Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition

By Gennadi Moyseyevich Tsipin

Translated by Beatrice L. Frank

Preface
This article is dedicated to the problems of interpretation of the music of
Chopin by Russian and Soviet pianists. The author follows the traditions
laid out by leading national masters of the latter half of the twentieth cen-
tury and speaks of the changes in the approach to Chopin's music at differ-
ent stages in the history of Russian and Soviet piano playing. This article in-
cludes brief characterizations of leading Soviet pianists who are interpreters
of Chopin's music and is dedicated to professional musicians, performers,
teachers, and music lovers.
One frequently hears that a kind of secret can be discerned in the works
of Chopin. "Each person ought to know that Chopin is the greatest Polish
artist," wrote YakovMilshtain, "that his name is inseparable from Polish cul-
ture, that he is the one who truly poetized the piano. Still, the secret of the
influence of his art on his listeners, this secret of his creativity, remains un-
resolved to the end, unrevealed. "1
Every artist who might be considered great in the popular sense may be
thought of as a riddle. In Chopin's works there is always that special some-
thing that eludes us from full and final comprehension, from a thorough de-
coding. Chopin represents an enigma of the greatest proportions. Again and
again he confronts performing musicians, teachers, critics, and the erudite
public with the most complex problems. These problems have been a subject
of dispute for a long time in the lobbies of concert halls and on the pages of
the musical press. But naturally, the most interesting argument takes place on
the concert stage. Fortunately, the end to this is not yet in sight.

Origins
What characterizes the traits and special features of the Chopin style? What
is the so-called Chopinist, and to whom can this be attributed? Why was
Chopin, according to the majority of authentic musicians, considered the
most difficult composer of all those who ever wrote music for the piano?
What is the source of all these special complexities in the interpretation of
his music?
Does the approach to the composer change in relation to those meta-
morphoses that music performance undergoes over time? If so, what are
these changes? Finally, does our national school or tradition of playing
Chopin differ noticeably from other national schools and traditions?

67
 68 Journal of the American Liszt Society

Such are the questions that arise rather frequently among those related
to the art of the great Polish composer. These questions are certainly not
simple, and they lead to controversy.
The author has no illusion that the issues that have been raised are
clearly defined. Even less does he consider that his reasoning will be ac-
cepted without reservation by readers, and not only because there are "so
many heads, so many minds." Among philosophers of former times there
existed a concept of a kind of "muddle," signifying matters difficult to re-
solve and possibly even unsolvable. In art, one frequently meets something
similar, in the music of Chopin even more so.
At the same time, there are numerous opportunities to find something
controversial, unclear, and sharply debatable and to enlighten others and
possibly to propose one's own solution to problems. These opportunities
in themselves justify the author who seeks the attention of the reader. In
this article are cited a number of historic facts touching on the penetra-
tion and subsequent dissemination of the music of Chopin in Russia. One
hears of Russian and Soviet pianists who were said to be particularly
strong in the interpretation of this music. There are brief portrait
sketches (or simple individual "brush strokes" in an attempt toward por-
traits) of leading performers, representatives of the past, and those who
are just now earning fame.
The music of Chopin was first heard in Russia in 1829 and 1830 at con-
certs by a Polish pianist of that time, Maria Agata Sczymanowskaya. Pushkin,
Mitzkevich, and other celebrities used to frequent her home in St. Peters-
burg. Following this, more attention began to be accorded Chopin's works,
at first rarely and then more steadily. In the 1830s and 1840s such artists as
Adolph Henselt performed various Chopin pieces, in particular, the Etudes.
He was court pianist to the empress and the inspector of music studies in a
number of academic institutions. Henselt commanded respect among his
contemporaries, including Liszt, who expressed deep professional esteem
for him. Compositions that he promoted were soon accepted into the main-
stream of music repertoire.
Anton Goerke, a popular pianist and teacher who taught Stasov, Mous-
sorgsky,Tchaikovsky,and Laroche, was loved in the capital's aristocratic salons
for his elegant manner and his "most sensitive playing." According to various
memoirs, he played Chopin's works particularly well. Stasov later claimed that
Goerke was generally "on the side of all new music," including in his pro-
grams, along with works by Chopin, other little-known compositions in Russia
as well as compositions by Western European composers of that time.2
More evidence about Goerke comes from Hermann Laroche, a Russian
critic, who studied at the St. Petersburg Conservatory and was a con tempo-
 Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition 69

