The following month a crisis arose at the Moscow Conservatory. Since Safonoff became director in 1889 relations between him and Alexander Siloti had become strained, and in May 1891 Siloti resigned. Quite apart from family considerations this meant Rachmaninoff had to change teachers for his final year, and this he was loth to do. With great daring he approached Safonoff and asked if he could take his final piano examinations one year early, which meant qualifying within a month. Safonoff agreed and the exceptional training and ability Rachmaninoff possessed now came into their own. He was required to prepare the first movement of a Chopin Sonata and a complete Beethoven Sonata. Much later, a fellow-pupil, Alexander Goldenweiser, recalled Rachmaninoff’s talent:
… Rachmaninoff’s musical gifts, even apart from his creative ability, surpassed any others I have ever met, bordering on the marvellous, like those of Mozart in his youth. The speed with which he memorised new compositions was remarkable. I remember how Siloti, with whom we were both studying at the time, told Rachmaninoff to learn the well-known Brahms Variations and Fugue on a Theme of Handel. This was on a Wednesday, and it was but three days later that Rachmaninoff played them like a master. It was his practice to memorise everything he heard, no matter how complicated it was …
With this formidable technique Rachmaninoff knew what he was doing by making his request to Safonoff. On May 24th/June 6th he took the final piano examinations, and graduated with honours.
Rachmaninoff at the time of his graduation from the Moscow Conservatory.
His exertions demanded a holiday, but instead of visiting his family in St Petersburg he accompanied Siloti to Ivanovka, where he finally completed the Piano Concerto in F sharp minor on July 6th/19th. He dedicated it to Siloti but he had to rush to finish the score. Once it was written he relaxed with a short piano piece, a Prelude in F, dated July 20th/August 2nd, preceding it with another song “Morning” which was also incorporated into the Opus 4 set. Rachmaninoff had had an encouraging year thus far, but he soon received a setback. The demands on his time cramming for his finals had taken their toll of his work in making the piano-duet transcription of Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty. The composer was unhappy with much of Rachmaninoff’s work and Siloti was obliged to make rather more corrections than he would have liked to pacify Tchaikovsky. Rachmaninoff’s piano prelude was also later recomposed for a cellist friend, but in August he travelled to Znamenskoe to visit his father’s mother, the widow of old Arkady Rachmaninoff. He may well have begun a Symphony in D minor here (the Scherzo of four years before was not part of this work), but while swimming in the river Matïr he contracted a feverish chill which worsened on his return to Ivanovka. By the end of September the one-movement Symphony was finished in full score. It is dated September 28th/October 11th: eight days previously he completed another piece for the Skalon sisters, a Romance in A major to complement the Waltz of the previous summer.
The fever troubled him intermittently. It delayed his return to Moscow, so he began the first term of the new year late. He moved into lodgings with his friend Slonov but shortly afterwards the fever returned with redoubled force. Rachmaninoff was moved to another house and confined to bed almost until the end of October, and even when he recovered sufficiently to get up he was not his usual self. He felt depressed but gradually improved, and by the end of the year was at work on a new orchestral piece, a symphonic poem Prince Rostislav. This is based on an early work of Count Alexei Tolstoy (a distant cousin of Leo). The score is dated December 9th/22nd-15th/28th and the work is dedicated to “My dear professor Anton Stepanovitch Arensky”, who had earlier agreed to Rachmaninoff taking his final composition examinations one year early in 1892.
In spite of the completion and dedication of the work this, too, was never performed during Rachmaninoff’s lifetime, being premiered in Moscow on November 2nd 1945, conducted by Nikolai Anosov. Hearing the work today, there seems little cause for regret: however superb a pianist Rachmaninoff had become this was not then matched by a similar talent in composition.
