“Dear Peter Ilich,—An hour after we had parted at the Rimsky-Korsakovs’—that is to say, the moment I was alone and could collect my thoughts—I hit upon the right subject for you. I have not written the last three days because I had not absolutely made up my mind. Now listen, please, to my suggestion. I have not only thought of one suitable subject—I have three. I began by looking at Shakespeare, because you said you would prefer a Shakesperean theme. Here I came at once upon the poetical Tempest, so well adapted for musical illustration, upon which Berlioz has already drawn for his fine choruses in Lelio. To my mind you might write a splendid overture on this subject. Every element of it is so full of poetry, so grateful. First the Ocean, the Desert Island, the striking and rugged figure of the enchanter Prospero, and, in contrast, the incarnation of womanly grace—Miranda, like an Eve who has not as yet looked upon any man (save Prospero), and who is charmed and fascinated by the first glimpse of the handsome youth Ferdinand, thrown ashore during the tempest. They fall in love with each other; and here I think you have the material for a wonderfully poetical picture. In the first half of the overture Miranda awakens gradually from her childish innocence to a maidenly love; in the second half, both she and Ferdinand have passed through ‘the fires of passion’—it is a fine subject. Around these leading characters others might be grouped (in the middle section of the work): the monstrous Caliban, the sprite Ariel, with his elfin chorus. The close of the overture should describe how Prospero renounces his spells, blesses the lovers, and returns to his country.”
Besides The Tempest Stassov suggested two alternative subjects—Scott’s Ivanhoe and Gogol’s Tarass Boulba. Tchaikovsky, however, decided upon the Shakespearean subject, and after informing Stassov of his decision, received the following letter:—
“St. Petersburg,
“January 21st (February 2nd), 1873.
“I now hasten to go into further details, and rejoice in the prospect of your work, which should prove a worthy pendant to your Romeo and Juliet. You ask whether it is necessary to introduce the tempest itself. Most certainly. Undoubtedly, most undoubtedly. Without it the overture would cease to be an overture; without it the entire programme would fall through.
“I have carefully weighed every incident, with all their pros and cons, and it would be a pity to upset the whole business. I think the sea should be depicted twice—at the opening and close of the work. In the introduction I picture it to myself as calm, until Prospero works his spell and the storm begins. But I think this storm should be different from all others, in that it breaks out at once in all its fury, and does not, as generally happens, work itself up to a climax by degrees. I suggest this original treatment because this particular tempest is brought about by enchantment and not, as in most operas, oratorios, and symphonies, by natural agencies. When the storm has abated, when its roaring, screeching, booming and raging have subsided, the Enchanted Island appears in all its beauty and, still more lovely, the maiden Miranda, who flits like a sunbeam over the island. Her conversation with Prospero, and immediately afterwards with Ferdinand, who fascinates her, and with whom she falls in love. The love theme (crescendo) must resemble the expanding and blooming of a flower; Shakespeare has thus depicted her at the close of the first act, and I think this would be something well suited to your muse. Then I would suggest the appearance of Caliban, the half-animal slave; and then Ariel, whose motto you may find in Shakespeare’s lyric (at the end of the first act), ‘Come unto these yellow sands.’ After Ariel, Ferdinand and Miranda should reappear; this time in a phase of glowing passion. Then the imposing figure of Prospero, who relinquishes his magic arts and takes farewell of his past; and finally the sea, calm and peaceful, which washes the shores of the desert island, while the happy inhabitants are borne away in a ship to distant Italy.
“As I have planned all this in the order described, it seems to me impossible to leave out the sea in the opening and close of the work, and to call the overture “Miranda.” In your first overture you have unfortunately omitted all reference to Juliet’s nurse, that inspired Shakespearean creation, and also the picture of dawn, on which the love-scene is built up. Your overture is beautiful, but it might have been still more so. And now, please note that I want your new work to be wider, deeper, more mature. That it will have beauty and passion, I think I am safe in predicting. So I wish you all luck and—vogue la galère!”
To V. Stassov.
“January 27th (February 8th), 1873.
“Honoured Vladimir Vassilievich,—I scarcely know how to thank you for your excellent, and at the same time most attractive, programme. Whether I shall be successful I cannot say, but in any case I intend to carry out every detail of your plan. I must warn you, however, that my overture will not see the light for some time to come: at least, I have no intention of hurrying over it. A number of tiresome, prosaic occupations, among them the pianoforte arrangement of my opera, will, in the immediate future, take up the quiet time I should need for so delicate a work. The subject of The Tempest is so poetical, its programme demands such perfection and beauty of workmanship, that I am resolved to suppress my impatience and await a more favourable moment for its commencement.
“My symphony was performed yesterday, and met with great success; so great in fact that N. Rubinstein is repeating it at the tenth concert ‘by general request.’ To confess the truth, I am not altogether satisfied with the first two movements, but the finale on The Crane[29] theme has turned out admirably. I will speak to Rubinstein about sending the score; I must find out the date of the tenth concert. I should like to make a few improvements in the orchestration, and I must consider how long this will take, and whether it will be better to send the score to Nadejda Nicholaevna,[30] or to wait until after the concert.