rary of Tchaikovsky. He was later appointed professor at the Moscow Conser-

vatory, and after 1871 he spent the rest of his life in S1.Petersburg. Accord-
ing to Laroche,
Goerke propagandized a kind of bead play, strewing passages with
pearls, precision and elegance, moving about, smoking his long
cherry-colored pipe, repeated the phrase perpetually that the good pi-
anist should be like a good coachman: control the horses, hold the
reins with a firm hand, and occasionally deal them a good lashing with
the whip. Goerke kept up with all new matters that concerned music
and it was thanks to him that I heard and knew not only all the new
piano compositions of that time, the majority of pieces and etudes by
Thalberg and Liszt, but even those by Chopin and Schumann. My
older sister Sofia, as did I, took lessons with Goerke. She played beauti-
fully and among some of the newer works of the middle or the end of
the 1830s Goerke assigned her the Chopin Concerto in E Minor and
the Schumann Fantasie in C Major, and he himself frequently per-
formed them when demonstrating for his students.f
Other musicians whose names today have almost been forgotten did a
great deal for the dissemination of Chopin's compositions in Russia. Stein, a
pianist who earned a favorable mention by Schumann in his Neue Zeitschrifl
fur Muzik, trained such pianists as Felix Michailovich Blumenfeld and Ossip
Solomonovich Gabrilovich. In the spring of 1836 he played the E Minor
Concerto of Chopin in Moscow-"to the liveliest pleasure of the artists and
connoisseurs. "4
One should also mention Michael Paulovich Shulepnikoff, a composer
and pianist and, judging by all accounts, a broadly educated person. In the
1840s he frequently participated in student concerts and was a favorite
among young students in S1. Petersburg. One critic wrote that he "com-
bines true deep feeling with extraordinary facility.r''
One also finds the name of Victor Matveyevich Kajhinsky in the archives,
"an excellent musician," according to Alexander Nicolayevich Serov. There
is also E. Gretch, a Russian woman pianist who was fortunate to have been
able to take lessons with Chopin himself in Paris and who frequently per-
formed his works in Russia.
Among those who first introduced Chopin was M. Garder, another
gifted woman pianist who toured Moscow, St. Petersburg, and other large
cities of Russia and Western Europe with great success. Her programs
included the Berceuse, Nocturnes, Polonaises, Waltzes, and Mazurkas.
From memoirs we learn that "the excellent characteristics of her playing
were evenness and cleanness, precision and grace, clarity and elegance,
 70 Journal of the American Liszt Society

combined with a brilliant technique; finally, a profound artistic feeling

predominant, it would seem, over all other qualities.tv Carder's admirers
praised her genuine naturalness, "rare and comforting in our times."
One should also note M. M. Kalerris-Muchanov (Kalerdji), still another
woman pianist, also a pupil of Chopin. She was considered one of the most
inspired performers of his works in Russia and in Europe. Her playing was
highly esteemed by Liszt and von BUlow.Finally, there was A. Bryonskaya,
who began her career brilliantly with a performance of the E Minor Con-
certo in St. Petersburg in 1837 but whose career was cut short by an early
death.
Apart from pianists, eminent publicists and critics in St. Petersburg and
Moscow contributed in no small measure to the fame of Chopin in the en-
lightened strata of Russian society. Modeste Dmitrievich Rezvoy, for exam-
ple, was a warm and respectful admirer of the composer. He was a com-
poser himself as well as a musicologist and cellist. An engineer by education
and a portrait artist, a translator, and a specialist in the field of music lexi-
cography, Rezvoywas among the most interesting people of his epoch.
Rezvoy appreciated the novelty of Chopin's compositional style: "Chopin
saw completely new ways in the piano, and we do not find any of those har-
monic delights in any of Chopin's predecessors. The originality of his musi-
cal innovations was pleasing. Chopin opened the new direction of piano
playing"." This is from 1838, when Chopin was twenty-eight years old, many
of his great works had not yet been created, and he himself had only just
begun to consolidate his position in music.
B. P. Botkin also devoted a great deal of attention to Chopin, remarking
in particular the range of emotional colors and feelings:
The piano began to speak with the tongue of poetry for him, with a
kind of sad-yet-passionate romanticism. His original melodies, melan-
cholic and somewhat misty, are always enveloped in a kind of sunset
semi-gloom, communicating by these their transparent majestic har-
mony. His smaller works are especially splendid-truly lyric inspira-
tion! He was the first to break away from the pattern of contemporary
pianists, flinging hackneyed passages and figurations, replacing them
with new forms and tonal combinations. With the invention of these
melodies, of poetic animation and the envelopment in the most inter-
esting and marvelous turns Chopin showed his genius.f
Curiously, it was difficult for Botkin to perceive the particular innova-
tions of the composer and to appreciate fully their originality, expressive-
ness, and innovative technique. This remark is characteristic: "The strange
situation as regards the excessive chromatization attracts him [Chopin]
sometimes to the point of chaos, and it is especially this excessive chromati-
 Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition 71

