Stravinsky: The Illustrated Lives of the Great Composers.

Stravinsky

Preface

Igor Stravinsky was probably the most influential figure in the musical life of the twentieth century. He was certainly one of the most controversial. Catapulted to international fame by his ballet The Firebird at the age of 28, he went on to produce a corpus of around 100 works which radically altered the direction of contemporary music and divided opinion throughout the musical world.

These works are generally grouped into three periods — the ‘Russian’, the ‘neo-classical’ and the ‘serial’ - but while such divisions may follow the broad contours of Stravinsky’s musical development, they also serve to mask the essentially protean nature of his talent. Never fully satisfied with what he had achieved, and more interested in the act of creation than in the catalogue of his works, Stravinsky can be said to have reinvented himself with each new composition. Certainly, there can be few composers in the history of music, and none of equivalent stature, whose output is so stylistically various while at the same time so wholly and consistently characteristic. Like his friend and colleague Pablo Picasso, with whom he has often been compared, Stravinsky can seem to be many different artists, but is always finally and unmistakably himself. His creative career lasted more than 60 years. But from the riots which greeted the first performance of The Rite of Spring in Paris in 1913 to the chorus of bewilderment and anger with which his last great serial works were received in many quarters in the 1950s and 1960s, he continued to confound and astonish by his capacity for self-renewal, remaining constantly one step ahead of critics and supporters alike.

At the heart of Stravinsky’s music, as in the character of the man himself, lies a deep dichotomy between energy and constraint. A meticulously disciplined composer — he once said he identified with Van Eyck, who would labour for months with a magnifying glass to paint a perfect beetle - he could produce music of such visceral force as The Rite of Spring or the Symphony in Three Movements; and while famously denying that music could express anything at all, he created some of the most deeply felt devotional works of the twentieth century, as well as such lyrical masterpieces as Apollo and the neglected ‘melodrama’ Persephone.

Similarly, he was in life at once a highly driven and a highly guarded personality. Few composers have lived so long in the spotlight of publicity. But for all the films and recordings, for all the hundreds of thousands of words written by and about him since he first burst onto the international stage in 1910, Stravinsky the man remains a strangely elusive figure. Not only do his own writings on life and music conceal as often as they illuminate; many of the most important are mediated through the voices of others. The Poetics of Music, his most extended treatise on his own art, was drafted by the composer Roland-Manuel, and many of his published statements on individual works were actually written by friends and associates. The primary published sources on his life are also partly the work of others: the Autobiography was largely ghosted by his friend Walter Nouvel, once the company secretary of Diaghilev’s Ballets Russes; and the invaluable series of ‘conversation books’ which appeared from the late 1950s were jointly produced with the great Stravinsky scholar Robert Graft, who was effectively a member of Stravinsky’s family circle for the last 23 years of the composer’s life. Graft, to whom any biographer of Stravinsky must owe an incalculable debt, has also published, under the title Stravinsky: Chronicle of a Friendship, the diary he kept during the years of his closest association with the composer - a document the immediacy and elegance of which justifies the title of Stravinsky’s Boswell so often, if somewhat misleadingly, accorded him. A longer list of Craft’s publications with and about Stravinsky, which also include a three-volume selection from the composer’s voluminous correspondence, is given in Further Reading on page 195.

Given the centrality of the conversation books and the Autobiography as first-hand sources - and in the case of Stravinsky’s earlier Russian years almost the only sources — most published accounts of the composer’s life have drawn heavily on them, either in summary or by direct quotation. This book is no exception, and the author and publishers would like to thank the originators of all those sources for permission to include the quotations made in the text.

As far as possible, throughout the book Russian names have been transliterated according to a consistent convention. However, for the greater part of his life Stravinsky was an exile from the Russia of his birth, first in Europe and later in Hollywood, and many of the key figures in his biography were either also exiles or cosmopolites who adopted the forms and conventions most appropriate to the circles in which they lived and worked; indeed, Stravinsky himself used different forms of his name at different stages of his career. We have therefore preferred familiarity to consistency where it would seem artificial to do otherwise: for example, Serge Diaghilev is preserved in place of the purer Sergey Dyagilev, and Alexandre Benois in place of Aleksandr Benua. For the most part, the style of Russian names thus follows that used in the Oxford Dictionary of Music.

