VII To N. F. von Meck
“Maidanovo, November 19th (December 1st), 1885.
“... I spent a week in Moscow, and was present at three concerts. The first, given by Siloti, who has just returned from abroad to serve his time in the army. He has made great progress. Then the Musical Society gave a concert and quartet-matinée, at which the celebrated Paris violinist, Marsick, played. All three concerts gave me great pleasure, as I have not heard any good music for so long. For a musician who writes as much as I do it is very necessary and refreshing to hear foreign music from time to time. Nothing inspires me more than listening to a great foreign work: immediately I want to write one equally beautiful.
“I have also been once or twice to the Conservatoire, and was very pleased to notice that Taneiev is just the Director we wanted under the circumstances. His work shows resolution, firmness, energy, and also capability. I hear nothing about Les Caprices d’Oxane, and begin to fear the work will not be produced this season.”
The following letter was written after Ippolitov-Ivanov had communicated the success of Mazeppa in Tiflis.
To M. M. Ippolitov-Ivanov.110
“December 6th (18th), 1885.
“...As to Mazeppa, accept my warmest thanks. My brother and his wife, who live in Tiflis, and had seen the opera in Moscow and Petersburg, tell me it went splendidly.
“For some time I have been longing to find a subject—not too dramatic—for an opera, and then to write a work suitable to the resources of the provincial stage. Should God grant me a long life, I hope to carry out this plan, and thus to obliterate the unpleasant recollections of the immeasurable trouble which the rehearsals of Mazeppa must have left with you. But the harder your task, the warmer my thanks.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo, December 9th (21st), 1885.
“I am going to Moscow on December 14th (26th), principally to decide the fate of Les Caprices d’Oxane. I shall make heroic efforts to have my opera produced. I am advised to conduct it myself, and it is possible I may decide to do so. In any case, I shall spend the holidays in Petersburg.... I am working very hard at the corrections of Manfred. I am still convinced it is my best work. Meanwhile The Enchantress is laid aside, but the first act is quite finished. The libretto is splendid. In this I am lucky.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, December 11th (23rd), 1885.
“... My Third Suite was played at the last concert. The public gave me an enthusiastic ovation.... Lately we have had such lovely moonlight nights, without a breath of wind. O God, how beautiful they are! The Russian winter has a particular charm for me, but that does not prevent me from planning a journey to Italy in the spring. I am thinking of going by sea from Naples to Constantinople, then to Batoum, and thence by train to Tiflis to visit my brother Anatol, who is already expecting me.”
To S. I. Taneiev.
“Maidanovo, December 11th (23rd), 1885.
“... Imagine! I am rejoicing at the thought of hearing Beethoven’s First Symphony. I had no suspicion that I liked it so much. The reason is perhaps that it is so like my idol, Mozart. Remember that on October 27th, 1887, the centenary of Don Juan will be celebrated.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“December 22nd (January 3rd), 1885.
“... I have only just now been able to consider this question of Manfred, of Mackar, and the fee, and this is my decision: Even were Manfred a work of the greatest genius, it would still remain a symphony which, on account of its unusual intricacy and difficulty, would only be played once in ten years. This work cannot therefore bring any profit either to you or Mackar. On the other hand, I value it highly. How is the material value of such a work to be decided? I may be wrong, but it seems to me my best composition, and a few hundred roubles would not repay me for all the work and trouble I have put into it. If you were very rich, I would unhesitatingly demand a very large sum, on the grounds that you could recover your outlay on other things—but you are not at all rich. As for Mackar—to speak frankly—I am greatly touched by his cheerful self-sacrifice, for certainly he can have made very little out of my works in France. After having just received 20,000 francs from him, we must not show ourselves too grasping, especially as we know that there is not much to be made out of Manfred.”
“In short, I have made up my mind to claim nothing from Mackar, or from you, and have already told him this. I tell you also, so that you should not demand the promised thousand francs from him. The demanding of payment for restoration of his copy—is your affair.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, January 13th (25th), 1886.
“Dear Friend,—... This time I have not brought back any pleasant impressions with me from Petersburg. My operas—I do not know why—have not been given lately, and I feel this the more bitterly because, owing to the unusual success of Oniegin, it appears that the Direction has been urging that it should be given with greater frequency. The new symphony Manfred is completely ignored, for no preparations for its production are being made. In all this I do not recognise any enmity towards me personally, for in truth I have no enemies, but a kind of contempt which is a little wounding to my artistic vanity. Certainly this is an unfavourable year for me. They have decided not to give Les Caprices d’Oxane in Moscow this season, and I had been expecting it so impatiently!
“I have a piece of news for you to-day, which pleased me very much. I had observed that here in Maidanovo the village children are constantly idle and run about without any occupation, which induced me to consult with the local priest about the founding of a school. This has proved to be possible, so long as I assure them an annual sum. I have consented to do so, and the priest began to take the necessary steps about two months ago. The official permission to open a school has arrived and the instruction can begin this week. I am very glad.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, January 14th (26th), 1886.
