced “the usual feelings of home-sickness,” and began to anticipate the joy of his return. He remained three days in Berlin, and arrived in Cologne on January 29th (February 10th), where he was to make his first appearance as composer and conductor, with his Third Suite (in G), at a so-called “Gürzenich” concert.
To M. Tchaikovsky.“Cologne,January30th(February11th), 1889.“ ... To-day was my first rehearsal. It went very well, and the orchestra is excellent, so that the three hours passed very pleasantly, excepting for the agitation at the start. Hardly had I got back to my hotel before I was seized with home-sickness and a wild longing for April 8th....”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“Cologne,January30th(February11th), 1889.
“ ... To-day was my first rehearsal. It went very well, and the orchestra is excellent, so that the three hours passed very pleasantly, excepting for the agitation at the start. Hardly had I got back to my hotel before I was seized with home-sickness and a wild longing for April 8th....”
Tchaikovsky made his début at Cologne on January 31st (February 12th). He thus describes his impressions to Glazounov:—
“I arrived shortly before the first of the three rehearsals. One hardly expects to find a first-class orchestra in a town of secondary importance, and I was convinced it would only be a very poor one. The local conductor, Wüllner, has, however, worked with such care and energy that he has succeeded in organising a magnificent orchestra, which filled me with astonishment and admiration from the very opening of my Third Suite. Twenty first violins! And such violins! The wind, too, is admirable. They read the Scherzo, which is particularly difficult, as if they were playing it for the tenth time. With such an orchestra and three rehearsals, it was easy to achieve an admirable performance. The concert-hall is also excellent; the audience equally so, and not so stupidly conservative as in many German towns. The success was great, and when I was recalled the musicians greeted me with a fanfare.“Early on February 1st (13th),” the letter continues, “I started for Frankfort. Here the orchestra is equally large and excellent. The violins did not seem to me quite as good as those in Cologne, although they consist mostly of leaders from the neighbouring towns—so I was told—who come here to play at the great concerts. There are twelve ‘cellos. One of them, Kossmann, the celebrated virtuoso, was once professor at Moscow. My Overture “1812” was in the programme. At the first rehearsal, however, the managers of the concert tookfright at the noisy Finale, and timidly requested me to choose another piece. Since, however, I had no other piece at hand, they decided to confine themselves to the Suite. The success here was as great as it was unexpected, for the Frankfort public is very classical, and I am regarded in Germany as a notorious revolutionary.”
“I arrived shortly before the first of the three rehearsals. One hardly expects to find a first-class orchestra in a town of secondary importance, and I was convinced it would only be a very poor one. The local conductor, Wüllner, has, however, worked with such care and energy that he has succeeded in organising a magnificent orchestra, which filled me with astonishment and admiration from the very opening of my Third Suite. Twenty first violins! And such violins! The wind, too, is admirable. They read the Scherzo, which is particularly difficult, as if they were playing it for the tenth time. With such an orchestra and three rehearsals, it was easy to achieve an admirable performance. The concert-hall is also excellent; the audience equally so, and not so stupidly conservative as in many German towns. The success was great, and when I was recalled the musicians greeted me with a fanfare.
“Early on February 1st (13th),” the letter continues, “I started for Frankfort. Here the orchestra is equally large and excellent. The violins did not seem to me quite as good as those in Cologne, although they consist mostly of leaders from the neighbouring towns—so I was told—who come here to play at the great concerts. There are twelve ‘cellos. One of them, Kossmann, the celebrated virtuoso, was once professor at Moscow. My Overture “1812” was in the programme. At the first rehearsal, however, the managers of the concert tookfright at the noisy Finale, and timidly requested me to choose another piece. Since, however, I had no other piece at hand, they decided to confine themselves to the Suite. The success here was as great as it was unexpected, for the Frankfort public is very classical, and I am regarded in Germany as a notorious revolutionary.”
Of those in Frankfort whose society Tchaikovsky most enjoyed, he mentions in his diary the family of the celebrated music publisher, pianist, and composer, Otto Neitzel, and Ivan Knorr, Professor at the Frankfort Conservatoire, besides the ‘cellist Kossmann.
Tchaikovsky reached Dresden on February 4th (16th). Here disappointment awaited him. The orchestra proved to be only “third-rate,” to use his own words, and the work he had to rehearse made even greater technical demands than the Third Suite; it was his favourite composition—the Fourth Symphony. TheDresdner Zeitungspoke of “a very poor rendering of several passages, the result of insufficient rehearsal.” The concert took place on February 8th (20th). The first Pianoforte Concerto (Emil Sauer) was included in the programme. According to Tchaikovsky’s account, “the first movement pleased the audience a little, the Andante pleased better, the Scherzo still more, while the Finale had a real success. The musicians honoured me with a fanfare. Sauer played incomparably.”
To P. Jurgenson.“Dresden,February5th(17th) 1889.“Dear Friend,—I had forgotten to answer you about Paris. Please remember that it is impossible to give a concert there unless support is guaranteed by the French. I hear that Slaviansky, Bessel, and others want to have a finger in the pie. I have not the least wish to associate myself with them. You can simply say that, without aguarantee, we are not in a position to undertake anything.[136]Heavens, how tired I am, and how bored by all this!“ ... I expect soon to hear decisively from Klindworth and Dvořák. A letter to hand from Massenet. He accepts with enthusiasm, but begs to keep the date open for the present, as it depends on the fate of his new opera.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Dresden,February5th(17th) 1889.
“Dear Friend,—I had forgotten to answer you about Paris. Please remember that it is impossible to give a concert there unless support is guaranteed by the French. I hear that Slaviansky, Bessel, and others want to have a finger in the pie. I have not the least wish to associate myself with them. You can simply say that, without aguarantee, we are not in a position to undertake anything.[136]Heavens, how tired I am, and how bored by all this!
