Part 7 — APPENDIX C EXTRACTS FROM GERMAN PRESS NOTICES DURING TCHAIKOVSKY’S TOURS ABROAD IN 1888 AND 1889

Leipzig “Signale”

“January, 1888.

“So far we have only become acquainted with three or four works by Peter Tchaikovsky, a follower of the Neo, or young, Russian school of ‘storm and stress’ composers, and these works, to speak frankly, have not won our sympathies; not because the composer is lacking in talent and skill, but because the manner in which he employs his gifts is repellent to us. Equally frankly we are ready to confess that we went to hear the Suite (op. 43) included in this programme, somewhat in fear and trembling, being prepared for all kinds of monstrosities, distortions, and repulsiveness. But it turned out otherwise.... The Fugue and Introduction at the beginning of the Suite bore honourable witness to the composer’s contrapuntal science; of the other movements—the Divertimento, Intermezzo, Marche miniature, and Gavotte—the march seems least worthy of praise, for it merely recalls the tea-caddy-decoration style of art applied to music, and rather spoils than enhances the work.

“The composer, who conducted his Suite, must have been equally pleased with the way in which it was played and the reception accorded by the public. For the Gewandhaus audience, in recalling him twice, paid Herr Tchaikovsky a compliment rarely bestowed on any but a few of the most prominent composers of the day. He will carry away the impression that there is no question of Russophobia among musical people in Leipzig.

“E. Bernsdorf.”

“Musikalisches Wochenblatt,” No. 3, Jahrgang XIX

“January 12th, 1888.

“Leipzig. The first week of the New Year was really rich in interesting musical events. At the twelfth Subscription Concert Herr Tchaikovsky conducted his orchestral Suite (op. 43).... Undoubtedly the choice of this work was not calculated to display the composer to the Gewandhaus audience in his full creative strength. The Suite opens with a very promising Fugue, cleverly and effectively worked out, and continues very passably well with a Divertimento and an Intermezzo, two movements which are not profound, but possess much charm of sonority. The last two movements—Marche miniature and Gavotte—deteriorate so distinctly into a mere pattern of sounds, that it is impossible to derive from them any real artistic enjoyment. The sister work, of which Siloti gave several movements last season, is far stronger and more original. Still less can op. 43 be compared with the two chamber works played at the concert of the Liszt-Verein: the deeply reflective Trio dedicated to the memory of Nicholas Rubinstein, and the Quartet, delightful in every movement, but wonderful as regards the Andante.... The Liszt-Verein presented Herr Tchaikovsky with a splendid laurel-wreath.”

“Neue Zeitscrift fur Musik,” No. 2

“Leipzig, January 11th, 1888.

“Besides the exhaustively developed Fugue, which displays great contrapuntal skill and sureness, all the rest is of second-rate musical interest. We feel this the more strongly because the composer has been impolitic enough to pad out his fleeting ideas into pretentious movements of a quarter of an hour’s duration. What is the use of a monotonous fugato which comes into the Introduction before the Fugue itself? In the remaining movements we are conscious that the music has a ‘society tone,’ which finds expression in a pleasant conversational style: it has an aroma of Bizet, Délibes, and Co., and is sometimes reminiscent of the heroes of French Grand Opera and sometimes of Wagner. Naturally such methods only produce a frivolous eclecticism that can lead to no lasting results. Besides its aimless length—forty-five minutes—this Suite impresses us most by its evidences of submission to the shallow tastes of the hour. Here Tchaikovsky is posing too much in the part of Proteus; consequently he is not all that he can be.

“A far happier and more sympathetic view of Tchaikovsky is presented by his great Trio in A minor (op. 50)—also of extraordinary length—and the String Quartet (op. 11).... These works are of far superior quality and finer material; they have intellect, temperament, and imagination; here the composer never descends to the commonplace. The Trio—especially the Pezzo elegiaco—bears the imprint of a profound seriousness, impregnated with sorrow and lamentation. The Quartet, which was composed much earlier, shows chiefly a pleasing naïveté. The Andante is our favourite movement; we might compare it to a slumbering lily of the valley.

“Bernhard Vogel.”

“Leipziger Tageblatt”

“Leipzig, January 6th, 1888.