“... The priest came to see me to-day, and brought me an invitation to the opening of the school on the 19th. I am proud to have initiated this work. I hope some good will come of it. In spite of the greatest care and moderation, I suffer from dyspepsia. It is not serious, and I have no doubt a cure at Vichy will completely set me up.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Moscow, February 4th (16th), 1886.
“How difficult it is after receiving your money to say in the baldest way,‘Money received, many thanks!’ If only you had an inkling of all the happiness I owe you, and the whole meaning of that ‘independence and freedom’ which are the result of my liberty. Life is an unbroken chain of little unpleasantnesses and collision with human egoism and pride, and only he can rise above these things who is free and independent. How often do I say to myself: Well that it is so, but how if it were otherwise?
“Just lately I had some very unpleasant frictions which only just fell short of open quarrels, but failed to upset me because I could appear to ignore the wrong inflicted upon me. Yes, in the last few years of my life there have been many occasions on which I have sincerely felt the debt of gratitude I owe to you. And yet I usually send you the receipt as if it were a matter of course. My gratitude has no limits, my dear.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, February 6th (18th), 1886.
“.... To-day I returned from Moscow, where I have been attending Rubinstein’s concerts once a week. Were it only a question of listening to that marvellous pianist, I should not have found the journeys at all tedious, in spite of my dislike of leaving home. But I had to go to all the dinners and suppers which were held in his honour, which I generally found intolerably wearisome and most injurious to my health. At the last concert Rubinstein played pieces by Henselt, Thalberg, Liszt, and others. There was very little artistic choice, but the performance was indeed astonishing.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, February 14th (26th), 1886.
“... The festival which the town of Moscow held in Rubinstein’s honour was a great success. He was visibly touched by the energy and warmth with which the Muscovites expressed their affection for him. Indeed, everyone must recognise that Rubinstein is worthy of all such honour. He is not only a gifted artist, but also a most honourable and generous man.”
Diary.
“Maidanovo, February 22nd (March 8th), 1886.
“What an unfathomable gulf lies between the Old and the New Testament! Read the psalms of David, and at first it is impossible to understand why they have taken such a high place from an artistic point of view; and, secondly, why they should stand beside the Gospels. David is altogether of this world. He divides the whole of humanity into two unequal portions: sinners (to which belong the greatest number) and the righteous, at whose head he places himself. In every psalm he calls down God’s wrath upon the sinner and His praise upon the righteous; yet the reward and the punishment are both worldly. The sinners shall be undone, and the righteous shall enjoy all the good things of this earthly life. How little that agrees with Christ’s teaching, who prayed for His enemies, and promised the good no earthly wealth, but rather the kingdom of heaven! What touching love and compassion for mankind lies in these words: ‘Come unto Me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden’! In comparison with these simple words all the psalms of David are as nothing.”
Diary.
“February 28th (March 12th), 1886.
“... At tea I read through Alexis Tolstoi’s St. John Chrysostom and The Sinner, which reduced me to tears. While in this agitation of spirit, into which any strong artistic enjoyment throws me, I received a telegram from the Conservatoire: ‘The Grand Duke is coming.’ So all plans go to the devil! Despair, irresolution, and even terror at the prospect of the journey. Went in and fed my landlady’s hungry dog. In the twilight I was overcome with insane depression. Played through my Second Suite, and was glad to find it not so bad as I had imagined.”
Diary.
“March 1st (13th), 1886.
“.... Played through Nero, and cannot sufficiently marvel at the audacious coolness of the composer. The very sight of the score makes me fume. However, I only play this abomination because the sense of my superiority—at least, as regards conscientiousness—strengthens my energy. I believe I compose badly, but when I come across such an atrocity, written in all earnestness, I feel a certain relief. I am ashamed to show so much anger over such a publication—but there is no need to disguise one’s feelings in a diary.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, March 13th (25th), 1886.
“Dear Friend,—I have not written to you for a long time owing to a ten days’ visit to Moscow.... I devoted two days to the rehearsal of Manfred, and attended the concert at which it was played. I am quite satisfied; I am sure it is my best symphonic work. The performance was excellent, but it seemed to me the public were unintelligent and cold, although they gave me quite an ovation at the end....”
The very short and sparse Press notices of Manfred add nothing essential to Tchaikovsky’s words. They merely confirm the fact that the Symphony received an excellent rendering, but the author’s high opinion of his work only held good as regards the first two movements; later on he came to reckon the other movements, the Pastorale, Ariman’s Kingdom, and Manfred’s Death, as being on a level with The Oprichnik, one of the least favoured of his works.
Although out of chronological order, I may mention here that on the occasion of a performance of this work in Petersburg (December, 1886) Cui gave it the most enthusiastic and unreserved praise. Everything pleased him, especially the Scherzo, and his criticism closed with these words: “We must be grateful to Tchaikovsky for having enriched the treasury of our national symphonic music.”