Is it not about time there was some serious discussion on this forum
about Tchaikovsky's mental state? Would that not help to further
illuminate his personality?
So far I have heard him described, mentally, and in various
places, as — feeble-minded, overly-sensitive, by-polar. Well I am
far from being a psychiatrist, but it strikes me that Pyotr
possessed what they call Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD. I would
love to her a psychiatrists diagnosis based on what we know of
Tchaikovsky.
Would no one else agree?
If it is BPD, as I suspect as an amateur psychiatrist— this would
account for his attempted suicide(s) and his self-esteem and sexual
identity issues.
George Boyd
One of the objectives behind the Tchaikovsky Research web-site is to
dispel the numerous myths that have grown up around the composer in the
years since his death. The notion that he suffered from some sort of
psychiatric disorder is one such myth, which sadly still endures today. It
can be traced back to western music critics in the 20th century, who
promptly reversed their earlier accolades when they learned that
Tchaikovsky was a homosexual — particularly after the scandal surrounding
Oscar Wilde's trial in 1895. The critic Richard Taruskin examined such
views in his article 'Pathetic Symphonist' (The New Republic, 6
February 1995):
The homosexual was now defined not by his acts but by his character,
a character that was certified to be diseased, hence necessarily alien
to that of healthy, "normal" people ... The process can be vividly
illustrated through the writings of the American critic James Gibbon
Huneker. Bowled over by Tchaikovsky's music on first acquaintance...
Huneker had written that Tchaikovsky was one of the elect who "said
great things in a great manner". Yet the critic explicitly withdrew his
former encomium in a collection of essays called Mezzotints in Modern
Music, published in 1899. He now alluded darkly to Tchaikovsky's
"psychopathic temperament," adding in affected commiseration that the
composer's "entire existence was clouded by some secret sorrow, the
origin of which we can dimly surmise, but need not investigate."
Sympathy gives way to revulsion by the time Huneker sums up his new
assessment of the formerly great musician. "There is no need of further
delving into the pathology of this case, but it is well to keep the fact
in view, because of its important bearing on his music, some of which is
truly pathological." The art, as well as the man, had been sexually
essentialized and sexually pathologized, and so they have remained in
much American and most English criticism.
Taruskin also cites the notorious Tchaikovsky: A Symposium
(1945), a collection of articles by various authors, mostly English, who
seem to have been attempting to out-do each other in their expressions of
aversion to their subject. "Tchaikovsky's mind, seen for a moment from a
scientific viewpoint, constitutes a textbook illustration of the
borderland between genius and insanity"- "It was no accident that such
music was conceived by a warped neurotic, shy and tortured" — (and on the Pathètique symphony): "This man is ill, we feel: must we be shown
all his sores without exception? Will he insist on not merely witnessing,
but sharing, one of his nervous attacks?".
It is often forgotten that Tchaikovsky is one of the most
well-documented composers in history. His archive includes no fewer than
5,260 letters, 22 diaries, 65 review articles and 7 newspaper interviews,
not to mention the copious testimonies of his contemporaries both before
and after his death in 1893. These texts are now available to researchers,
complete and unabridged, although sadly very few have yet been translated
into English. So is there evidence in any of these documents to support
the notion that Tchaikovsky had a "psychopathic temperament", or any other
form of psychiatric disorder? Quite frankly — no. They show a
surprisingly well-rounded individual, experiencing life's triumphs and disappointments, a wariness of
strangers but also great affection for his family and friends, a humorous and
playful nature, to whom people frequently turned to for advice on musical
and personal matters. From time to time
he would reproach himself for his "misanthropy" but, particularly in his
later years, he had a punishing list of business and conducting engagements
that he could not possibly have dealt with if he had been suffering from a
serious mental disorder. Even after learning of the death of his beloved
sister Alexandra while he was en route to America in 1891, he still
chose to go ahead with the gruelling journey, with only strangers for
company, complaining only that for a few days he did not feel up to
working on his ballet The
Nutcracker. The tour turned out to be
hugely successful and enjoyable, and those who met him in New York
commented on his "statesmanlike" appearance and his skill as a conductor.
If Tchaikovsky had been suffering from depression, then surely it would
have manifested itself inder such extreme conditions.
