THE MENTOR 1916.11.01, No. 118,
Russian Music

Several Natural Questions

Q.—How big is Russia, and what is its population?

A.—The area of Russia exceeds 8,660,000 square miles, or
one-sixth of the whole land surface of the earth. Its population
is over 150,000,000—or at least it was so before the war.

Q.—How many famous Russian composers are there?

A.—Less than a dozen.

Q.—How old is Russian music?

A.—Less than 150 years. Catherine the Great (1761-1796)
was one of the first to encourage national music in
Russia. Before her time the music performed in Russia was
imported, and was largely Italian. Catherine caused productions
of music by Russian composers. She supplied the
libretto for one opera.

Q.—What is the origin of Russian music?

A.—Both the music and literature of Russia had a common
origin—popular inspiration. The form and spirit of the
music and literature were drawn from the legends and primitive
songs of the people.

Q.—When did music in Russia become, in a real sense,
national?

A.—Not until the first part of the nineteenth century. Composers
had been trying for fifty years to establish a national
movement in music, but it was not until the advent of Glinka
and his opera, “A Life for the Czar,” in 1836, that the Russian
school of music can be said to have been inaugurated.

Q.—Why were music and literature so late in coming to
this great nation?

A.—On account of physical and human conditions. Russia
is and has been a vast and absolute monarchy, consisting
of millions of people held in subjection and ignorance, and
with only a few great centers of civilization. Petrograd has
been for years a city of brilliant cultivation, but in contrast
to that there are countless towns, villages, and farms in which
dwell millions of poor and ignorant people. It is only within
the last century that Russia has wakened to a national consciousness
and begun to shake off the grim, feudal conditions
of the Middle Ages. In this new era the voice of music is
first heard as a national expression.

MICHAL IVANOVICH GLINKA

ONE

Michal Ivanovich Glinka at an early age
showed that he possessed two characteristics that
were to have a very important bearing on his whole
life—an extremely nervous disposition and a lively
aptitude for music. His grandmother, who was responsible
for his early upbringing and who was an invalid herself, encouraged
the first; while his father stimulated
in the boy the second. Glinka, mollycoddled
from childhood, never wholly succeeded
in throwing off an inherited brooding
tendency; but he became a wonderful
composer and musician.

Glinka was born on June 2, 1803, at
Novospassky, a little village in Russia.
His father was a retired army officer and
not particularly well off, but his mother’s
brother was fairly wealthy, and often
when the Glinkas had an entertainment
this brother lent them a small private
band which he kept up. It was to this early
association with music of the best class
that young Glinka owed the development
of his taste.

He spent his earliest years at home, but
when he was thirteen he went to a boarding
school in Petrograd, where he remained
for five years, carefully studying music.
It was in 1822, when he was only seventeen,
that he composed his first music—one
of his five waltzes for the piano. During
these school years he paid attention
to the other branches of education also,
learning Latin, French, German, English
and Persian, and working hard at the
study of geography and zoölogy.

Glinka had a nervous breakdown in
1823, and he made a tour of the Caucasus,
taking a cure in the waters there. On his
return home he worked hard at his music,
although as he had not then decided to devote
his life to a musical career, his studies
were somewhat intermittent. He went to
Petrograd and took a position in the government
department; but in 1828 his family
gave him an allowance and he decided
to devote himself to music alone. While
at Petrograd he made many friends. However,
he saw that a round of pleasure did
not aid him in his music, so in 1830 he
began his thorough musical education,
leaving Russia for Italy, where he stayed
for three years studying the works of old
and modern Italian masters. His training
as a composer was finally finished in Berlin.

Glinka returned to Russia in 1833, and
was soon the center of an intellectual circle
at Petrograd. It was one of these
friends, Joukovsky, the poet, who suggested
that Glinka compose an opera on
the subject of the heroic patriotic deeds of
the Russian hero, Ivan Soussanin. Baron
de Rosen wrote the libretto for this work,
which was called “A Life for the Czar,”
and which was first performed on November
27, 1836.

The plot of this opera was based on the
following story: In 1613 the Poles invaded
Russia and attempted to assassinate
the newly elected Czar, Michael Romanoff.
The Polish leaders, however, did not know
where to find the Czar. Without letting
him know who they were, they asked a
peasant, Ivan Soussanin, to guide them to
the monarch. Ivan, however, suspecting
their designs, sent his adopted son to
warn the Czar, and himself led the Poles
to the depths of a forest from which they
could not possibly find their way. The
Poles, when they saw that they had been
deceived, killed Soussanin.

This opera was the turning point in
Glinka’s life. It was a great success, and
in a way became the basis of a Russian
school of national music. The opera enjoyed
extraordinary popularity. In December,
1879, it reached its 500th performance,
and in November, 1886, a special
production was given, not only at Petrograd,
but in every Russian town that had a
theater, in celebration of the 50th anniversary
of its first performance. It was
presented at two theaters in Moscow at
the same time.

Glinka had married in 1835, but misunderstandings
arose which finally ended
in a separation some time afterward.

His second opera, “Ruslan and Ludmilla,”
did not appear until 1842. It did
not appeal to the popular taste and was a
dismal failure. Glinka thought that it
was superior to his first, and he was bitterly
disappointed at its failure.

In 1845 he made his first visit to Paris,
and later he went to Spain. After two
years in that country he returned to Russia,
where he spent the winter at his home,
and then went to Warsaw, remaining
there for three years. In 1852 Glinka
started for France, paying another visit
to Berlin on the way. When, however,
war broke out in the Crimea in 1854, he
returned to Petrograd. While there he
became interested in church music. In
order to study this type of music he went
to Berlin in 1856. This was his last journey.
Early in January, 1857, the composer
Meyerbeer arranged a special concert
devoted to Glinka’s works. On leaving
the hall the Russian contracted a chill.
He died on February 15, 1857. Glinka
was buried in Berlin. Three months later,
however, his body was taken to its present
resting place in Petrograd. A monument
was erected to his memory there in 1906.