The titles of Stravinsky’s works are given in English, with the French version, where it is also current, in brackets after the first major reference (for example The Rite of Spring (Le Sacre du printemps)). In those very few cases where the English version is seldom used (for example, Jeu de cartes), the English is given in brackets after the first major reference. No attempt has been made to include transliterations of Russian titles, except where the French and English versions of a title are both virtually unused (for example, Zvezdoliki).

The style of quotations is of course left unchanged, even where it conflicts with the conventions just outlined.

Another complication confronting any biographer of Stravinsky is the difference between the Old Style (Julian) and New Style (Gregorian) calendars. The nature of the complication is explained in the first chapter (see page 11); it is worth noting here, though, that the New Style calendar has been used throughout, except where the text indicates otherwise or where it is unclear which calendar is intended.

Like the other titles in this series, this book makes no attempt at detailed musicological analysis. Rather, it seeks to set Stravinsky’s music in the context of his life, and his life in the context of his times. Those times were a vortex of artistic, social and geopolitical change, in which Stravinsky was deeply involved, both as subject and as shaper. Relentlessly gregarious when not in the throes of composition, he counted among his friends a glittering cross-section of the century’s social and cultural elite, from Diaghilev and Cocteau to Auden and Picasso, from Chaplin and Hitchcock to the old aristocracy of Europe, and his biography touches milieux as various as the drawing rooms of Tsarist St Petersburg, the studios of the great Hollywood movie magnates, and the reception suites of the White House and the Kremlin. This book traces the course of a remarkable creative career which spanned the convulsive final years of Imperial Russia and the social ferment of 1960s America, and served to establish Stravinsky not only as the most celebrated composer of his time but also as one of the defining forces of twentieth-century culture.

Chapter 1

Early life (1882-1902)

‘I do not like to remember my childhood,’ Stravinsky told his long-time friend and associate Robert Craft, abruptly deflecting discussion of his early life. Elsewhere, he likened childhood to extreme old age as ‘a time of humiliations’ and described it, with unconcealed bitterness, as ‘a period of waiting for the moment when I could send everyone and everything connected with it to hell.’

More than a century after Stravinsky’s birth, it is impossible to uncover the springs of this implacable resentment. It is hard enough just to piece together the fractured chronology of his formative years. Most of what we know about Stravinsky’s first two decades derives from his Autobiography and from scattered reminiscences in the ‘conversation books’ published in the last years of his life. But both are at least partly the work of others, and both, by their very nature, are highly subjective accounts, committed to paper long after the events concerned; even the order of those events is not always clear or consistent, either internally or with what little external evidence has come down to us. What’s more, Stravinsky was, in life as in music, a great wearer of masks, and the image presented by his recollections, and especially his earliest recollections, is a conspicuously crafted one. Nowhere, then, is his much-remarked elusiveness more apparent than in respect of his childhood and adolescence. In this most documented of lives, the events of the early years remain obstinately dateless, visible only through a haze of impressions, evasions, supposition.

Igor Stravinsky aged 18 months

Igor Fyodorovich Stravinsky was born at midday on 17 June 1882 in the Russian seaside village of Oranienbaum on the Gulf of Finland. Even this apparently straightforward information, however, immediately needs to be qualified.

First of all, there is the difference between the Old Style (Julian) and New Style (Gregorian) calendars. The date of birth according to the Old Style calendar, which was in use in Russia until 1918, was 5 June; and to complicate matters still further, the difference between the two calendars increased by one day per century. Stravinsky therefore celebrated his birthday on 18 June for the greater part of his life. Secondly, Oranienbaum was renamed Lomonosov during the Soviet era-a reminder, if one were needed, of how radical a divide the 1917 Revolution was to prove for Russians of Stravinsky’s generation, and how critical in determining the course of his own future career. And finally, Oranienbaum was not even his home town; after that summer, he saw it again only during his momentous visit to the USSR at the age of 80. His parents were simply renting a house there for their summer holiday. Together with Igor’s two older brothers Roman (eight) and Yury (three), they lived some 40 kilometres to the west in St Petersburg (subsequently Petrograd and Leningrad and now St Petersburg again), where the new baby was formally baptised into the Russian Orthodox church on 11 July.

