To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Moscow,December4th(16th), 1886.“My dear Modi,—Something very important happened to-day. I conducted the first orchestral rehearsal in such style that all were astonished (unless it were mere flattery), for they had expected I should make a fool of myself. The nearer came the terrible day, the more unbearable was my nervousness. I was often on the point of giving up the idea of conducting. In the end I mastered myself, was enthusiastically received by the orchestra, found courage to make a little speech, and raised the bâton. Now I know Icanconduct, I shall not be nervous at the performance.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Moscow,December4th(16th), 1886.
“My dear Modi,—Something very important happened to-day. I conducted the first orchestral rehearsal in such style that all were astonished (unless it were mere flattery), for they had expected I should make a fool of myself. The nearer came the terrible day, the more unbearable was my nervousness. I was often on the point of giving up the idea of conducting. In the end I mastered myself, was enthusiastically received by the orchestra, found courage to make a little speech, and raised the bâton. Now I know Icanconduct, I shall not be nervous at the performance.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Moscow,January14th(26th), 1887.“My very dear Friend,—I have been enjoying your hospitality for a week.[117]I live in your house as if under the wing of Christ. Your servants are so careful of my welfare that I cannot praise them enough. I only regret that I can be so little at home. Daily rehearsals. I take a walk every morning, and by eleven o’clock I am waiting in the conductor’s desk. The rehearsal is not over till four o’clock, and then I am so tired that when I return home I have to lie down for a while. Towards evening I feel better and take some food.“The conducting gives me great anxiety and exhausts my whole nervous system. But I must say it also affords me great satisfaction. First of all, I am very glad to have conquered my innate, morbid shyness; secondly, it is a good thing for a composer to conduct his own work, instead of having constantly to interrupt the conductor to draw his attention to this, or that, mistake; thirdly, all my colleagues have shown me such genuine sympathy that I am quite touched by it, and very pleased. Do you know I feel much less agitation than when I sit at the rehearsal doing nothing. If all goes well, I believe that not only will my nerves be none the worse, but it will have a beneficial effect on them.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Moscow,January14th(26th), 1887.
“My very dear Friend,—I have been enjoying your hospitality for a week.[117]I live in your house as if under the wing of Christ. Your servants are so careful of my welfare that I cannot praise them enough. I only regret that I can be so little at home. Daily rehearsals. I take a walk every morning, and by eleven o’clock I am waiting in the conductor’s desk. The rehearsal is not over till four o’clock, and then I am so tired that when I return home I have to lie down for a while. Towards evening I feel better and take some food.
“The conducting gives me great anxiety and exhausts my whole nervous system. But I must say it also affords me great satisfaction. First of all, I am very glad to have conquered my innate, morbid shyness; secondly, it is a good thing for a composer to conduct his own work, instead of having constantly to interrupt the conductor to draw his attention to this, or that, mistake; thirdly, all my colleagues have shown me such genuine sympathy that I am quite touched by it, and very pleased. Do you know I feel much less agitation than when I sit at the rehearsal doing nothing. If all goes well, I believe that not only will my nerves be none the worse, but it will have a beneficial effect on them.”
The first performance ofLes Caprices d’Oxanetook place at Moscow on January 19th (31st), 1887, and had a far-reaching influence on Tchaikovsky’s future, because he then made his first successful attempt at conducting. The great interest which the production of a new opera always awakens was thereby doubled, and all the places were taken before the opening night. The singers did their work conscientiously; there was no fault to be found, but no one made a memorable “creation” of any part. The mounting and costumes were irreproachable.
The public greeted the composer-conductor with great enthusiasm. Gifts of all kinds showed plainly that it was Tchaikovsky himself who was honoured, not the new conductor and composer ofLes Caprices d’Oxane. The opera was a success; four numbers had to be repeatedda capo.
The Press criticisms on this occasion were all favourable, even theSovremenny Izvesty, in which Krouglikov, as we know, generally criticised Tchaikovsky’s works so severely. In short, the opera really had a brilliant success; far greater than that achieved byEugene Onieginin Petersburg. Nevertheless this opera only remained in the repertory for two seasons.
But little can be said about that which interests us most—the impression made by Tchaikovsky’s conducting. The severest judge and critic, Tchaikovsky himself, was satisfied. We know in what an objective spirit he criticised the success of his works, so we can safely believe him when he says he fulfilled his task satisfactorily. He describes this memorable evening as follows:—
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.“Moscow,January20th(February1st), 1887.“I did not expect to be very excited on the day of the performance, but when I awoke, quite early, I felt really ill, and could only think of the approaching ordeal as of a horrible nightmare. I cannot describe what mental agoniesI suffered during the course of the day. Consequently, at the appointed hour, I appeared half dead at the theatre. Altani accompanied me to the orchestra. Immediately the curtain went up and, amid great applause, I was presented with many wreaths from the chorus, orchestra, etc. While this took place, I somewhat recovered my composure, began the Overture well, and by the end felt quite master of myself. There was great applause after the Overture. The first Act went successfully, and afterwards I was presented with more wreaths, among them yours, for which many thanks. I was now quite calm, and conducted the rest of the opera with undivided attention. It is difficult to say if the work really pleased. The theatre was at least half-full of my friends. Time and future performances will show if the applause was for me personally (for the sake of past services), or for my work. Now the question is, how did I conduct? I feel some constraint in speaking about it. Everyone praised me; they said they had no idea I possessed such a gift for conducting. But is it true? Or is it only flattery? I shall conduct twice more, and after the third time I ought to know for certain how much truth there is in all this.”
To E. K. Pavlovskaya.
“Moscow,January20th(February1st), 1887.
“I did not expect to be very excited on the day of the performance, but when I awoke, quite early, I felt really ill, and could only think of the approaching ordeal as of a horrible nightmare. I cannot describe what mental agoniesI suffered during the course of the day. Consequently, at the appointed hour, I appeared half dead at the theatre. Altani accompanied me to the orchestra. Immediately the curtain went up and, amid great applause, I was presented with many wreaths from the chorus, orchestra, etc. While this took place, I somewhat recovered my composure, began the Overture well, and by the end felt quite master of myself. There was great applause after the Overture. The first Act went successfully, and afterwards I was presented with more wreaths, among them yours, for which many thanks. I was now quite calm, and conducted the rest of the opera with undivided attention. It is difficult to say if the work really pleased. The theatre was at least half-full of my friends. Time and future performances will show if the applause was for me personally (for the sake of past services), or for my work. Now the question is, how did I conduct? I feel some constraint in speaking about it. Everyone praised me; they said they had no idea I possessed such a gift for conducting. But is it true? Or is it only flattery? I shall conduct twice more, and after the third time I ought to know for certain how much truth there is in all this.”
I have seldom seen Tchaikovsky in such a cheerful frame of mind as on that evening. We did not reach home till after five o’clock in the morning, and he immediately sank into a deep sleep. After so many days of anxiety and excitement he really needed rest! No one was more unprepared than he for the sad news which reached us next morning.
About seven o’clock I was aroused by a telegram which announced the death of our niece Tatiana, the eldest daughter of Alexandra Davidov. She had died quite suddenly at a masked ball in Petersburg. Not only was she a near relative, but also a highly gifted girl of great beauty. It required considerable resolution on my part to break the sad news to my brother when he awoke at eleven o’clock, happy and contented, and still under the pleasant impressions of the previous evening.