“We give decided preference to the first movement of the Suite (op. 43), especially as regards the Fugue, the subject of which, being full of energy and easily grasped, offers material for sustained and interesting development, in which, one after another, all the instruments take part, until the movement is steadily worked up to a brilliant and effective close. The Introduction pleased us less, partly on account of its being spun out, but also because its contents are only of mediocre quality. The Divertimento treats a folk melody, which is interesting in itself, and is also very effective, thanks to variety of instrumentation. The same may be said of the Intermezzo, in which the ‘cellos have a pleasing, but in no way remarkable, melody. This movement suffers equally from its prolixity. The little March, given to the wood wind and violins, is in the national style, and owes its effect chiefly to the orchestration. Here the flageolet tones of the violins produce a most original effect. The Gavotte, which forms the last movement, cannot lay claim to great appreciation; its effect is rather superficial. The hearty applause after each movement was intended rather for the composer than for his work.”

“Hamburg Correspondent” “SIXTH PHILHARMONIC CONCERT

“Hamburg, January 20th, 1888.

“We cannot deny to Tchaikovsky originality, temperament, or a bold flight of fancy, although when he is possessed by the spirit of his race he overthrows every limitation. All logic is then thrown to the winds, and there begins a Witches’ Sabbath of sound which offends our sight and hearing, especially the latter. Flashes of genius mingle with musical banalities; delicate and intellectual touches with effects which are often ugly. There is something uncompromising, restless, and jerky about his work. In spite of all his originality, and the unrestrained passion of his emotions, Tchaikovsky is too eclectic in his tendencies ever to attain to independence in the highest meaning of the word. An artist’s originality does not lie in the fact that he brings us what is strange and unusual. What deludes the senses is far from sufficient to satisfy the intellect. Tchaikovsky is a gifted, highly cultured, interesting artist. An artist who knows how to excite us by his ideas, but whom we should not venture to describe as a creative force in the highest sense. His music is too deeply rooted in a one-sided national tendency; but when he passes these limits the eclectic becomes prominent, who uses all the influences he has assimilated, although in his own original way. It is not what Tchaikovsky says that is new, but his manner of saying it. He likes to take wild and sudden leaps, allows himself to be carried away by the mood of the moment, and spins these moods out as much as possible, padding them largely with pathos and concealing the lack of really great thoughts by means of dazzling colour, unusual harmonic combinations, and lively, exotic rhythms.

“Sittard.”

“Fremdenblatt” “SIXTH PHILHARMONIC CONCERT

“Hamburg, January 20th, 1888.

“The Serenade was given to the public about 1883. The first and third movements are the most important, yet, even at its weightiest, it is not worthy to be placed beside the works of our latest German composers. This movement shows some similarity in form to the old French overture, as appears from its division into three parts and the Introduction in slow time. The second movement, a Valse Tempo in the dominant, is as out of keeping with the leading emotion of the opening movement as is the Finale—which is not always very lofty in conception. Undoubtedly the highest recognition would be accorded to the Elégie (third movement) if it, too, had more in common with the first movement. This sense of unity is lacking, in spite of the admirable development of the parts, while the key of D major, and the second sequence of dominants leading to C, is not calculated to give coherence to the whole. From the point of view of instrumentation the Serenade is admirably worked out, and the means selected are so well handled that it is worthy to rank with numerous other serenades for strings which have been turned out by skilled artists in recent years. If in the Serenade many fundamental principles of form have been violated, this method of procedure, which might be attributed to an effort after novelty, stands in no approximate relationship to the music of the Pianoforte Concerto (op. 23), a work which will hardly please German musicians in its entirety. This music bears so essentially the Russian stamp that we must be able to view it entirely from a national standpoint in order to find it interesting. The Concerto, in three extended movements, consists of an endless chain of phrases, and offers only a superficial development of the themes. Each phrase stands by itself, and has no connection with the next. It is not lacking in noisy passages, which cost the pianist enormous efforts, but none of these are the outcome of logical necessity. It is true that the work is not lacking in cleverness, but how regrettable that such an eminent talent should go so far astray!... The Theme and Variations from the Third Suite for orchestra brought the Tchaikovsky performance to a close. Here the composer gives us something clever and skilful, at least as regards the first half of the work; but our pleasure in these welcome, solid tone-structures only lasts until the violin solo in B minor. After this number the work runs a superficial course, culminating in a very commonplace Tempo di Polacca. If this is really Russian, and justified as such, Tchaikovsky’s music may have its special qualities for Russian artists. German composers, however, are not likely to derive from it any satisfactory results which could forward the development of their art....