Of course it is always possible to single out specific incidents when the
composer was at a low ebb — particularly in the immediate aftermath of
his unsuccessful marriage in 1877 — but even during this difficult time,
when writing in intimate detail to his brothers, you will find no
suggestions that Tchaikovsky contemplated ending his own life. Writing
twenty years after the event, Tchaikovsky's friend Nikolai Kashkin claimed
that the composer had attempted to contract pneumonia by wading into an
icy river in Moscow at the dead of night, claiming that he had
accidentally slipped during a nocturnal fishing expedition. The idea,
according to Kashkin, was that the composer would escape from his wife by
illness or death, but his health was so sound that there were no ill
effects. Whether or not the river was particularly chilly at the peak of a
hot Moscow summer, the accuracy of Kashkin's account must be suspect
because he claimed to be telling it in the composer's own words,
supposedly recalled verbatim several years after Tchaikovsky's death. If
this had happened, then the composer's letters might be expected to
mention the cover story of this "accidental" plunge — but they do not. We
only have Kashkin's word that these events took place, and at the time
(the late 1890s) both he and the composer's brother Modest were keen to
provide some explanation for the breakdown of Tchaikovsky's marriage to
Antonina Miliukova, without mentioning the real reason (i.e. his
homosexuality). Exaggerating the composer's psychological
incompatibility would be one way to
achieve this, and we know that Modest was prone to such exaggeration.
For instance, Modest claimed that in 1866 Tchaikovsky so intensively on
his Symphony No. 1 that
he experienced "dreadful hallucinations, which were so frightening
that they resulted in a feeling of complete numbness in all his
extremities”. The dread of these nervous attacks recurring was such that
“all his life he abstained from working at night. After this symphony, not
a single note from any of his compositions was written at night”. But at
the time Tchaikovsky himself reported that "my health is fine, except that
recently I didn't sleep all night because I was so busy". And we also know
from his own letters that he did work at night when deadlines were
particularly tight, as he did in 1873 on the score of The Snow Maiden. Modest
also proves himself an unreliable biographer in other important respects,
such his false claim that he (Modest) came up with the title Pathètique for the Symphony No. 6.
While his three-volume biography of his brother is a remarkable
achievement, Modest's credentials for objectivity and reliability are not
far from impeccable, and his versions of events are not always
corroborated by other independent sources.
The caricature of a composer tortured by his sexual proclivities,
reculsive and frequently suicidal through depressive neuroses is not based
on the facts of Tchaikovsky's life, but it is still lazily trotted out as
accepted wisdom in the popular press. Mr Boyd can be forgiven for taking
this at face value; however, I would argue that the real question should
not be "What sort of mental disorder did Tchaikovsky have?", but "Why did
we ever think that Tchaikovsky had a mental disorder?".
Brett Langston
According to most recent studies, there is no hard evidence that
Tchaikovsky ever attempted any suicides. His self-esteem was higher than
ever during the last fifteen years of his life, especially after several
highly successful European tours and a triumphal American visit. He had
resolved his identity issues soon after his catastrophic marriage, when he
finally understood that there was nothing wrong in being homosexual. He
had some psychological issues, mostly related to oversensitivity, which
actually helped him to compose his most haunting melodies. For more
details, please read my books on this subject.
Alexander Poznansky
My own feelings on this matter suggest that Tchaikovsky was at the very
least hyper sensitive. I recall several instances. One when he was in his
early thirties. The composer and some friends paid a visit to the Berlin
zoo. While there they witnessed a boa constrictor being fed a large rat.
At the sight Tchaikovksy screamed and started to shake all over. His
companions brought him back to the hotel where Tchaikovsky spent the rest
of the day in bed in a fever. Another instance was when Tchaikovsky made
an appearance at a salon to accompany a singer. His two brothers Modya and
Tolya sat at either side of him in a seeming protective gesture. This i
believe occured in his thirties.
But i believe the biggest upset came when Tchaikovsky felt he had
committed a gross error in marrying Antonina. His reaction at the time in
September of 1877 suggest a man at the end of his tether. He fakes his
escape by telling his wife he was needed in Petersburg. His wife who
accompanied him to the station says that tchaikovsky stumbled as he went
to get a glass of water. When he arrives in Petersburg his brother who met
him at the station could hardly identify the composer so over wrought was
he. Then he was brought to a hotel where Tchaikovsky went into a coma for
24 hours...as Modest tells it. Here a man gives up his job and flees to
Switzerland to be away from his wife and whatever scandal this may have
precipitated. Would this be considered normal behaviour to take such
extreme measures? And what if Madame von Meck was not there to offer
financial assistance what would have happened then?
But there is an even more important development caused by his break
with Antonina and marriage aftermath. His output was affected. He wrote
less...and also the passion that was evidenced in the Fourth Symphony did
not resurfice till 1885 with Manfred. And so Tchaikovsky was afraid of
plumbing the full depths of his feelings during an eight year period
thanks to his ill conceived marriage. And so while Madame von Meck saved
the composer during this trying period i also believe that Tchaikovsky
missed the stimulus of people and the stresses of his teaching career
which forced him to interface with people. And these frustrations and
stimulation that people provided and the composer released in his music
was missing during this period. A stimulus that i believe Tchaikovsky
needed to turn to music and compose and do his best. His teaching duties
were not onerous and didnt really interfere with his composing.