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ANTON RUBINSTEIN

TWO

There has been a curious uncertainty as to the date
of Anton Rubinstein’s birth. He was born on
November 28, 1829, but due to a lapse of memory
on the part of his mother, he always celebrated
his birthday on the 30th of November. He was the
son of a Jewish pencil manufacturer at Wechwotynetz,
Russia, who later went to Moscow. In
his autobiography Rubinstein tells of
this migration: “My earliest recollections
are of a journey to Moscow in a
roomy covered wagon, undertaken by the
three families, with all the children and
servants,—nothing less than a tribal
migration. We reached the city and
crossed the Pokròvski bridge. Here we
hired a large house belonging to a certain
Madame Pozniakòv; it was surrounded
by trees and stood near a pond beyond
the river Iowza. This was in 1834 and
1835.”

The mother of Rubinstein was an excellent
musician, and she gave the young
boy his first music lessons. In addition
he had as a teacher a master of the piano
named Alexander Villoing. To the end of
his life Rubinstein declared that he had
never met a better master.

When he was only ten years old Rubinstein
made his first public appearance as
a performer, playing in a theater at Moscow.
Two years later he went to Paris,
and roused the admiration of Liszt and
Chopin by his playing.

After this Rubinstein traveled for some
time in Holland, Germany and Scandinavia.
In 1842 he reached England, where
he made his first appearance, on May
20th. He made a brief visit to Moscow
in 1843, and two years later went with his
family to Berlin, in order to finish his musical
education. There he made friends
with Mendelssohn.

Then Rubinstein’s father died suddenly.
His mother and brother were
forced to return to Moscow. Anton went
to Vienna to earn a living. For nearly two
years more he studied hard there, and
then went on two concert tours through
Hungary. The Revolution broke out in
Vienna and prevented his return to that
city, so he went to Petrograd, where he
studied, composed and lived pleasantly
for the next few years.

About this time he came near being
exiled to Siberia through an unfortunate
error of the police. He was saved from
this by his patroness, the Grand Duchess
Helene.

He composed several operas during the
next few years; and he visited Hamburg
and Leipzig and then went on to London,
arriving there for the second time in 1857.
He remained there for a short time and
reappeared the following year, in the
meantime having been appointed concert
director of the Royal Russian Musical
Society. In 1862 he helped to found
the Conservatory at Petrograd. Of this
he was director until 1867.

Rubinstein then traveled for some years,
visiting America in 1872—a tour which
brought him $40,000. So popular was his
playing that he was afterward offered
$125,000 for fifty concerts; but he could
not overcome his dread of the sea voyage.
He returned to Russia from America, and
after a short rest continued his concert
tours. For the remaining years of his life
he lived in turn at Petrograd, Berlin, and
Dresden, devoting his time to concerts,
teaching, and to composition. In 1885 he
began a series of historical recitals, which
he gave in most of the chief European capitals.
Rubinstein died near Petrograd on
November 20, 1894.

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MODESTE PETROVICH MOUSSORGSKY

THREE

Moussorgsky’s artistic creed might be summed
up in one sentence—he was devoted absolutely
to the principle of “art for life’s sake.” This is
quite the opposite of “Art for art’s sake.” Moussorgsky
looked on musical art not as an end in itself, but
as a means of vital expression. He was a full-blooded
realist, and his music throbs with life.

Modeste Petrovich Moussorgsky was
born on the estate of his father at Karevo
on March 28, 1839. His father was a man
of moderate means, and the boy spent
his first ten years in the country and in
close touch with the peasants. This early
environment inspired his later feelings of
sympathy with the land and its people.
Long before he could play the piano he
tried to reproduce songs that he heard
among the peasants. His mother was
pleased at this, and began to give him lessons
on the piano when he was still a
young child. At the age of seven he was
able to play some of the smaller pieces of
Liszt. Sometimes he even improvised
musical settings for the fairy tales that
his nurse told him.

In 1849 Moussorgsky and his brother
were taken to Petrograd, where they were
entered in the military cadet school, for
the boy was intended for the army. At
the same time, however, his parents allowed
him to pursue his musical education.
Moussorgsky’s father died in 1853,
and three years later the youth entered
his regiment. It was in 1857 that he began
to have a distaste for his military
duties, and two years later he resigned
from the army. During the summer following
his resignation, however, he was
unable to do any work with his music, as
he was taken sick with nervous trouble.
Also from the time he left the army he was
never free from financial embarrassments.

Moussorgsky went to Petrograd, and he
and five friends formed themselves into
an intellectual circle. He soon, however,
began to feel the pinch of poverty and was
obliged to do some work of translation.
Later he even took a small government
position. His mother died in 1865, and
he wrote a song at the time which is now
regarded as one of his finest works.
Toward the middle of this year he was
once more attacked by his nervous trouble.
It was necessary for him to give up his
position and to go to live in the country.
He improved gradually, and during the
next two years he wrote some songs which
later attracted some attention. Most of
the year 1868 was spent in the country.
In the fall of this year he returned to
Petrograd. He secured another position,
this one in the Ministry of the Interior.
This left him with some leisure, which he
employed with his music. About this
time he began to work on the music of his
opera, “Boris Godounov,” based on the
work of the dramatist Pushkin. This was
first produced in Petrograd on January
24, 1874. Shortly after he began to work
on “Khovantchina,” another opera, which
had its first complete public performance
in 1885 at Petrograd.