“ ... I expect soon to hear decisively from Klindworth and Dvořák. A letter to hand from Massenet. He accepts with enthusiasm, but begs to keep the date open for the present, as it depends on the fate of his new opera.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Berlin,February11th(23rd), 1889.“After an exhausting tour I arrived here yesterday. In one week I had three concerts and nine rehearsals. I cannot conceive whence I draw strength for all this. Either these fresh exertions will prove injurious, or this feverish activity will be an antidote to my troubles, which are chiefly the result of the constant sitting my work entails. There is no medium; I must return to Russia ‘either with my shield or upon it.’ I am inclined to think that, in spite of hard moments and the continual self-conflict, all this is good for me.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Berlin,February11th(23rd), 1889.
“After an exhausting tour I arrived here yesterday. In one week I had three concerts and nine rehearsals. I cannot conceive whence I draw strength for all this. Either these fresh exertions will prove injurious, or this feverish activity will be an antidote to my troubles, which are chiefly the result of the constant sitting my work entails. There is no medium; I must return to Russia ‘either with my shield or upon it.’ I am inclined to think that, in spite of hard moments and the continual self-conflict, all this is good for me.”
To A. Glazounov.“Berlin,February15th(27th), 1889.“ ... If my whole tour consisted only of concerts and rehearsals, it would be very pleasant. Unhappily, however, I am overwhelmed with invitations to dinners and suppers.... I much regret that the Russian papers have said nothing as to my victorious campaign. What can I do? I have no friends on the Russian Press. Even if I had, I should never manage to advertise myself. My Press notices abroad are curious: some find fault, others flatter; but all testify to the fact that Germans know very little about Russian music. There are exceptions, of course. In Cologne and in other towns I came across people who took great interest in Russian music and were well acquainted with it. In most instances Borodin’s E flat Symphony is well known. Borodin seems to be a special favourite in Germany (although they only care for this symphony). Many people ask for information about you.They know you are still very young, but are amazed when I tell them you were only fifteen when you wrote your Symphony in E flat, which has become very well known since its performance at the festival. Klindworth intends to produce a Russian work at his concert in Berlin. I recommended him Rimsky-Korsakov’sCaprice Espagnoland yourStenka Razin.”
To A. Glazounov.
“Berlin,February15th(27th), 1889.
“ ... If my whole tour consisted only of concerts and rehearsals, it would be very pleasant. Unhappily, however, I am overwhelmed with invitations to dinners and suppers.... I much regret that the Russian papers have said nothing as to my victorious campaign. What can I do? I have no friends on the Russian Press. Even if I had, I should never manage to advertise myself. My Press notices abroad are curious: some find fault, others flatter; but all testify to the fact that Germans know very little about Russian music. There are exceptions, of course. In Cologne and in other towns I came across people who took great interest in Russian music and were well acquainted with it. In most instances Borodin’s E flat Symphony is well known. Borodin seems to be a special favourite in Germany (although they only care for this symphony). Many people ask for information about you.They know you are still very young, but are amazed when I tell them you were only fifteen when you wrote your Symphony in E flat, which has become very well known since its performance at the festival. Klindworth intends to produce a Russian work at his concert in Berlin. I recommended him Rimsky-Korsakov’sCaprice Espagnoland yourStenka Razin.”
To P. Jurgenson.“Leipzig,February17th(March1st), 1889.“Klindworth says that I am an ‘excellent conductor.’ First-rate, isn’t it?“Klindworth is prepared to appear next season at our concerts for anything we like to offer. He will give a Wagner programme. Dvořák promises to conduct a whole concert; but he cannot travel alone, and brings his wife, so he asks a higher fee. Never mind. In the spring it would be well to get out an advertisement with such names as Massenet, Dvořák, Klindworth. I shall make an attempt to invite Brahms. That would be grand!“When in Berlin, Artôt and dear Hugo Bock were my great comfort.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Leipzig,February17th(March1st), 1889.
“Klindworth says that I am an ‘excellent conductor.’ First-rate, isn’t it?
“Klindworth is prepared to appear next season at our concerts for anything we like to offer. He will give a Wagner programme. Dvořák promises to conduct a whole concert; but he cannot travel alone, and brings his wife, so he asks a higher fee. Never mind. In the spring it would be well to get out an advertisement with such names as Massenet, Dvořák, Klindworth. I shall make an attempt to invite Brahms. That would be grand!
“When in Berlin, Artôt and dear Hugo Bock were my great comfort.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Geneva,February21st(March5th), 1889.“I am engaged to give a concert of my own compositions here. It takes place on Saturday, March 9th. The orchestra is very small, only third-rate. Had I known, I never would have come, but the theatrical Director (he is no musician) probably believes that the quality and number of an orchestra are of no importance to a wandering musician. How I shall get through with this small provincial band, I really do not know. However, I must confess that they showed great zeal at yesterday’s rehearsal....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Geneva,February21st(March5th), 1889.
“I am engaged to give a concert of my own compositions here. It takes place on Saturday, March 9th. The orchestra is very small, only third-rate. Had I known, I never would have come, but the theatrical Director (he is no musician) probably believes that the quality and number of an orchestra are of no importance to a wandering musician. How I shall get through with this small provincial band, I really do not know. However, I must confess that they showed great zeal at yesterday’s rehearsal....”
After all, this concert was a success. The room was crowded, and the Russian colony presented Tchaikovsky with a gilt laurel-wreath.