In the post marriage years Tchaikovsky lived a hermits life...living at
times with his family or staying in hotels during his travels. He lived in
the country when he wasnt traveling alone and by himself. And i do believe
that in those last six years when he turned to conducting that he once
more received the stimulus which an artist needs in order to create. Yes
it was stressful to conduct and make public appearances but it was also a
creative stimulus. In short i believe Tchaikovsky's output would have been
different and more even had he not married. I really dont know how much
good it did for von Meck to allow him to withdraw from life with her
pension.
Not being a psychiatrist i would not venture to say what the nature of
his malady would be. But we know he did not like to meet new people...yes
of course he could be ingratiating but this was something he had to force
out. This also was part of his psychological makeup.
Al Gasparo
It would be interesting to know the source of the "boa constrictor"
story. Perhaps it is true, but usually such stories turn out to be wildly
exaggerated, or completely without foundation. For example, there is a
common myth that the young Tchaikovsky was terrified that his head would
fall off while he was conducting — which actually stems from a critic
mocking his habit of keeping his left hand under his chin while on the
rostrum. But this story has been twisted over the years in order to make
him sound absurd.
As far as his marriage break-up is concerned, we only have Modest's
word for Tchaikovsky's distraught state, and for the reasons I outlined
above, the accuracy of this account is suspect. Within days of leaving his
wife to be greeted by Modest in Saint Petersburg, he had resumed work on
the piano score of Evgenii
Onegin, and was asking his publisher whether he needed any
"romances, piano pieces, arrangements or translations?". This does not
sound like a man who was just recovering from a coma or nervous
exhaustion.
Tchaikovsky's life after his marriage was far from that of a hermit—in fact he spent very little time alone, as we know from his letters and
diaries of the period. After 1885 he rented his own homes in and around
the town of Klin—a location chosen for its proximity to the railway line
from Moscow to Saint Petersburg. it may be surprising to learn that
between May 1892, when he moved into his last home at Klin, and his death
eighteen months later, only one in three of Tchaikovsky's nights was spent
under his own roof. The rest were taken up by business trips, concert
tours, rehearsals, etc., and he had a very active social life within the
musical circles of Saint Petersburg and Moscow. Perhaps when his letters
are finally made available in English, it will be possible to appreciate a
more rounded picture of Tchaikovsky the man, and to dispel most of the
myths surrounding him.
Brett Langston
In answer to Brett Langston's reply to my email I will quote from
Poznansky's biography "Tchaikovsky, The Quest for the Inner Man", 1991,
pages 108–109..."de Lazari notes that he was particularly struck by an
incident at the Zoological Garden in Berlin. ....a rabbit was placed in
the boa's cage. In a flash the rabbit dissapeared in the serpent's maw. At
the same moment Tchaikovsky let out a terrible cry...he burst into sobs
and became completely hysterical...and we had to take him back to the
hotel at once. It was a long time before we were able to calm him down.
Until evening he remained feverish and he could not eat anything"...
Regarding the holding of the chin affair....In March 1868 in his first
attempt, Tchaikovsky conducted dances from The Voevoda, "and had felt that
his head would fall sideways unless he fought to keep it upright"...(per
David Brown, "The Final Years" page 97).. and so he avoided
conducting...In October 1886 Tchaikovsky pointed out to his patroness "all
my life I have been tormented by awareness of my inability to conduct. It
has seemed to me there is something shameful and disreputable in not being
able to stop myself trembling with fear and horror at the very thought of
going out in front of the public with a baton"....However on Jan 31, 1887
Tchaikovsky in his third attempt overcame his fear and conducted the
premier of "The Enchantress".. as a further inducement " he was not
unaware that a conductor could enjoy more celebrity in his own time than a
composer." And so began the composers career as a conductor.
In regard to the events that followed Tchaikovsky's hurried exodus to Petersburg in September 1877, Poznansky puts it this way "upon his arrival
in the capital the composer suffered a complete emotional collapse. A week
later apparently on the advice of his doctors he went abroad"....To his
colleague Albrecht he wrote on October 25, 1877.."had i stayed one more
day in Moscow I should have lost my mind or drowned myself in the foul
smelling waves of the ....Moskva river"... im sorry but i have no choice
but to quote from the latest biographies of the composer...
After his marriage Tchaikovsky was in a position to live his life as he
pleased. Yes he had many friends and relatives that he frequented but
never again would he live in a great metropolis like Moscow or Petersburg
where he was well known. His contacts were mostly of his own choosing...of
course as he became a celebrity he was obliged to attend many luncheons he
would have preferred to do without...his life was filled with travel and
conducting when living in the neighborhood of Klin from 1887.. But from
1878 to about 1887 he avoided public contact as i remember.
Al Gasparo