Shortly after the production of “Boris
Godounov,” Moussorgsky began to devote
himself to the composition of songs,
among which was the song, “Without
Sunlight,” and the “Songs and Dances of
Death.”

Then Moussorgsky began to enter into
a mental and physical decline. He was
low in funds, for the small salary derived
from his government position was insufficient
for his needs. He began to play accompaniments
at concerts, but very little
work of this kind was obtainable. In
1879 he made a long concert tour in
South Russia with Madam Leonoff, a
singer of repute. This was very successful.
He did very little work during the
following winter; his health grew worse,
and he was forced to give up his government
appointment. He lived for a time
in the country. At last it was necessary
for him to enter the military hospital at
Petrograd, where he died on March 28,
1881. He was buried in the Alexander
Nevsky cemetery. Some years later a
few friends and admirers erected a monument
over his grave.

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PETER ILICH TCHAIKOVSKY

FOUR

Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky in the first part of
his life held an office in the Ministry of Justice at
Petrograd. While he was an excellent amateur
performer, he did not think seriously enough of his
musical ability to consider music as a career. It was Anton
Rubinstein who induced him to take up music as a profession.

Tchaikovsky was born at Votkinsk,
Russia, on May 7, 1840. He was the son
of a mining engineer, who shortly after
Peter was born removed to Petrograd.
The boy picked up a smattering of musical
knowledge as a law student. Then
when he was twenty-two, Rubinstein, the
director of the conservatory at Petrograd,
persuaded him to enter it as a pupil.
Tchaikovsky, therefore, resigned his position
in the Ministry of Justice and took
up the study of composition, harmony,
and counterpoint. Four years later, on
leaving the conservatory, he won the
prize, a silver medal, for his cantata on
Schiller’s “Ode to Joy.”

In 1866 Tchaikovsky became professor
of the history and theory of music at
the Moscow Conservatory, which had
just then been founded by Nicholas
Rubinstein, a brother of Anton. For the
next twelve years he was practically first
chief of this conservatory, since Serov,
whom he succeeded, never took up his
appointment. While serving in that
capacity he wrote text books and made
translations of others into Russian.

At Moscow Tchaikovsky met Ostrovsky,
who wrote for him his first operatic libretto,
“The Voyevoda.” The Russian Musical
Society rejected a concert overture by
Tchaikovsky, written at the suggestion of
Rubinstein. In 1867 Tchaikovsky made
an unsuccessful début as a conductor. His
star was not yet in the ascendant, for in
1869 his opera, “The Voyevoda,” lived for
only ten performances. Tchaikovsky
later destroyed the score of this work.
The following year his operatic production,
“Undine,” was rejected. In 1873, at
Moscow, his incidental music to the
“Snow Queen” proved a failure. During
all this time the composer was busy on a
cantata, an opera and a text book of harmony,
the last of which was adopted by
the authorities of the Moscow Conservatory.
He was also music critic for two
journals.

Tchaikovsky competed for the best
musical setting for Polovsky’s “Wakula
the Smith” in a competition, and won the
first two prizes. On the production of
this in Petrograd, in November, 1876, however,
only a small measure of success was
gained. A greater success came to the
composer with the production of the
“Oprischnik.” From 1878 on he devoted
himself exclusively to composition.

On July 6, 1877, Tchaikovsky married.
It was a most unfortunate match and
rapidly developed into a catastrophe.
Tchaikovsky had too much temperament—result,
many stormy scenes. A
separation occurred in October. Tchaikovsky
became morose, and finally left
Moscow to make his home in Petrograd.
He fell ill there and attempted to commit
suicide by standing up to his chin in the
river during a cold period. He had hoped
to die from exposure, but his brother’s
tender care saved his life.

Tchaikovsky had begun work on the
opera, “Eugen Onegin,” in 1877. This
work was produced at the Moscow Conservatory
in March, 1879, and it was
then that real success first came to him.

In the meanwhile, however, Tchaikovsky
went to Clarens to recuperate from
his illness. He remained abroad for several
months, visiting Italy and Switzerland,
and moving restlessly from one place
to another.

In 1878 he accepted the post of director
of the Russian Musical Department at
the Paris Exhibition. He resigned this
later on. In 1879 he wrote his “Maid of
Orleans,” which was produced in 1880.
During the next five years he continued
his travels, working all the time at composition.
For some time he lived in retirement
at Klin, where his generosity to
the poor made him much loved. In 1888
and 1889 he appeared at the London Philharmonic
concerts. He also visited America,
conducting his own compositions in
New York City at the opening of Carnegie
Hall in 1891. In 1893 Cambridge
University made him a doctor of music.
In the same year he died from an attack
of cholera at Petrograd, on November 6.

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NICHOLAS ANDREIEVICH RIMSKY-KORSAKOV

FIVE

Rimsky-Korsakov was one of the many
Russian composers who took up a musical career
after a future had been planned along the line of
some other work. In his case the Navy lost where
music gained. Nicholas Andreievich Rimsky-Korsakov was
born March 18, 1844, at Tikhvin, Russia. He had the
good fortune to spend his early life in the
country, and at the same time to hear from
infancy the best music. On the estate of
his father were four Jews, who formed a
little band. This band supplied music at
all social functions that took place at the
Korsakov home. He began to study the
piano when he was six years old, and
three years later he was improvising.

The boy’s parents, although they were
glad to have him study music, planned a
naval career for him. When he was
twelve years old, in 1856, he was sent to
the Petrograd Naval College. While
studying there, however, he continued his
music. In 1861 he began to take his musical
studies very seriously. The following
year, however, he had to conclude his
naval education with a three years’ cruise
in foreign waters. When this cruise was
over, in 1865, a symphony that he had
composed had its first performance. This
symphony bears the distinction of being
the first musical work in that form by a
Russian composer.