zation that is that dark direction of his brilliant gift.,,9 However, some fal-
lacies and blunders on the part of Botkin do not belittle his role as one of
the first to interpret and popularize the art of Chopin in Russia.
Nicolai Christianovich is another who wrote about Chopin. Like Rezvoy
and Botkin, he engaged in different activities. A government official in a
judicial department, he also composed music, organized choirs and acade-
mic institutions, gave lectures, conducted, and played the piano. In his
youth Christianovich took lessons from Henselt. He later produced an in-
teresting and edifying analysis, for his time, of the works of Chopin, con-
vincingly revealing the national nature of the composer and pointing out
the folkloric sources. Some of his opinions almost seem close to those of
today: "Chopin was a folk poet not only because he wrote mazurkas and
Polish dancesl''; we are speaking not of form but of the very nature of the
music itself, of the spirit of the compositions thernselves.! 1
Of Schumann, Christianovich said, "There is a strong talent possibly
emerging, which, if it is to develop further in this path, will achieve still
more, but it would be just as difficult to await a new Byron, a new Moliere,
or a new Pushkin in the future."12
There were many other opinions expressed concerning Chopin by
Serov, Stassov, Chechott, and other Russian critics. Thanks to these writings
and the increasing number of performances of Chopin's works, the Russ-
ian public was becoming more and more interested in the composer. His
compositions appeared on the counters of music stores and were sought
after, played over and over in homes and at open public meetings.
The first Russian edition of Chopin-two Mazurkas-dates from 1839,
but music samples from abroad appeared in St. Petersburg and in Moscow
even earlier. Chopin's technical demands at first seemed unusually com-
plex to the chief consumers of these works in Russian society, who were
amateurs from court families, more or less enlightened aristocrats, and
pupils (both men and women) of music classes in the privileged academic
institutions. It was especially these who made up Russian piano culture in
the 1830s and 1840s. In 1834 Botkin wrote, 'The works of Chopin have
been available in local music stores for about three or four years, but up to
now, it seems to me, no one has attempted to overcome the extraordinary
difficulties which are in these compositions, If Chopin were some day to
decide to write in a more benevolent manner, if he were to spare the physi-
cal requirements of the pianist then naturally, he would achieve a place of
honor among famous composers.t'l '
Despite the complicated tasks that he set before "the pianists" and the
misgivings of some reviewers, Liszt's famous concerts in Russia (1842,
1843, and 1847) included Chopin's works and thus advanced his art in
the cultural strata of Russian society. These concerts were received with
 72 Journal of the American Liszt Society

extraordinary success, and they helped awaken interest among Russian

audiences to what was new in Western European music at that time.
Ail this, however, was only a prelude to the prevalence of Chopin on the
Russian concert stage. That history began with Anton Rubinstein.

Anton and Nicolai Rubinstein

Anton Rubinstein was not merely a great pianist on the same high plane as
Liszt during the nineteenth century. He was the initiator of a definite es-
thetic in national piano culture, the founder of a tradition, outlining and
defining the features of those ideals that were to remain the same for a pe-
riod of several decades for the majority of his countrymen and colleagues.
As we know, recordings appeared only after Rubinstein's death. But the
playing of this great pianist was heard frequently by Felix Blumenfeld, Con-
stantine Igumnov, and Alexander Goldenweiser, among other musicians.
In their memoirs and personal remarks they depicted a wholly reliable and
expressive picture of what and how Rubinstein performed at the piano.
Further, in their own concerts and in their teaching, Blumenfeld, Igumnov,
Goldenweiser, and other Russian musicians followed in Rubinstein's path
insofar as they could, guided by his artistic criteria, acquainting themselves
with his "school" for the next generation of pianists. A genius in art creates
laws that become guideposts for the future for those close to his spirit. In
the broadest sense of the word, Anton Rubinstein became an arbiter of
taste in Russian performing art.
He played almost everything written by Chopin. To judge from memoirs
of eyewitnesses, he achieved astonishing interpretative heights. The public at
one concert rose in an indomitable impulse after hearing the pianist per-
form the C-minor Etude, op. 25, no. 12, and other Chopin pieces. Among
the most brilliant of his achievements was a reading of the B-minor Sonata,
op. 58. Goldenweiser, who had the opportunity of hearing this work at one
of Rubinstein's historic concerts,' later wrote, "His playing of this left an im-
print on my soul. The power, the spontaneity and enchanting poetry merged
into a single unity."14 To this we might add, "the outstanding imagery, the
quality of a picture-drawing.l'' a union with a grandiose pianistic sweep."
It would not be an exaggeration to say that Rubinstein refined the art
of Russian piano playing, rejecting manners of amateur music making
that were characteristically saccharine, with affected sentimentality, com-
bining now and then with pretensions to virtuosity. Thus he delineated
the boundaries for exceptionally high professionalism, from one point of
view and true art on the other. Chopin was dear to most Russian music
lovers because of his tender elegies, the sad dreaminess, and the beauti-
ful wisps of melancholy that wrap themselves around some of his works.
Rubinstein saw something immeasurably more complex in the music of
 Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition 73

