Anton Rubinstein (1830-1894) desired to be known as a composer rather than as a virtuoso, but his once often-heard compositions, works for the pianoforte, overtures, symphonies, and operas, are rapidly losing their hold on the public, and it seems likely that they will not be remembered even so long as his playing will. The distinctively Russian element in them is well-nigh concealed beneath the many strands of western influence, and indeed he was himself so much in doubt and so easily influenced that hardly his own personality finds a consistent or thorough expression in his music. Some of the études in opus 23 may continue to be cherished by the pianist as excellent practice pieces. The concert music of other kinds, even the once greatly popular suite of dance pieces, Le Bal, with its brilliant polka, mazurka, waltz, and galop, is already less and less performed. The two Barcarolles, opus 30, No. 1, and opus 50, No. 3, still enjoy some favor. The Kammenoi-Ostrow and the Melody in F will keep his memory green in many a family circle so long as they are included in family music books. Of the five concertos, that in D minor, No. 4, is by general consent by far the best, and seems at present the only one of his works, excepting one or two of the songs, that will be able to retain much longer the respect of musicians or pianists.
It is far different with Tschaikowsky. He wrote only moderately well for the keyboard, but the emotional fire of his music is of the kind that burns long. The short pieces, of which there are some half dozen sets, are not of any great significance, though many of them, specifically the vigorous Troïka, op. 37, No. 11, and the Humoresque in G, op. 10, No. 2, are full of charm. The sonata in G major, opus 37, is a difficult and a fiery work. There are three concertos for pianoforte and orchestra: one in B-flat minor, opus 23, one in G major, opus 44, and one in E-flat major, opus 75. Of these the first is by far the best, and is indeed the most significant of all his compositions for the instrument.
The form of the concerto is classical, but the spirit is Russian in spite of it. One feels it in the character of the themes, particularly of the chief theme of the last movement, with its barbaric rhythm and its savage repetitions of short motives. The piano is handled in a more or less grandiose way, yet never in some respects was it handled more grandly. The chords of the introduction are almost unique in their splendor. There are bold and difficult passages in octaves, and great climaxes which demand unusual physical endurance. On the other hand, there are passages of extremely effective finger work, even though the figuration as a whole can hardly be called original or distinguished. The cadenza in the first movement, the variations and trills in the slow movement, and, most of all perhaps, the fleet runs just before the coda of the last movement, these are all remarkable accomplishments for a composer who called himself no pianist. The whole was a favorite of von Bülow’s, who played it for the first time in public, by the way, at a concert in Boston. Among other of Tschaikowsky’s pianoforte compositions von Bülow had also an admiration for the Theme and Variations, which is the sixth of the six pieces, opus 19. The second and third concertos are weakly constructed and ineffective; but by reason of the first, Tschaikowsky’s name will live for long in pianoforte music.
Anton Rubinstein’s Hand.
Photographed from a plaster cast.
The compositions of the younger school of Russian composers are far too numerous to be passed in review. In no country has there been a more active or a more fruitful musical life; and nearly all of the many composers have written sometimes much, sometimes little, for the pianoforte. In general these composers may be divided into two groups, one of which is clearly still guided by the musical ideals of Western Europe, still more or less dependent on Schumann and Chopin; the other drawing its enthusiasm and its inspiration from the great Five.
The most prominent in the former group is Anton Arensky (b. 1861), who is master of a smooth, flowing pianoforte style, and who has the art of writing melody for the pianoforte. Among his short pieces Walter Niemann[39] mentions three published as opus 42, the Esquisses, opus 24, twenty-four pieces, opus 36, and the well-known Basso ostinato in which he finds no trace of German influence. To these may be added the little piece, Près de la mer, from opus 52, and the effect concert study, opus 36, No. 13. With Arensky Niemann also reckons Genari Karganoff and Paul Juon.
Alexander Glazounoff (b. 1865) has more fire than Arensky, but in spite of his pronounced loyalty to Russian ideals in music, the influences of Schumann and Chopin are evident in his pianoforte style. Apart from several short pieces, he has written a Theme and Variations, opus 72, and two sonatas, one in B-flat, opus 74, and one in E, opus 75, both of which are more distinguished by fluent writing than by characteristically Russian ideas. The Prelude and Fugue, opus 62, is the most unusual and the most profound of his works for pianoforte.
The pianoforte works of Serge Rachmaninoff are essentially Russian, in many ways a fulfillment of the promise given by Balakireff’s. The style is brilliant and always effective. Melodies, harmonies are unusual, and his rhythms are bold and full of at times a savage life. He may be said to have won attention as a composer for the pianoforte by the Prelude in C-sharp minor; of which it must be said that endlessly as it has been played it still remains a piece of profound meaning and effect. He has published at least twenty-three preludes, of which this still remains the best-known, with the possible exception of that in G minor. Here again there is a spirit not common to Western Europe; one hears it in the steady powerful rhythm, the outbursts of sound, the strange intensity of the melody of the middle section.