In spite of this heavy blow, Tchaikovsky did not alter his decision to conductLes Caprices d’Oxanefor two nights longer. The constant activity, and anxiety of a different nature, helped to assuage the violence of his grief.
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,February2nd(14th), 1887.“I have now been at home five days, yet there is no question of rest; on the contrary, I am working with such feverish haste atThe Enchantressthat I feel quite exhausted. I cannot live without work, but why do circumstances always compel me to be in a hurry, to have to overtax my strength? I see such an endless pile of work before me to which I am pledged that I dare not look into the future. How short life is! Now that I have probably reached that last step which means the full maturity of my talent, I look back involuntarily and, seeing so many years behind me, glance timidly at the path ahead and ask: Shall I succeed? Is it worth while? And yet it is only now that I begin to be able to compose without self-doubt, and to believe in my own powers and knowledge.”To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,February9th(21st), 1887.“I am already dreaming of a time when I shall give concerts abroad. But of what does one not dream? If only I were twenty years younger!!! One thing is certain: my nerves are much stronger, and things which formerly were not to be thought of are now quite possible. Undoubtedly I owe this to my free life, relieved from all anxiety of earning my daily bread. And who but you, dear friend, is the author of all the good things fate has brought me?“The concert will take place in Petersburg on March 5th.”On February 23rd (March 7th) Tchaikovsky went to Petersburg to attend the rehearsals for the Philharmonic Concert, at which the St. Petersburg public was to make his acquaintance as a conductor, from which dated the commencement of a whole series of similar concerts which made his name known in Russia, Europe and America.On February 28th (March 12th) the first rehearsal took place, and Tchaikovsky writes in his diary in his customary laconic style: “Excitement and dread.” Henceforth, to the very end of his life, it was not the concert itself so much as the first rehearsal which alarmed him. By the second rehearsal he had usually recovered himself. Abroad, he found it particularly painful to stand up for the first time before an unknown orchestra.All the important musical circles in Petersburg showed a lively interest in Tchaikovsky’s début as a concert conductor. The three rehearsals attracted a number of the first musicians, who encouraged him by their warm words of sympathy. No début could have been made under more favourable conditions.The concert itself, which took place on March 5th (17th), in the hall of the Nobles’ Club, went off admirably. The programme consisted of: (1) Suite No. 2 (first performance in St. Petersburg), (2) Aria from the operaThe Enchantress, (3) the “Mummers’ Dance” from the same opera, (4) Andante and Valse from the Serenade for strings, (5)Francesca da Rimini, (6) Pianoforte solos, (7) Overture “1812.”The hall was full to overflowing, and the ovations endless. The Press criticisms of the music, as well as of Tchaikovsky’s conducting, proved colourless and commonplace, but on the whole laudatory. Even Cui expressed some approbation for Tchaikovsky as a conductor, although he again found fault with him as a composer.Tchaikovsky’s diary contains the following brief account of the concert: “My concert. Complete success. Greatenjoyment—but still, why this drop of gall in my honeypot?”In this question lie the germs of that weariness and suffering which had their growth in Tchaikovsky’s soul simultaneously with his pursuit of fame, and reached their greatest intensity in the moment of the composer’s greatest triumphs.
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,February2nd(14th), 1887.
“I have now been at home five days, yet there is no question of rest; on the contrary, I am working with such feverish haste atThe Enchantressthat I feel quite exhausted. I cannot live without work, but why do circumstances always compel me to be in a hurry, to have to overtax my strength? I see such an endless pile of work before me to which I am pledged that I dare not look into the future. How short life is! Now that I have probably reached that last step which means the full maturity of my talent, I look back involuntarily and, seeing so many years behind me, glance timidly at the path ahead and ask: Shall I succeed? Is it worth while? And yet it is only now that I begin to be able to compose without self-doubt, and to believe in my own powers and knowledge.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,February9th(21st), 1887.“I am already dreaming of a time when I shall give concerts abroad. But of what does one not dream? If only I were twenty years younger!!! One thing is certain: my nerves are much stronger, and things which formerly were not to be thought of are now quite possible. Undoubtedly I owe this to my free life, relieved from all anxiety of earning my daily bread. And who but you, dear friend, is the author of all the good things fate has brought me?“The concert will take place in Petersburg on March 5th.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,February9th(21st), 1887.
“I am already dreaming of a time when I shall give concerts abroad. But of what does one not dream? If only I were twenty years younger!!! One thing is certain: my nerves are much stronger, and things which formerly were not to be thought of are now quite possible. Undoubtedly I owe this to my free life, relieved from all anxiety of earning my daily bread. And who but you, dear friend, is the author of all the good things fate has brought me?
“The concert will take place in Petersburg on March 5th.”
On February 23rd (March 7th) Tchaikovsky went to Petersburg to attend the rehearsals for the Philharmonic Concert, at which the St. Petersburg public was to make his acquaintance as a conductor, from which dated the commencement of a whole series of similar concerts which made his name known in Russia, Europe and America.
On February 28th (March 12th) the first rehearsal took place, and Tchaikovsky writes in his diary in his customary laconic style: “Excitement and dread.” Henceforth, to the very end of his life, it was not the concert itself so much as the first rehearsal which alarmed him. By the second rehearsal he had usually recovered himself. Abroad, he found it particularly painful to stand up for the first time before an unknown orchestra.
All the important musical circles in Petersburg showed a lively interest in Tchaikovsky’s début as a concert conductor. The three rehearsals attracted a number of the first musicians, who encouraged him by their warm words of sympathy. No début could have been made under more favourable conditions.
The concert itself, which took place on March 5th (17th), in the hall of the Nobles’ Club, went off admirably. The programme consisted of: (1) Suite No. 2 (first performance in St. Petersburg), (2) Aria from the operaThe Enchantress, (3) the “Mummers’ Dance” from the same opera, (4) Andante and Valse from the Serenade for strings, (5)Francesca da Rimini, (6) Pianoforte solos, (7) Overture “1812.”
The hall was full to overflowing, and the ovations endless. The Press criticisms of the music, as well as of Tchaikovsky’s conducting, proved colourless and commonplace, but on the whole laudatory. Even Cui expressed some approbation for Tchaikovsky as a conductor, although he again found fault with him as a composer.
Tchaikovsky’s diary contains the following brief account of the concert: “My concert. Complete success. Greatenjoyment—but still, why this drop of gall in my honeypot?”
In this question lie the germs of that weariness and suffering which had their growth in Tchaikovsky’s soul simultaneously with his pursuit of fame, and reached their greatest intensity in the moment of the composer’s greatest triumphs.
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,March12th(24th), 1887.“The Empress has sent me her autograph picture in a beautiful frame.[118]This attention has touched me deeply, especially at a time when she and the Emperor have so many other things to think about.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,March12th(24th), 1887.
“The Empress has sent me her autograph picture in a beautiful frame.[118]This attention has touched me deeply, especially at a time when she and the Emperor have so many other things to think about.”
Diary.“Ippolitov-Ivanov and his wife came very late, about ten o’clock. I met them out walking. At first I felt annoyed to see them, and vexed at my work being interrupted; but afterwards these good people (she is extremely sympathetic) made me forget everything, except that it is the greatest pleasure to be in the society of congenial friends. Ivanov played, and she sang beautiful fragments from his operaRuth(the duet especially charmed me). They left at six. Worked before and after supper.”