Arensky’s agreement that he could take his finals in theory and composition one year early meant that Rachmaninoff had his work cut out: he had to submit a symphony, some vocal works and an opera. The one-movement Symphony was finished. It begins with a slow introduction before a flowing Allegro moderato forms the basis of the rest of the work in a mixture of 12/8 and 9/8 metres. His composition, following Prince Rostislav, continued apace: early in 1892 he completed his first Trio Elégiaque in G minor between January 18th/31st and January 21st/February 3rd. The first performance was given in Moscow nine days after its completion by Rachmaninoff with David Krein (violin) and Anatole Brandukov (cello). Brandukov became a friend and collaborator, for at the same concert he and Rachmaninoff also premièred the composer’s Opus 2, Two Pieces for cello and piano, dedicated to Anatole, the first being a recomposition of the Prelude in F, the second entitled Oriental Dance. Like the Symphony, the Trio is in one movement, and little did Rachmaninoff realise how soon it would be before he wrote a second.
Anton Stepanovitch Arensky, 1861-1906 (seated centre) with three graduates from his 1892 composition class — Conus, Morozov and Rachmaninoff (right).
Another song followed, dated February 26th/March 10th, “Oh No, I Beg You, Forsake Me Not” which was incorporated into the Opus 4 songs the following year, but the most important event of the first few months was the première, on March 17th/30th, of the first movement of the Piano Concerto. This was at a student concert conducted by Safonoff, and a fellow-pupil, Mikhail Bukinik, later described the première:
… Safonoff, who ordinarily conducted the compositions of the students, would brutally and unceremoniously change anything he wished in these scores, cleaning them up and cutting parts to make them more playable. The student composers, happy to have their creative efforts performed … did not dare contradict Safonoff, and readily agreed to his comments and alterations. But Safonoff had a hard time with Rachmaninoff. This student not only refused categorically to accept alterations but also had the audacity to stop Safonoff (as conductor), pointing out his errors in tempo and nuance. This was obviously displeasing to Safonoff, but being intelligent, he understood an author’s rights, though a beginner, to make his own interpretation, and he tried to take the edge off any awkwardness. Besides, Rachmaninoff’s talent as a composer was so obvious, and his quiet self-assurance made such an impression on all, that even the omnipotent Safonoff had to yield…
Safonoff had not been Rachmaninoff’s tutor, but he was obviously as outstanding a teacher as Zverev and Siloti. Among those who passed through his hands were Lhévinne, Scriabin and Medtner. When Rachmaninoff came to the cadenza — a powerful, staggeringly brilliant and difficult section — Safonoff must have realised he was in the presence of a real composer. Although the Concerto was later extensively revised, the cadenza is virtually the same in both versions, giving us an insight into what Rachmaninoff was capable of at the age of 17.
Arensky, too, must have been pleased with his pupil’s work and with his decision to let Rachmaninoff graduate early: before the première, Rachmaninoff wrote to Natalia Skalon on February 18th/March 2nd:
… April 15th is the important day for me. On March 15th, they will give us the subject for a one-act opera. As you can see, I shall have to compose it, write it out and orchestrate it in one month. No mean task …
It was not, but it was not helped by an incident at Rachmaninoff’s lodgings. He was still sharing with Slonov but during his illness the previous winter he had stayed at the home of another Conservatory student, Yuri Sakhnovsky. Rachmaninoff’s father, Vasily, had turned up in Moscow and appealed to his son for help. Sergei could not turn his father away, and it was through Sakhnovsky’s help that Vasily was found a job and he moved in with his son and Slonov. When Rachmaninoff finally received the opera libretto, he dashed home to his lodgings impatient to begin. But his father had taken over the room containing the grand piano for the whole afternoon to entertain some acqu
aintances. Sergei was beside himself with frustration: he thought his father’s action would thwart his plans but when the guests left, Sergei seized on the opera as if possessed. The subject was Aleko, fashioned by Vladimir Nemirovitch-Danchenko from Pushkin’s poem The Gypsies (Tsïganï) which appeared in 1824. Nemirovitch-Danchenko felt it necessary to obscure the poem’s real message, that of freedom for the Bessarabian gypsies from tyranny, as such a story seemed a little too close to home for the authorities who had informants in every college. The story was reduced to a crime of passion.
