The Text of Tchaikovsky's B♭ Minor Concerto

Author(s): James Friskin and P. Tchaikovsky

Source: Music & Letters , Apr., 1969, Vol. 50, No. 2 (Apr., 1969), pp. 246-251
Published by: Oxford University Press

Stable URL: https://www.jstor.org/stable/732535

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THE TEXT OF TCHAIKOVSKY'S Bb MINOR
CONCERTO

BY JAMES FRISKIN1

ON 2I January 1878 Tchaikovsky wrote a letter to N

Meck, the rich railway engineer's widow, with whom fo
he exchanged an intimate correspondence while consisten
a meeting. His letter was a long one, and in it he told he
than three years previously he had written a piano
went on to describe his interview, immediately after th
of the work, with Nicholas Rubinstein, head of the Moscow
Conservatoire of Music, where he was a member of the teaching
staff. It is easy to imagine, on reading his somewhat emotional
account of the incident, why he seems to have been unable to bring
himself to mention it to Mme. von Meck before. He had written her
many letters during the preceding year. He had confided to her
much-though by no means all-of his very complicated private
life. He knew she was ardently interested in everything that
concerned his music. But the encounter with Rubinstein had been a
humiliating one; and it had obviously rankled for years.
The letter, which has often been reproduced in various transla-
tions, is worth giving almost in entirety:

As I am not a pianist, it was necessary to consult some virtuoso as to

what might be ineffective, impracticable, and ungrateful in my
technique. I needed a severe, but at the same time friendly, critic, to
point out in my work these external blemishes only. Without going
into details, I must mention the fact that some inward voice warned
me against the choice of Nicholas Rubinstein as a judge of the
technical side of my composition. However, as he was not only the
best pianist in Moscow, but also a first-rate all-round musician, and
knowing that he would be deeply offended if he heard I had taken my
concerto to anyone else, I decided to ask him to hear the work and
give me his opinion upon the solo parts. It was on Christmas Eve,
I874. We were invited to Albrecht's house and, before we went,
Nicholas Rubinstein proposed I should meet him in one of the
classrooms of the Conservatoire to go through the concerto. I arrived
with my manuscript, and Rubinstein and Hubert soon appeared...
I played the first movement. Never a word, never a single remark.
Do you know the awkward and ridiculous sensation of putting before
a friend a meal which you have cooked yourself, which he eats-and
holds his tongue? Oh, for a single word, for friendly abuse, for
anything to break the silence! For God's sake say something! But
1 The author of this article was working on it shortly before his death in X967. It has
been completed by his widow, with the help of Mr. Malcolm Frager. The illustrations are
reproduced by permission of Admiral Hubert Dannreuther-ED.

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 Tchaikovsky's Bb minor concerto (first movement)
I

(bars I-20)

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 II

(bars 67-79)

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 Rubinstein never opened his lips. He was preparing his thunderbolt,
and Hubert was waiting to see which way the wind would blow...
Rubinstein's silence was eloquent... I gathered patience, and
played the concerto straight through to the end. Still silence.
"Well?" I asked, and rose from the piano. Then a torrent broke
from Rubinstein's lips. Gentle at first, gathering volume as it pro-
ceeded, and finally bursting into the fury of a Jupiter-Tonans.
My concerto was worthless, absolutely unplayable; the passages so
broken, so disconnected, so unskilfully written, that they could
not even be improved; the work itself was bad, trivial, common;
here and there I had stolen from other people; only one or two pages
were worth anything; all the rest had better be destroyed, or entirely
rewritten. "For instance, that?" "And what meaning is there in
this?" Here the passages were caricatured on the piano. "And look
there: is it possible that anyone could? etc., etc., etc." But the chief
thing I cannot reproduce: the tone in which all this was said. An
independent witness of this scene must have concluded I was a
talentless maniac, a scribbler with no notion of composing, who had
ventured to lay his rubbish before a famous man. Hubert was quite
overcome by my silence and was surprised, no doubt, that a man who
had already written so many works, and was professor of composition
at the Conservatoire, could listen calmly and without contradiction
to such a jobation, such as one would hardly venture to address to a
student before having gone through his work very carefully...
I was not only astounded, but deeply mortified, by the whole
scene. I require friendly counsel and criticism; I shall always be glad
of it, but there was no trace of friendliness in the whole proceedings.
It was a censure delivered in such a form that it cut me to the quick.
I left the room without a word and went upstairs. I could not have
spoken for anger and agitation. Presently Rubinstein came to me and,
seeing how upset I was, called me into another room. There he
repeated that my concerto was impossible, pointed out many places
where it needed to be completely revised, and said that if I would
suit the concerto to his requirements he would bring it out at his
concert. "I shall not alter a single note", I replied, "I shall publish the
work precisely as it stands". This intention I actually carried out.2
One wonders what prompted Tchaikovsky, beset just then with
far closer personal problems, to choose this moment to reveal such a
long past and comparatively unimportant episode to Mme. von
Meck. The clue seems to lie in his other correspondence at that time.
She had recently arranged to settle on him a substantial annuity;
and in a letter to his brother Anatol, dated the day before he wrote
to her, he expressed his indignation on learning that Rubinstein had
called on her in an attempt to dissuade her from this course. A
mistaken idea that it would foster idleness-strongly repudiated by
Tchaikovsky a few days later in a letter to his chief-was no doubt
allied in Rubinstein's mind with the fear that it might also involve
Tchaikovsky's resignation from the faculty of the Conservatoire.
Nicholas Rubinstein had been very kind to Tchaikovsky in the past,
even to the point of giving him a room in his own house. It was in
fact he who had first enlisted Mme. von Meck's interest in