On February 27th (March 11th) Tchaikovsky arrived inHamburg. Brahms was at his hotel, occupying the room next his own. Peter Ilich felt greatly flattered on learning that the famous German composer was staying a day longer on purpose to hear the rehearsal of his Fifth Symphony. Tchaikovsky was very well received by the orchestra. Brahms remained in the room until the end of the rehearsal. Afterwards, at luncheon, he gave his opinion of the work “very frankly and simply.” It had pleased him on the whole, with the exception of the Finale. Not unnaturally, the composer of this movement felt “deeply hurt” for the moment; but happily the injury was not incurable, as we shall see. Tchaikovsky took this opportunity to invite Brahms to conduct one of the Symphony Concerts in Moscow, but the latter declined. Nevertheless Tchaikovsky’s personal liking for the composer of theGerman Requiemwas increased, although his opinion of his compositions was not changed. Tchaikovsky played no part in the conflict between Brahms and Wagner, which divided all musical Germany into two hostile camps. Brahms’s personality as man and artist, his purity and loftiness of aim, and his earnestness of purpose won his sympathy. Wagner’s personality and tendencies were antipathetic to him; but while the inspired music of the latter found an echo in his heart, the works of Brahms left him cold.
At the second rehearsal all went “excellently,” and at the third Tchaikovsky observed that the Symphony pleased the musicians. At the public rehearsal “there was real enthusiasm,” and although the demonstration at the concert on March 3rd (15th) was less noisy, the success of the Symphony was no less assured.
The pleasant impressions of the evening were slightly marred by the absence—on account of illness—of Ave-Lallemant, to whom the Symphony is dedicated.
To V. Davidov.“HanoverMarch5th(17th), 1889.“ ... The concert at Hamburg has taken place, and I may congratulate myself on a great success. The Fifth Symphony was magnificently played, and I like it far better now, after having held a bad opinion of it for some time. Unfortunately the Russian Press continues to ignore me. With the exception of my nearest and dearest, no one will ever hear of my successes. In the daily papers here one reads long telegrams about the Wagner performances in Russia. Certainly I am not a second Wagner, but it would be desirable for Russia to learn how I have been received in Germany.”
To V. Davidov.
“HanoverMarch5th(17th), 1889.
“ ... The concert at Hamburg has taken place, and I may congratulate myself on a great success. The Fifth Symphony was magnificently played, and I like it far better now, after having held a bad opinion of it for some time. Unfortunately the Russian Press continues to ignore me. With the exception of my nearest and dearest, no one will ever hear of my successes. In the daily papers here one reads long telegrams about the Wagner performances in Russia. Certainly I am not a second Wagner, but it would be desirable for Russia to learn how I have been received in Germany.”
To M. Tchaikovsky.“ ... Success is very pleasant at the time, but when there is neither rehearsal nor concert, I immediately relapse into my usual state of depression and boredom. Only one concert remains, the one in London, but not for another month. How on earth shall I kill time till then? Possibly I may go straight to Paris. Rushing about there ought to drive awayennui. How one wastes time!”
To M. Tchaikovsky.
“ ... Success is very pleasant at the time, but when there is neither rehearsal nor concert, I immediately relapse into my usual state of depression and boredom. Only one concert remains, the one in London, but not for another month. How on earth shall I kill time till then? Possibly I may go straight to Paris. Rushing about there ought to drive awayennui. How one wastes time!”
The three days’ visit to Hanover only differed from Tchaikovsky’s sojourn in other towns in that he missed the only thing that could help him to conquer his chronic home-sickness—concerts and rehearsals.
“Curious fact,” he remarks in his diary, “I seek solitude, and suffer when I have found it.” In this state of fluctuation betweenbadandworseTchaikovsky had spent his time since he left Russia; but theworstwas reserved for Hanover, where he experienced “extreme loneliness.”
On March 8th (20th) he arrived in Paris, and remained there until the 30th (April 11th).
As his present visit to the French capital was not undertaken in a public capacity, it was neither so brilliant, nor so fatiguing, as that of the previous year. At the sametime he came in contact with many people and received a number of invitations. On March 19th (31st) he was present at one of Colonne’s concerts, when three numbers from his Third Suite were played.
During this holiday in Paris Tchaikovsky had only two aims in view: to secure Massenet for one of the Moscow Symphony Concerts and to use his influence in favour of Sapellnikov, whose gifts as a pianist he valued very highly.
To P. Jurgenson.“March21st(April2nd), 1889.“I have seen Massenet several times; he is very much flattered and prepared to come. The spring will suit him best. I have engaged Paderewski, who has had a colossal success in Paris. He is not inferior to D’Albert, and one of the very first pianists of the day.“The Third Suite had a splendid success at Colonne’s concert.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“March21st(April2nd), 1889.
“I have seen Massenet several times; he is very much flattered and prepared to come. The spring will suit him best. I have engaged Paderewski, who has had a colossal success in Paris. He is not inferior to D’Albert, and one of the very first pianists of the day.
“The Third Suite had a splendid success at Colonne’s concert.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Paris,April7th(19th), 1889.“Modi,—Vassia[137]played to Colonne yesterday evening. After the Chopin Polonaise Colonne was astonished, and said he would engage him next year and do ‘les choses en grand.’ ... Vassia has made afurore.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Paris,April7th(19th), 1889.
“Modi,—Vassia[137]played to Colonne yesterday evening. After the Chopin Polonaise Colonne was astonished, and said he would engage him next year and do ‘les choses en grand.’ ... Vassia has made afurore.”
To V. Davidov.“London, 1889.“ ... The evening before I left Paris I went to Madame Viardot’s. I heard an opera which she composed twenty years ago to a libretto by Tourgeniev.[138]The singers were her two daughters and her pupils, among whom was a Russian, who danced a national dance to the delight of all the spectators. I have seen the celebrated Eiffel Tower quite near. It is very fine.... I very much enjoyed hearing the finest of Berlioz’s works,La Damnation de Faust. I am very fond of this masterpiece, and wish you knew it.Lalo’s opera,Le Roi d’Ys, also pleased me very much. It has been decided that I shall compose an opera to a French book,La Courtisane.[139]I have made acquaintance with a number of the younger French composers;[140]they are all the most rabid Wagnerites. But Wagnerism sits so badly on the French! With them it takes the form of a childishness which they pursue in order to appear earnest.”
