This Prelude, in spite of being tremendously hackneyed, still remains one of the most monumental pieces of music for the pianoforte of its kind in existence, and its popularity shows no sign of abatement. The reason is not far to seek. In the first place it obviously possesses a significance which it is the task of the performer to interpret; and, in the second place, it is the work of a composer who is also a fine pianist, and knows how to write for his instrument. In other words,it is pianistic. Sergei Vassilievich Rachmaninoff is a romantic personality, and certainly an outstanding figure in music to-day.
Though he cannot be classed amongst the extremists, he is, nevertheless, truly modern in that his style shows a natural development of his particular gifts of melody and sonority, and that his later compositions
prove him to be getting more profound and more polyphonic, besides making the most exacting demands as regards technique. As he is still in the prime of life, having been born at Novgorod on April 1, 1873, the world may
reasonably look for more fine compositions from him. His musical talent was evinced at an early age, for he was only nine when he became a student of the pianoforte at Petrograd Conservatoire. After three years there, he proceeded
to Moscow, where he studied for seven years at the Conservatoire with Zvierev and Siloti for pianoforte, and with Taneiev and Arensky for theory and composition.
His first appearance in England was at a Philharmonic Concert in 1899, when he conducted a performance of his “Fantasie in E”, Op. 7, for orchestra, and also played two pianoforte solos—an
“Elegy” and the “Prelude in C sharp minor”. Although not a voluminous composer, Rachmaninoff has, nevertheless, produced a considerable quantity of works in almost every branch of the art—orchestral
music, chamber music, songs and choruses, sacred music, operas, and, of course, music for his own instrument, the pianoforte, of which I would specially mention his three concertos, his preludes, and his very attractive variations
on the theme of Chopin’s “Prelude in C minor”. During the last few years he has suffered, in common with manyother artists, from the disturbed state of Russian pol:tics, and has had to leave his native country.
He is at present in America, where he is enjoying enormous popularity, both as a composer and as a pianist.
So much for the man. Now for the piece with which his name is indissolubly connected. It made his reputation with the general public, who imagined that the composer had worked to a programme. Regarding
the nature of this there were all kinds of fantastic surmises put forth. If I repeat one of the least grotesque of these, it is not because I vouch for or even believe in its truth, but because it may possibly aid the student
to gain some insight into the character of the music. Briefly, the story is to the effect that the music depicted the dejection of the exiles as they set out for Siberia with the clash of the bells ringing in their ears—a
dejection deepening into despair, until finally hope reasserted itself, and the bells brought them an assurance of the ultimate triumph of right over wrong. Whether this be so or not, the effect of bells is obvious, while
the immanence of deep feeling—nay, of acute suffering—is undeniable.
In placing before the reader’ my ideas of how this fine piece ought to be rendered, I should like to say that the interpretation now set forth is the outcome of my own personal feeling and of having
performed the “Prelude” many, many times in public. It will be seen that I do not slavishly adhere to the printed expression marks.
For convenience of reference, it will be well to note the form of the piece, which is plainly divisible into three parts. The first consists of fourteen bars, the middle section of twenty-eight bars, and
the third part, which is an amplified version of the first, of thirteen bars, the last six bars constituting the coda.
The fundamental idea of the first part is that of two simultaneous themes. First, there is the motive of the bells in bars one and two, repeated and developed in succeeding bars; and then there is the
melody above it, which is harmonised in chords. One sometimes hears the octaves played as if they, and they alone, were the melody, the chords being treated merely as accompanimental, a reading which robs the piece of its
poetry and poignancy of feeling.
In starting the “Prelude” do not rush the tempo (incline rather to the slow side than the reverse); use the pedal very discreetly so as not to blur the effect, and do not indulge overmuch in
rubato. The first two bars, which contain the key to the whole of the first section, must be brought out with great vehemence, the C sharp in particular being played with impressive force, and slightly prolonged beyond its
written value. It will thus persist, while the upper melody enters gently, but still so as to be heard distinctly. The quaver figure in bars three, four, five, and six must be played, not with equal force, but so as to suggest
a sigh, with a crescendo from the first chord to the second, followed by a diminuendo. This melody should, as it were, float above the bell motive, which is played forcibly throughout, the end of the passage having a crescendo
to the pedal point G sharp in bar seven, which should be played fortissimo. Here for two bars we have a loud clangour of bells. Render bar seven with a slight accelerando, and bar eight with a corresponding ritardando. In
bar nine the pianissimo returns, and the music is played as at first, but with a marked rallentando in bars thirteen and fourteen. Take care in bar eleven that the C sharp is held for its full value, and that in bar fourteen
the quavers in the left hand are brought into prominence.
We now come to the middle section, agitato, and here note that I am re-numbering the bars as from this point. Do not begin it too quickly, as otherwise the effect of a later climax will be missed; and
play it with a kind of muffled tone. The C sharp in the bass of bars one, two, four, and six struck rather sharply, with a suggestion of the clash of cymbals, the crotchets in the left hand in bars three, four, seven, and
eight imitating the sonority of the violoncello. At the ninth bar the F sharp in the melody should be played with an accent, and an accelerando begun, coupled with a crescendo to bar fourteen, where there should be great
sonority, the whole force of the piano being displayed, with but slight variation, and with ever-increasing speed, up to bar twenty-two. At the second half of this bar begins a passage which seems to suggest the culmination
of absolute despair. This passage should begin with a slight holding back of the tempo for about four beats, after which it proceeds with ever-increasing impetuosity and tremendous tone as far as bar twenty- seven, where
there is a slight ritardando.
After bar twenty-nine comes the return. to the music of the original subject, first section, but amplified, the general volume of sound being much augmented. The bell motive, A, G sharp, C sharp, should
receive great significance, bars one and two (re-numbering again) being exceedingly slow. It will be noticed that the composer has altered his marking of the emphasis to be given to the chords from bar three onwards; it is
no longer the sighs, but a song of triumph, that we hear. Therefore the chords must be played strongly, though the chief accent still falls on the second of each group of three quavers. Bars seven and eight suggest the joy-ringing
of bells in a great cathedral, and the tempo must be slightly, not markedly, quicker.
We are now coming to the end of this fascinating piece. After the exhilaration of triumph follows reaction. The effect of sighing returns (bar eleven) and for two bars there must be a rallentando molto.
The tempo primo is resumed at bar thirteen, and there follows a crescendo from mf up to bar sixteen, which should be given triple forte. To secure an effective and appropriate close needs a little care. There should be
in bar seventeen a distinct ritardando, the chord of the diminished seventh on the pedal point being given diminuendo. The last two bars should be as soft as possible, and the piece ends as if asking a question: “What,
after all, does the future hold?”.
So far as is feasible in print, the above represents my own interpretation of the “Prelude in C sharp minor” but, in conclusion, I cannot too strongly remind the student that a reading, to
be really satisfactory, must be the outcome of the player’s own artistic feeling and insight. Still, I am not without hope that these few suggestions may help him to a more intimate acquaintance with the significance
of the “Prelude”.
