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The Life & Letters of Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky

by Modest Chaikovsky

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V

Early in April Tchaikovsky left Petersburg for Kamenka.

To N. F. von Meck.

“Kamenka, April 14th (26th), 1879.

“My opera reposes for the time being in my portfolio. I am working at the Suite. To-day I finished the score, and to-morrow I shall start upon the arrangement for four hands....

“I have another fortnight’s work to bestow upon the Suite. At Brailov I shall be able to give myself up entirely to my increasing love of nature. There is no other spot in the world which can offer me so much in this respect. To live in your house, to feel myself free and alone, to be able to visit the forests every day and wander all day among the flowers, to listen to the nightingale at night, to read your books, play upon your instruments and think of you—these are joys I cannot find elsewhere.”

To P. Jurgenson.

“Kamenka, April 22nd (May 4th), 1879.

“I am beginning to be proud of my works, now that I see what an extraordinary effect some of them make. Everyone here is crazy over the Andante, and when I played it with my brother as a pianoforte duet, one girl fainted away (this is a fact!!). To make the fair sex faint is the highest triumph to which any composer can attain.”

To N. F. von Meck.

“Brailov, May 5th (17th), 1879.

“Yesterday I began to study the score of Lohengrin. I know you are no great admirer of Wagner, and I, too, am far from being a desperate Wagnerite. I am not very sympathetic to Wagnerism as a principle. Wagner’s personality arouses my antipathy, yet I must do justice to his great musical gift. This reaches its climax in Lohengrin, which will always remain the crown of all his works. After Lohengrin, began the deterioration of his talent, which was ruined by his diabolical vanity. He lost all sense of proportion, and began to overstep all limits, so that everything he composed after Lohengrin became incomprehensible, impossible music which has no future. What chiefly interests me in Lohengrin at present is the orchestration. In view of the work which lies before me, I want to study this score very closely, and decide whether to adopt some of his methods of instrumentation. His mastery is extraordinary, but, for reasons which would necessitate technical explanations, I have not borrowed anything from him. Wagner’s orchestration is too symphonic, too overloaded and heavy for vocal music. The older I grow, the more convinced I am that symphony and opera are in every respect at the opposite poles of music. Therefore the study of Lohengrin will not lead me to change my style, although it has been interesting and of negative value.”

To N. F. von Meck.

“Brailov, May 7th (19th), 1879.

“Yesterday I was talking to Marcel about the completion of the Catholic chapel, started long ago, but interrupted by order of the Government. Now the necessary permission has been obtained, and the priest has funds for the work; but another difficulty exists which you alone can overcome. One of your offices just touches the wall of the church, and could easily be transported to another spot. Last year I went into the chapel in which the service is held, and I must honestly say that I was sorry to see this obvious proof of Catholic persecution... it is not large enough to hold a tenth part of the congregation. I am an energetic champion of religious freedom. Marcel tells me the priest did not like to trouble you with his requests, therefore I am animated with a desire to come to his assistance. I take the liberty of telling you that the Catholics of Brailov are hoping for your kind permission to have your building removed. If this should prove to be impossible, at least forgive me, dear friend, for my untimely interference on their behalf.”

To N. F. von Meck.

“Brailov, May 9th (21st), 1879.

“I have just been in the church attached to the monastery. There were many people, both in the church and in the courtyard of the building. I heard the blind ‘lyre singer.’ He calls himself ‘lyre singer’ on account of the instrument with which he accompanies himself, which, however, has nothing in common with the lyre of antiquity. It is curious that in Little Russia every blind beggar sings exactly the same tune with the same refrain. I have used part of this refrain in my Pianoforte Concerto.

“At the present moment I am writing on the balcony. Before me is the bunch of lilies of the valley from Simakov. I am never tired of looking at these enchanting creations of nature.”

To N. F. von Meck.

“Kamenka, May 29th (June 10th), 1879.

“To-day I finished the first act of my opera (The Maid of Orleans). It has grown into a somewhat bulky score. What a delight to look through a newly finished score! To a musician a score means something more than a collection of all kinds of notes and pauses. It is a complete picture, in which the central figures stand out clearly from the accessories and the background.

“To me every orchestral score is not merely a foretaste of oral delight, but also a joy to look upon. For this reason I am painfully particular about my scores, and cannot bear corrections, erasures, or blots.”68

To N. F. von Meck.

“Kamenka, June 13th (25th), 1879.

“Early this morning I had a telegram from Jurgenson, to say he had won his case against Bachmetiev, the Director of the Imperial Chapel. I think I told you that early last year my Liturgy (of St. John Chrysostom) was confiscated from Jurgenson’s by order of Bachmetiev.... Only those works which have been recognised by the Chapel can be publicly sold or performed. This is the reason why, until now, no Russian musicians have written Church music. After the confiscation of my composition, Jurgenson brought an action for damages against Bachmetiev, and has won his case.... This does not matter so much for my Liturgy, as for the principle involved.

“Twenty-five years ago to-day my mother died. It was the first profound sorrow of my life. Her death had a great influence on the fate of myself and our entire family. She was carried off by cholera, quite unexpectedly, in the prime of life. Every moment of that terrible day is still as clear in my remembrances as though it had happened yesterday.”

On June 20th Tchaikovsky wrote to N. F. von Meck that he had received three very agreeable letters from abroad. In one Colonne expressed his respect in the kindliest manner, and assured Tchaikovsky that, in spite of the cold reception of The Tempest, his name should figure again in the programmes of the Châtelet. A second communication came from the ‘cellist Fitzenhagen (professor at the Moscow Conservatoire), telling him of the impression he had created with the “Variations on a Rococo theme” at the Wiesbaden Festival. Liszt remarked on this occasion, “At last here is music again.” The third letter—from Hans von Bülow—announced the great success of Tchaikovsky’s first Pianoforte Concerto at the same festival. Von Bülow had already played it with even greater success in London.

Almost on the same day Tchaikovsky also heard the good news that his Liturgy had been performed in the University Church at Kiev.

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