this composer, psychologically richer and varied, that up to his time

frequently had simply not been perceived. "A spirit of tragedy, of the ro-
mantic, a lyricism, heroic, dramatic, fantastic, heartfelt, warm-hearted,
dreamy, shining, majestic, a simplicity-in general all possible expres-
sions are to be found in his works." This is what he wrote of Chopin.U'
It is interesting to recall that Rubinstein was able to hear Chopin person-
ally during his youth, when Rubinstein was only eleven years old. The
meeting, judging from notes, was brief. Chopin played only one composi-
tion in the presence of the youngster: the F-sharp major Impromptu. But
this episode, in the words of Rubinstein himself, left such a strong impres-
sion that he remembered it all his life. One has to think that, because of
his brilliant intuition and impressionability, he recognized and was able to
penetrate the innermost secrets of Chopin's poetics.
Rubinstein ended his musical career at the time that the career of an-
other brilliant pianist, Sergei Rachmaninoff, was somewhat coming apart.
There will be more on Rachmaninoff and his contribution to the Russian
tradition of performing Chopin. For the time being, however, we must
mention a number of other names from the late nineteenth century.
The younger brother of Anton Rubinstein, Nicolai, was a recognized in-
terpreter of Chopin. He was famous, actually, for his playing of the works
of several major Romantic composers: Schubert, Schumann, and Liszt.
Chopin, however, appeared on his programs as something special. Accord-
ing to many nearest to him, Nicolai Rubinstein had a passion to reveal and
propagandize what was new in the piano repertoire. Laroche, for example,
assures us that Rubinstein was the first to acquaint the Russian public with
Chopin's F-minor Fantasia, op. 49. His stage manner evinced an intelligent
prudence, a fine balance between the emotional and the rational, a har-
mony of the different elements of the performance as a whole. "Agitating
and astonishing his listeners he was able to remain clear and serene; a re-
markable self-control, a kind of archaic simplicity and feeling for the sense
of proportion merged in his playing with a titanic strength, with a charm-
ing sensual fascination. "17
Contemporaries often compared the brothers, and there is much in these
comparisons that is curious. There is, for example, the opinion of Kraskin:
In the character of virtuoso playing there was much in common in
both the Rubinstein brothers and at the same time there were intrinsi-
cally different characteristics. With Anton Gregoryevich the general
concept of playing was always based on an upsurge of fantasie. He was
even able to explain this to himself with examples of any composition
he might be playing and in this way he could imagine all music, it
would seem. For Nicolai Gregoryevich the surge of artistic inspiration
came first in his method of work, but this inspiration merged with an
 74 Journal of the American Liszt Society

analysis of the work as regards its form, its harmonic structure, etc. In a
word Nicolai Gregoryevich proceeded not from a graphic idea of his
understanding of the music, but from an analysis of tonal combina-
tions in the broadest sense of the word. IS

Esipova, Balakirev, Liadov, Glazunov, and Blumenfeld

At the time of the Rubinstein brothers, Anna Esipova performed a great
deal of Chopin's music. It was with this music that she embarked on her
concert career, and she performed it until her last days. In addition to play-
ing all his works, without exception, Esipova astounded her colleagues and
students by being able to play any Chopin piece from memory, instantly,
from any measure and any phrase.
The significance of Esipova in a historic context is that she was one of
the first to move the art of Russian piano playing into the international
arena. During a period of several years, she toured many European cities as
well as the United States. In the period from 1870 to 1879 alone, she per-
formed in fifty cities in Germany, twenty-eight in America, fourteen in Aus-
tria, and in the best concert halls in London, Paris, and Brussels, not to
mention her concerts in many Russian cities. During one season Esipova
gave up to fifty concerts, a figure quite impressive for those days. She rep-
resented a so-called gallant style in piano playing at the beginning of her
career, when her playing was marked by a special grace, a polish, a filigree
of outer finishing touches. Exceptionally effective were her "unrivaled digi-
tal pearls," as one critic expressed it.
These qualities in the works of Chopin found a natural and very success-
ful place in most situations. The musicologist Bertenson has asserted that
"from the time of Esipova's first appearance on the concert stage her play-
ing of Chopin was considered her true calling." At the beginning of the
1870s critics already noted "the flexibility of the beat, the lilting, supple,
broad cantilena played with wonderfully warm, gossamer light, pearly tech-
nical runs and the ornamentation, the fine nuances, the free rhythm, the
nobility and simplicity in her playing. "19
It might be useful to repeat that because recordings came into being
only in the first decade of the twentieth century, we have to judge the per-
forming art of the preceding epochs mainly from literary sources: notes by
reviewers, letters, archives, and recollections of one or another artist,
teacher, and lover of music. Regrettably, the professional level of this mate-
rial was generally such that one could not wholly rely on it. Delights and
praise, as a rule, prevail here over serious analyses. But there are excep-
tions. Literary evidence exists that is eloquent, vivid, and knowledgeable,
and such evidence can instill confidence. An example of this is found
particularly in Asafyev's essays that discuss the contributions of Balakirev,
Anatol Liadov, Alexander Glazunov, and Felix Blumenfeld.s''
 Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition 75

