Sergei Rachmaninov
Rachmaninov Is Reminiscent
Complete interview with Sergei Rachmaninov
first published in May of 1927 in The
Musical Observer
by Basanta Koomar Roy
Among composers, Rachmaninov looms large.
While it seldom transpires that one gains
equal distinction as a composer, and a pianist,
yet this may be said of Rachmaninov. In
the course of the next hundred years or
so the excellence of his piano playing will
no doubt have become mythical, but the message
of his musical compositions for the orchestra,
for the voice and for the piano will still
remain as cherished treasures of mankind.
One fine morning not long ago, I found myself,
by appointment, in the spacious studio of
Rachmaninov overlooking the Hudson. In this
quiet and contemplative room where the master
did much of his composing, we talked of
many things. In the course of our conversation
I asked the master musician from Moscow
how he first gained recognition as a composer,
for this is one of the most difficult things
a young composer has to contend with. |
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S.R.: When
I was studying piano at the Moscow Conservatory
of Music, I felt within myself the impulse
to compose. So I studied the science and
art of musical composition with Professor
Tanieiev and Arensky. And during my year
of postgraduate work, composed my first
opera, Aleko. I was very much encouraged
by Tschaikowsky. He was so kind and helpful
to me as a composer that he even came to
the rehearsals of Aleko to assist with his
vast store of wisdom, knowledge and experience.
Aleko was first produced in April 1893 at
the Grand Theatre of Moscow. I was then
twenty years old. With Aleko I made my bow
to the world as a composer. It was well
received by the critics and the public.
This gave me the incentive to continue with
my composition.
And under the incentive provided by that
early appreciation for my opera, I composed
during the summer of the same year The
Rock (an orchestral fantasy); The
Prayers of the Ever Watchful Mother of God
(a choral work); Six Songs, one violin
piece, and my first Suite for two pianos.
Tschaikowsky died in October of that year
and my deep sense of bereavement moved me
to write my Trio Elegiaque (Op. 9, a
la memorie d'un grand artiste) for piano,
violin and cello. So you see the year of
my debut as a composer was rather a strenuous
one. I composed several serious things after
this, but strange to say, a small piano
piece, the C- sharp Minor Prelude,
made me known in many lands.
B.K.R: Some people would like to
call you Mr. C Sharp Minor. (The master
laughed. This was the first time that I
found the melancholy musician could laugh
so heartily.
Finding him in such a good mood I was encouraged
to ask him how he got his inspiration for
the C-sharp Minor Prelude as well
as the various sources from which he derives
inspiration.)
S.R.: One day the Prelude simply
came and I put it down. It came with such
force that I could not shake it off even
though I tried hard to do so. It had to
be Ý so there it was. And I also remember
that I received only $20 for it. The piece
was printed and sold in large quantities
throughout the world but I never received
any further compensation. The recognition
which the piece brought me, however, was
worth considerable.
Source of Inspiration
S.R.: It is most difficult to analyze
the source of inspiration for compositions.
So many factors work together in creative
work. Love is certainly a never failing
source of inspiration. Love inspires as
nothing else does. To love is to gain happiness
and strength of mind. It is the unfoldment
of a new vista of intellectual energy. The
beauty and grandeur of nature helps. Poetry
inspires me much. Of all the arts I love
poetry the best after music. Our Pushkin
I find admirable. Shakespeare and Byron
I read constantly in the Russian. I always
have books of poetry around me. Poetry inspires
music Ý for there is so much music in poetry.
They are like twin sisters.
Everything of beauty helps. A beautiful
woman is certainly a source of perpetual
inspiration. But you must run away from
her, and seek seclusion, otherwise you will
compose nothing Ý you will accomplish nothing.
Carry the inspiration in your heart and
mind; think of her, but be all by yourself
for creative work.
Real inspiration must come from within.
If there is nothing within, nothing from
outside can help. The best of poetry, the
greatest of painting, the sublimest of nature
cannot produce any worthwhile result if
the divine spark of creative faculty is
lacking within the artist.
B.K.R: How does painting affect you?
S.R.: After music and poetry, I like
painting the best.