To V. Davidov.
“London, 1889.
“ ... The evening before I left Paris I went to Madame Viardot’s. I heard an opera which she composed twenty years ago to a libretto by Tourgeniev.[138]The singers were her two daughters and her pupils, among whom was a Russian, who danced a national dance to the delight of all the spectators. I have seen the celebrated Eiffel Tower quite near. It is very fine.... I very much enjoyed hearing the finest of Berlioz’s works,La Damnation de Faust. I am very fond of this masterpiece, and wish you knew it.Lalo’s opera,Le Roi d’Ys, also pleased me very much. It has been decided that I shall compose an opera to a French book,La Courtisane.[139]I have made acquaintance with a number of the younger French composers;[140]they are all the most rabid Wagnerites. But Wagnerism sits so badly on the French! With them it takes the form of a childishness which they pursue in order to appear earnest.”
To the same.“London,March30th(April11th), 1889.“ ... Before all else, let me inform you that I have made acquaintance with London fog. Last year I enjoyed the fog daily, but I never dreamt of anything like the one we had to-day. When I went to rehearsal this morning it was rather foggy, as it often is in Petersburg. But when at midday I left St. James’s Hall with Sapellnikov and went into the street, it was actually night—as dark as a moonless, autumn night at home. It made a great impression upon us both. I felt as though I were sitting in a subterranean dungeon. Now at 4 p.m. it is rather lighter, but still gloomy. It is extraordinary that this should happen half-way through April. Even the Londoners are astonished and annoyed.“Ah, Bob, how glad I shall be to get back to Frolovskoe! I think I shall never leave it again.“The rehearsal went off very well to-day; the orchestra here is very fine. Sapellnikov has not played yet. To-morrow he will certainly make a sensation among the musicians....”
To the same.
“London,March30th(April11th), 1889.
“ ... Before all else, let me inform you that I have made acquaintance with London fog. Last year I enjoyed the fog daily, but I never dreamt of anything like the one we had to-day. When I went to rehearsal this morning it was rather foggy, as it often is in Petersburg. But when at midday I left St. James’s Hall with Sapellnikov and went into the street, it was actually night—as dark as a moonless, autumn night at home. It made a great impression upon us both. I felt as though I were sitting in a subterranean dungeon. Now at 4 p.m. it is rather lighter, but still gloomy. It is extraordinary that this should happen half-way through April. Even the Londoners are astonished and annoyed.
“Ah, Bob, how glad I shall be to get back to Frolovskoe! I think I shall never leave it again.
“The rehearsal went off very well to-day; the orchestra here is very fine. Sapellnikov has not played yet. To-morrow he will certainly make a sensation among the musicians....”
At the London Philharmonic Tchaikovsky conducted his first Pianoforte Concerto (with Sapellnikov as soloist) and the Suite No. 1. Both works had a brilliant success. This was evident from the opinions of the Press, although the lion’s share of praise fell to the lot of Sapellnikov.The Musical Timesregretted that one of Tchaikovsky’ssymphonies had not been given instead of the Suite, and considered this work was not sufficiently characteristic to give a just idea of the composer’s talent.
Tchaikovsky left London very early on the morning of March 31st (April 12th), and arrived at Marseilles on the following day, where he embarked for Batoum by the Messageries Maritimes.
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Constantinople,April8th(20th), 1889.“ ... We left Marseilles a week ago. The ship is a good one, the food excellent. It was sometimes very rough. Between Syra and Smyrna there was quite a storm, to which I cannot look back without horror. Both these places pleased me very much. I got to know two Russians on board: a lad of fourteen, Volodya Sklifassovsky (son of the celebrated surgeon), and Hermanovich, a student at the Moscow University, who was travelling with him. Both were charming beings, with whom I made fast friends. They were going to Odessa—I to Batoum. We spent the whole of the evening together in the town, but slept on board. I shall miss them very much....”When Tchaikovsky parted from his new friends he returned to his cabin and “cried bitterly,” as though he had some premonition that he should never again see this lovable and highly gifted boy on earth. Volodya Sklifassovsky died in January, 1890.
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Constantinople,April8th(20th), 1889.
“ ... We left Marseilles a week ago. The ship is a good one, the food excellent. It was sometimes very rough. Between Syra and Smyrna there was quite a storm, to which I cannot look back without horror. Both these places pleased me very much. I got to know two Russians on board: a lad of fourteen, Volodya Sklifassovsky (son of the celebrated surgeon), and Hermanovich, a student at the Moscow University, who was travelling with him. Both were charming beings, with whom I made fast friends. They were going to Odessa—I to Batoum. We spent the whole of the evening together in the town, but slept on board. I shall miss them very much....”
When Tchaikovsky parted from his new friends he returned to his cabin and “cried bitterly,” as though he had some premonition that he should never again see this lovable and highly gifted boy on earth. Volodya Sklifassovsky died in January, 1890.
To N. F. von Meck.“Tiflis,April20th(May2nd), 1889.“ ... A glorious land, the Caucasus! How indescribably beautiful is the valley of the Rion, for instance, with its rich vegetation, through which runs the railway from Batoum to this place! Imagine, my dear, a wide valley, shut in on either side by rocks and mountains of fantasticform, in which flourish rhododendrons and other spring flowers, besides an abundance of trees, putting forth their fresh green foliage; and, added to this, the noisy, winding, brimming waters of the Rion.... In Tiflis, too, it is wonderful just now; all the fruit trees are in blossom. The weather is so clear that all the distant snow-peaks are visible, and the air is full of the feeling of spring, fragrant and life-giving. After the London fog it seems so beautiful, I can find no words to express it....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Tiflis,April20th(May2nd), 1889.
