Part III
I
TCHAIKOVSKY’S first impressions of Moscow practically resolve themselves into his association with a few Muscovites, with whom he was destined to be linked to the end of his days. His subsequent life is so inseparably connected with the narrow circle of his friends in the old capital, that the reader needs to be introduced to some of them individually, before I pass on to my brother’s career as a teacher and composer.
At the head of these musical friends stands Nicholas Rubinstein, of whom it is no exaggeration to say that he was the greatest influence throughout Tchaikovsky’s after career. No one, artist or friend, did so much for the advancement of his fame, gave him greater support and appreciation, or helped him more to conquer his first nervousness and timidity, than the Director of the Moscow Conservatoire. Nicholas Rubinstein is intimately associated with every event in Tchaikovsky’s private and public life. Everywhere we shall come upon traces of his helpful influence. It is not too much to assert that, during the first years of Tchaikovsky’s life there, all Moscow was personified in Nicholas Rubinstein.
Laroche, in his Reminiscences, gives the following sketch of the director:—
“Nicholas Rubinstein was born June 2nd (14th), 1835. Like his celebrated brother, he showed a remarkable and precocious talent for music. It is said he learnt quicker, and was considered to have more genius than Anton. But while the latter devoted himself entirely to music and studied in Berlin, Nicholas elected for a university education.... As a student at the Moscow University, and even later—until the establishment of the Russian Musical Society—he earned his living by teaching the pianoforte. He had a number of pupils, and, as he himself told me, earned at one time as much as 7,000 roubles (over £700) a year. On his marriage he was compelled to give up playing in public, on account of the objections raised by his wife’s relations. His domestic life was not happy, and the differences of opinion between himself and his wife’s family led to a rupture two years later. His unusual powers were first recognised when he succeeded in founding the Moscow Conservatoire. Besides being a most gifted pianist, he had great talent as a conductor, and organiser of many schemes. He could represent all branches of musical society in his own person. Although he spent all his nights at the ‘English Club,’ playing cards for high stakes, he managed to take part in every social event, and was acquainted with all circles of Moscow society, commercial, official, artistic, scientific, and aristocratic.”
“As regards art,” says Kashkin, “Nicholas Rubinstein was purely an idealist; he admitted no compromise, and was entirely above personal likes or dislikes. He was always ready to help a fellow-artist, especially a Russian, and, without stopping to consider his means, simply gave whatever he had by him at the moment.
“Externally he differed greatly from his brother Anton. Nicholas Rubinstein was short and stoutly built; fair-complexioned, with curly hair. He had a dreamy expression, a languor of speech, and an air of aristocratic weariness, which was contradicted by the indefatigable energy of his temperament. Probably this languor proceeded from the fact that he scarcely ever slept.
“He was Tchaikovsky’s senior by five years only; but in these early days of their intercourse the difference between their ages seemed much greater. This was partly accounted for by the fact that Tchaikovsky came to Moscow in a somewhat subordinate position, whereas the name of Rubinstein was one of the most popular in the town; but the difference in character was also very great. Rubinstein belonged to the class of dominating and ruling personalities; his was a forceful character which impressed all who came in contact with him. Tchaikovsky, on the contrary, was yielding and submissive in matters of daily existence, although inwardly he protested against all attempts to influence and coerce him, and generally preserved his freedom of opinion, at least as regards music. This self-assertion did not, however, come naturally to him, and for that reason he loved solitude. He avoided his fellow-men, because he did not know how to hold his own among them; while at the same time he disliked submitting to the will of others, but this was not his attitude in 1866. At this time he was grateful for Nicholas Rubinstein’s almost paternal care, and bowed to his decision, even in the matter of dress.
“Their friendly relations were sometimes strained, but never broken, although Peter Ilich was occasionally irritated by Rubinstein’s masterful guidance, and was scolded in return for not being sufficiently docile.”