“Emil Krause.”

“Hamburger Nachrichten”

“January 20th, 1888.

“Yesterday Tchaikovsky’s Serenade (op. 48), his Pianoforte Concerto op. 23, and Theme and Variations from op. 55 were given at the Philharmonic Concert. In all these works we observed the same half-popular (volkstümlich), half-trivial element as regards the melodic invention. We need not, however, lay stress upon this in referring to the individual movements, since the absence of what seems indispensable to a German audience is not a fault in the composer. The Concerto is least calculated to convince the hearer of Tchaikovsky’s power of logical development and perfection of form. The first movement conceals its very primitive formal structure under an overpowering rush of harmonic effects, of dazzling kaleidoscopic passages, of intricate treatment of the subjects and of orchestral colour.... The Serenade is more lucid in design and far clearer in expression. Its sonority is full and satisfying, and it displays much variety of colouring. By the divisions of the violins, the skilful employment of violas and ‘cellos, and the judicious combination and alternation of bowed and pizzicato passages, the composer succeeds in producing many picturesque effects. Interrupted cadences and frequent changes of rhythm break the flow of the work as a whole, but it leaves a general impression of freshness, animation, and attractiveness. The subjects of the fluently handled first Allegro have a piquant quality. The second movement is a slow Valse. Far more distinctive is the first subject of the third movement—with its old-world colouring—which resembles the introduction to the Finale, and is treated, moreover, in the genuine Russian folk-style, being heard first in C major and E flat major. In the Variations from the Third Suite the composer gives us a convincing proof of his musical science and fruitful imagination. The theme itself is only of mediocre quality, musically speaking, but, as the movement proceeds, it increases in importance, in depth, and complexity of the parts, until in the Finale it is worked up to a somewhat obtrusive apotheosis of elemental strength, the outcome of the mere rhythm. This was regarded as a signal for departure by a large section of the audience, who were too much concerned in safeguarding their own tympanums to feel compunction for the disturbance they caused to the more strong-minded, who sat it out to the end.”

“Vossiche Zeitung,” No. 68

“Berlin, February 9th, 1888.

“Not only among the new school of his compatriots, but among all contemporary composers Tchaikovsky is now reckoned as one of the most gifted. He possesses intellect, originality, and invention, and is master alike of the old and the more modern forms. Compared with his fellow-countryman Rubinstein, through whose nature runs a vein of greater amplitude and warmth—Tchaikovsky has more charm and judgment. Both have in common—what we find in every Russian composer with whom we are acquainted—a tendency to exaggeration of form and expression; but here again, Tchaikovsky seems to possess the most artistic refinement. The songs which Frl. Friede sang yesterday, and the String Quartet, are remarkable for delicacy of invention and beauty of form. The overture to Romeo and Juliet, and the Pianoforte Concerto, played by Herr Siloti, are full of characteristic animation and originality of rhythm, harmony, and instrumentation. But here also the defects to which we have alluded are clearly perceptible. The overture becomes wearisome by the spinning out of the same idea; while, according to our conception of the play which inspired this work, the use of the big drum seems rather a coarse effect.

“In the first movement of the Concerto we cannot reconcile ourselves to the noisy, somewhat common-place, principal subject, nor to the frequent and violent interruptions of the musical flow of the work. On the other hand, the Andante, which is a delightful combination of poetry and humour, and the ebullient Finale, in the national style, offer only fresh and undisturbed enjoyment. A clever and animated Fugue from one of the Suites bore witness, by its admirable technical treatment, to the composer’s mastery of polyphonic forms.”

“Berliner Börsen-Courier,” No. 5

“February 9th, 1888.