“ ... A glorious land, the Caucasus! How indescribably beautiful is the valley of the Rion, for instance, with its rich vegetation, through which runs the railway from Batoum to this place! Imagine, my dear, a wide valley, shut in on either side by rocks and mountains of fantasticform, in which flourish rhododendrons and other spring flowers, besides an abundance of trees, putting forth their fresh green foliage; and, added to this, the noisy, winding, brimming waters of the Rion.... In Tiflis, too, it is wonderful just now; all the fruit trees are in blossom. The weather is so clear that all the distant snow-peaks are visible, and the air is full of the feeling of spring, fragrant and life-giving. After the London fog it seems so beautiful, I can find no words to express it....”
By May 7th (19th) Tchaikovsky was back in Moscow. The following letter throws some light on the musical life of that town.
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.“Moscow,May12th(24th), 1889.“ ... All were glad to see me again. Since my return I have attended the committee meetings of the Musical Society every day. There is a great accumulation of business. Acoup d’étathas taken place in the Conservatoire. Taneiev has resigned the direction, and Safonov is prepared to take his place, on condition that Karl Albrecht gives up the post of inspector. I backed Karl persistently and energetically, and finally declared that I would retire from the Board of Direction if he were allowed to leave without any decoration for long service....”From Moscow Tchaikovsky went to Petersburg for a few days, returning to Frolovskoe, where he remained for the next four months.The summer of 1889 passed in peaceful monotony. Tchaikovsky was engaged in composing and orchestrating his ballet,The Sleeping Beauty.... The little parties he occasionally gave—when Jurgenson, Mme. A. Hubert, and Siloti were his usual guests—were the sole “events” of this period of his life. But no account of this summer—uneventful as it was—would be complete without some mention of Legoshin’s[141]daughter, a child of three.Tchaikovsky was altogether fascinated by her prettiness, her clear, bell-like voice, her charming ways, and clever little head. He would spend hours romping with the child, listening to her chatter, and even acting as nursemaid.At this time Tchaikovsky’s correspondence had not decreased, but many of his business letters are not forthcoming, and those of a more private nature which date from this summer are for the most part short and uninteresting.
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.
“Moscow,May12th(24th), 1889.
“ ... All were glad to see me again. Since my return I have attended the committee meetings of the Musical Society every day. There is a great accumulation of business. Acoup d’étathas taken place in the Conservatoire. Taneiev has resigned the direction, and Safonov is prepared to take his place, on condition that Karl Albrecht gives up the post of inspector. I backed Karl persistently and energetically, and finally declared that I would retire from the Board of Direction if he were allowed to leave without any decoration for long service....”
From Moscow Tchaikovsky went to Petersburg for a few days, returning to Frolovskoe, where he remained for the next four months.
The summer of 1889 passed in peaceful monotony. Tchaikovsky was engaged in composing and orchestrating his ballet,The Sleeping Beauty.... The little parties he occasionally gave—when Jurgenson, Mme. A. Hubert, and Siloti were his usual guests—were the sole “events” of this period of his life. But no account of this summer—uneventful as it was—would be complete without some mention of Legoshin’s[141]daughter, a child of three.Tchaikovsky was altogether fascinated by her prettiness, her clear, bell-like voice, her charming ways, and clever little head. He would spend hours romping with the child, listening to her chatter, and even acting as nursemaid.
At this time Tchaikovsky’s correspondence had not decreased, but many of his business letters are not forthcoming, and those of a more private nature which date from this summer are for the most part short and uninteresting.
To Edward Napravnik.“Klin,July9th(21st), 1889.“ ... You have not forgotten your promise to conduct one of the concerts of the Moscow Musical Society, dear friend?...“Now for the programme. It rests entirely with you both as regards the choice of music and of the soloists.... We beg you to lay aside your modesty, and to include at least two important works of your own. I implore youmost emphaticallynot to do any of my compositions. As I am arranging this concert, it would be most unseemly were the conductor I engaged to perform any work of mine. I would not on any account have it suspected that I was looking after my own interests. But people would be sure to put this interpretation upon the matter, if the conductor invited for the occasion were to include any of my music in the programme. I think Dvořák will only bring forward his own works, so I will ask you as a Russo-Bohemian to give us something of Smetana’s,Vishergrad, orMoldava....”
To Edward Napravnik.
“Klin,July9th(21st), 1889.
“ ... You have not forgotten your promise to conduct one of the concerts of the Moscow Musical Society, dear friend?...
“Now for the programme. It rests entirely with you both as regards the choice of music and of the soloists.... We beg you to lay aside your modesty, and to include at least two important works of your own. I implore youmost emphaticallynot to do any of my compositions. As I am arranging this concert, it would be most unseemly were the conductor I engaged to perform any work of mine. I would not on any account have it suspected that I was looking after my own interests. But people would be sure to put this interpretation upon the matter, if the conductor invited for the occasion were to include any of my music in the programme. I think Dvořák will only bring forward his own works, so I will ask you as a Russo-Bohemian to give us something of Smetana’s,Vishergrad, orMoldava....”
To N. F. von Meck.“Frolovskoe,July25th(August6th), 1889.“ ... My ballet will be published in November or December. Siloti is making the pianoforte arrangement. I think, dear friend, that it will be one of my best works. The subject is so poetical, so grateful for musical setting,that I have worked at it with all that enthusiasm and goodwill upon which the value of a composition so much depends. The instrumentation gives me far more trouble than it used to do; consequently the work goes slowly, but perhaps all the better. Many of my earlier compositions show traces of hurry and lack of due reflection.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Frolovskoe,July25th(August6th), 1889.