Diary.
“Ippolitov-Ivanov and his wife came very late, about ten o’clock. I met them out walking. At first I felt annoyed to see them, and vexed at my work being interrupted; but afterwards these good people (she is extremely sympathetic) made me forget everything, except that it is the greatest pleasure to be in the society of congenial friends. Ivanov played, and she sang beautiful fragments from his operaRuth(the duet especially charmed me). They left at six. Worked before and after supper.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Maidanovo,March15th(27th), 1887.“Ruthpleases me more and more. I believe Ippolitov-Ivanov will come to the front, if only because he has something original about him, and this ‘something’ is also very attractive.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo,March15th(27th), 1887.
“Ruthpleases me more and more. I believe Ippolitov-Ivanov will come to the front, if only because he has something original about him, and this ‘something’ is also very attractive.”
Diary.“March16th(28th), 1887.“I will not conceal it: all the poetry of country life and solitude has vanished. I do not know why.Nowhere do I feel so miserable as at home.If I do not work, I tormentmyself, am afraid of the future, etc. Is solitude really necessary to me? When I am in town, country life seems a paradise; when I am here, I feel no delight whatever. To-day, in particular, I am quite out of tune.”
Diary.
“March16th(28th), 1887.
“I will not conceal it: all the poetry of country life and solitude has vanished. I do not know why.Nowhere do I feel so miserable as at home.If I do not work, I tormentmyself, am afraid of the future, etc. Is solitude really necessary to me? When I am in town, country life seems a paradise; when I am here, I feel no delight whatever. To-day, in particular, I am quite out of tune.”
“March19th(31st).“Have just read through my diary for the last two years. Good heavens! how could my imagination have been so deceived by the melancholy bareness of Maidanovo? How everything used to please me!”
“March19th(31st).
“Have just read through my diary for the last two years. Good heavens! how could my imagination have been so deceived by the melancholy bareness of Maidanovo? How everything used to please me!”
“March26th(April7th).“Read through Korsakov’s ‘Snow-Maiden,’ and was astonished at his mastery. I envy him and ought to be ashamed of it.”
“March26th(April7th).
“Read through Korsakov’s ‘Snow-Maiden,’ and was astonished at his mastery. I envy him and ought to be ashamed of it.”
“March30th(April11th).“After supper I read the score ofA Life for the Tsar. What a master! How did Glinka manage to do it? It is incomprehensible how such a colossal work could have been created by an amateur and—judging by his diary—a rather limited and trivial nature.”
“March30th(April11th).
“After supper I read the score ofA Life for the Tsar. What a master! How did Glinka manage to do it? It is incomprehensible how such a colossal work could have been created by an amateur and—judging by his diary—a rather limited and trivial nature.”
“April16th(28th).“Played throughThe Power of the Evil One.[119]An almost repulsive musical monstrosity; yet, at the same time, talent, intuition, and imagination.”
“April16th(28th).
“Played throughThe Power of the Evil One.[119]An almost repulsive musical monstrosity; yet, at the same time, talent, intuition, and imagination.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Maidanovo,April24th(May6th), 1887.“My very dear Friend,—I wished to leave Maidanovo a month ago, and yet I am still here. My work (the orchestration of the opera) detains me. This work is not really difficult, but it takes time. I notice that the older I grow, the more trouble my orchestration gives me. I judge myself more severely, am more careful, more critical with regard to light and shade. In such a case the country is a real boon. Saint-Saëns has invited me to be present at both his concerts at Moscow, but I have courteously refused. Poor Saint-Saëns had to play to anempty room. I knew it would be so, and that the poor Frenchman would take it deeply to heart, so I did not wish to be a witness of his disappointment. But also I did not want to interrupt my work.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo,April24th(May6th), 1887.
“My very dear Friend,—I wished to leave Maidanovo a month ago, and yet I am still here. My work (the orchestration of the opera) detains me. This work is not really difficult, but it takes time. I notice that the older I grow, the more trouble my orchestration gives me. I judge myself more severely, am more careful, more critical with regard to light and shade. In such a case the country is a real boon. Saint-Saëns has invited me to be present at both his concerts at Moscow, but I have courteously refused. Poor Saint-Saëns had to play to anempty room. I knew it would be so, and that the poor Frenchman would take it deeply to heart, so I did not wish to be a witness of his disappointment. But also I did not want to interrupt my work.”
Tchaikovsky stayed at Maidanovo to complete the instrumentation of the whole score ofThe Enchantress, and left on May 9th to visit his sick friend, Kondratiev, before starting on his journey to the Caucasus.
To N. F. von Meck.“The Caspian Sea,May28th(June9th), 1887.“I left Moscow on the 20th. At Nijni-Novogorod I had great trouble in securing a second-class ticket for the steamer,Alexander II. This steamer is considered the best, and is therefore always full. My quarters were very small and uncomfortable, but I enjoyed the journey down the Volga. It was almost high tide, and therefore the banks were so far away that one could almost imagine oneself at sea. Mother Volga is sublimely poetical. The right bank is hilly, and there are many beautiful bits of scenery, but in this respect the Volga cannot compare with the Rhine, nor even with the Danube and Rhône. Its beauty does not lie in its banks, but in its unbounded width and in the extraordinary volume of its waters, which roll down to the sea without any motion. We stopped at the towns on the way just long enough to get an idea of them. Samara and the little town of Volsk pleased me best, the latter having the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen. We reached Astrakhan on the fifth day. Here we boarded a little steamer, which brought us to the spot where the mouth of the Volga debouches into the open sea, where we embarked on a schooner, on board which we have been for the last two days. The Caspian Sea has been very treacherous. It was so stormy during the night that I was quite frightened. Every moment it seemed as if thetrembling ship must break up beneath the force of the waves; so much so that I could not close an eye all night. But in spite of this I was not sea-sick. We reached Baku to-day. The storm has abated. I shall not be able to start for Tiflis until to-morrow morning, for we cannot catch the train to-day.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“The Caspian Sea,May28th(June9th), 1887.
“I left Moscow on the 20th. At Nijni-Novogorod I had great trouble in securing a second-class ticket for the steamer,Alexander II. This steamer is considered the best, and is therefore always full. My quarters were very small and uncomfortable, but I enjoyed the journey down the Volga. It was almost high tide, and therefore the banks were so far away that one could almost imagine oneself at sea. Mother Volga is sublimely poetical. The right bank is hilly, and there are many beautiful bits of scenery, but in this respect the Volga cannot compare with the Rhine, nor even with the Danube and Rhône. Its beauty does not lie in its banks, but in its unbounded width and in the extraordinary volume of its waters, which roll down to the sea without any motion. We stopped at the towns on the way just long enough to get an idea of them. Samara and the little town of Volsk pleased me best, the latter having the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen. We reached Astrakhan on the fifth day. Here we boarded a little steamer, which brought us to the spot where the mouth of the Volga debouches into the open sea, where we embarked on a schooner, on board which we have been for the last two days. The Caspian Sea has been very treacherous. It was so stormy during the night that I was quite frightened. Every moment it seemed as if thetrembling ship must break up beneath the force of the waves; so much so that I could not close an eye all night. But in spite of this I was not sea-sick. We reached Baku to-day. The storm has abated. I shall not be able to start for Tiflis until to-morrow morning, for we cannot catch the train to-day.”