In 1866 began Korsakov’s friendship
with Moussorgsky, which lasted until
the latter’s death in 1881. From then on,
for the next few years, he worked hard at
musical composition. It was during this
time that he first began to turn his attention
to opera, of which “Pskovitianka,”
begun in 1870, was the first. In 1871
Rimsky-Korsakov was appointed a professor
in the Conservatory at Petrograd.
Two years later he decided to sever his
connection with the Navy altogether.
This year also saw the beginning of his
collection of folk songs, which were published
in 1877. The year before this, Korsakov
had married. His wife was Nadejda
Pourgold, the talented Russian pianist.

In 1874 the composer was made director
of the Free School of Music at Petrograd,
which position he filled until 1881. His
second opera, “A Night in May,” was finished
in 1878. He began another opera,
“The Snow Maiden,” two years later.
His operas, however, always attracted
less attention abroad than his symphonies.

In 1883 he was appointed assistant
director of the Imperial Chapel at Petrograd.
This post was held by him for
eleven years. Two years later he was
offered the directorship of the Conservatory
in Moscow, but he declined it. In
1886 he became director of the Russian
symphony concerts. Three years later he
appeared in Paris and conducted two concerts.
He was enthusiastically received,
and entertained at a banquet.

In 1894 Rimsky-Korsakov gave up the
assistant directorship of the Imperial
Chapel. He was now at work upon an
opera in which the element of humor
predominated. This was “Christmas Eve
Revels.” It was produced at the Maryinsky
Theater in Petrograd in 1895.
Korsakov continued to work at opera,
producing, among others, “Sadko,” “The
Czar’s Betrothed,” “The Tale of Czar
Saltan,” “Servilia,” “Kostchei the Deathless,”
“Pan Voyvoda,” and “Kitej.” His
last opera, “The Golden Cock,” was censored
during the interval between its
composition and the composer’s death. It
was not until May, 1910, that it was produced
at Moscow. It is supposed that
chagrin at the fate of this opera contributed
to the suddenness of Rimsky-Korsakov’s
death, which occurred on
June 20, 1908.

“In him we see,” says one writer, “the
Russian who, though not by any means
satisfied with Russia as he finds it, does
not set himself to hurl a series of passionate
but ineffective indictments against
things as they are, but who raises an
ideal and does his utmost to show how
best that ideal may be attained.”

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IGOR STRAVINSKY

SIX

Igor Stravinsky was a pupil of Rimsky-Korsakov.
One day the young composer played
for his teacher a few bars of the music of one of his
ballets. The older man halted him suddenly:
“Look here,” said he. “Stop playing that horrid thing;
otherwise I might begin to enjoy it!” This ballet was one of
the works that made Stravinsky famous.
Igor Stravinsky was born on June 17,
1882, at Oranienbaum, near Petrograd,
Russia. The date of his birth has been
disputed, but this date is the one given
by Stravinsky himself. He was the son
of Fedor Ignatievich Stravinsky, the celebrated
singer who was associated with the
Imperial (Maryinsky) Theater in Petrograd.
Igor was destined to study law, but
at the age of nine he was already giving
proofs of a natural musical bent; and in
particular he showed an aptitude for
piano playing. To the study of this instrument
he devoted a great deal of time,
under the instruction of a pupil of Rubinstein.

In 1902, when Stravinsky was twenty
years old, he met Rimsky-Korsakov at
Heidelberg—a meeting which marked an
epoch in his life. The older composer had
much influence on the career of Stravinsky.
Their views on music differed
greatly, however.

Stravinsky worked hard. He attended
concerts, visited museums and read widely.
Rimsky-Korsakov, though alarmed at the
revolutionary tendencies of his pupil, predicted
for him great success. During the
years 1905 and 1906 Stravinsky worked
at orchestration. At this time his friends
were members of the group surrounding
Rimsky-Korsakov, including Glazounov
and César-Cui.

On January 11, 1906, Stravinsky married.
Soon after his marriage he finished
a symphony which was performed in 1907
and was published later. Following this,
in 1908, came his “Scherzo Fantastique,”
which was inspired by a reading of Maeterlinck’s
“Life of the Bee.”

When Rimsky-Korsakov’s daughter was
married in 1908 Stravinsky sent his composition,
“Fire Works,” a symphonic fantasia,
which, curiously, had been submitted
for the approval of an English
manufacturer of Chinese crackers. However,
before the gift arrived by mail
Rimsky-Korsakov died. As a tribute to
his master’s memory Stravinsky composed
the Chant Funèbre.

In 1909 Stravinsky wrote “The Nightingale,”
a combination of opera and ballet,
based on Hans Christian Andersen’s fairy
tale of the same name. This was produced
in 1914.

Then came the discovery of Stravinsky
by the director of the Russian ballet,
Serge de Diaghileff. The young composer
was commissioned to write a ballet on a
Russian folk story, the scenario of which
was furnished by Michel Fokine. Leon
Bakst and Golovine, the scene painters,
collaborated with him. This ballet, “The
Fire Bird,” was finished on May 18, 1910,
and produced three weeks later. This
production established Stravinsky’s reputation
in Paris.

The second of his ballets, “Petrouschka,”
was completed on May 26, 1911. It was
first produced in Paris in the same year.
The scene of Petrouschka is a carnival.
One of the characters is a showman, and
in his booth are three animated dolls. In
the center is one with pink cheeks and a
glassy stare. On one side of this is a
fierce negro, and on the other the simple
Petrouschka. These three play out a
tragedy of love and jealousy, which ends
with the shedding of Petrouschka’s vital
sawdust. One critic has said: “This ballet
is, properly speaking, a travesty of
human passion, expressed in terms of puppet
gestures and illumined by music as
expositor. The carnival music is a sheer
joy, and the incidents making a demand
upon music as a depictive medium have
been treated not merely with marvelous
skill, but with unfailing instinct for the
true satirical touch. ‘Petrouschka’ is, in
fact, the musical presentment of Russian
fantastic humor in the second generation.”