“The concert—long awaited with great excitement—at which Tchaikovsky, the leading representative of the modern Russian school, was to conduct a series of his own works, took place yesterday.... Among the orchestral works the Solemn Overture, “1812,” was given for the first time. The Romeo and Juliet overture is already known here; it is a symphonic poem which describes more or less the tragic fate of the two lovers. The Introduction shows deep emotion, while the Fugue displays great contrapuntal skill (of which the modern Russian composers give astonishing evidence) and force of ideas. The Andante from op. 11, a charming cabinet picture, most tenderly elaborated, appeals directly to the heart, and is beautiful in its sonority.... The overture “1812” is a characteristic tone-picture of strife and victory, more ideally than realistically depicted, especially the former. But by far the most weighty and lasting impression was made by the Pianoforte Concerto, which Alexander Siloti played with taste and brilliant virtuosity upon a fine full-toned Blüthner. It is one of Tchaikovsky’s best works, fresh in invention, glowing with passion, beautiful as regards its themes and admirable in its development....”

“O. E.”

“Kölnische Zeitung,” No. 45 “THE EIGHTH GÜRZENICH CONCERT.

“February 14th, 1889.

“Tchaikovsky’s Third Suite made a striking impression upon all who heard it. Although the German public do not possess the key to many incidents in this work—because we know so little of Russia and its people, and what we know is not founded upon accurate observation—yet the music is so inspired, masterly and original, that it cannot fail to make a lasting impression upon any educated and progressive audience....

“It is a question whether Tchaikovsky would not have done well to further elucidate the titles of the various movements—Elégie, Valse mélancolique, Scherzo, etc.—by the addition of a programme. But however desirable this may sometimes seem to listeners who are not Russians, it is doubtful whether the pleasant and stirring character of this work, which we may best define as a play of moods, would not have suffered in being tied down by any precise definition....

“This music is of the kind which is pre-eminently calculated to stir our feelings by its richness of colour, its peculiarities of tonality—in one variation the Phrygian mode is successfully employed—and by its clever workmanship, which betokens an unusual skill in the working out of the parts. If an ingenious development of a theme, or an unusual effect of orchestration, occasionally predominates over the rest, on the whole it is the voice of the heart which is heard throughout the work, lending even an undertone to the glitter and hum of the Scherzo. The composer attains to this highest of all qualities by means of the wealth and charm of his melodic inspiration, the simplicity of his musical idiom, and the freshness of his invention.... Tchaikovsky not only possesses the gift of melodic invention, he pays due honour to Melody itself, and makes all the other elements of music hold their breath when Melody is speaking.... Simplicity is still the sign of profound truth, and of the promptings of inspiration. Tchaikovsky’s creative power prevents this quality from degenerating into superficiality.”

“General-Anzeiger”

“Frankfort, February 16th, 1889.

“A novelty headed the programme: the Third Suite, op. 55, by Peter Tchaikovsky, who is generally spoken of as the head of the young Russian school of musicians.... As the last notes of the Suite died away, there followed a burst of applause so hearty and so continuous, that nothing equal to it has been accorded to any novelty during recent years, except perhaps when Richard Strauss conducted his First Symphony.... The impression made by Tchaikovsky’s work was dazzling rather than profound; strictly speaking, it was not so much the Suite as a whole that won this recognition, as the bright, fresh, brilliantly orchestrated Polonaise with which it comes to an end. The second and third movements, Valse mélancolique and Scherzo, only evoked moderate applause: both numbers are in the minor, and seem to be stamped with a peculiar, national, Sarmatian character, they are so strange and gloomy. After the Valse mélancolique, which is quite in keeping with its title, a real Scherzo would have followed better; a Scherzo in the sense of the classical symphonists, rather than a number of this kind, which is rich in rhythmic devices, but poor in that true gaiety which we expect to find in a piece entitled Scherzo. In this number the combination of 6/8 and 2/4 has an unfortunate effect, for the wind instruments always seem to come in a little too late. The variations are most of them very interesting, and one or two appeal direct to the heart. The Fugue is strong, effective, and most skilfully worked out.”

“Dresdner Nachrichten”

“February 22nd, 1889.