B.K.R: I know painting was responsible
for your symphonic poem, The Island of
the Dead. Where did you see the painting
first?
S.R.: I first saw only a copy of
the famous painting of Boeklin at Dresden.
The massive architecture and mystic message
of the painting made a marked impression
on me, and the tone poem was the outcome.
Later I saw the original painting in Berlin.
I was not much moved by the coloring in
the painting. If I had seen the original
first, I might not have composed my Island
of the Dead. I like the picture best in
black and white.
B.K.R: This tone poem was my first
acquaintance with you as a composer. I admired
it so much that Mr. Stransky was gracious
enough to play it a second time the same
season, only at my most humble request.
It stirred something within me. I wish I
could hear it played once by Stokowski with
his Philadelphia Orchestra. At times he
accomplishes such uncanny feats through
his orchestra. And this is an uncanny piece
of music born of an uncanny painting. By
the way, what about other noted composers
in Russia today?
S.R.: The Russian school of music
is one of great significance. The world
is slowly waking up to the fact, too slowly,
it seems to me. The boycott of German music
during the war, a thing quite injurious
in itself, has, however, helped people to
seek and find classical music beyond the
borders of Germany and Austria. Besides
others we have today Medtner and Glazounoff.
They are well worthy of consideration. During
my lifetime we have lost Tschaikowsky, Rimsky-Korsakoff
and Scriabine. I told you before that after
the death of Tschaikowsky I composed my
Trio Elegiaque. After the death of Scriabine
I toured all over Russia playing his compositions
as my humble homage to that great master
of music. As for Rimsky-Korsakoff I tell
you that when I was obliged to leave my
home and my beloved Russia after the Bolshevik
revolution, I was allowed to take with me
only 500 roubles each for my family of four,
and of all the music I had, I chose to carry
with me only the score of Rimsky's Coq d'Or.
Russian Music
S.R.: It is true that Russian music
is very little known in America, but its
influence is felt all over Europe. Take
Debussy, for instance. He is intensely influenced
by Rimsky-Korsakoff. It is not plagiarism
in the case of Debussy, for he was a musical
genius himself Ý it was only influence.
Just as a poet is influenced by another
poet. Perhaps Tagore has influenced many
young poets in India.
B.K.R: Yes, influenced quite a few,
not only in writing verse, but also in the
dressing of their hair.
S.R.: That's exactly what I mean
by influence.
B.K.R: Many of our artists have gone
through various vicissitudes of fortune
before they arrived. I am wondering what
has been your lot in this respect.
S.R.: I had my full share of sorrows,
sufferings and privations. Though born in
a wealthy family I soon discovered that
I had to support and educate myself. Something
went wrong with our family fortunes. So
trouble began. As a boy I made good progress
in music and began giving lessons in piano
when I was only sixteen years old. It was
necessary for me to earn money by this means
in order to continue my musical education.
I charged seventy-five cents an hour. And
in the first month I earned about fifty
roubles. I was glad for this teaching experience.
In order to be able to teach conscientiously
I had to know much more than my pupils,
and I learned how to solve many problems
of technic. My forced pedagogy was certainly
a blessing in disguise in my development.
For I am proud to say that I am a self-made
musician. So after much trial and tribulation,
when appreciation came I was happy. My second
opera, The Miser Knight, gave me the first
real start in life.
But whenever I think of my career as a musician
I cannot forget the patronage of Tschaikowsky.
He thought I had talent; so he encouraged
me and helped my development. At the premiere
of my first opera, Aleko, he desired that
his one act opera, Iolanthe, might be produced
along with my first attempt. I was indeed
proud of the compliment thus bestowed. You
really cannot realize what it meant to me
then. The great Tschaikowsky, our national
musical hero, wished that his opera might
be produced with mine. I was simply intoxicated
with joy. And I tell you that patronage
from such a great musical figure certainly
did help me in carving out a career for
myself. Tschaikowsky was a dynamic personality,
even as Chekov."
B.K.R: You have raised a question
by the use of the word personality about
which there is much diversity of opinion.