In talking about Balakirev and his performing approach to Chopin,

Asafyev notes that in Mili Alexeyevich's playing "there blazed a youthful
ardor and alongside this a cold intelligence of a wise and self-assured, ex-
perienced fencer." Balakirev's playing was saturated with a "masterful cogi-
tation, of nervousness-No-no! At every turn you could hear: this is how I
understand it, but you before whom this is being presented must accept
this unquestioningly. There was little pedal and the Chopin pearls glim-
mered as if quicksilver were strewn over the surface. The form engraved it-
self from strictly architecturally apportioned sections, particularly in the
Mazurkas."
In concluding his characterization Asafyev emphasizes, "I had the im-
pression that Balakirev purposely and provocatively takes from Chopin all
that might contain even a hint of what is pleasing to the ear for a loving ro-
mantic.Y!
Chopin sounded quite different in readings by Liadov. If Balakirev, with
his stern expression and emotional asceticism, stood somewhat apart from
the musicians of his time, anticipating to some degree the playing of Rach-
maninoff, then Liadov's playing approached more nearly that of the gener-
ally accepted views of how Chopin should be played. In recollections about
Liadov, Asafyev noted "the elegant intoning" and, at the same time, an "ex-
traordinary, elegant flourish and a nobility of phrasing, with most refined
pedaling, similar to Scriabin, a beautiful form, a kind of engraving due, as
it were, to a searching of a melodic picture." Everyone who heard Liadov
had "a feeling of exquisite, infinite space and, once again, a feeling of 'how
free it is to breathe!'"
Liadov's tone was not deep. Sometimes it seemed that the sensitive fingers
did not lie on, but rather seemed to be skimming over, the keyboard. But
the melody alwayssang out, yet without evoking a sensation ofvocality.23
Glazunov, on the other hand, "calmly sculpted his evocative, ponderable
forms with sound." In Asafyev's opinion, an impression was conveyed that
"the Chopin music and its rendering had taken on a very lush, snug char-
acter, a humanly noble bearing, but with no superficial showing off or
rhetorical pathos." He also recalled the "genuine simplicity and the scope
of breath, the freshness of feelings and the shy lyric poetry" peculiar to
Glazunov when he played Chopin.23
Asafyev was affected by Blumenfeld's playing with genuine rapture. Felix
Michaelovich Blumenfeld had that rare and outstandingly previous ability
in the musician-performer in that, like Anton Rubinstein, he was able to
evoke particular poetic images, playing them at the keyboard just as he saw
them himself. One felt this when he played anything in his repertoire, but
particularly when he played Chopin.
When Blumenfeld played Chopin, a kind of hypnosis would take over.
The surroundings seemed to become saturated with the epoch of Mitzkevich
 76 Journal of the American Liszt Society

and Chopin; the flame of Poland seemed to have burst forth through the
music, that great Slavic country, with her eternal suffering and struggle for
the right to be independent! In Blumenfeld's rendering of Chopin, through-
out, to the very last moments of his music, his native land was reflected, as
was his individual personality: the Pole, Mitzkevich, the frantic romantic with
the flaming heart, with the feelings, rebellious and fearfully responding
moods.F"

The Turn of the Century

At the turn of the century, the Russian school of piano playing appeared to
represent a brilliant, many-sided picture. There appeared to be many more
concert artists than there had been twenty or thirty years before, and their
number was rapidly increasing. There were now new music schools and
concert halls, including the world-famous Bolshoi Hall of the Moscow Con-
servatory. The size of audiences at symphonic and chamber music evenings
was growing. Public appearances of pianists were beginning to occupy a
noticeable position in the cultural life of society.
The long list of prominent artists includes, but is not limited to, Medtner,
Taneyev, de Pachmann, Pabst, Siloti, Safonov, Sapelnikov, Arsenyev, Tima-
nova, Lhevinne, Dubasov, Borovsky, Barere, Beklemishev, and Gabrilovich.
They represented widely varying artistic schools and directions. Here were
pupils from the Moscow as well as the Kiev conservatories actively concertiz-
ing artists who were also teachers. However, with all their differences, with
all the kaleidoscopic variety of artistic individualism found in this constella-
tion of Russian masters at the turn of the century, there were some common
traits. There was a definite face of the musical performing art in this period,
a definite concert-performing style.
In our day there are frequent arguments over whether it is right to use
the term "style" when speaking of performance. With reference to musical
works, art, or literature, this might be proper, as the given category is clear
and understandable and evokes no question. There ha~e been masters of
the baroque in the history of music, and there have been classicists, roman-
tics, impressionists, expressionists, and so on, but let these be terminologi-
cal definitions that we agree on, more or less. They are relative, but what
stands behind them is fully specific.
But what of performing art? After all, here music is interpreted, not cre-
ated. It is set forth, having been thought out and sometimes even changed,
but not more than that. And yet one has to acknowledge definite styles.
One might even express oneself another way: Stylistic tendencies in perfor-
mance do exist. Moreover, with the invention and acceptance in everyday
use of recordings, this has been quite evident. Further, we are now able to
compare past and present styles. Even in 1937, Milshtain could write that
 Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition 77