On the journey between Tsaritsin and Astrakhan, Tchaikovsky had a very droll experience. He had managed so cleverly that no one on board knew who he was. One day a little musical entertainment was got up, and Tchaikovsky offered to undertake the accompanying. It so happened that a lady amateur placed one of his own songs before him and explained to him the manner in which he was to accompany it. On his timidly objecting, the lady answered that she must know best, as Tchaikovsky himself had gone through the song in question with her music mistress. The same evening a passenger related how Tchaikovsky had been so delighted with the tenor Lody in the rôle of Orlik inMazeppa[120]that after the performance “he fell on Lody’s neck and wept tears of emotion.”
To N. F. von Meck.“Tiflis,May30th(June11th), 1887.“Baku, in the most unexpected fashion, has turned out to be an altogether beautiful place, well planned and well built, clean and very characteristic. The Oriental (especially the Persian) character is very prevalent, so that one could almost imagine oneself to be on the other side of the Caspian Sea. It has but one drawback: the complete lack of verdure....“On the day after my arrival I visited the neighbourhood of the naphtha wells, where some hundred boring-towers throw up a hundred thousandpoudsof naphtha every minute. The picture is grand but gloomy....“The road between Baku and Tiflis runs through a stony, desolate country.”The end of this journey was Borjom, where he intended to pass the whole summer in the family of his brother Anatol. He reached there on June 11th. He only learnt to appreciate by degrees the enchanting beauty of the neighbourhood. The horizon, shut in by lofty mountains, the sombre flora, their luxuriance, and the depth of the shadows, made an unpleasant impression upon him at first. Only after he had learnt to know the inexhaustible number and variety of the walks did he begin to like this country more and more. When, ten days later, his brother Modeste arrived at Borjom he was already full of enthusiasm and ready to initiate him into all the beauties of the place.Tchaikovsky worked very little while at Borjom, only spending an hour a day at the instrumentation of the “Mozartiana” Suite.At the commencement of July Tchaikovsky left Borjom in response to a telegram from his friend Kondratiev, who had been removed to Aix-la-Chapelle, in the hopes that the baths might prolong his life for a few months. Kondratiev’s condition was so critical that Tchaikovsky could not do less than interrupt his own cure and join his friend as soon as possible.
To N. F. von Meck.
“Tiflis,May30th(June11th), 1887.
“Baku, in the most unexpected fashion, has turned out to be an altogether beautiful place, well planned and well built, clean and very characteristic. The Oriental (especially the Persian) character is very prevalent, so that one could almost imagine oneself to be on the other side of the Caspian Sea. It has but one drawback: the complete lack of verdure....
“On the day after my arrival I visited the neighbourhood of the naphtha wells, where some hundred boring-towers throw up a hundred thousandpoudsof naphtha every minute. The picture is grand but gloomy....
“The road between Baku and Tiflis runs through a stony, desolate country.”
The end of this journey was Borjom, where he intended to pass the whole summer in the family of his brother Anatol. He reached there on June 11th. He only learnt to appreciate by degrees the enchanting beauty of the neighbourhood. The horizon, shut in by lofty mountains, the sombre flora, their luxuriance, and the depth of the shadows, made an unpleasant impression upon him at first. Only after he had learnt to know the inexhaustible number and variety of the walks did he begin to like this country more and more. When, ten days later, his brother Modeste arrived at Borjom he was already full of enthusiasm and ready to initiate him into all the beauties of the place.
Tchaikovsky worked very little while at Borjom, only spending an hour a day at the instrumentation of the “Mozartiana” Suite.
At the commencement of July Tchaikovsky left Borjom in response to a telegram from his friend Kondratiev, who had been removed to Aix-la-Chapelle, in the hopes that the baths might prolong his life for a few months. Kondratiev’s condition was so critical that Tchaikovsky could not do less than interrupt his own cure and join his friend as soon as possible.
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Aix-la-Chapelle,July16th(28th), 1887.“I do not dislike Aix—that is all I can say. What is really bad here is the atmosphere, saturated as it is with smells of cooking, cinnamon, and other spices. I think sorrowfully of the air in Borjom, but I try to dwell upon it as little as possible. However, I feel more cheerful here than I did on the journey. I see that my arrival has given much pleasure to Kondratiev and Legoshin, and that I shall be of use to them.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Aix-la-Chapelle,July16th(28th), 1887.
“I do not dislike Aix—that is all I can say. What is really bad here is the atmosphere, saturated as it is with smells of cooking, cinnamon, and other spices. I think sorrowfully of the air in Borjom, but I try to dwell upon it as little as possible. However, I feel more cheerful here than I did on the journey. I see that my arrival has given much pleasure to Kondratiev and Legoshin, and that I shall be of use to them.”
Diary.“Aix,July22nd(August3rd), 1887.“I sit at home full of remorse. The cause of my remorse is this: life is passing away and draws near to its end, and yet I have not fathomed it. Rather do I drive away those disquieting questions of our destiny when they intrude themselves upon me, and try to hide from them. Do I live truly? Do I act rightly? For example, I am now sitting here, and everyone admires mysacrifice. Now there is no question of sacrifice. I lead a life of ease, gormandise at thetable d’hôte, do nothing, and spend my money on luxuries, while others want it for absolute necessities. Is not that the veriest egoism? I do not act towards my neighbours as I ought.”
Diary.
“Aix,July22nd(August3rd), 1887.
“I sit at home full of remorse. The cause of my remorse is this: life is passing away and draws near to its end, and yet I have not fathomed it. Rather do I drive away those disquieting questions of our destiny when they intrude themselves upon me, and try to hide from them. Do I live truly? Do I act rightly? For example, I am now sitting here, and everyone admires mysacrifice. Now there is no question of sacrifice. I lead a life of ease, gormandise at thetable d’hôte, do nothing, and spend my money on luxuries, while others want it for absolute necessities. Is not that the veriest egoism? I do not act towards my neighbours as I ought.”
To P. Jurgenson.“Aix,July29th(August10th), 1887.“Dear Friend,—To-day I am sending you my Mozart Suite, registered. Three of the borrowed numbers in the Suite are pianoforte pieces (Nos. 1, 2, 4); one (No. 3) is the chorus ‘Ave Verum.’ Of course, I should be glad if the Suite could be played next season. That is all.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Aix,July29th(August10th), 1887.
“Dear Friend,—To-day I am sending you my Mozart Suite, registered. Three of the borrowed numbers in the Suite are pianoforte pieces (Nos. 1, 2, 4); one (No. 3) is the chorus ‘Ave Verum.’ Of course, I should be glad if the Suite could be played next season. That is all.”
