Almost every big musician has at least once been inspired by a woman
of the same caliber. Just like Pyotr Tchaikovsky was by Nadezhda von Meck.
The owner of a railway, a steel mill and a sugar making factory,
she for 14 years made sure the great composer could feel financially comfortable
writing his music…
And they never met once during those 14 years, their communication limited
to just the letters they were writing each other…
Nadezhda von Meck, nee Frolovskaya, was born in 1821 and was 19 years Tchaikovsky’s
senior. Marrying a minor landlord of German descent in 1848, she
used all her intelligence and drive to make him a big-time industrialist.
She managed her husband’s business and bore him 11 children. A big connoisseur
of the arts, Baroness von Meck was an avid concertgoer and a fine pianist
too. Music helped her live through the sudden death of her husband
in January 1876. Cutting short the traditional period of mourning, she
went to hear the First Piano Concerto written by the then up and coming
young composer Pyotr Tchaikovsky.
Stunned by what she had heard that night, Nadezhda wrote Tchaikovsky the
following missive where, among other things she said, “Dear Sir, I deem
it out of place here to say how delighted I was listening to Your music
because You must be accustomed to praise… I cherish my delight so much
that, pray believe me, listening to Your music makes me feel so much better…”
Tchaikovsky replied right away. “Thank You so much for the kind and flattering
message You sent me. As a musician, it makes me feel good to know
there are people out there, like You, who have such a sincere and warm
love for the arts…”
Eager to know more about Tchaikovsky, Nadezhda von Meck starts asking around
and, learning that the 27-year-old composer has to give lessons to make
ends meet, she wraps a handful of gold coins into a message and sends it
to the struggling genius…
By no means shocked by the generous gift from a wealthy lady, Tchaikovsky
curtly thanks Nadezhda for her very timely contribution.
Von Meck then offers him a handsome sum of money for a piano arrangement
of one of his orchestral pieces. “I’d like to express my incredible feelings
for you, but I hate taking up Your precious time... I would only
like to say that this is the highest feelings you can possibly find in
a human being…”
Responding to this expression of platonic love, Tchaikovsky writes, “I
wish You had said everything You wanted to say. I would be happy to know
Your opinion because I admire You so much. Please keep writing me, I really
appreciate it…”
In one of the letters that followed, Nadezhda admitted she had been studying
his biography, his views and had realized they looked eye to eye on many
things. “I’m happy that in You a musician and a human being come together
in harmony that inspires me to listen more and more and through Your music,
to understand Your thoughts and feelings. There was a time when I wanted
to make Your acquaintance. Now, the more I get enchanted with You the harder
I’m fighting back my desire to meet you – it seems to me that
I would not be able to talk to You if we did. I prefer to keep thinking
about You, to listen to You in Your music…”
In May 1877 Tchaikovsky for the first time ventures to ask her for money.
“You are the only one in the whole world I do not feel ashamed to ask from.
You are rich and generous and I would like You to be my sole lender to
avoid all these loan sharks out there. I already owe You a whole lot but
I could start paying it all off either from taking commissions or remitting
part of my salary to Your bank account…”
Nadezhda happily obliges saying it is all right and he can pay her back
whenever he wants to. Moreover, she offers him a monthly allowance so he
would never have to bother about money again. “I’m doing this so that You
stay inspired and Your talent keeps growing,” she writes.
On July 3, 1877 Tchaikovsky sends his benefactress a letter that breaks
her heart, “I want You to know that I’ve suddenly become a fianc?. Some
time ago I got a letter from a young lady who said she had fallen in love
with me… I decided to answer that heartfelt confession, of course, without
giving her any hope. We later met and I told her that I just liked her,
nothing more. Then she wrote me another letter. Reading it I realized that
if I turned her down she would kill herself. There was nothing I could
do, so I decided to marry her. I frankly told her I did not love her but
that I would be a good friend. Then I asked her if she still wanted to
be my wife. Of course, she said yes…”
Nadezhda von Meck wants to know every little thing about Tchaikovsky’s
wife and he diligently obliges.
“Her name is Antonina Milyukova. She is 28. Unstained reputation.
She is poor but kind and educated. The wedding is scheduled for later this
week. Pray, do not tell anyone about the details of my marriage.
