I made one change at first, in the introduction, after the first phrases of the muted trumpet. I didn't want to hurt the old man's feelings, but then I thought, Wait a minute, this is my music, and not Glazunov's. Why should I feel ill at ease? There's a lot I don't like in his music, but I don't suggest he change it to suit me. And I reinstated the original before the first performance. Glazunov was very angry, but it was too late. So I wasn't as malleable as Glazunov had been in his day. Of course, he was two whole years younger at the time.
After his brilliant debut, Glazunov had a rosy and completely de-1 64
served future ahead of him. He lived well and peacefully. Not like me.
He never had to worry about money, while that care always hung over my head. The wealthy Mitrofan Beliayev,* as you know, considered Glazunov the new musical messiah, and published whatever Glazunov wrote. He published quickly and paid generously.· Patrons are always more generous than the state, at least so it seems to me. So Glazunov could devote himself exclusively to his music and particularly to his emotions, since; as I've told you, he had good reason to emote.
He lived that way, quietly and peacefully, as none of us ever has.
Glazunov was totally indifferent to the social upheavals of the period, he saw the world only through music, not only his own but other music as well. He was a huge musical ear.
Mikhail Gnessint and I were speaking of Glazunov once and Gnessin made a perceptive remark about the man he knew so well; he said Glazunov's basic emotion was delight in an exquisitely arranged universe. I've never experienced that delight.
Of course, Glazunov had many childish traits-his subordination to his mother, the revered Elena Pavlovna, when hundreds of people were subordinate to him, and that voice as quiet as a roach's, and that huge fish tank in his apartment. (Glazunov liked to feed his fish.} And his childish love of conducting. I think he always thought of the orchestra as a large shiny toy. But you can't play games with an orchestra. I tried a few times and gave it up. Why bother?
A miracle happened with Glazunov, one that can only happen in Russia. An edifying and mysterious evolution. This enormous elderly child gradually-gradually, not abruptly-became a public figure of immense significance. Glazunov began changing the moment he became director of the Petersburg Conservatory and eventually he turned into another person altogether.
This was a Glazunov who was simultaneously the old man and the new. The old Glazunov we knew from stories. But as I've said, there was no sharp, sudden change in his personality, so even in our times it
•Mitrofan Petrovich Beliayev (1836-1903), a millionaire merchant who devoted himself to disseminating Russian music. He used his money to establish a professionally run concert organization and a music publishing house.
tMikhail Fabianovich Gnessin (1883-1957), composer, professor at the Leningrad Conservatory, one of the eminent representatives of twentieth-century Jewish music. Gnessin's behavior during the "antiformalist campaign" is an outstanding example of steadfastness and firmness of conviction.
·
1 65
was often possible to see and hear the old Glazunov. And yet he was also the new Glazunov-a figure of epochal public resonance, a historic figure without exaggeration.
In our own time Glazunov was a living legend. In the twenty or more years that he headed the Petersburg, later the Leningrad, Conservatory, thousands of students graduated, and I'm certain that it would be hard to name even one who wasn't indebted to Glazunov in some way.
I realize that this is hard to believe now, but it is really so. There is no false sentimentality in my recollections. I despise sentimentality, can't bear it, and I'm not reminiscing so that sensitive ladies can bring their scented hankies to their eyes. I'm remembering so that the truth will be recorded, the truth that I saw and remembered, so that the phenomena of our cultural life that I witnessed will not be forgotten.
Glazunov was one of these phenomena.
He used to be a squire, and he became a man blessed for his good deeds by every working musician in the country. He composed when he really wanted to, for his own pleasure, without giving a thought to
"ideological content." And he sacrificed everything for the Conservatory-his time, his serenity, and finally, his creativity. Glazunov was always busy. He told friends who wanted to see him that he could only be seen in their dreams. And it was so. They say that he was extremely passive in his youth. Of course, Glazunov didn't become assertive in my day either, but he did develop the necessary firmness-and not only toward his subordinates or students.
The firmness of a boss toward his underling is worthless. It only outrages me, this notorious firmness. Glazunov became firm and calm in his dealings with big shots, and that's quite a feat.
Gnessin told me that before the Revolution, Prime Minister Stolypin sent an inquiry to the Conservatory: How many Jewish students were there? And Gnessin, a Jew, elatedly gave me Glazunov's reply.
Delivered with quiet satisfaction, it was "We don't keep count."
And these were the years of pogroms, when Jews were considered rabble-rousers and had strictly curtailed rights. They weren't permitted into institutions of higher learning. An independent and even challenging answer like that could have created problems for Glazunov. But he wasn't afraid. Anti-Semitism was organically alien to 1 66
him. He followed the tradition of Rimsky-Korsakov in that sense, for Korsakov couldn't abide it either. He pointed with revulsion at Balakirev, who became rabid with the filthy trait in his old age. There's no need to bring up Mussorgsky here. It's a complex situation. But in
"Korsakov's school" there was no room for anti-Semitism.
Here's another typical incident. An anniversary concert in Glazunov's honor was held in Moscow in 1922. He went, and after the gala, Lunacharsky, the People's Commissar of Education, gave a speech. He announced that the government had decided to give Glazunov living conditions that would facilitate his creativity and be commensurate with his achievements. What would any other man have done in the guest of honor's place? He would have thanked him. The times were hard and lean. Glazunov, who had once been a substantial and handsome man, had lost a catastrophic amount of weight. His old clothes sagged on him as though he were a hanger. His face was haggard and drawn. We knew that he didn't even have music paper on which to write down his ideas. But Glazunov manifested an absolutely amazing sense of his own dignity. And honor. He said that he needed absolutely nothing and asked not to be put in circumstances that differed from those of other citizens. But if the government had turned its attention to musical life, Glazunov said, well then, let it rest on the Conservatory, which was freezing. There was no firewood, nothing with which to heat the place. It caused a minor scandal, but at least the Conservatory received firewood.
I'm not painting a picture of an angel. That's not like me at all.
There was much in Glazunov that I found laughable and incomprehensible. I'm not all that fond of his music, but I want to stress that man does not live by music alone. Even if it is the music by which you should be living-your own compositions. And I want to reiterate the following circumstance: Glazunov did not take on public roles because he lacked the gift for composing, or the technique. He was talented and a master of the art.