Tchaikovsky’s “heroic act” of friendship consumed more than a month of his time. While paying full tribute to the generosity of his undertaking, we must confess that he failed to grasp the relation between wishing and doing. Tchaikovsky, filled with real and self-denying compassion for the sufferings of his neighbour, was wanting—as in all practical questions of life—in the necessary ability, self-control, and purpose. In the abstract, no one had more sympathy for his neighbour than he; but in reality no one was less able to do much for him. Anyone who could ask the trivial question: “Where wadding, needles, and thread could be bought?” would naturally lose his head at the bedside of a dying man. The consciousness of his helplessness and incapacity to lessen his friend’s sufferingin the least, his irresolution in face of the slightest difficulty, rendered Tchaikovsky’s useless visit to Aix all the more painful. He suffered for the dying man and for himself. The result was that he did “too much” for friendship and “too little” for his sick friend; at least, in comparison to the extraordinary sacrifice of strength which his generous action demanded. When, at the end of August, the dying man’s nephew came to relieve him, Tchaikovsky fled from Aix, deeply grieved at parting from his friend “for ever,” humbled at his own mental condition, and angry at his inability “to see the sad business through to the end.” Exhausted, and wrathful with himself, he arrived at Maidanovo on August 30th (September 11th), where the news of Kondratiev’s death reached him a fortnight later.
Diary.“September21st(October3rd), 1887.“How short is life! How much I have still to do, to think, and to say! We keep putting things off, and meanwhile death lurks round the corner. It is just a year since I touched this book, and so much has changed since then. How strange! Just 365 days ago I was afraid to confess that, in spite of the glow of sympathetic feeling which Christ awoke in me, I dared to doubt His divinity. Since then myreligionhas become more clearly defined, for during this time I have thought a great deal about God, life, and death. In Aix especially I meditated on the fatal questions: why, how, for what end? I should like to define my religion in detail, if only I might be quite clear, once for all, as to my faith, and as to the boundary which divides it from speculation. But life and its vanities are passing, and I do not know whether I shall succeed in expressing thesymbolof that faith which has arisen in me of late. It has very definite forms, but I do not use them when I pray. I pray just as before; as I was taught. Moreover, God can hardly require to know how and why we pray. God has no need of prayers.But we have.”
Diary.
“September21st(October3rd), 1887.
“How short is life! How much I have still to do, to think, and to say! We keep putting things off, and meanwhile death lurks round the corner. It is just a year since I touched this book, and so much has changed since then. How strange! Just 365 days ago I was afraid to confess that, in spite of the glow of sympathetic feeling which Christ awoke in me, I dared to doubt His divinity. Since then myreligionhas become more clearly defined, for during this time I have thought a great deal about God, life, and death. In Aix especially I meditated on the fatal questions: why, how, for what end? I should like to define my religion in detail, if only I might be quite clear, once for all, as to my faith, and as to the boundary which divides it from speculation. But life and its vanities are passing, and I do not know whether I shall succeed in expressing thesymbolof that faith which has arisen in me of late. It has very definite forms, but I do not use them when I pray. I pray just as before; as I was taught. Moreover, God can hardly require to know how and why we pray. God has no need of prayers.But we have.”
On October 20th (November 1st)The Enchantresswas produced under the bâton of the composer, and the performance was altogether most brilliant and artistic.
On this first night Tchaikovsky does not appear to have observed that the opera was a failure. He thought, on the contrary, that it pleased the public. After the second performance (on October 23rd), which—notwithstanding that it went better than the first—still failed to move the audience to applause, he first felt doubts as to its success. The indifference of the public was clearly apparent after the third and fourth representations, when his appearance in the conductor’s desk was received in chilling silence. It was only then that he realised thatThe Enchantresswas a failure. On the fifth night the house was empty.
Tchaikovsky, as we shall see, ascribed this failure to the ill_will of the critics. After I had read through all the notices—says Modeste—it seemed to me that, in the present instance, my brother had done them too much honour. In none of the eleven criticisms did I trace that tone of contempt and malicious enjoyment with which his other operas had been received. No one calledThe Enchantressa “still_born nonentity,” as Cui had said ofEugene Oniegin; no one attempted to count up the deliberate thefts inThe Enchantress, as Galler had done withMazeppa. The reason for the failure ofThe Enchantressmust be sought elsewhere: possibly in the defective interpretation of both the chief parts; but more probably in the qualities of the music, which still awaits its just evaluation at the hands of a competent critic.
To N. F. von Meck.“Moscow,November13th(25th), 1887.“My dear Friend,—Please forgive me for so seldom writing. I am passing through a very stirring period of my life, and am always in such a state of agitation that it is impossible to speak to you from my heart as I shouldwish. After conducting my opera four times, I returned here, about five days ago, in a very melancholy frame of mind. In spite of the ovation I received on the opening night, my opera has not taken with the public, and practically met with no success. From the Press I have encountered such hatred and hostility that, even now, I cannot account for it. On no other opera have I expended so much labour and sacrifice; yet never before have I been so persecuted by the critics. I have given up the journey to Tiflis, for I shall scarcely have time to get sufficient rest in Maidanovo before I have to start on my concert tour abroad. I conduct first in Leipzig, and afterwards in Dresden, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Berlin, and Prague. In March I give my own concert in Paris, and from there I go to London, as I have received an invitation from the Philharmonic Society. In short, a whole crowd of new and strong impressions are awaiting me.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Moscow,November13th(25th), 1887.
“My dear Friend,—Please forgive me for so seldom writing. I am passing through a very stirring period of my life, and am always in such a state of agitation that it is impossible to speak to you from my heart as I shouldwish. After conducting my opera four times, I returned here, about five days ago, in a very melancholy frame of mind. In spite of the ovation I received on the opening night, my opera has not taken with the public, and practically met with no success. From the Press I have encountered such hatred and hostility that, even now, I cannot account for it. On no other opera have I expended so much labour and sacrifice; yet never before have I been so persecuted by the critics. I have given up the journey to Tiflis, for I shall scarcely have time to get sufficient rest in Maidanovo before I have to start on my concert tour abroad. I conduct first in Leipzig, and afterwards in Dresden, Hamburg, Copenhagen, Berlin, and Prague. In March I give my own concert in Paris, and from there I go to London, as I have received an invitation from the Philharmonic Society. In short, a whole crowd of new and strong impressions are awaiting me.”
The Symphony Concert of the Russian Musical Society, November 14th (26th), was the first concert ever conducted by Tchaikovsky in Moscow. The programme consisted exclusively of his own works, including “Mozartiana” (first time),Francesca da Rimini, the Fantasia for pianoforte, op. 56 (Taneiev as soloist), and the Arioso fromThe Enchantress. On the following day the same programme was repeated by the Russian Musical Society at a popular concert. The “Mozartiana” Suite was a great success (the “Ave Verum” was encored), and the Press—in contradistinction to that of St. Petersburg—spoke with great warmth and cordiality of the composer and conductor.