with the passage of thirty or forty years the picture had been outlined in
"molding, developing, and the sunset of the different playing styles."25
The remarks above are particularly appropriate with regard to Chopin.
"By its very nature," continues Milshtain, "each epoch, each performer,
each social group, yes, even each listener recreates for himself his own
Chopin, one that is unlike the Chopin of past years and is unlikely to re-
semble that of a future Chopin. "26
Let us state here that all this is polemically narrow, and on the same
theme it is hardly likely that "each performer" or "each listener" gives one
the right to say he sees and feels his own Chopin "altogether unlike the
Chopin of past years and not resembling the Chopin of the future." This is
too much, but it is still true that many artistic phenomena were conceived
and interpreted in different ways in different epochs. The fact is that, in
the history of piano performance, dissimilar views of Chopin have domi-
nated at various times, constituting different but nevertheless correct ap-
proaches to the composer.
The playing by pianists in the past has been marked by a number of spe-
cial characteristics, especially when compared with the stage manner to
which today's listener is accustomed. Recordings of the playing of Esipova
or de Pachmann, Gabrilovich or Lhevinne, attests to this. One's attention
is first drawn to the significantly greater freedom, the lack of restraint, the
relaxation of expressive resources. Tempo rubato, agogic nuances, con-
trasts in dynamics (in particular forte subito or subito piano), and effects of
tonal color are very broad in earlier recordings. By today's standards they
might even be considered an overstatement.
Other early traits include asynchronic, "anticipated basses" (where the
left hand anticipates the right in chords), different sorts of "fading away,"
luftpausen, fervent splashes of passion, and similar melodramatic effects.
Thick, picturesque pedaling especially enveloped and eroded the texture.
Let me make one more important observation. The improvisational
character in playing manifested itself in all sorts of ways. It was as if music
spontaneously created the artist himself on the principle of "here, right
now, at this moment." The preliminary idea did not particularly draw atten-
tion to itself. That moment was created by an impulse of inspiration on the
concert stage and not merely by guessing what had been prepared in ad-
vanced and thoroughly worked out. In a psychological abstraction this
might signify that the performer at the concert consciously (or uncon-
sciously-this has no bearing on the matter at hand) set himself up as the
center of the performing process. He appeared in the capacity of the cen-
tral acting person in all that had taken place on the stage, not seeing any-
thing blameworthy in having concentrated all attention on himself and not
on the composer.
 78 Journal of the American Liszt Society

In the words of Gregory Kogan, many performing musicians of the past

would strive for "all being played as a brilliant print of one's artistic individ-
uality." They would render "their own reading of the idea itself, not stop-
ping in time before their improvised deviations (in the instance of d'Albert)
or those transcribed (Busoni), even from the very notes of the original. "27
Even that! And this was considered correct in the scheme of things.
What was uppermost at a concert was to captivate-to communicate and
impress the public-to put it behind oneself. "He who enjoys paradox
might say that pianists in the old days played not so much on the
keys ... as on the strings of the human soul; the instrument and the com-
position were the medium for them, the means of affecting the listeners."28
From here, even the stage manners of the performers and their fre-
quent eccentricities, with the obvious theatrical poses, gestures, and so
forth,29 all took place. Matters went on to the point of curiosity. Vladimir
de Pachmann, popular with prerevolutionary audiences, would turn to the
audience during the concert and sometimes say (not even interrupting his
playing), "Only listen to how expressively I play this phrase!"
The cult of virtuosity is completely understandable in this context. The
playing was brilliant, striking, and dashing, overwhelming listeners with a
flourish, "self-sufficingby one's virtuosity," if one might cite Josef Lhevinne's
recordings of the Chopin Polonaise in A-flat, op. 53; his Etudes; or Johann
Strauss's The Beautiful Blue Danube as arranged by Schulz-Evler. Such pianists
prided themselves on their virtuosity, worshipping it and openly exhibiting
a good show-furious tempi, which Lhevinne adored and Simon Barere,
Arsenyev, and others displayed.
At this time Liszt and Rubinstein stood at the head of the "department"
of world-famous pianists. De Pachmann, Esipova, Lhevinne, and other mas-
ters were no doubt extraordinarily talented artists, but their esthetics are
alien in many ways to contemporary listeners. As for musicians of lesser
caliber, their attributes at the turn of the century acquired at times an al-
most antiartistic character. By today's concepts and understanding their
mannerisms seem exaggerated-not so much late romantic as pseudo-
romantic. Their melodramatic effects, however, seemed to please audi-
ences of the time. There was a sugary sentimentality, a stilted pathos. One
made himself understood at the keyboard sublimely, with affected coquetry
or pathetic exultation dictated by circumstance. Many years later, Artur Ru-
binstein recalled that "Chopin was played by long-haired pianists rolling
their eyes and ladies sighing, how romanticl'P"
One might hear that kind of playing of Chopin's music in many piano
classes in the private music schools and academies of the Russian Musical
Organization. This was approximately how the compositions of Chopin
sounded in home musical evenings, in music meetings, and at benevolent
 Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition 79