The Stravinsky family were well-to-do, cultured and conservative. Descended from Polish landowners, Igor’s father, Fyodor Stravinsky, was the principal bass at the Mariinsky Theatre, the imperial opera house in St Petersburg and hub of cultural life in the Russian capital. He was famous for his dramatic roles, and was much admired as a singer and actor by the leading musicians of his day, including Tchaikovsky, at whose funeral he was to be a pall-bearer. Fyodor had discovered his musical vocation while reading law at university in Odessa and Kiev, and subsequently studied music at the St Petersburg Conservatoire, making his debut at the Mariinsky six years before Igor’s birth, as Mephistopheles in Gounod’s Faust. A man of broad literary interests, he was well-connected throughout St Petersburg’s artistic community, and his huge private library, which included numerous musical scores, was important enough to be declared a national collection by Lenin’s Bolshevik government. He was a personal friend of Turgenev and Dostoyevsky, and Mussorgsky and Rimsky-Korsakov were among the regular visitors to the Stravinskys’ third-floor flat at 66 Krukov (subsequently Griboyedova) Canal.

According to Stravinsky, however, Fyodor was also an aloof and disciplinarian figure, given to disturbing outbreaks of rage, and Igor’s early years were shadowed by fear of him. Painfully illuminating is his account, in Dialogues, of how ‘as a child alone in my room, I once saw my father instead of myself in the looking-glass, and my already strong case of father-fears became mirror-fears as well’. Seventy-five years later, the very word ‘mirror’ still frightened him. That said, it is inevitably Stravinsky’s side of the story which has come down to us. Fyodor’s diary, by contrast, shows a man generally happy in his work and marriage and wishing the same blessings on his children. Robert Craft has noted the striking similarity between the two men’s handwriting, and Stravinsky himself compared his own touchiness before public performances with that of his father. Nor did the parallels end there. Stravinsky inherited Fyodor’s violent temper and would prove just as tyrannical a father to his own children. Perhaps the true cause of friction lay in too great a similarity of temperament.

Fyodor Stravinsky (1843-1902), the subject of Igor’s ‘father fears’

The composer’s mother, Anna Kirillovna (née Kholodovsky), was the daughter of a minister of agriculture in Kiev, where she met Fyodor during his stint at the city’s opera house. The young Igor found her no more approachable than his father; indeed, he thought it her mission in life to torment him. She seems never to have appreciated his music, and even when he was 40 years old and one of the world’s most celebrated living composers, would publicly take him to task for ‘criticising your betters’ (by which she meant St Petersburg’s ‘local genius’, Scriabin). Stravinsky claimed never to have felt more than a sense of duty towards her. Even in adulthood, however, he remained fearful enough of her bad opinion to conceal those aspects of his private life of which he knew she would disapprove - notably his long affair with Vera de Bosset, who was to become his second wife.

Nor did the young Stravinsky - ‘Ghima’ to his family - feel any closer to his older siblings. He admired his eldest brother Roman, whom photographs show as a dashing young man in cadet uniform, but the gap in years and interests was too great to be bridged before Roman’s early death in 1897. Despite the relative closeness in age, his brother Yury too was a marginal figure in Stravinsky’s childhood and as adults the brothers never met after 1912. Yury remained in Soviet Russia after the Revolution, and pursued a successful career as a structural engineer, dying in Leningrad shortly before the German blockade of 1941.