To P. Jurgenson.“November24th(December6th) 1887.“In to-day’s paper I accidentally saw that the eighth performance ofThe Enchantresswas given before a half-empty house. It is an undoubtedfiasco. This failure has wounded me in my inmost soul, for I never worked with greaterardour than atThe Enchantress. Besides, I feel ashamed when I think of you, for you must have sustained a terrible loss. I know well enough that some day the opera will be reinstated, but when? Meanwhile it makes me very bitter. So far I have always maintained that the Press could not influence one’s success or failure; but now I am inclined to think that it is only the united attack of these hounds of critics which has ruined my opera. The devil take them! Why this spite? Just now, for example, in to-day’s number of theNovosti, see how they rail at our Musical Society and at me, because of this Popular Concert! Incomprehensible!”PartVIII1888WITH December, 1887, began a new and last period in the life of Tchaikovsky, during which he realised his wildest dreams of fame, and attained to such prosperity and universal honour as rarely fall to the lot of an artist during his lifetime. Distrustful and modest (from an excess of pride), he was now in a perpetual state of wonder and delight to find himself far more appreciated in Russia and abroad than he had ever hoped in the past. Physically neither better nor worse than in former years, possessing the unlimited affections of those whom he loved in return,—he was, to all appearance, an example of mortal happiness, yet in reality he was less happy than before.Those menacing blows of fate—like the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony—had sounded, although muffled and distant, even on the day of Tchaikovsky’s first concert (March 5th); while that intangible and groundless sense of bitterness—that “touch of gall,” as he himself calls it—was present even in that triumphant moment when he found himself master of the orchestra and all its tempestuous elements, as though prophetic of those sufferings which overshadowed the last years of his life. At the time he did not understand this vague warning; afterwards, when it came back to him, he realised it had been a friendly caution, not to continue the chase forfame; not to take up occupations that went against his nature, nor to spend his strength upon the attainment of things which would come of themselves; finally, to cling to his true vocation, lest disappointment should await him in the new path he had elected to follow. In February he wrote to Nadejda von Meck: “New and powerful impressions continually await me. Probably my fame will increase, but would it not be better to stay at home and work? God knows! I can say this: I regret the time when I was left in peace in the solitude of the country.” And this regret grew keener, as his weariness grew more intolerable. The more he accustomed his temperament to unsuitable occupations, the further he advanced his reputation, the more complete was his disenchantment with the prize. Radiant and glittering as it had appeared from afar, seen closer, it proved insignificant and tarnished. Hence the profound disillusionment, “the insane depression,” the something “hopeless and final” which make so dark a background to the picture of his brilliant success at home and abroad.Tchaikovsky left Russia on December 15th (27th) and arrived in Berlin two days later. Here he was to meet Herr N—— who was acting as his concert agent during this tour. He had no sooner settled in his hotel than, picking up a newspaper, his eye fell upon a paragraph to the effect that: “To-day, December 29th, the Russian composer Tchaikovsky arrives in Berlin. To-morrow his numerous friends (?) and admirers (?) will meet to celebrate his arrival by a luncheon at the —— restaurant, at one o’clock. Punctual attendance is requested.” “No words could describe my horror and indignation,” wrote Tchaikovsky. “At that moment I could cheerfully have murdered Herr N——. I went out to breakfast at a café in the Passage, and afterwards to the Museum, walking in fear and trembling lest I should meet Herr N—— or some of my numerousfriends and admirers.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“November24th(December6th) 1887.
“In to-day’s paper I accidentally saw that the eighth performance ofThe Enchantresswas given before a half-empty house. It is an undoubtedfiasco. This failure has wounded me in my inmost soul, for I never worked with greaterardour than atThe Enchantress. Besides, I feel ashamed when I think of you, for you must have sustained a terrible loss. I know well enough that some day the opera will be reinstated, but when? Meanwhile it makes me very bitter. So far I have always maintained that the Press could not influence one’s success or failure; but now I am inclined to think that it is only the united attack of these hounds of critics which has ruined my opera. The devil take them! Why this spite? Just now, for example, in to-day’s number of theNovosti, see how they rail at our Musical Society and at me, because of this Popular Concert! Incomprehensible!”
WITH December, 1887, began a new and last period in the life of Tchaikovsky, during which he realised his wildest dreams of fame, and attained to such prosperity and universal honour as rarely fall to the lot of an artist during his lifetime. Distrustful and modest (from an excess of pride), he was now in a perpetual state of wonder and delight to find himself far more appreciated in Russia and abroad than he had ever hoped in the past. Physically neither better nor worse than in former years, possessing the unlimited affections of those whom he loved in return,—he was, to all appearance, an example of mortal happiness, yet in reality he was less happy than before.
Those menacing blows of fate—like the opening of Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony—had sounded, although muffled and distant, even on the day of Tchaikovsky’s first concert (March 5th); while that intangible and groundless sense of bitterness—that “touch of gall,” as he himself calls it—was present even in that triumphant moment when he found himself master of the orchestra and all its tempestuous elements, as though prophetic of those sufferings which overshadowed the last years of his life. At the time he did not understand this vague warning; afterwards, when it came back to him, he realised it had been a friendly caution, not to continue the chase forfame; not to take up occupations that went against his nature, nor to spend his strength upon the attainment of things which would come of themselves; finally, to cling to his true vocation, lest disappointment should await him in the new path he had elected to follow. In February he wrote to Nadejda von Meck: “New and powerful impressions continually await me. Probably my fame will increase, but would it not be better to stay at home and work? God knows! I can say this: I regret the time when I was left in peace in the solitude of the country.” And this regret grew keener, as his weariness grew more intolerable. The more he accustomed his temperament to unsuitable occupations, the further he advanced his reputation, the more complete was his disenchantment with the prize. Radiant and glittering as it had appeared from afar, seen closer, it proved insignificant and tarnished. Hence the profound disillusionment, “the insane depression,” the something “hopeless and final” which make so dark a background to the picture of his brilliant success at home and abroad.
Tchaikovsky left Russia on December 15th (27th) and arrived in Berlin two days later. Here he was to meet Herr N—— who was acting as his concert agent during this tour. He had no sooner settled in his hotel than, picking up a newspaper, his eye fell upon a paragraph to the effect that: “To-day, December 29th, the Russian composer Tchaikovsky arrives in Berlin. To-morrow his numerous friends (?) and admirers (?) will meet to celebrate his arrival by a luncheon at the —— restaurant, at one o’clock. Punctual attendance is requested.” “No words could describe my horror and indignation,” wrote Tchaikovsky. “At that moment I could cheerfully have murdered Herr N——. I went out to breakfast at a café in the Passage, and afterwards to the Museum, walking in fear and trembling lest I should meet Herr N—— or some of my numerousfriends and admirers.”
TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1888 (From a photograph by Reitlinger, Paris)TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1888(From a photograph by Reitlinger, Paris)
The following morning the dreaded interview with his agent took place. Tchaikovsky found him not altogether unsympathetic, but during the entire tour he realised that he was dealing with a very peculiar and eccentric man, whom he never really understood.
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Leipzig,December21st, 1887 (January2nd, 1888).“I have made acquaintance with Scharwenka and a number of other people. I also met Artôt.[121]Everyone was astonished to see me with N——, who follows me like my own shadow. At three o’clock I left for Leipzig, luckily without N—— for once, and was met by Brodsky, Siloti, and two of my admirers. I had supper with Brodsky. There was a Christmas-tree. His wife and sister-in-law are charming—really good Russian women. All the time the tears were in my eyes. Next day I took a walk (it was New Year’s Day), and went back to dine with Siloti at Brodsky’s. He was just trying a new trio by Brahms. The composer himself was at the piano. Brahms is a handsome man, rather short and stout.[122]He was very friendly to me. Then we sat down to table. Brahms enjoys a good drink. Grieg, fascinating and sympathetic, was there too.[123]In the evening I went tothe Gewandhaus, when Joachim and Hausmann played the new Double Concerto of Brahms for violin and ‘cello, and the composer himself conducted. I sat in the Directors’ box, and made acquaintance with such numbers of people that I could not keep pace with them all. The Directors informed me that my rehearsal was fixed for the next day. What I suffered during the evening—in fact the whole time—cannot be described. If Brodsky and Siloti had not been there, I think I should have died. I spent a terrible night. The rehearsal took place early this morning. I was formally introduced to the orchestra by Carl Reinecke. I made a little speech in German. The rehearsal went well in the end. Brahms was there, and yesterday and to-day we have been a good deal together. We are ill at ease, because we do not really like each other, but he takes great pains to be kind to me. Grieg is charming. Dined with Siloti. Quartet concert at night. The new trio of Brahms. Home-sick. Very tired.“You cannot imagine a finer room than at the Gewandhaus. It is the best concert-room I ever saw in my life.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Leipzig,December21st, 1887 (January2nd, 1888).