“The Crowning of Spring” was composed
during the winter of 1912 and 1913,
and was produced both in Paris and London
during the following spring and summer.

Recently Stravinsky has composed several
songs which are done in the same
spirit as that in which he wrote his compositions
for the orchestra.

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RUSSIAN MUSIC

By HENRY T. FINCK

Author and Music Critic

I. TCHAIKOVSKY

ANTON RUBINSTEIN

MENTOR GRAVURES

• RUBINSTEIN
• MOUSSORGSKY
• TCHAIKOVSKY
• RIMSKY-KORSAKOV
• GLINKA
• STRAVINSKY

Entered as second-class matter March 10,
1913, at the postoffice at New York, N. Y., under the act of March 3,
1879. Copyright, 1916, by The Mentor Association, Inc.

So far as the world at large is concerned, Russian music—which
has come so much to the fore in recent years—began with
Rubinstein, who lived till 1894. There was, indeed, one other
composer of note before him—Glinka—but Glinka’s music,
though very popular in Russia, remained almost unknown in
other countries, whereas Rubinstein, and, after him, Tchaikovsky
(also spelled Tschaikowsky), conquered the whole world.

Folk music, it is needless to say, flourished many centuries before
Glinka. Folk tunes are like wild flowers, and in all countries the composers
have heard the “call of the wild” and tried to woo these flowers and
bring them to their gardens. This is particularly true of Russia, which
has an abundance of folk songs that are unsurpassed in beauty and emotional
appeal; indeed, Rubinstein and another eminent composer, César
Cui (kwee), claim absolute supremacy for their country in the matter of
national melodies. The tremendous size of the Empire, including, as it does,
one-sixth of all the land on this globe, gives scope for an unparalleled
variety of local color in songs, suggesting the great difference in costumes
and customs. Asiatic traits are mingled with the European. Many of
the songs are sad, as is to be expected in a populace often subjected to
barbarian invasions, as well as to domestic tyranny; but perhaps an equal
number are merry, with a gaiety as extravagant as the melancholy of
the songs that are in the minor mode. As a rule, Russian peasants seem
to prefer singing in groups to solo singing. There are many singing games;
some of the current songs are of gypsy origin; and we find in the collections
of Russian folk music (the best of which have been made by Balakiref
and Rimsky-Korsakov) an endless variety, devoted to love, flattery, grief,
war, religion, etc. Eugenie Lineff’s “Peasant
Songs of Great Russia” (transcribed from phonograms)
gives interesting samples and descriptions.
Lineff’s choir has been heard in America.

SINGING AT AN OUTDOOR SHRINE

RUSSIAN PRIEST CHANTING

Russian Choirs and Basses

Church music is another branch of the divine
art that flourished in Russia before the advent
of the great composers. Five centuries ago
the court at Moscow already had its church
choir, and some of the Czars, including Ivan
the Terrible, took a special interest in the
musical service. Peter the Great had a private
choir which he even took along on his travels.

In 1840, the French composer, Adolphe Charles Adam, on a visit to
St. Petersburg (now Petrograd) found that church music was superior to
any other kind in Russia. The choir of the Imperial Chapel sang without
a conductor and without instrumental support, yet “with a justness of
intonation of which one can have no idea.”

A specialty of this choir, which gave it a “sense of peculiar strangeness,”
was the presence of bass voices that produced a marvelous effect
by doubling the ordinary basses at the interval of an octave below them.
These voices, Adam continues, “if heard separately, would be intolerably
heavy; when they are heard in the mass the effect is admirable.” He
was moved to tears by this choir, “stirred by such emotion as I had never
felt before … the most tremendous orchestra in the world could never
give rise to this curious sensation, which was entirely different from
any that I had supposed it possible for music to convey.”

RUSSIAN ORGAN GRINDER

Similarly impressed was another French composer, Berlioz, when he
heard the Imperial Choir sing a motet for eight voices: “Out of the web
of harmonies formed by the incredibly intricate
interlacing of the parts rose sighs and vague
murmurs, such as one sometimes hears in
dreams. From time to time came sounds so
intense that they resembled human cries, which
tortured the mind with the weight of sudden
oppression and almost made the heart stop
beating. Then the whole thing quieted down,
diminishing with divinely slow graduations to
a mere breath, as though a choir of angels was
leaving the earth and gradually losing itself in
the uttermost heights of heaven.”

Italian and French Influences

Like all other European countries, Russia
more than a century ago succumbed to the
spell of Italian music. Young men were sent
to Italy to study the art of song, while famous
Italian singers and composers visited Russia and made the public familiar
with their tuneful art. It was under the patronage of the Empress Anna
that an Italian opera was for the first time performed in the Russian
capital, in 1737. She was one of several rulers who deliberately fostered a
love of art in the minds of their subjects. Under the Empress Elizabeth
music became “a fashionable craze,” and “every great landowner started
his private band or choir.” Russia became what it still is—the place where
(except in America) traveling artists could reap their richest harvests.

PLAYER OF REED PIPE

The high salaries paid tempted some of the leading Italian composers,
such as Cimarosa (Cheemahrosah), Sarti, and Paisiello (Paheeseello), to
make their home for years in Russia, where they
composed and produced their operas. Near
the end of the eighteenth century French influences
also asserted themselves, but the Italians
continued to predominate, so that when the
Russians themselves—in the reign of Catherine
the Great (1761-1796)—took courage and began
to compose operas, Italian tunefulness and
methods were conspicuous features of them.