You are the only one who knows…”
“Have fun and be happy,” the Baroness writes back trying hard to hide the
pain and anguish of an ageing woman who has lost her loved one…
Three weeks after the wedding a despondent Tchaikovsky writes the following
letter to his old friend, “As soon as the wedding ceremony was over and
we remained alone, I suddenly realized that my friendship for her was all
gone and I now hated her! My musicality was gone; all our future life together
seemed a pathetic comedy. Heartbroken, I wanted to die…”
The Baroness advises the composer to find solace in music. She sends him
an impassionate letter saying she holds him so dear, how much she needs
his music and recommending him to go to Italy to relax and regain his piece
of mind.
Tchaikovsky does leave Russia, but not for Italy where Nadezhda is awaiting
him, but goes to Switzerland from where he writes her a letter with the
following description of his wife, “She is not beautiful but she is cute,
mincing and always eager to impress. Her head is absolutely empty, just
like her heart. She was kind to me, that’s true, but there was no sincere
affection behind all that petting, just an attribute of family life, nothing
more… She never once asked me about my work and my plans. She does not
know a single note I have written. All she talks about is the men who loved
her or human vices. This was driving me mad, my dislike for her eventually
degenerating into plain hatred…”
The Baroness is making every effort to help Tchaikovsky get rid of his
spouse. She also gives him money, enough to quell the anger of an abandoned
woman. She wants to always be informed about his work and is happy to learn
that he has written several new pieces he really feels proud of…
About a year later Nadezhda von Meck outpours all her pent-up love for
him. “When You got married I had a terrible feeling, as if my heart was
tearing apart. The very thought of You and this woman being together was
so unbearable… It made me feel good to know You were not happy with her.
I blamed myself for feeling that way but I hope I never let you know how
I felt. I hated this woman for making You feel bad but I would hate you
a lot more if she made You feel good… It seemed to me she had deprived
me of what was only mine because I’m entitled to this, because I
love You like no one else in the world, because I admire you like no one
else does… Forgive me this involuntary confession… I betrayed myself…”
In 1879, sensing that Tchaikovsky was slowly getting back to life, Nadezhda
von Meck wrote in her letter to the composer: “Tell me, have You ever loved
someone? I don’t think so because You are too much in love with music to
fall for a woman…”
“You want to know if I have ever loved a woman, my friend? The answer is
yes and no. But if You ask me if I ever was happy in love, I will say never!
If You ask me if I understand the power of love, I will say yes I do! But
I think that music is the only way you can express all the aspects of this
wondrous feeling.”
“My feeling is that I have a lot of competition out there, that You have
friends You like more than You do me,” the Baroness pushes on. “But
You will never belong to anyone more than me because no one will ever be
able to feel Your music like I do…”
Tchaikovsky’s response is strictly polite, “I want to thank You, my friend,
for everything You’ve done for me. I will never forget it…” By this
he certainly means the monthly allowance he is getting from the Baroness
and several lump sums she gave him to accommodate the wife he had abandoned
and to pay for his trip to Italy.
Nadezhda von Meck invited the composer to spend the summer of 1878 in her
estate outside Moscow promising, of course, not to show up herself. “There
in the blissful silence You will feel relaxed and inspired,” she writes.
There, in that beautiful mansion, nestled comfortably amid a gorgeous garden,
Tchaikovsky wrote a violin triptych he called Souvenir d’un lieu cher.
Meanwhile, Nadezhda von Meck is traveling in Europe. In Paris she goes
to a concert of Tchaikovsky’s music. “I can’t describe in words how I feel
listening to Your music…”
The Baroness insists that Tchaikovsky travel more and meet with European
celebrities, including the great Russian writer Ivan Turgenev who now makes
his home in Paris.
Tchaikovsky’s reply is somewhat surprising. “Essentially I am a savage
severely pained by each new acquaintance I make. Maybe this is because
I’m too shy, too apprehensive or maybe I simply have no need meeting people.
I pretend having fun mingling with strangers, I’ve never tried to make
anyone’s acquaintance and whenever something like that happened, I always
felt disappointed. That’s exactly how I felt meeting with Leo Tolstoy.
It was such a pain just sitting there and listening to this genius saying
all those stupid things about music... He said Beethoven was a mediocrity.
There was nothing I could do but argue with him. And even though he cried
listening to my music, nothing good came out of that acquaintance.