“I have made acquaintance with Scharwenka and a number of other people. I also met Artôt.[121]Everyone was astonished to see me with N——, who follows me like my own shadow. At three o’clock I left for Leipzig, luckily without N—— for once, and was met by Brodsky, Siloti, and two of my admirers. I had supper with Brodsky. There was a Christmas-tree. His wife and sister-in-law are charming—really good Russian women. All the time the tears were in my eyes. Next day I took a walk (it was New Year’s Day), and went back to dine with Siloti at Brodsky’s. He was just trying a new trio by Brahms. The composer himself was at the piano. Brahms is a handsome man, rather short and stout.[122]He was very friendly to me. Then we sat down to table. Brahms enjoys a good drink. Grieg, fascinating and sympathetic, was there too.[123]In the evening I went tothe Gewandhaus, when Joachim and Hausmann played the new Double Concerto of Brahms for violin and ‘cello, and the composer himself conducted. I sat in the Directors’ box, and made acquaintance with such numbers of people that I could not keep pace with them all. The Directors informed me that my rehearsal was fixed for the next day. What I suffered during the evening—in fact the whole time—cannot be described. If Brodsky and Siloti had not been there, I think I should have died. I spent a terrible night. The rehearsal took place early this morning. I was formally introduced to the orchestra by Carl Reinecke. I made a little speech in German. The rehearsal went well in the end. Brahms was there, and yesterday and to-day we have been a good deal together. We are ill at ease, because we do not really like each other, but he takes great pains to be kind to me. Grieg is charming. Dined with Siloti. Quartet concert at night. The new trio of Brahms. Home-sick. Very tired.
“You cannot imagine a finer room than at the Gewandhaus. It is the best concert-room I ever saw in my life.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.“Leipzig,December24th, 1887 (January5th, 1888).“Yesterday the public rehearsal took place. I was very nervous, but my success was unusually flattering.... To-night, however, all may be reversed, for it is by no means certain that I shall not make a fool of myself. I have seen a good deal of Brahms. He is by no means a total abstainer, but he is very pleasant, and not so vain as I expected. But it is Grieg who has altogether won my heart. He is most taking and sympathetic, and his wifeequally so. Reinecke is very amiable. At the first rehearsal he introduced me to the band, and I made the following speech: ‘Gentlemen, I cannot speak German, but I am proud to have to do with such a ... such a ... that is to say ... I am proud ... I cannot.’ The band is splendid; I could not have believed that our musicians—good as they are—were still so far behind a first-rate German orchestra.”
To P. I. Jurgenson.
“Leipzig,December24th, 1887 (January5th, 1888).
“Yesterday the public rehearsal took place. I was very nervous, but my success was unusually flattering.... To-night, however, all may be reversed, for it is by no means certain that I shall not make a fool of myself. I have seen a good deal of Brahms. He is by no means a total abstainer, but he is very pleasant, and not so vain as I expected. But it is Grieg who has altogether won my heart. He is most taking and sympathetic, and his wifeequally so. Reinecke is very amiable. At the first rehearsal he introduced me to the band, and I made the following speech: ‘Gentlemen, I cannot speak German, but I am proud to have to do with such a ... such a ... that is to say ... I am proud ... I cannot.’ The band is splendid; I could not have believed that our musicians—good as they are—were still so far behind a first-rate German orchestra.”
“December25th(January6th).“The concert has gone off well. The reception of the Suite was good, but not to be compared with that at the public rehearsal, when the audience consisted almost entirely of students and musicians. After the concert I went to a banquet arranged in my honour by Reinecke. He related much that was interesting about Schumann and, generally speaking, I felt very much at ease with him. Afterwards I had to go on to a fête given by the Russian students, and I did not get home until very late. Now I am just off to a Tchaikovsky Festival held by the Liszt-Verein. It begins at 11 a.m.”
“December25th(January6th).
“The concert has gone off well. The reception of the Suite was good, but not to be compared with that at the public rehearsal, when the audience consisted almost entirely of students and musicians. After the concert I went to a banquet arranged in my honour by Reinecke. He related much that was interesting about Schumann and, generally speaking, I felt very much at ease with him. Afterwards I had to go on to a fête given by the Russian students, and I did not get home until very late. Now I am just off to a Tchaikovsky Festival held by the Liszt-Verein. It begins at 11 a.m.”
The Press notices upon Tchaikovsky’s début in Leipzig as conductor and composer were numerous and lengthy. Keeping in view the importance of this occasion, and the influence it exercised on his future career, it has been thought well to give some extracts from the most interesting of these criticisms, which will be found in the Appendix.[124]
At the Tchaikovsky Festival given by the Liszt-Verein, his Quartet, op. 11, Trio, and some of his smaller compositions were included in the programme. The following day the composer returned to Berlin, where he arranged with the Directors of the Philharmonic Society to give a concert of his works on February 8th. He then left for Hamburg in the company of Adolf Brodsky, where the latter was to take part in a concert conducted by Hans von Bülow. As Tchaikovsky had the prospect of a few days’ leisure,he decided to spend them in Lübeck, whence he wrote to his brother Modeste on December 30th, 1887 (January 11th 1888):—
“What joy! I do so enjoy finding myself in a strange town, in a capital hotel, with the prospect of five peaceful days before me! I arrived in Hamburg with Brodsky at 6 a.m. The rehearsal for Bülow’s concert began at ten o’clock. Bülow was delighted to see me. He has altered and aged. He seems, too, calmer, more subdued, and softer in manner.... I went to the concert in the evening. Bülow conducted with inspiration, especially the ‘Eroica.’ I came on here to-day. It is very pleasant. What a blessing to be silent! To feel that no one will be coming, that I shall not be dragged out anywhere!”
“What joy! I do so enjoy finding myself in a strange town, in a capital hotel, with the prospect of five peaceful days before me! I arrived in Hamburg with Brodsky at 6 a.m. The rehearsal for Bülow’s concert began at ten o’clock. Bülow was delighted to see me. He has altered and aged. He seems, too, calmer, more subdued, and softer in manner.... I went to the concert in the evening. Bülow conducted with inspiration, especially the ‘Eroica.’ I came on here to-day. It is very pleasant. What a blessing to be silent! To feel that no one will be coming, that I shall not be dragged out anywhere!”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“January1st(13th), 1888.“ ... At last January (old style) has come. Now at any rate I can reckon four months to my return to Russia. I went to the theatre yesterday. Barnay was the star inOthello. He is sometimes astounding, quite a genius, but what an agonising play! Iago is too revolting—such beings do not exist.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“January1st(13th), 1888.