It is claimed in certain musical quarters
that the personality of a musician has little
to do with his success. What is your opinion?
S.R.: The personality of a musician
has a great deal to do with it. If personality
does not count, then why not listen to the
phonograph or radio? Why go to concerts
at all? Take one concrete example. Mr. Kreisler
has a tremendous personality. He comes on
the stage, he plays and conquers. Now suppose
at one of his concerts he played from behind
a curtain. Do you think the audience would
enthuse as much as is usually the custom?
B.K.R: No, I don't think so.
S.R.: Then you agree with me. The
personality of a musician influences the
audience, consciously or unconsciously,
in the appreciation of music. In the enjoyment
of music human hearts play a more important
part than human brains.
B.K.R: Do you think that you would
have been a success as a pianist if you
were handicapped by some physical deformity,
even though your playing remained the same?
S.R.: Under such conditions I would
have been a dismal failure even if I played
a hundred times better than I do today.
Take the case of an actor like Stanislavsky,
the founder of the Moscow Art Theatre. If
he had a deformed body and yet acted much
better, he would have been a failure just
the same. As for composers and dramatists
it is quite different. If I were deformed
and could not play the piano in concert,
I might have composed greater symphonies,
greater operas and greater concertos. There
are always compensations. That's why I insist
that personality has a great deal to do
with the success of a musician who appears
in public.
Musical Future of America
While talking about America I asked this
distinguished Russian what he thought of
the musical future of this country.
S.R.: America has a great future
musically. Today we see only the beginning
of a new musical age here. All great musicians
from Europe are coming here and contributing
their share for the advancement of music
in this country. It is a misfortune for
Europe, but it is a great thing for America.
Perhaps a greater music is to be born in
this country, where they manufacture such
excellent pianos. But I am sorry to say
that there is not an organized national
effort to c-ordinate America's musical forces
for the highest good of the land.
The first thing I would do were I in a position
of authority, would be to establish a National
Conservatory of Music in a building quite
in keeping with the financial resources
and international dignity of this country.
Then I should make that the radiating center
of the highest and purest in music. For
three years as the Vice-President of the
Imperial Russian Music Society, I did similar
work in Russia. |
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Rachmaninov
lives a very quiet and simple life. He shuns
luxury and costly habits in every shape
and form. He is absorbed in his art and
devotes much time to reading, playing and
gardening the summer time. He is seldom
seen at concerts. But when his old friend
Chaliapin sings, or when Medtner plays,
it is hard to keep him away.
He is very devoted to the theatre. In his
youth he was a great admirer of Chekov.
He is a friend of the players of the Moscow
Art Theatre. I remember what a stimulating
sight I saw one afternoon in the Artists'
room after a Rachmaninov concert at Carnegie
Hall, New York. There stood in a corner
a huge glittering laurel wreath in green,
gold and white, presented to the master
pianist with the cordial greetings of the
Moscow Art Theatre. The actors and actresses
from the greatest theatre of the world led
by stalwart and handsome Stanislavsky, almost
surrounded him. Some of the men kissed him,
and he them in real Russian style. They
exchanged a few words in the tempo of a
chant before an altar. Then for a minute
or two they spoke not a word. The Moscow
players simply looked at the great Moscow
musician in reverent silence. Such devotion,
such poise, such childlike sincerity, I
never saw before, even on the stage of the
Moscow Art Theatre. The actors surpassed
themselves. Then they gently walked away
one by one, like so many children, sad at
parting from their playmate. The master's
gaze was fixed on them, and he waved at
the last actor who looked back as he went
out of the door. I watched this bit of drama
in life with breathless wonder, and I am
not ashamed to admit that the sanctity of
the scene moved me to tears. And from the
quick movement of his eyelids I could notice
that the master's eyes were not altogether
dry either.
I shall never forget this one act play of
the Moscow Art Theatre, Rachmaninov playing
the part of the hero. It was more than a
play, it was a sacrament. I was doubly happy
to see the dramatic mightiest in Russia
paying homage to the musical mightiest of
Russia in such a solemnly unique way. It
was certainly a fitting tribute most worthily
paid to the maestro of Moscow.
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