That’s why, my friend, I do not want to meet Ivan Turgenev because I would
hate to be disappointed…”
The next summer of 1879 Tchaikovsky spends in another of Nadezhda’s estates
located a few miles away from his house. Even though by then they
were already too well aware of each other’s schedules to avoid even
a chance encounter, one day their carriages met on a village road. After
a momentary uneasiness, Tchaikovsky raised his hat; both of them looked
away and moved on…
An hour later a messenger fetched a note from Tchaikovsky. “I’m sorry for
my bad timing which, I fear, upset You. This will never happen again.”
They had several more such cursory brushes but never uttered a word…
In the fall of 1879 Tchaikovsky sends the Baroness a piano arrangement
of his Fourth Symphony. In his letters to her he calls it “our” symphony
because it is dedicated to Baroness von Meck even though the dedication
on the cover only says it is devoted to “my best friend”. Outlining in
detail the composition’s program, Tchaikovsky wrote, “This piece is all
about destiny, the fatal force that prevents the fulfillment of one’s desire
for success.”
“I play and I can’t play enough, I listen and I can’t hear enough… My whole
body is literally permeated with divine sounds, exciting my nerves and
so exhilarating my mind that I’ve spent the past two nights in a state
of frenzied delirium wanting to hear your music again and again…
More letters follow with Tchaikovsky telling Nadezhda about his new compositions
and the response they are getting from the audiences. He describes the
first nights she has missed realizing full well that this woman is probably
the only one in the whole wide world who is seriously interested in what
he is doing and what he is all about… He complains about not everything
he writes being equally good, complains about the critics and describes
his impressions of what he has seen and heard in Europe. In his letters
Tchaikovsky also speaks about his sanctum sanctorum – his faith in God.
“I often pray, tearful, asking the Almighty to forgive me and make me wiser...”
Nadezhda is now writing more rarely about her own life in the letters she
sends to her good friend who is getting more and more famous each day…
Tchaikovsky, his life and the music he writes, remain the primary focus
of her attention. Only rarely does she venture to tease his ego or make
him feel jealous. Once she informs him she has hired a new music
teacher for her kids from Paris. “This is the ultimate scion of the Paris
boulevards – an amazingly talented young man, Claude Debussy. His piano
playing is absolutely divine and he has a lot of flash too! And, on top
of it all, he writes excellent pieces. He’s a real Godsend to us, he really
is!”
Tchaikovsky is not at all jealous and finds in the face of the young Frenchman
a certain similarity with the great Anton Rubinstein as a young man. “I
wish to God that this French boy is as happy as the King of the Pianists
was,” Tchaikovsky writes back.
The Baroness inquires about Tchaikovsky’s new work and he writes how worried
he is about the upsurge of terrorism in Russia. “My feeling is that we
are sitting on a volcano which can blow up any moment and devour us all,”
he writes.
The sense of alarm eventually brushes off on his music…
Meanwhile, Nadezda von Meck starts having problems all her own, though
of a more mundane nature. Her business is teetering precariously
on the verge of collapse, her losses are running into millions and it looks
like she will never be able to put her business back on track. And still,
as a real fighter, she is trying hard to stay afloat hoping there may still
be a way out and certain that she will be able to finance her beloved composer…
After years of lavish financial handouts to Tchaikovsky, the Baroness found
herself in a financial squeeze losing millions to slowing business activity
and poor management. Only once, it was in 1881, did she mention her
problems in a letter, but that was well enough to make Tchaikovsky feel
worried…
He promptly writes back telling his benefactress that he can easily do
without her generous help. “For God’s sake, rest assured that our two conservatories
hold their doors wide open for me, which means that financially I feel
pretty comfortable now. I treasure my freedom and the luxury I live in,
but all this would immediately become a burden if I knew that all comes
at the expense of my too generous friend! Pray, tell me everything! You’ve
always been so generous to me and it will make me feel miserable to know
that the help You are giving me is doing You any harm…”
Much as she feels the pinch of the financial crunch, the Baroness doesn’t
even want to hear that and tells the composer she has managed to make up
for the losses by selling off shares of one of her rail companies.
Meanwhile, Tchaikovsky is fast becoming a celebrity, admired by the high
and mighty, even the Emperor himself who commissions him to write music
and presents him with a ring with a huge diamond. “His Majesty said he
loved my music and, overall, was very kind to me. I was introduced to Grand
Duke Konstantin Romanov who is a pretty good poet. I might put some of
his poems to music,” Tchaikovsky writes to Nadezhda von Meck.