“ ... My ballet will be published in November or December. Siloti is making the pianoforte arrangement. I think, dear friend, that it will be one of my best works. The subject is so poetical, so grateful for musical setting,that I have worked at it with all that enthusiasm and goodwill upon which the value of a composition so much depends. The instrumentation gives me far more trouble than it used to do; consequently the work goes slowly, but perhaps all the better. Many of my earlier compositions show traces of hurry and lack of due reflection.”
At the close of September, 1889, Tchaikovsky went to Moscow, where very complicated business in connection with the Russian Musical Society awaited his attention. For each symphony concert during the forthcoming season a different conductor was to be engaged.[142]Besides this, he had to superintend the rehearsals forEugene Oniegin. This opera was to be newly and sumptuously remounted on September 18th (30th), when the composer had undertaken to conduct his own work.
From Moscow Tchaikovsky went to Petersburg for a few days, to attend a meeting of the committee appointed to arrange the Jubilee Festival for Anton Rubinstein. Tchaikovsky had undertaken to compose two works for this occasion.
While he was in Petersburg, Alexis prepared the new quarters in Moscow, which he had taken for the whole winter.
The lack of society in the evening, and the heavy duties which awaited him in connection with the Musical Society, were Tchaikovsky’s sole reasons for wintering in Moscow rather than in the neighbourhood of Klin.
During the summer the idea of trying town life once more seemed to attract him, and he spoke with enthusiasm of his new apartment, and took the greatest interest in getting it ready; but, as the day of departure drew near, he felt less and less inclined to leave his country home.
Two circumstances contributed to make the first days after his arrival in Moscow depressing: first, he greatly missed the society of Laroche, who had gone to live in Petersburg; and, secondly, his friend, the ‘cellist Fitzenhagen, was on his death-bed.
His winter quarters were small, but comfortable. The work to which he looked forward with most apprehension was the direction of the two festival concerts for Rubinstein’s jubilee. For two and a half years he had been conducting his own compositions, but had comparatively little experience of other music. Therefore these long and heavy programmes, including as they did several of Rubinstein’s own works, filled him with anxious foreboding.
To N. F. von Meck.“Moscow,October12th(24th), 1889.“I am very glad you are at home, and I envy you. By nature I inclinevery,verymuch to the kind of life you lead. I long to live completely away from society, as you do, but during recent years circumstances have made it impossible for me to live as I please. I consider it my duty, while I have strength for it, to fight against my destiny and not to desert my fellow-creatures so long as they have need of me....“But, good God, what I have to get through this winter! It frightens me to think of all that lies before me, here and in Petersburg. Directly the season is over I shall go to Italy for a rest. I have not been there since 1882.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Moscow,October12th(24th), 1889.
“I am very glad you are at home, and I envy you. By nature I inclinevery,verymuch to the kind of life you lead. I long to live completely away from society, as you do, but during recent years circumstances have made it impossible for me to live as I please. I consider it my duty, while I have strength for it, to fight against my destiny and not to desert my fellow-creatures so long as they have need of me....
“But, good God, what I have to get through this winter! It frightens me to think of all that lies before me, here and in Petersburg. Directly the season is over I shall go to Italy for a rest. I have not been there since 1882.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“October16th(28th), 1889.“Just think: I have heard from Tchekov.[143]He wants to dedicate his new stories to me. I have been to thank him. I am very proud and pleased.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“October16th(28th), 1889.
“Just think: I have heard from Tchekov.[143]He wants to dedicate his new stories to me. I have been to thank him. I am very proud and pleased.”
Tchaikovsky first became acquainted with Tchekov’s works in 1887. His enthusiasm was such that he felt impelled to write to the author, expressing his delight at having come across a talent so fresh and original. His first personal acquaintance with his literary favourite probably dated from the autumn of the same year. At any rate, they had known each other previous to 1889.
To the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich.[144]“Moscow,October29th(November10th), 1889.“Your Imperial Highness,—I feel a certain pride in knowing that your admirable poem is partly the outcome of my letter to you last year. I cannot think why you should fancy that the idea of your poem does not please me. On the contrary, I like it very much. I cannot say that I have sufficient love and forbearance in my own nature always to love ‘the hand that chastises.’ Very often I want to parry the blows, and play the rebellious child in my turn. Nevertheless, I cannot but incline before the strength of mind and lofty views of such rare natures as Spinoza, or Tolstoi, who make no distinction between good and bad men, and take the same attitude towards every manifestation of human wickedness that you have expressed in your poem. I have never read Spinoza, so I speak of him from hearsay; but as regards Tolstoi, I have read and re-read him, and consider him the greatest writer in the world, past or present. His writings awake in me—apart from any powerful artistic impression—a peculiaremotion. I do not feel so deeply touched when he describes anything really emotional, such as death, suffering, separation, etc., so much as by the most ordinary, prosaic events. For instance, I remember that when reading the chapter in which Dolokhov plays cards with Rastov and wins, I burst into tears. Why should a scene in which two characters are acting in an unworthy manner affect me in this degree? The reason is simple enough. Tolstoi surveys the people he describes from such a height that they seem to him poor, insignificant pigmies who, in their blindness, injure each other in an aimless, purposeless way—and he pities them. Tolstoi has no malice; he loves and pities all his characters equally, and all their actions are the result of their own limitations and naïve egotism, their helplessness and insignificance. Therefore he never punishes his heroes for their ill_doings, as Dickens does (who is a great favourite of mine), because he never depicts anyone as absolutely bad, only blind people, as it were. His humanity is far above the sentimental humanity of Dickens; it almost attains to that view of human wickedness which is expressed in the words of Christ: ‘they know not what they do.’“Is not your Highness’s poem an echo of this lofty feeling of humanity which so dominates me, and how can I therefore fail to admire the fundamental idea of your verses?“The news that the Emperor has deigned to inquire after me gives me great pleasure. How am I to understand the Emperor’s question about little pieces? If it is an indirect incitement to compose something in this style, I will take the first opportunity of doing so. I should immensely like to compose a great symphony, which should be, as it were, the crown of my creative work, and dedicate it to the Tsar. I have long since had a vague plan of such a work in my mind, but many favourable circumstances must combine before I can realise my idea. I hope I shall not die before I have carried out this project. At present I am entirely absorbed in the concerts here and the preparations for Rubinstein’s jubilee.”