Rachmaninoff wrote Aleko at white-heat: the composition took fifteen days, between March 21st/April 3rd-April 4th/17th, but because the libretto was received late the examination was postponed until May 7th/20th. The committee members were unanimous: Rachmaninoff was awarded the highest mark, and graduated with honours. A committee member was Zverev, who followed Rachmaninoff into the corridor, took him to one side, congratulated him and gave Sergei his own gold watch as a token. The watch remained with Rachmaninoff for the rest of his life and the breach was healed.
Ten days later, the recipients of the Gold Medals were announced: Rachmaninoff was awarded the Great Gold Medal, which had only been awarded twice before in the Conservatory’s history, with the title of “Free Artist”. One of the previous winners was Taneyev, and Rachmaninoff’s name was inscribed on the marble plaque under those of Taneyev and Koreschenko. The graduation concert took place on May 31st/June 13th, and afterwards Rachmaninoff left the Conservatory for the last time: his apprentice days were over and the nineteen-year-old composer now had to make his way in the world as a professional.
1 Although the Russian Rhapsody begins in E minor, it ends in G major. A cadenza for the first piano suggests it could have been originally intended for piano and orchestra.
4 Triumph and Disaster
By the summer of 1892 the events of Rachmaninoff’s life had combined to enable him to face the world fully equipped for the career he intended to pursue. He was confident of his own high ability and the years with Zverev and Taneyev made him calm and politely reserved in company. He also knew the social graces necessary for an artist to move in the highest circles. His early years away from home made him independent — indeed, his own father had turned to him for help. Rachmaninoff enjoyed good food, especially of the traditional Russian variety, and good wines and beer. He never drank to excess, just enough to relax and put him at ease with friends and family. His appearance belied a great sense of humour, which he shared with a close circle — his laugh was infectious, and when his normally placid face broke into a grin, and then turned to laughter, tears would well up in his eyes as he relished the joke. No one could keep a straight face when Rachmaninoff was in such good humour. His holidays at the estate of Ivanovka made him a first-class horseman. He smoked, as the custom of the day demanded, rather heavily: rarely less than twenty strong cigarettes a day, but he was in excellent physical shape by constitution — as had been shown by the diphtheria epidemic and the fever of 1891 — and by his professional training. His hands were enormous, and he possessed legendary strength. He had grown to just over six feet (just under two metres) and in addition to his physique, his mental outlook was sound. He had experienced personal loss and shown the resilience necessary to overcome depression.
The success of his graduation opera with the examining committee soon spread. News of the young composer came to the attention of a successful publisher of light music, Karl Gutheil, who was anxious to broaden his catalogue by including serious works and was looking for a young composer whose financial demands would not be great. Gutheil knew Zverev and asked his advice regarding Rachmaninoff’s music. Zverev had made up his silly quarrel with the young composer and gave Gutheil an enthusiastic recommendation. Gutheil was on the point of approaching Rachmaninoff when Zverev told Sergei of his conversation with the publisher and suggested it might be better to seek the advice of an experienced composer before considering any offer Gutheil might make. Zverev made an appointment for Rachmaninoff to meet Tchaikovsky on the latter’s return to Moscow. But Gutheil approached Rachmaninoff before he could see Tchaikovsky and asked Sergei to name his terms. As Rachmaninoff had no idea what terms to ask for a meeting with Tchaikovsky was more imperative than ever, and in due course they met. Tchaikovsky was delighted at Rachmaninoff’s good fortune in having a publisher approach him and not, as was almost always the case, the other way about, but he shrewdly advised Rachmaninoff to get Gutheil to name his terms, which would leave Rachmaninoff with the final decision. After a series of meetings, with neither willing to commit to any sum, Gutheil offered 500 roubles as an outright purchase for three works: Aleko, the songs, and the Two Pieces for cello and piano. Had Rachmaninoff not been briefed to expect such an offer, his reaction might have given the game away. To the young composer 500 roubles was a fortune, as his only earnings at that time were 15 roubles a month from his one-and-only pupil. Both partners were pleased with the deal and time proved Gutheil to have made an excellent choice: he remained Rachmaninoff’s loyal publisher until 1914, when the firm was taken over by Serge Koussevitsky’s publishing house upon Gutheil’s death.
