V
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 prince last 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 of Oniegin, 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 of Oniegin in 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, January 2nd (14th), 1889.
“Dear Friend,—When you were lately with us in Prague I promised to write to you on the subject of your opera Oniegin. 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 as Oniegin.
“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, née Davidov. 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 his Tempest overture, and on the following day was present at a performance of the Oprichnik given 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 through our Symphony (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. Since Eugene Oniegin Tchaikovsky 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, January 30th (February 11th), 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 took fright 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. The Dresdner Zeitung spoke 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, February 5th (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 a guarantee, 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, February 11th (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, February 15th (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’s Caprice Espagnol and your Stenka Razin.”
To P. Jurgenson.
“Leipzig, February 17th (March 1st), 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, February 21st (March 5th), 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 in Hamburg. 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 the German Requiem was 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.
“Hanover March 5th (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 away ennui. 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 between bad and worse Tchaikovsky had spent his time since he left Russia; but the worst was 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 same time 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.
“March 21st (April 2nd), 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, April 7th (19th), 1889.
“Modi,—Vassia137 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 a furore.”
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, March 30th (April 11th), 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 Times regretted that one of Tchaikovsky’s symphonies 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, April 8th (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, April 20th (May 2nd), 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 fantastic form, 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, May 12th (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. A coup d’état has 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’s141 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, July 9th (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 you most emphatically not 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, or Moldava....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Frolovskoe, July 25th (August 6th), 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.”