“ ... The first number on the programme—Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony in F minor—acted like some magic spell upon the audience, somewhat disappointed at the non-appearance of the singer Frl. Leisinger. The Russian master—now undoubtedly the first composer of his nation—not only impressed us as a personality, but proved himself to be such in his Symphony, then given for the first time in Dresden. The work is planned upon large and bold lines and carried out in the same spirit. The ideas are clear-cut and concise; the melody and harmony distinctive and strikingly characteristic. Occasionally, as in the first and last movements, the composer indulges in an orgy of sound, for which he evokes all the resources of the modern orchestra. At these moments he produces with true orchestral virtuosity the most piquant and unusual effects, while always remaining master of the situation; saying precisely what he has to say, and avoiding all empty phrases and rambling statements. What he expresses, however, is spirited, and full of elemental strength and weight. With all this, Tchaikovsky knows how to strike a note of tenderness. The third movement of his Symphony—the Scherzo ‘pizzicato ostinato’—is a masterly invention, which stands alone in musical literature. The vein of national feeling which runs throughout the work accords admirably with its style and beauty. Here and there it echoes the melancholy and sadness of some solemn, wailing folksong, but so inspired and perfect is the treatment that both heart and intellect are completely satisfied.

“An equally fine impression was made by his Pianoforte Concerto (op. 23). This impression would have been still more profound if the Symphony had not come first; it was a case in which le mieux est l’ennemi du bien. The Concerto is symphonic in structure, and the piano part is indissolubly welded with the orchestration. Nor for a moment can we fail to recognise great mastery of form, inspiration, and emotion; but these qualities do not impress the hearer so strongly as in the Fourth Symphony....

“Dresdner-Anzeiger”

“February 22nd, 1889.

“Tchaikovsky may congratulate himself upon the complete success of his Fourth Symphony (F minor), which opened the programme of the Fifth Philharmonic Concert. This Symphony proved to be irreproachable as regards form: a virtue not to be underrated in a modern production. This original work is not lacking in vital and stirring material which corresponds to its nobility of form, although it is so saturated with national colour that it affects us strangely at first. These melodies, harmonies, and rhythms, derived from the spirit of the Russian folksongs and dances, unlike other attempts of the kind, possess sufficient weight and character to be used as symphonic material.... Equally good and artistic is his Pianoforte Concerto in B♭ minor, which is more of the new German school. This Concerto is a gigantic work of its kind, which demands for its execution the most perfect technique and extraordinary physical strength....

“Ferdinand Gleich.”

“Vossiche Zeitung”

“February 27th, 1889.

“The interest of yesterday’s Popular Concert given by the Philharmonic Orchestra was enhanced by the presence of Herr Tchaikovsky, who conducted two of his own works: a Serenade for strings and the symphonic poem, Francesco da Rimini. The Serenade is a cheerful composition, fluent, pleasing, and not without a touch of humour. It is not remarkable for originality, so much as for a skilful and artistic treatment of the thematic material, particularly noticeable in the last movement of the work. The valse section, which is especially full of charm and graceful in the elaboration of the melodies, had to be repeated. We had already heard the symphonic poem at Bilse’s concerts. This time the work did not impress us more favourably. Sometimes it repels by its violence; sometimes it wearies by the constant repetition of an insignificant subject. A few clever episodes and occasional moments in which it keeps within the limits of the beautiful make the general effect of this work not too intolerable....”

“Berliner Tageblatt”

“February 27, 1889.

“ ... Tchaikovsky’s Serenade for strings consists of a series of charming little pieces, in the subjects of which we seem to recognise now and again a well-known face from some operetta. But these reminiscences are so delightfully decked out that we are very pleased to meet them again.... Musically speaking, the last movement is the most important. Here the composer has evolved a number of clever variations from a Russian theme. The symphonic poem, Francesca da Rimini, displays much interesting, but glaring, tone-colour. What Dante has described in ten lines is reproduced with effort in innumerable bars of music; we are endlessly wallowing in the harshest discords, until the attentive hearer undergoes a martyrdom scarcely less painful than the poor souls who are blown hither and thither in Dante’s Whirlwind. Tchaikovsky is a gifted tone-poet, whom we have often recognised as such; but this symphonic poem exceeds all limits of what is acceptable....”