“ ... At last January (old style) has come. Now at any rate I can reckon four months to my return to Russia. I went to the theatre yesterday. Barnay was the star inOthello. He is sometimes astounding, quite a genius, but what an agonising play! Iago is too revolting—such beings do not exist.”
On January 1st, 1888, a piece of good fortune fell to Tchaikovsky’s lot. Thanks to the efforts of Vsievolojsky, Director of the Imperial Opera, the Emperor bestowed upon him a life pension of 3,000 roubles (£300) per annum.
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Hamburg,January10th(22nd), 1888.“On my appearance I was enthusiastically received by the orchestra, and their applause was supported by the public, which was not the case in Leipzig. I conducted without agitation, but towards the end I grew so tired I was afraid I could not hold out. Sapellnikov[125]playedsplendidly. After the concert there was a large party at the house of Bernuth, the Director of the Philharmonic. About a hundred guests were present, all in full-dress. After a long speech from Bernuth, I replied in German, which created afurore. Then we began to eat and drink. Yesterday was terrible; I cannot describe how I was torn to pieces, nor how exhausted I felt afterwards. In the evening there was a gala in my honour, at which my compositions were exclusively performed. The Press was very favourable.“After thesoiréefollowed a fearful night of it, in company with many musicians, critics, and amateurs, admirers of my music. I feel befogged. To-day I start for Berlin. Bülow is very amiable.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Hamburg,January10th(22nd), 1888.
“On my appearance I was enthusiastically received by the orchestra, and their applause was supported by the public, which was not the case in Leipzig. I conducted without agitation, but towards the end I grew so tired I was afraid I could not hold out. Sapellnikov[125]playedsplendidly. After the concert there was a large party at the house of Bernuth, the Director of the Philharmonic. About a hundred guests were present, all in full-dress. After a long speech from Bernuth, I replied in German, which created afurore. Then we began to eat and drink. Yesterday was terrible; I cannot describe how I was torn to pieces, nor how exhausted I felt afterwards. In the evening there was a gala in my honour, at which my compositions were exclusively performed. The Press was very favourable.
“After thesoiréefollowed a fearful night of it, in company with many musicians, critics, and amateurs, admirers of my music. I feel befogged. To-day I start for Berlin. Bülow is very amiable.”
The programme of the concert at which Tchaikovsky made his first appearance in Hamburg was as follows: Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for strings, Pianoforte Concerto in B♭ minor (Sapellnikov), the Theme and Variations from his Third Suite, and Haydn’s “Oxford” Symphony.[126]
Between the Hamburg and Berlin concerts Tchaikovsky was anxious for a little repose, and decided to spend a few days at Magdeburg. On the one day spent in Berlinen passanthe heard, for the first time, a work by Richard Strauss. “Bülow has taken him up just now,” he wrote to his brother, “as formerly he took up Brahms and others. To my mind such an astounding lack of talent, united to such pretentiousness, never before existed.”
Tchaikovsky now began to receive invitations from many musical centres to conduct his own works. Colonne had engaged him for two concerts in Paris on March 11th and 18th. Several other offers, including Weimar and the Dresden Philharmonic, had to be refused because the dates did not fit in with his plans.
On the advice of Bülow, Wolf, and other friends he decided to alter the programme of the forthcoming concert at Berlin, for which he had put down hisFrancesca da Rimini.“Perhaps they are right,” he says in a letter to his brother. “The taste of the German public is quite different to ours. Now I understand why Brahms is idolised here, although my opinion of him has not changed. Had I known this sooner, perhaps I, too, might have learnt to compose in a different way. Remind me later to tell you about my acquaintance with the venerable Ave-Lallemant,[127]which touched me profoundly.
“Sapellnikov made quite a sensation in Hamburg. He really has a great talent. He is also a charming and good-hearted young man.”
To V. Napravnik.“Magdeburg,January, 12th(24th), 1888.“The newspapers have published long articles about me. They ‘slate’ me a good deal, but pay me far more attention than our own Press. Their views are sometimes funny. A critic, speaking of the variations in the Third Suite, says that one describes a sitting of the Holy Synod and another a dynamite explosion.”
To V. Napravnik.
“Magdeburg,January, 12th(24th), 1888.
“The newspapers have published long articles about me. They ‘slate’ me a good deal, but pay me far more attention than our own Press. Their views are sometimes funny. A critic, speaking of the variations in the Third Suite, says that one describes a sitting of the Holy Synod and another a dynamite explosion.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.“Leipzig,January20th(February1st), 1888.“ ... How shall I describe all I am experiencing just now? Continual home-sickness, some well-nigh intolerable hours, and a few very pleasant moments. I intended to spend a few quiet days here, instead of which I am whirled along in a stream of gaiety: dinners, visits, concerts, suppers, the theatre, etc. My sole comfort is the society of Siloti, Brodsky (I am quite in love with his wife and sister-in-law), and Grieg and his wife. But besides these, every day I make new and sympathetic acquaintances. I take Sapellnikov with me wherever I go, and have introduced him to many people in the musical world. Wherever he plays he creates a sensation. I am more and more convinced of his superb talent.... I went to a Quartet Concert, at which I heard a quartet by an exceedingly gifted Italian, Busoni. I quickly made friends with him. At an evening given by Brodsky I was charmed with a new sonata by Grieg. Grieg and his wife are so quaint, sympathetic, interesting, and original that I could not describe them in a letter. I regard Grieg as very highly gifted. To-day I dine with him at Brodsky’s. To-night is the extra concert in aid of the funds for the Mendelssohn Memorial, and to-morrow the public rehearsal of the Gewandhaus Concert, at which Rubinstein’s symphony will be given. Afterwards I am giving a dinner to my friends at a restaurant, and start for Berlin at five o’clock. How tired I am!”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Leipzig,January20th(February1st), 1888.
“ ... How shall I describe all I am experiencing just now? Continual home-sickness, some well-nigh intolerable hours, and a few very pleasant moments. I intended to spend a few quiet days here, instead of which I am whirled along in a stream of gaiety: dinners, visits, concerts, suppers, the theatre, etc. My sole comfort is the society of Siloti, Brodsky (I am quite in love with his wife and sister-in-law), and Grieg and his wife. But besides these, every day I make new and sympathetic acquaintances. I take Sapellnikov with me wherever I go, and have introduced him to many people in the musical world. Wherever he plays he creates a sensation. I am more and more convinced of his superb talent.... I went to a Quartet Concert, at which I heard a quartet by an exceedingly gifted Italian, Busoni. I quickly made friends with him. At an evening given by Brodsky I was charmed with a new sonata by Grieg. Grieg and his wife are so quaint, sympathetic, interesting, and original that I could not describe them in a letter. I regard Grieg as very highly gifted. To-day I dine with him at Brodsky’s. To-night is the extra concert in aid of the funds for the Mendelssohn Memorial, and to-morrow the public rehearsal of the Gewandhaus Concert, at which Rubinstein’s symphony will be given. Afterwards I am giving a dinner to my friends at a restaurant, and start for Berlin at five o’clock. How tired I am!”