2 Translation by Rosa Newmarch.

247

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Tchaikovsky's compositions. But the two men had frequent dis-
agreements. It is understandable that Tchaikovsky should now
resent what he felt to be Rubinstein's interference in his relations
with his unknown benefactress; and his letter to her would appear to
be a bid for her sympathy.
At all events, the concerto in Bb minor was published precisely
as it stood. The first edition, comprising the orchestral parts and a
version for two pianos, though as yet no full score, was brought out
by Jurgenson in I875. That same year-on 25 October-the
concerto was given its world premiere by Hans von Bilow with the
Boston Symphony Orchestra, conducted by B. J. Lang. The local
critics did not care for the work. The Boston Traveller wrote: "It is
hardly destined, we think, to become classical". And the Boston
Globe dismissed it as not "an enduring work". But the composer, still
smarting from the harsh criticisms of Nicholas Rubinstein, must
have felt greatly encouraged by the glowing admiration voiced by
von Billow, who sent him an enthusiastic announcement of the
success of the performance in a cablegram believed to be the first
ever despatched from Boston to Moscow. The following month the
concerto was played in St. Petersburg by the pianist G. G. Kross
under the baton of the composer Napravnik; and in Moscow by
Tchaikovsky's pupil Sergei Taneyev, with Nicholas Rubinstein
as conductor. Rubinstein appears ultimately to have reversed his
judgment, as he himself later performed the solo part a number of
times. But the common assumption that the work is dedicated to
him is, as far as can be ascertained, incorrect-for reasons that seem
obvious, whatever may have been the composer's first thoughts on
the subject. The dedication was originally given to Sergei Taneyev;
but in the manuscript his name is scratched out and above it is
written: 'To Hans von Billow'.
Tchaikovsky's vow that he would "not alter a single note" was
not, however, destined to be fulfilled. The Boston and Russian
premieres were followed by the introduction of the concerto in
England at the Crystal Palace, under August Manns, on I I March
1876. The soloist was Edward Dannreuther, the Strasbourg-born
pianist-now chiefly remembered through his book 'Musical
Ornamentation'-who had settled in London. This occasion has a
special interest for musicians because Dannreuther, before his
performance, ventured to put before Tchaikovsky-in a letter that
has unfortunately not survived-a number of suggestions which he
thought would make the solo part more pianistic. His approach
must have been considerably more tactful than Rubinstein's, as he
received in reply a most cordial letter from the composer:
Moscow le 18/30 mars I876.
Monsieur,
J'ai resu votre bonne lettre ainsi que le programme du concert
ot vous avez bien voulu honorer de votre magnifique execution mon

248

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 oeuvre difficile et fatigante.
Vous ne sauriez croire, Monsieur, combien de joie et de plaisir
m'a cause le succ6s de cette pi6ce et vraiment je ne trouve pas les
expressions necessaires pour vous signifier ma vive reconnaissance.
Je vous remercie aussi pour les conseils tres sages et tres pratiques
que vous me donnez et soyez suir que je les suivrai des qu'il sera
question d'une deuxieme edition de mon concerto.
Je vous serre cordialement la main et me dis votre devoue et
reconnaissant
P. TSCHAIKOVSKY.8