To the Grand Duke Constantine Constantinovich.[144]
“Moscow,October29th(November10th), 1889.
“Your Imperial Highness,—I feel a certain pride in knowing that your admirable poem is partly the outcome of my letter to you last year. I cannot think why you should fancy that the idea of your poem does not please me. On the contrary, I like it very much. I cannot say that I have sufficient love and forbearance in my own nature always to love ‘the hand that chastises.’ Very often I want to parry the blows, and play the rebellious child in my turn. Nevertheless, I cannot but incline before the strength of mind and lofty views of such rare natures as Spinoza, or Tolstoi, who make no distinction between good and bad men, and take the same attitude towards every manifestation of human wickedness that you have expressed in your poem. I have never read Spinoza, so I speak of him from hearsay; but as regards Tolstoi, I have read and re-read him, and consider him the greatest writer in the world, past or present. His writings awake in me—apart from any powerful artistic impression—a peculiaremotion. I do not feel so deeply touched when he describes anything really emotional, such as death, suffering, separation, etc., so much as by the most ordinary, prosaic events. For instance, I remember that when reading the chapter in which Dolokhov plays cards with Rastov and wins, I burst into tears. Why should a scene in which two characters are acting in an unworthy manner affect me in this degree? The reason is simple enough. Tolstoi surveys the people he describes from such a height that they seem to him poor, insignificant pigmies who, in their blindness, injure each other in an aimless, purposeless way—and he pities them. Tolstoi has no malice; he loves and pities all his characters equally, and all their actions are the result of their own limitations and naïve egotism, their helplessness and insignificance. Therefore he never punishes his heroes for their ill_doings, as Dickens does (who is a great favourite of mine), because he never depicts anyone as absolutely bad, only blind people, as it were. His humanity is far above the sentimental humanity of Dickens; it almost attains to that view of human wickedness which is expressed in the words of Christ: ‘they know not what they do.’
“Is not your Highness’s poem an echo of this lofty feeling of humanity which so dominates me, and how can I therefore fail to admire the fundamental idea of your verses?
“The news that the Emperor has deigned to inquire after me gives me great pleasure. How am I to understand the Emperor’s question about little pieces? If it is an indirect incitement to compose something in this style, I will take the first opportunity of doing so. I should immensely like to compose a great symphony, which should be, as it were, the crown of my creative work, and dedicate it to the Tsar. I have long since had a vague plan of such a work in my mind, but many favourable circumstances must combine before I can realise my idea. I hope I shall not die before I have carried out this project. At present I am entirely absorbed in the concerts here and the preparations for Rubinstein’s jubilee.”
In the same year in which my brother began to studywith Zaremba, in 1861 (or perhaps the previous year—I cannot remember for certain), he took Anatol and myself to an amateur performance in aid of some charity, given in the house of Prince Bieloselsky. Anton Rubinstein, already at the height of his fame, was among the audience. Peter Ilich pointed him out to me for the first time, and I still remember the excitement, rapture and reverence with which the future pupil gazed on his future teacher. He entirely forgot the play, while his eyes followed his “divinity,” with the rapt gaze of a lover for the unattainable beauty of his fancy. During the intervals he stood as near to him as possible, strove to catch the sound of his voice, and envied the fortunate mortals who ventured to shake hands with him.
This feeling (I might say “infatuation” had it not been based upon a full appreciation of Rubinstein’s value as a man and artist) practically lasted to the end of Tchaikovsky’s life. Externally he was always “in love” with Rubinstein, although—as is always the case in love affairs—there were periods of coolness, jealousy, and irritation, which invariably gave place in turn to a fresh access of that sentiment which set me wondering in Prince Bieloselsky’s reception-room. In Rubinstein’s presence Tchaikovsky became quite diffident, lost his head, and seemed to regard him as a superior being. When at a supper, given during the pianist’s jubilee, someone, in an indelicate and unseemly way, requested Rubinstein and Tchaikovsky to drink to each other “as brothers,” the latter was not only confused and indignant, but, in his reply to the toast, protested warmly, saying that his tongue would never consent to address the great artist in the second person singular—it would be entirely against the spirit of their relations. He would be happy if Rubinstein addressed him by the familiar “thou,” but for his own part, the more ceremonious form better expressed a sense of reverence from the pupil to his teacher, fromthe man to the embodiment of his ideal. These were no empty words. Rubinstein had been the first to give the novice in his art an example of the untiring devotion and disinterested spirit which animates the life of the true artist. In this sense Tchaikovsky was far more the pupil of Rubinstein than in questions of orchestration and composition. With his innate gifts and thirst for knowledge, any other teacher could have given him the same instruction. It was in his character as an energetic, irreproachably clean-minded and inspired artist, as a man who never compromised with his conscience, who had all his life detested every kind of humbug and the successes of vulgarity, as an indefatigable worker, that Rubinstein left really deep traces upon Tchaikovsky’s artistic career. The latter, writing to the well-known German journalist, Eugen Zabel, said: “Rubinstein’s personality shines before me like a clear, guiding star.”
But there were times when clouds obscured this “guiding star.” While recognising Rubinstein’s great gifts as a composer, and valuing some of his works very highly—such as the “Ocean Symphony,”The Tower of Babel, the Pianoforte Concerto,Ivan the Terrible, the violoncello sonatas, and many of the pieces for pianoforte—Tchaikovsky grew angry and impatient over the vast majority of the virtuoso’s mediocre and empty creations. He frequently expressed himself so sarcastically on this subject that I have cut out certain passages in his letters, lest they might give the reader a false impression of his attitude towards Rubinstein. But he soon forgot and forgave these momentary eclipses of “his star,” and always returned to his old spirit of veneration.