Glinka, the Pioneer

The operas of Glinka, as well as those of
Rubinstein and Tchaikovsky, betrayed the
influence of Italy on Russian music. Though
not the first Russian opera composer, Michal
Ivanovich Glinka is the first of historic note.
Rubinstein goes so far as to claim for him a
place among the greatest five of all composers
(the others being, in his opinion,
Bach, Beethoven, Schubert and
Chopin), but this is a ludicrously
patriotic exaggeration. His master
work is “A Life for the Czar,”
which created a new epoch in
Russian music. The hero of the
plot is a peasant, Soussanin, who,
during a war between Poland
and Russia, is pressed into service
as a guide by a Polish army
corps. He saves the Czar by
misleading the Poles, and falls
a victim to their vengeance. In
his autobiography Glinka says:
“The scene where Soussanin leads
the Poles astray in the forest
I read aloud while composing,
and entered so completely into
the situation of my hero that
I used to feel my hair standing
on end and cold shivers down
my back.” It is under such conditions that master works are created.

ROMANTIC DANCE

A MOUJIK (PEASANT) DANCE

Although following the conventional Italian forms, “A Life for the
Czar” is in most respects thoroughly Slavic—partly Russian, partly
Polish. While composing the score he followed the plan of using the
national music of Poland and Russia to contrast the two countries. In
some cases he used actual folk tunes, including one he overheard a
cab driver sing. In
other instances he
invented his own
melodies, but dyed
them in the national
colors. As the
eminent French
composer, Alfred
Bruneau (bree´-no),
remarked, “by
means of a harmony
or a simple orchestral
touch,” Glinka
“could give an air
which is apparently
as Italian as possiblea penetrating perfume of Russian nationality.” By his utilizing of folk
tunes in building up works of art—he did the same thing in his next
opera, “Ruslan and Ludmilla”—Glinka entered a path on which most of
the Russian composers of his time, and later on, followed his lead; but his
influence did not stop there. He was also the pioneer who opened up
the road into the dense jungle of discords, unusual scales, and odd
rhythms, which have made much of the music by later Russian composers
seem as if written according to a new grammar. Furthermore, Rosa
Newmarch, who is the best historian in English of Russian opera,
writes that “it is impossible not to realize that the fantastic Russian
ballets of the present day owe much to Glinka’s first introduction of
Eastern dances into ‘Ruslan and Ludmilla’.”

MICHAL GLINKA

Clearly, Glinka was the father of Russian
opera. He wrote some good concert pieces, too.

Rubinstein, the Russian Mendelssohn

Anton Rubinstein is considered to have
been, next to Franz Liszt, the greatest
pianist the world has ever heard. His technical
execution was not flawless, but no
one paid any attention to that, because of
the overwhelming grandeur and emotional
sweep of his playing. Like Liszt, however,
he tired of the laurels of a performer, his
ambition being to become the Russian
Beethoven. He got no higher, however,
than the level of Mendelssohn. Both Mendelssohn
and Rubinstein were for years
extremely popular. If they are less so
today, that is owing to the superficial character
of much of their music. Yet both were great geniuses; in their
master works they reached the high water mark of musical creativeness.
Rubinstein is at his best in his “Ocean” symphony, his Persian
songs, some of his chamber works for stringed instruments, alone or
with piano, two of his concertos for piano and orchestra, and his pieces
for piano alone, the number of which is 238. Among these there are
gems of the first water.

PEASANT WITH ACCORDION

A Rubinstein revival is much to be desired in these days, when so few
composers are able to create new melodies. When it comes, in response
to the demands of audiences, which are very partial to this composer, at
least three of his nineteen operas will be revived: “The Demon,” “Nero,”
and “The Maccabees.” Opera goers love, above all things, melody, and
Rubinstein’s operas, like his concert pieces, are full of it. He was himself
to blame for the failure of most of his operas, for he stubbornly
refused to swim with the Wagnerian current, which swept everything
before it. He hated Wagner intensely, yet
he might have learned from him the art of
writing music dramas of permanent value.

Five of his operas are on Biblical subjects.
They are really oratorios with scenery,
action and costumes. He dreamed of erecting
a special theater somewhere for the
production of these “sacred operas,” as
Wagner did for his music dramas at Bayreuth;
but nothing came of this plan, and
he became more and more embittered
as he grew older, because so many of his
schemes failed.

Apart from their abundant melody there
is nothing in Rubinstein’s best works that
fascinates us more than the exhibits of
glowing Oriental and Hebrew “coloring”—as
we call it for want of a better word.
He also made excellent use of national
Russian melodies, though not nearly to the same extent as Glinka and
his followers, the “nationalists.” Before considering them it will be
advisable to speak of the greatest of all the Russian composers.

MUSIC AMONG THE LOWLY

Tchaikovsky, the Melancholy

It is commonly believed that in music the public wants something
“quick and devilish”; but this is far from the truth. For social, political,
and especially climatic reasons, the
Russians, with their long and dreary
winters, are supposed to be a melancholy
nation. The most melancholy of
their composers is Peter Ilich Tchaikovsky,
and of his works the most
popular by far, throughout the world,
is the most lugubrious of them all, the
heart rending “Pathetic Symphony,”
which is today second in popularity to
no other orchestral work of any country.
“All hope abandon, ye who enter
here,” might well be its motto. More
than any funeral march ever composed,
it embodies, in the adagio lamentoso,
which ends it, the concentrated quintessence
of despair, “the luxury of
woe.” It was Tchaikovsky’s symphonic
swan song. At the time of his
death there was a rumor that he had
written it deliberately as his own dirge
before committing suicide; but it is now
known that he died of cholera.