Stung by her friend’s growing popularity, the Baroness cheers up each time
he complains about some problems, eager to help… “I am someone who always
does what her heart tells her. I need someone to love, pity and pamper…”
she writes.
Tchaikovsky is quick to take the Baroness at her word. “My dear friend,
I cannot but ask You for help,” he writes in June 1888. “Surprising as
it may seem now that I have toured Europe and receive a pension from the
Tsar, I still need money. My voyage surely added to my popularity,
but I spent an awful lot too and so, right now I’m high and dry… I implore
You to send me some more…”
The Baroness is happy to be able to help out and immediately sends the
required sum. Two months later Tchaikovsky asks for more and once again
she is happy to oblige. Well, 4,000 rubles are nothing if that’s what a
great composer needs to finish a new symphony…
Meanwhile, they keep drifting apart… Tchaikovsky no longer asks for
her opinion about his work. Without any warning he rehashes Alexander Pushkin’s
mystic story “The Queen of Spades” to an opera. He only sends her a short
letter from Rome saying the work is going well…
Feeling wounded, Nadezhda starts imagining that it is her, the aging
millionaires, the composer has in mind picturing the Old Countess who keeps
her millions in the safe. And still, she as always, notifies her friend
about the new installment she has just placed on his account…
Meanwhile, Tchaikovsky becomes the butt of public speculation with Nadezhda’s
relatives and friends all abuzz about his private life and homosexual ways.
And telling her over and over again that she is giving too much to make
this talented scallywag feel good…
In September 1890 the Baroness, no longer able to hold back her indignation,
informs the composer she is now too strapped financially to help him any
longer, something she had regularly done the past 13 years… A few days
later she receives the following message.
“My dear friend, I really feel awful about Your problems but I want You
to know that my financial situation is getting better and better... The
only thing that worries me that it is You who will no longer be able to
live Your life the way You always used to. As to me, I will never ever
forget what You’ve done for me. You saved my life because without Your
timely intervention I would have never made it, really… This is something
I will never forget as long as I’m alive… You know, it really makes me
feel good that now that You can no longer afford sharing with me I have
this opportunity to say how grateful I am. I kiss Your hands and I want
You to know that I, like no one else in the world, share in full measure
the problems besetting You these days…”
Nadezhda sends no reply. Just like she never allowed herself to meet him
before, she decides to stop writing to him, too, making do with what she
can read about him in the press. His “Queen of Spades” is a big hit
in St. Petersburg, juts like his US tour… He enjoys standing ovations in
Warsaw, Hamburg, Paris… They say he is now writing ballets too… She never
liked ballets…
She occasionally inquires about him from her son-in-law and Tchaikovsky’s
onetime student Vladislav Pakhulsky. Always jealous about his mother-in-law’s
financial outlays, Pakhulsky readily produces a letter he has just received
from the composer, some of the lines carefully underlined by the addressee…
“It makes me feel so sad and insulted that the Baroness has stopped writing
me and that she is no longer interested in my work… You must be well aware
of the fact that Baroness von Meck notified me that, being broke, she would
not be able to help me. I wish our friendship lasted forever, but now I
see that this is hardly possible because my impression is that she just
couldn’t care less about me now… The overall impression is that I stopped
writing her the moment she stopped helping me… This makes me feel so wretched,
so terribly humiliated… I thought nothing could ever change what she said
she always felt for me. Well, it looks like she does not care about me
any longer... Maybe because I never really knew her, she seemed a kind
of an ideal to me… Never have I felt so humiliated before… Please, do not
show this letter to the Baroness. If she asks about me, tell her I’m fine
and writing a symphony…”
Ailing and almost broke, Nadezhda von Meck keeps watching Tchaikovsky’s
progress… Retiring to the countryside, she learns from newspapers that
he has been awarded an honorable doctorate at Cambridge University, that
on October 16, 1893 he conducted the premiere of his 6th Symphony in St.
Petersburg. Then she learns about his sudden death… Dazed by the news,
she is desperate to know if he mentioned her name before passing away.
..
The people who were by his side said he did. Just what exactly he wanted
to tell her during those final moments of his life she would never know…
…It felt as if some vital part of her body was gone now, that the one she
never once talked to was taking her with him… On January 14, 1894, less
than three months later, Nadezhda von Meck died, apparently unaware that
her name would forever be associated with that of her great friend, Pyotr
Tchaikovsky…
03.28.2006
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