Stravinsky aged three and a half

Among the members of his immediate family, it was only in Gury, the Stravinskys’ fourth son, born in 1884, that the young Igor found a companion capable of giving him the love and understanding he felt their parents denied them, though even here he felt unable wholly to shed what his wife Vera would later memorably describe as ‘the carapace over the feelings’. Gury was the only other Stravinsky son to have inherited Fyodor’s musical talent. He took singing lessons and from 1912 to 1914 was a professional baritone in a private theatre in St Petersburg. Stravinsky wrote two settings of poems by Verlaine for him in 1910, and was grief-stricken by news of his death from typhus while serving on the Southern Front in 1917.

As in many an upper-middle-class household of the time, the affection of the servants went some way towards compensating for the parents’ perceived remoteness. Years later, Stravinsky would recall the protective friendship of the family retainer, Simon Ivanovich, who shared a cubby-hole under the stairs with stacks of Fyodor’s books, and the sense of security he felt with their Finnish cook, Caroline. He was closest of all to his nurse Bertha, whose voice, he said, was the most loving he ever heard in his childhood and whom he later recruited as nanny to his own children. (She was still in the composer’s service in Switzerland at the time of her death in 1917, which he openly admitted affected him far more deeply than that of his own mother some years later.) It is particularly significant that Bertha spoke German with her young ward. From his earliest years, Stravinsky’s essential Russianness was informed by a wider European culture.

Griboyedova canal, St Petersburg - the Krukov canal of Stravinsky’s childhood

The pattern of the family’s life was as regular as the seasons it followed. The year was typically divided between St Petersburg and the large rural estates of Stravinsky’s numerous aunts and uncles. The summer was spent in the country, the winter in town.

Summers were a time of cousins, picnics, sketching and amateur dramatics. They were also the time to which Stravinsky ascribed his earliest musical memories. One of the first of these, if his recollections are to be trusted, was of a large, red-haired, bearded old peasant sitting on a stump of a tree, wearing birch sandals and a red shirt. He was dumb, Stravinsky tells us, and the children were afraid of him. Nonetheless, curiosity would draw them to him, and then:

‘to amuse them, he would begin to sing. This song was composed of two syllables, the only ones he could pronounce. They were devoid of any meaning, but he made them alternate with incredible dexterity in a very rapid tempo. He used to accompany this clucking in the following way: pressing the palm of his right hand under his left armpit, he would work his left arm with a rapid movement, making it press on the right hand. From beneath the red shirt he extracted a succession of sounds which were somewhat dubious but very rhythmic, and which might be euphemistically described as resounding kisses.’

The young Igor would imitate this music at home, but when forbidden the ‘indecent’ actions claims to have lost all interest in the unaccompanied syllables. As with other such recollections, however, there is an artfulness in the description which invites scepticism. The fascination with rhythm, the interest in syllables independent of meaning, the delight in the unconventional, the insistence on the indivisibility of the musical idea — they all connect a little too neatly with the outlook of the mature Stravinsky.

Another early memory is of a crowd of women singing in unison as they returned from work in a neighbouring village. Stravinsky claimed to have been so struck by the tune that he remembered it perfectly, singing it to his parents when he got home and receiving in the process a rare compliment on the trueness of his car. If, as Stravinsky suggests, this recollection dates from before his third birthday, it is a remarkable harbinger of future talent. But again there are grounds for suspicion. There is, after all, little external evidence of musical precocity in the young Stravinsky to corroborate such reminiscences. Indeed, his first two decades of life must surely count as among the slightest in musical achievement of any major composer, and his parents — who, whatever their shortcomings, might reasonably have been expected to recognise musicianship when they saw it — actively encouraged him to pursue a different career. For all his claims that he was aware of it from earliest childhood, the roots of his vocation remain elusive.

However selective his musical memories of them, there can be no doubt that two of the places visited by the Stravinskys during these summers were to have a special significance in Igor’s life. The first was Pavlovka, a vast estate of farms and forests in the Samara Government, which was owned by his uncle Alexander Yelachich and which the boy first visited in 1885. Much as he disliked the bullying of his Yelachich cousins, he found his uncle’s devotion to music highly congenial and became an enthusiastic participant in the family’s piano duets. He also claimed