What endears the “Pathetic Symphony”
to such a multitude of music
lovers is, furthermore, its abundance of
soulful melody. This abundance characterizes
many of his other compositions.
Indeed, so conspicuous, so ingratiating,
is the flow of melody in his works, that
one might think he was one of those
Italian masters who made their home in
Russia. It must be borne in mind, however,
that the Italians have not a monopoly
of melodists—think of the Austrians,
Haydn, Mozart (who was the idol of
Tchaikovsky’s youth) and Schubert; the
Germans, Bach, Beethoven, Schumann,
Wagner; the Frenchmen, Bizet and Gounod;
the Norwegian, Grieg; the Pole, Chopin. With them as a melodist
ranks Tchaikovsky, and this is the highest praise that could be bestowed
on him. The charm of original melody gives distinction to his songs,
the best of which are the “Spanish Serenade,” “None but a Lonely
Heart,” and “Why So Pale Are the Roses?”

STREET MUSICIANS

THE MUSIC LESSON

There is less of it in his piano pieces,
but his first concerto for piano and
orchestra, and his violin concerto, have
an abundance of it and are therefore popular
favorites—as much as his “Slavic
March,” his “1812” overture, and his
“Nut Cracker Suite,” which is also full
of quaint humor, and which had the
distinction of introducing a new instrument
now much used in orchestras—the
“celesta”—a small keyboard instrument,
the hammers of which strike thin
plates of steel, producing silvery bell-like
tones. This suite consists of pieces
taken from his ballet of the same name.

Among his stage works are eight
operas, only two of which, “Eugene
Onegin” and “The Queen of Spades,”
have, however, been successful outside
of Russia; but in Russia the first named
has long been second in popularity only
to “A Life for the Czar.”

Moussorgsky and Musical Nihilism

MODESTE PETROVICH MOUSSORGSKY

One of the works most frequently performed at the Metropolitan
Opera House in New York during the last three seasons has been the
“Boris Godounov” of Modeste Petrovich Moussorgsky. It is concerned
with one of the most tragic incidents in the history of Russia.
Boris Godounov usurps the imperial crown after assassinating the Czar’s
younger brother, Dimitri. After he has ruled some years, he is driven
to insanity by the appearance of a young monk who pretends to be Dimitri,
rescued at the last moment and brought
up in a monastery. In setting this plot to
music Moussorgsky adopted the principles
of musical “nihilism,” which consisted in
deliberately disregarding the established
operatic order of things. The musical
interest centers chiefly in the choruses,
leaving little for the soloists, apart from
dramatic action. Moussorgsky not only
liked what was “coarse, unpolished and
ugly,” as Tchaikovsky put it, but he refused
to submit to the necessary
discipline of musical training,
the result being that not only
“Boris Godounov,” but his
next opera, “Kovanstchina,”
could not be staged successfully
until Rimsky-Korsakov
had thoroughly revised them, especially in regard to harmonic treatment
and orchestration. The charm of “Boris” lies in the pictures it presents
of Russian life, and its echoes of folk music.

PEASANTS IN MOSCOW

Listening to public band concert

Of the songs by its composer few have become known outside of
Russia. Some are satirical—he has been called the “Juvenal of musicians”—and
it has been said of his lyrics in general that “had the realistic
schools of painting and fiction never come into being we might still construct
from Moussorgsky’s songs the whole psychology of Russian life.”

Rimsky-Korsakov and the Nationalists

Moussorgsky and the man who helped to make his inspired but
ungrammatical works presentable to the world—Nicholas Andreievich
Rimsky-Korsakov—belonged to a coterie of composers known as the
nationalists. The other three
were Balakiref, whose output
as a composer was small, but
whose two collections of Russian
folk tunes are considered
the best in existence; Borodin,
who is best known in this
country through an orchestral
piece called “In the Steppes
of Central Asia” and his
“Prince Igor,” which has been
produced at the Metropolitan
Opera House, and César Cui,
who is more interesting as a
writer than as a composer. He
has well set forth the tenets
of the “nationalists,” chief of
which is that a composer cannot be a truly patriotic Russian master
unless he uses folk tunes as the bricks for building up his works.

MILI BALAKIREF

RIMSKY-KORSAKOV

ALEXANDER P. BORODIN

Because Rubinstein and Tchaikovsky did not do this to any extent
these nationalists looked down on them, and decried them as cosmopolitans—belonging
to the world rather than to Russia. Rubinstein, who
had a caustic pen, retorted by declaring that the nationalists borrowed
folk tunes because they were unable to invent good melodies of their
own. To a certain extent this was
true, but it does not apply to Rimsky-Korsakov,
who is, next to Rubinstein
and Tchaikovsky, the greatest of the
Russian melodists and composers. Theodore
Thomas considered him the
greatest of them all. With this opinion
few will agree, but no one can fail to
admire the glowing colors of his orchestral
works, the greatest of which is
“Scheherazade,” which is based on
“The Arabian Nights,” and is concerned
with Sinbad’s vessel and Bagdad.
Of his dozen or more operas none
has become acclimated outside of
Russia. As a teacher he might be
called the Russian Liszt, because not
a few of his pupils acquired national
and international fame; among them
Glazounov, Liadov, Arensky, Ippolitov-Ivanov,
Gretchaninov, Taneiev (tah-nay-ev)
and Stravinsky.

Stravinsky and the Russian
Ballet

Four of the most prominent
Russian composers have visited
America: Rubinstein, Tchaikovsky,
Rachmaninov and Scriabin.
Rachmaninov, the only one of the
four still living, owed the beginning
of his international fame to
the great charm of his preludes
for piano. Scriabin was one of the
musical “anarchists” who now
abound in Europe—composers who
try to be “different” at any cost
of law, order, tradition and beauty.
One of his quaint conceits was
an attempt to combine perfume
and colored lights with orchestral sounds. Musical frightfulness is rampant
in some of his symphonies, in which horrible dissonances clash
fiercely and “without warning.”

