“Our mutual friend Klimenko is in Moscow, and visits us almost daily.
“The Opera is progressing fairly well. The whole of the third act is finished, and the dances from it—which I orchestrated at Hapsal—will be given at the next concert.”
Ivan Alexandrovich Klimenko, whose name will often occur in the course of this book, had previously made Laroche’s acquaintance at one of Serov’s “Tuesday evenings.” An architect by profession, Kashkin describes him as a very gifted amateur. He was devotedly attached to Tchaikovsky, and one of the first to prophesy his significance for Russian music.
At the second symphony concert, which took place early in December, “The Dances of the Serving Maids,” from The Voyevode, were given. They had an undeniable success, and were twice repeated in Moscow during the season.
On December 12th (24th) Tchaikovsky wrote to his brother Anatol as follows:—
“You ask if I am coming to Petersburg. Wisdom compels me to say no. In the first place I have not money for the journey, and secondly, Berlioz is coming here at Christmas, and will give two concerts—one popular, and another in the place of our fourth symphony evening. I shall put off my visit until the Carnival or Lent....”
Berlioz went to Moscow about the end of December, 1867, direct from St. Petersburg, where he had been invited by the directors of the Musical Society—chiefly at the instigation of Dargomijsky and Balakirev—to conduct a series of six concerts.
This was not his first visit to Russia. As early as 1847 he had been welcomed in Petersburg, Moscow and Riga, by the instrumentality of Glinka, who regarded him as “the greatest of contemporary musicians.” He then met with an enthusiastic reception from the leaders of the Russian musical world, Prince Odoevsky and Count Vielgorsky, and not only made a large sum, but was equally fêted by the public. It is interesting to note that not only Berlioz himself, but his Russian admirers seem to have deluded themselves into the belief that he was “understood” and “appreciated” in Russia. Prince Odoevsky, who published an article extolling Berlioz’s genius the very day before his first concert in Petersburg, exclaims in one of his letters to Glinka:—
“Where are you, friend? Why are you not with us? Why are you not sharing our joy and pleasure? Berlioz has been ‘understood’ in St. Petersburg!! Here, in spite of the scourge of Italian cavatina, which has well-nigh ruined Slavonic taste, we showed that we could still appreciate the most complicated contrapuntal music in the world. There must be a secret sympathy between his music and our intimate Russian sentiment. How else can this public enthusiasm be explained?”
I am of opinion that it is more easily explicable by the fact that Berlioz was a gifted conductor, and that the public had been prepossessed in his favour by the laudatory articles of Prince Odoevsky himself. Judging from the neglect of this famous composer in the present day (Faust is the only one of his works which is still popular), this is surely the right point of view.