The Musical Times, in publishing this letter, stated: "The

second and revised edition contains practically all the changes
suggested by Mr. Dannreuther". Having myself been privileged to
study for nearly five years with Edward Dannreuther, I found an
interesting corroboration of this statement through the kindness of
Admiral Hubert Dannreuther, the only surviving member of the
pianist's immediate family. He has in his home at Hastings the
actual copy of the concerto which his father used in preparing the
performance with Manns. Superimposed on that copy, a first
edition, may be seen the emendations which he suggested to
Tchaikovsky and which not only received the composer's approval
and thanks but were, as promised, incorporated in the second edition
published by Jurgenson in I879. These emendations, almost all in
the first movement, involve some I40 bars. They form a historical
document of real importance to musical scholarship. The copy
containing them is ultimately to be deposited in the British Museum.
Admiral Dannreuther must be one of the very few now living
who can claim to have actually met Tchaikovsky. He remembers
very distinctly a visit made by the composer in the late I88o's to his
father's home at 12 Orme Square, London-a house frequented by
many distinguished musicians from abroad. It is interesting that
among these was Richard Wagner, who made a lengthy stay there
in 1877 and once used the spacious music room to give a private
reading of his 'Parsifal' libretto to a select company of Dannreuther's
friends. (So great was Dannreuther's enthusiasm for Wagner that he
named four of his children after Wagnerian characters: Tristan,
Isolde, Wolfram and Siegmund; Hubert, the youngest, was named
after Hubert Parry, a close friend of Dannreuther's.) A child at the
time of Tchaikovsky's visit, Hubert was unable to follow the con-
versation, as they spoke in French. But still fresh in his memory,
even after some 80 years, is a picture of his father and Tchaikovsky
standing in the hall of the house at Orme Square as the composer
was preparing to leave. Some joke had evidently been exchanged,
for he has a particularly vivid recollection of the peals of friendly
laughter with which the two men parted.
The emendations suggested by Dannreuther proved to be not
8 This letter was published, apparently for the first time, in the Musical Times for
November I 907, with the acknowledgement that "we are indebted to Mrs. Dannreuther".
Edward Daamreuther had died in February I905.

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the only ones made in the concerto. Tchaikovsky, who as a young
man had expressed his dislike of piano concertos in general and
declared that he never would write one, was still haunted by Nicholas
Rubinstein's destructive criticism; and further changes were in
store. The most dramatic is concerned with the version which has
come to be accepted for the chords accompanying the famous
opening theme. These, as every student knows, cover the entire
compass of the instrument, from the lowest to the highest octave.
This treatment certainly produces a striking and glittering effect;
but it is one that was not originally intended by the composer,
whose accompaniment in the first editions was confined to
arpeggiated chords in the middle of the keyboard. Edward
Dannreuther had there contented himself with only a slight easing of
the extreme stretches asked in certain chords, but otherwise made
no change (see P1. I). The current version must therefore have been
inserted by another hand. The question is: whose ?
It is possible that Tchaikovsky himself was responsible for it. But
there is no evidence to support this. The change is not mentioned in
any extant correspondence, and no manuscript of this passage is
known to exist. Moreover, it is hard to believe that Tchaikovsky,
admittedly not an expert pianist, would have so far departed from
his original conception as to rewrite it in a manner that tempts the
soloist, as it almost invariably does, to overpower the main theme,
marked merely mezzo forte in the orchestra. The influence of some
keyboard virtuoso would seem more probable. It has been surmised
that these nineteen bars, as generally printed today and for more than
a couple of generations past, are due to the Russian pianist Alexander
Siloti, a friend of Tchaikovsky. To many people who knew Siloti
this presentation of the accompanying chords appears characteristic
of his pianism. On the other hand, we have the testimony of his
daughter Miss Kyriena Siloti, herself a professional pianist, who
has stated that she does not believe it is by her father, nor does she
know who is responsible. However, Tchaikovsky consulted Siloti
when preparing the third edition, published in I889. This is known
from a correspondence that took place between them. Again
Tchaikovsky was to put aside his vow that he would not alter a
single note. This edition introduces a change of tempo in the second
movement and a new and shorter bridge passage leading from the
polonaise-like section to the return of the second theme in the third.
And here the present version of the opening piano solo appears for
the first time.
It is a striking fact that this version is not printed in the Soviet
edition published as late as 1955 (Volume 28 of the Complete
Works of Tchaikovsky) under the supervision of A. Goldenweiser.
A feature of this edition is the printing together, one above the
other, of Tchaikovsky's original manuscript and (in slightly smaller
type) the text of the second edition, which incorporates the changes

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 III

(bars 124-38)

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 IV

(bars 222-33)

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suggested by Edward Dannreuther and accepted by the composer.
It is undeniable that the current, somewhat flamboyant version of
the opening piano solo has become firmly embedded in the
consciousness of the musical-as well as the non-musical-public.
There is also no denying that it is highly effective. In this form it
was conducted by Tchaikovsky during the historic opening week of
Carnegie Hall in New York in May 189I, with Adele aus der Ohe
as soloist. On the other hand, the Moscow 1955 edition appears not to
endorse its authenticity. It would no doubt be asking too much of
the present-day pianist to relinquish the undoubted appeal of this
exhilarating and athletic passage in the interest of historical scholar-
ship-though this has been done by at least one well-known artist,
the young American pianist Malcolm Frager, who has made a
careful study of the work both in the United States and in the
Soviet Union. However, a re-appraisal of our commonly accepted
text in this case would seem to be called for, with the consideration
of a treatment that restores Tchaikovsky's original balance of solo
instrument and orchestra. Meanwhile, the mystery of who was
originally responsible for this particular change appears to remain
unsolved.

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