concerts organized by music lovers. That manner may be characterized by

the term "salon music." Doubtless, the reflection of a salon can be distin-
guished clearly in many of Chopin's compositions. In Paris, Chopin per-
formed his works in these places more often than elsewhere.V To some de-
gree, his awareness of the world and his artistic taste during the 1830s were
formed in and by the salon, but which one? To that salon (in the very best
sense of the word) where he would meet Liszt and Berlioz, Mendelssohn
and Bellini, Heine and Theofile Gautier, Adam Mitzkevich, George Sand
and Ferdinand Delacroix, and where he would plunge into the world of re-
fined artistic-intellectual culture, absorbing the flow of high spirituality and
the life of fashion, which warmed and enriched his imagination.
Such was the salon that Chopin frequented. But in the other salons, pi-
anists of lesser talents transformed the salon into a kind of exhibition,
quite the opposite of Chopin's salon. Even Chopin-like virtuosity was soon
vulgarized. Virtuosity is inherent in Chopin's music; it is its innermost sub-
stance. But there is also that special charm that makes Chopin so enchant-
ing. And this very virtuosity springs from the brilliance and expressiveness
of the musical idea of the composer, the tempestuousness of his spirit,
from an outburst of passion. The pianistic splendor of Chopin is the direct
consequence of his creative rapture: it arises from his inspired and proud
artistry. This is pure, sublime, and wholly ingenious virtuosity, stripped of
any bravado or stage "chic" or vain love of self. And for the performer who
might have been considered a salon virtuoso, all wasjust the opposite. This
previous gem now turns out to be cheap imitation jewelry.
We might also note that the Chopin of the saccharine outpourings, the
Chopin of the vapid pianistic rhetoricians, is the creation not only of bad
performers but, in one sense, also of bad listeners. One is inseparable from
the other. The formula "demand determines the proposal" exists in art,
particularly in the second rate. In this instance, this kind of playing is not
the exception.
Rachmaninoff
Rachmaninoff stood somewhat apart from the circle of his countrymen
and artistic colleagues not only because he ultimately proved to be more
significant but also because his playing and manner stood out noticeably
from that of others.
Chopin's works occupied a prominent place in Rachmaninoff's con-
certs. Many of them have been recorded. No doubt there is no specialist
or enlightened music lover who would not know Rachmaninoff's playing
of the B-flat Minor Sonata, the A-flat Ballade, the Waltzes, the Nocturnes,
and other Chopin pieces. Asafyev,who wrote so descriptively of Rachmani-
noff the pianist, described his playing as "patches of strict intellectual
 80 Journal oj the American Liszt Society