The deepest, keenest, and most painful aspect of their relations—and here artistic self-esteem doubtless played a part—was the knowledge of Rubinstein’s antipathy to him as a composer, which he never conquered to the end of his life. The virtuoso never cared for Tchaikovsky’smusic. Many of Rubinstein’s intimate friends, and also his wife, maintained the reverse. But in that case it was the love of Wotan for the Wälsungs. Secretly rejoicing in the success of Tchaikovsky-Siegmund, and sympathising in his heart with Tchaikovsky-Siegfried, Wotan-Rubinstein never did anything to forward the performance of his works, nor held out a helping hand.... From the earliest exercises at the Conservatoire, to the “Pathetic Symphony,” he never praised—and seldom condemned—a single work of Tchaikovsky’s. All of them, without exception, were silently ignored—together with all the music which came after Schumann—as unworthy of serious attention.
The legend of Rubinstein’s envy, which had absolutely no foundation in fact, always annoyed Tchaikovsky and aroused his wrath. Even if it might be to a certain extent true as regards the eighties, when my brother was recognised and famous, it could not apply to the attitude of a teacher towards a pupil who—although undoubtedly gifted—had a doubtful future before him. To the composer of the “Ocean Symphony” Tchaikovsky’s earliest essays in composition were as antipathetic asEugene Onieginand the Fifth Symphony. Envy can only exist between two equally matched rivals, and could not have influenced a giant—as Rubinstein was in the sixties—in his relations with anyone so insignificant as the Tchaikovsky of those days.
The feeling was simply the same which Tchaikovsky himself cherished for the works of Chopin and Brahms; a sentiment of instinctive and unconquerable antipathy. Rubinstein felt like this, not only towards Tchaikovsky’s music, but to all musical works which came after Chopin and Schumann.
In any case, however much Tchaikovsky may have been wounded by Rubinstein’s indifference, he remained loyal to his enthusiasm for his former teacher. When theDuke of Mecklenburg-Strelitz requested him to take part in organising the celebration of Rubinstein’s jubilee, he expressed himself willing to put himself at the disposal of the committee. It was decided that he should conduct the jubilee concerts and compose a chorusa capellato words by Polonsky. The chorus was to be sung at the festival given in the hall of the Nobles’ Club, November 18th (30th), 1889. In addition he undertook to contribute something to the album which Rubinstein’s former pupils at the Petersburg Conservatoire were going to present him on the same occasion.
The second half of his task was easily fulfilled. In a few days both compositions—the chorus and an Impromptu for pianoforte—were ready. The conducting of the concerts was another matter. The labour it involved, and the difficulties in connection with it, made real demands upon Tchaikovsky’s devotion for his old teacher.
The programme of the first concert consisted entirely of symphonic works, including the Konzertstück (op. 113), with Rubinstein himself at the piano, and the Symphony No. 5 (op. 107). At the second concert, besides the dances fromFeramorsand theRoussalkasongs, the chief item was the Biblical opera,The Tower of Babel.
This programme would have made very heavy demands upon the most experienced conductor; it was a still heavier task for one who—only a month previously—had conducted for the first time any works other than his own.
“There were moments,” he wrote to Nadejda von Meck, “when I experienced such a complete loss of strength that I feared for my life. The working up ofThe Tower of Babel, with its chorus of seven hundred voices, gave me the most trouble. On the evening of November 10th (22nd), just before the oratorio began, I had an attack of nerves, which they feared might prevent my returning to the conductor’s desk. But—perhaps thanks to this crisis—I pulled myself together in time, and all went wellto the end. You will learn all details about the festival from the newspapers. I will only add that from the 1st to the 19th of November I endured martyrdom, and I am still marvelling how I lived through it all.”
To the period between the end of October, 1889, to the middle of January, 1890, belong but twelve letters, only two of which have any biographical interest. The rest are merely short notes of no importance. Such a decrease in Tchaikovsky’s correspondence is a symptom of the highly nervous and distracted phase which he was now passing through. For a long time past letter-writing had ceased to be a pleasant duty; still, it remained aduty, which he could only neglect under special circumstances, such as overwhelmed him at the commencement of this season.
He had scarcely got over the jubilee concerts, when he had to return to Moscow to conduct Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony at an extra Symphony Concert, given in aid of the fund for the widows and orphans of musicians.
Only two published notices of this concert are in existence at Klin. Both emanate from staunch admirers of Tchaikovsky: Kashkin and Konius, who, in spite of all their justice, probably show some partisanship in their praise.
On the same occasion Brandoukov played Tchaikovsky’s Pezzo Capriccioso for violoncello with great success.
It was unfortunate that after all this strain and anxiety the composer was not able to return to his country retreat, where the peaceful solitude invariably restored him to health and strength. In spite of all precautions, he was overrun with visitors; and his Moscow quarters were so small that he sighed perpetually for his roomy home at Frolovskoe. Added to which, Alexis Safronov’s wife was dying of consumption. We know Tchaikovsky’s attitude to those who served him. He never regarded them as subordinates, mere machines for carrying out his wishes, butrather as friends, in whose joys and sorrows he felt the keenest sympathy. The illness of his servant’s young wife caused him great sorrow; the more so that he saw no way of saving her life. The knowledge that he was of no use, but rather a hindrance to the care of the invalid—for Alexis was the poor soul’s only nurse—made Tchaikovsky anxious to save his man all the personal services with which he could possibly dispense. For this reason he cut short his stay in Moscow and returned to Petersburg at the end of November, where his ballet,The Sleeping Beauty, was already in rehearsal.