ALEXANDER GLAZOUNOV

ALEXANDER SCRIABIN

The latest of the Russians who has come to the fore—Igor Stravinsky—also
revels in dissonances, but in his case they are not only excusable
but even fascinating, because there is a reason behind them. He uses
them to illustrate and emphasize humorous, grotesque or fantastic plots
and details, such as are presented in his pantomimic ballets, “Petrouschka,”
and “The Fire Bird.” There is an entirely new musical “atmosphere”
in these two works, and the public, as well as the critics, have taken to
them as ducks do to water. If the Diaghileff Ballet Russe which toured
the United States last season had done nothing but produce these two
entertainments, it would have
been worth their while to cross
the Atlantic. They have made
the world acquainted with a
Russian who may appeal, in
his way, as strongly as Rubinstein
and Tchaikovsky. His
latest efforts are reported to
be in the direction of the cult
of ugliness for its own sake.
But perhaps he will get over
that—or, maybe some of us
will come to like ugliness in
music as we do in bulldogs.
Opinions as to what is ugly or
beautiful in music have changed
frequently.

CÉSAR A. CUI

SERGEI RACHMANINOV

The Character of Russian Music

The musical character of the great masters is unmistakable. When an
expert hears a piece by a famous composer for the first time he can usually
guess who wrote it. But when it comes to judging the national source of
an unfamiliar piece, the problem is puzzling. It is true that Italian music
usually betrays its country. Widely as Verdi and Puccini differ from
Rossini and Donizetti, they have unmistakable traits in common. The
same cannot be said of the French
masters, or the German. Gounod and
Berlioz, both French composers, are as
widely apart as the poles. Flotow, who
composed “Martha,” was a German, but
his opera is as utterly unlike Wagner’s
“Tristan and Isolde” as two things can be.

The question, “What are the characteristics
of Russian music?” is, for
similar reasons, difficult to answer. As
in other countries, there are as many
styles of music as there are great composers.
Moreover, Rubinstein is less like
any other Russian than he is like the
German Mendelssohn. If a “composite
portrait” could be made of the works of
prominent Russian composers, it might,
nevertheless, give some idea of their
general characteristics. Tchaikovsky’s
passionate melody, reinforced by inspired
passages from Rimsky-Korsakov and by
the tuneful strains of Rubinstein, would
give prominence to what is best in
Russian music. A more distinct race trait is the partiality of Russian
masters for deeply despondent strains, alternating with fierce outbursts of
unrestrained hilarity, clothed in garish, barbaric orchestral colors. In startling
contrast with the alluring charms of Rubinstein’s Oriental and
Semitic traits are the harsh dissonances of Moussorgsky, Scriabin, and
Stravinsky. Blending all these traits in our composite musical portrait,
with a rich infusion of folk-songs of diverse types, both Asiatic and
European, we glimpse the main characteristics of Russian music.

MAKERS OF THE RUSSIAN BALLET

From left to right—Leonide Massine, dancer; Leon
Bakst, costume and scene designer, and Igor
Stravinsky, composer

SUPPLEMENTARY READING

RUSSIAN BALLET

A scene from “Soleil de Nuit,” one of Serge de Diaghileff’s ballets. The ballet was arranged by Massine,
who occupies the center of the group. The music is by Rimsky-Korsakov, and the scenery and costumes
were designed by Leon Bakst’s favorite pupil, M. Larionoff

Russian composers of our time are in
luck. A wealthy timber merchant named
Balaiev (bah-lah-ee-ev) appointed himself
their special patron a number of years
ago. In 1885 he founded a publishing
house at Leipzig, and spent large sums
of money printing the works of Russian
composers and financing productions of
Russian music all over the world.

In America the missionary work has been
carried on in a number of ways. Rubinstein
toured the States in 1872, and gave
215 concerts, which created a tremendous
sensation and drew attention to Russian
compositions. Tchaikovsky visited America
as the special guest of the festival
given in celebration of the opening of
Carnegie Music Hall in 1891, and during
his visit, many pieces of Russian music
were performed. Slivinsky, the pianist,
made a tour of America, and Chaliapin, the
celebrated Russian bass, appeared for one
season at the Metropolitan Opera House.
For several years the oldest orchestra of
America, the New York Philharmonic,
had for its conductor one of Russia’s leading
musicians, Wassilly Safonoff, who
frequently introduced novelties from Russia
into his programs. On a larger scale,
Russian standard works have been performed
in New York City and on tour in
America, by the Russian Symphony Orchestra,
which was founded in 1893 and
conducted by Modest Altschuler.

During the 90’s, Mme. Lineff brought
over the large Russian choir that made
Americans acquainted with their peasant
songs and their unique way of singing
them. Then came the Balalaika Orchestra.
The Balalaika is the Czar’s favorite
instrument, and the Imperial Balalaika
Band, which came to the United States
by the Czar’s permission, devoted itself
largely to Russian folk music. Several of
the numbers played, especially the “Song
of the Volga Bargemen,” made a sensational
success in concert. The Balalaika
is used to accompany folk songs in the
manner of a guitar, but the Balalaika has
a triangular body and only three strings,
which are made to vibrate like those of a
mandolin.

And now we have the Russian Ballet,
made familiar to the American public by
the famous dancer Pavlowa, and, within
the last year, by the Diaghileff Ballet
Company, of which the leading spirits
are Stravinsky, the composer; Leon
Bakst, the master designer, and Massine,
the accomplished actor-dancer. Surely
the day of Russian
music has come.

W. D. Moffat
Editor

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