discipline." He added that Rachmaninoff "created the life of melody" in

which the melodies of Chopin saturated his works with his courageously
epic coloring and his special quality of song. Each sound beautifies itself,
sings around itself. "32
Other memoirists note Rachmaninoff's dazzling, "lucid virtuosity"; oth-
ers note his rhythmic pulse; and a third group is enraptured by the pro-
found and sharply delineated dynamic contrasts. In all that took place in
Sergei Vasilyevich's playing at the keyboard, the iron authority of his will
was alwaysfelt, and this naturally produced an enormous impression on his
audiences. Not to yield to the magic of Rachmaninoff's playing was impos-
sible. One still feels the spellbinding magic when listening to his record-
ings of more than a half-century ago.
However, even during Rachmaninoff's life, disputes had already arisen.
In what measure was his Chopin stylistically true and precise? And do his
performances conform to the authentic spirit of the composition? Does
the mighty, masterful individuality of this pianist mutilate the fragile na-
ture of Chopin's music? Discussion on these matters went on for a long
time, and their echoes are somehow heard even in our day. Among the in-
numerable statements on this subject, one cannot avoid noting one attrib-
uted to Neuhaus:
I should suggest listening to two recordings by Rachmaninoff in suc-
cession for anyone who is interested in these questions: his playing of
the Chopin B-flat minor Sonata and his own Concertos. In both in-
stances the one and the same brilliant inimitable pianist is playing,
with his overwhelming technique, his sound, his demonic rhythm, his
prodigious expressiveness. But for those who might understand some-
thing of what is called questions of style or more simply truth in art
these two performances seem simply two different categories of the
art of performing. In one Rachmaninoff talks about himself and in
the other he changes to a strange speech with strange ideas and feel-
ings in his own way with a shattering strength . . . and, excuse me,
but in his playing of the Chopin Sonata I seem to hear a mixture of
the pale Balzac-like youth of the thirties and the broad Russian na-
ture, an almost impossible stylistic antinomyl-"

Notes

1. Yakov Milshtain, Articles on Chopin (Moscow, 1987).

2. "Goerke visited Germany and played his compositions for the Paris Conservatory, and
in London, together with Thalberg, [he] was crowned with new laurels. The loud
hand-clapping by Bennett, Moscheles, Chopin, and the inimitable Thalberg brought
him a European name" (anonymous review, published in the edition of Northern Bee,
no. 39. (1838). See also A. Alexeyev; Russian Pianists (Moscow, 1948), p. 131.
 Chopin and the Russian Piano Tradition 81

3. V. Stasov. "The School of Jurisprudence Forty Years Ago, 1836-1842," in Articles on

Music, 3d ed. (Moscow, 1977), pp. 32-33.

4. "Moscow Bulletins," (no. 32, April 18, 1836), signed by P. I. Shalikov. See also G.
Bernandt, Chopin in Russia, no. 2 (Moscow: Soviet Music, 1960), P: 31.
5. From an anonymous review published in The Northern Bee, no. 39 (1838). See also Alex-
eyev, p. 131. .

6. Ibid, p. 60.
7. G. Bernandt, "Syevernnaya Pchella," no. 107 (1838), p. 33.
8. B. P. Botkin, On the Esthetic Significance of the New Piano School, vol. 3 (1893), p. 71, citing
Bernandt, p. 35.

9. Ibid.
10. That is, polonaises.
11. N. Christianovich: Letters on Chopin, Schubert, and Schumann (Moscow, 1876), p. 10, cit-
ing Bernandt, Index of Compositions, p. 37.

12. Ibid.
13. B. Botkin. (pseud. Vasili Fortepiano), "A Concert by Mr. Goerke for the Benefit of the
Poor" (April 1, 1834), from The Northern Archive, no. 16 (1834), pp. 602-3.

14. A. Goldenweiser, On the Art of Music: A Collection of Articles (Moscow, 1975), p. 148.
15. Anton Rubinstein once said, not in connection with Chopin but on another occasion,
"I have gotten so accustomed to this music [Beethoven's Sonata in E-f1at, op. 81a] that
I might possibly write above every beat and indicate all those feelings, even the ges-
tures at parting, and the glances and embraces."

16. A. Rubinstein, A Literary Legacy (Moscow, 1983), p. 136.

17. G. Laroche. N. G. Rubinstein: Selected Articles, vol. 5 (Moscow, 1978), p. 88.
18. N. Kashkin, "Nicolai Gregoryevich Rubinstein," Moscow News, no. 65 (1906); Alexeyev,
(n. 2 above), p. 233.
19. N. Bertenson, Anna Nicolayevna Esipova (Leningrad, 1960), p. 45.
20. B. Asafyev, Chopin in Reproductions l7y Russian Composers/Chopin as We Hear Him: An An-
thology and a General Editorial with Footnotes by S. M. Khentova (Moscow, 1970).

21. Ibid., pp. 70-71.

22. Ibid., pp. 74, 75, and 77.

23. Ibid., pp. 77-78.

24. Ibid., p. 81.

25. Y Milshtain, Articles on Chopin (Moscow, 1937), p. 9.

26. Ibid.
27. G. Kogan, Selected Articles (Moscow, 1972), p. 69.

28. Ibid.
29. Many highly regarded memoirists have mentioned this.
82 Joumal of the American Liszt Society

30. S.M. Khentova, Chopin as We Hear Him (Moscow, 1970), p. 9.

31. As is well known, Adam Mitzkevich used to reproach Chopin that he (Chopin) suf-
fered too often from too much salon life, from which his creative life suffered.
32. B. Asafyev, "Chopin in Reproductions by Russian Composers," in Khentova, ed., pp.
69,84.

33. H. Neuhaus, Thoughts, Recollections, Diaries (Moscow, 1975), p. 201.