Rachmaninoff spent part of the summer at the Konovalov estate, giving daily piano lessons to the son of the family, Alexander. Gutheil soon got to work, and Rachmaninoff received the proofs for the forthcoming publications there, which he corrected and returned. He was able to work on a piano score of Aleko (he had no time to prepare one for the examination), as Gutheil wanted to publish the opera in both piano and full score. For reasons which remain unknown, the full score was not published by Gutheil, being merely available on hire, but the piano score was quickly issued and sold well. The summer was enlivened by a visit from his mother and it was apparently through the good offices of a relative that Aleko was brought to the attention of the Imperial Opera, and accepted for performance the following year. This was excellent news: better than Sergei could possibly have hoped for, but it did not turn his head. He wrote to Natalia Skalon in June telling her of the proposed production, but also expressing a sanguine thought that the opera might not succeed as he knew he was an inexperienced composer and that ‘first operas’ usually failed.
After Aleko had been accepted for publication and performance, ideas for a new opera interested him. In 1892 he planned an opera on Zhukovsky’s Undine, and he possibly mentioned this to Tchaikovsky. If he did, the older composer would have been intrigued, for he had written an opera on the same subject in 1869, but after it was rejected for performance he destroyed it in 1873. Tchaikovsky tackled the subject again with a new libretto provided by his brother Modest, but he was not inspired by it, and asked Modest to send Rachmaninoff the libretto. By a curious coincidence, Rachmaninoff had independently approached Modest Tchaikovsky through Zverev. So, if he really had wished to pursue Undine a libretto was ready and waiting. But this is to anticipate events, as Aleko was not yet produced, and much of the Undine affair happened after that.
The Iberian Gate in Moscow. Through the right arch the onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral can be seen.
Rachmaninoff returned to Moscow, staying with the Satins. After an attack of fever he composed a piano Prelude in C-sharp minor, which he played for the first time at an Electrical Exposition concert on September 26th/October 9th in Moscow. Rachmaninoff regarded this concert as his professional debût, and it is fitting that this event also marked the first performance of his most famous composition. The Prelude in C-sharp minor became his trademark and carried his name all over the world. While preparing a concert in Kharkov at the end of the year Rachmaninoff composed four companion pieces for the Prelude, and the complete set of five pieces were published as Morceaux de fantasie, Opus 3. Rachmaninoff dedicated the set to Arensky – a more fitting consecration than the Prince Rostislav symphonic poem the previous December.
In addition to the complete opera, orchestral excerpts from Aleko were scheduled for performance, and these developments encouraged Rachmaninoff
to begin an extended orchestral work on gypsy themes. This was not completed until 1894 but it was planned during the summer of 1892.
The new year — 1893 — dawned full of promise for the nineteen-year-old Rachmaninoff. His concert in Kharkov augured well, and in Moscow he heard the orchestral dances from Aleko under Safonoff on February 19th/March 31st given with great success. Gutheil agreed to take the Concerto and publish it as Opus 1 (although only a two-piano version was finally printed) and also paid 200 roubles for Opus 3. This meant Rachmaninoff received 40 roubles for each of the five pieces, including the Prelude in C-sharp minor. Apart from the recordings he made much later, and a two-piano version he transcribed in 1938, this was all he earned from the work that made him a household name the world over. But 200 roubles was still much-needed money for Rachmaninoff, as the famine which had ravaged the country for two years had seriously affected food supplies and prices were rising.
For Sergei, preparations for the première of Aleko pushed other considerations aside. The conductor was the music director of the Bolshoi himself, Ippolit Altani, who was then 47. A most experienced operatic conductor, Altani had been Director for eleven years, so Rachmaninoff’s work could not have been in better hands. The principals were also very good, although their names mean little to us today. Rachmaninoff attended every rehearsal and was flattered when Tchaikovsky expressed his delight to Siloti at the dress rehearsal. The first performance on April 27th/May 10th was a triumph for the young composer. His father was present, and many other members of his family including his grandmother — Arkady’s widow, then a very old lady — also attended. The most influential member of the audience was Tchaikovsky, who demonstrated his wholehearted approval by leaning out of his box, applauding vigorously. Sergei was called on to the stage to acknowledge the ovation.
Rachmaninov Page 4