It was more than 30 years ago that I first heard the music of Sergei Bortkiewicz, played by Moritz Rosenthal. It was the Etude, Op. 15, No. 8 and it absolutely enthralled me with its sweeping melody and great climaxes. I wanted to search out more of his gorgeous music, to play it myself. It was then than I realized that this was no easy task. Sergei Bortkiewicz was a composer relegated to the obscure back rooms of music's Hall of Fame and his major piano scores were no longer in print. In fact it took me more than 20 years to acquire most of his compositions for solo piano.
Such a situation really intrigued me. How was it that a composer born in the 19th century, a contemporary of Scriabin, Rachmaninov, Glazounov and others, who outlived all of them and died in 1952, should be forgotten so completely? He lived into the age of stereo recording and yet not a single example of his piano playing is available. He was a Russian, and no mention is made of him in books on music published in Russia.
It was only after I got a copy of his autobiographical sketches, "Erinerrungen" (Recollections), published in 1971 that I was able to understand partially, Bortkiewicz's character and Weltanschauung. These recollections, at times whimsical and amusing but never dull, also explain to a certain extent the oblivion into which he has been relegated.
Sergei Eduardovich Bortkiewicz, was born in Kharkov in 1877 in a wealthy family of land-owners. He spent a happy childhood in the family estate of Artiomowka, about 24 kilometers from Kharkov, and showed an early interest in music. At the insistence of his father, after finishing his schooling, he left for St. Petersburg and enrolled in the Faculty of Law, as well as the Imperial Conservatory of Music.
The Petersburg Conservatory at that time was held in high regard and counted professors such as Rimsky-Korsakov, Liadov, Glazounov, and Blumenfeld on its teaching staff. It was there that Bortkiewicz received his musical training, while at the same time trying to study law.
For three years he dutifully undertook his law examinations, but never completed his fourth year and decided to leave the University so as to proceed abroad for further musical studies. But before that he had to complete one year of compulsory military service so that the authorities would issue him a passport to travel abroad.
Indeed, it was one of his great desires from early youth. He especially wanted to go to Germany, the land of Goethe and Wagner, where he thought he could discover wider horizons, and get a more thorough education.
So in the fall of 1899 he started his military service in St. Petersburg, but soon developed a lung inflammation due to the rigorous military life and was discharged from military service because of poor health. Early next year he left Petersburg for good and travelled to Leipzig, where he became a student of Alfred Reisenauer, who had been one of the favored students of the legendary Liszt. Bortkiewicz, in turn, was one of the favorites of Reisenauer, and it is to him that he dedicated his splendid set of Etudes, Op. 15. It is with reluctance that he describes Reisenauer's alcoholism and his early death due to a heart attack at the age of 43, brought about by alcohol addiction.
After his first year of musical studies, Bortkiewicz spent the summer in Italy, learning Italian and giving concerts. He returned to Leipzig, studying assiduously, attending many concerts and was much impressed by the conducting of Arthur Nikisch. Years later, the conductor was enthusiastic about Bortkiewicz's Piano Concerto, No. 1, Op. 16 and strongly recommended its publication.
In July 1902, Bortkiewicz completed his studies at the Leipzig Conservatory, and was awarded the Schumann Prize. That summer he returned to Russia and to the family estate of Artiomowka where he met his future wife, Elisabeth Geraklitowa.
He gave concerts in Kharkov and also played with the symphony orchestra of the city. In July 1904, he married Elisabeth and traveled back to Germany, where he settled down in Berlin. It was only after marriage that he started composing seriously. His first publisher was Daniel Rahter of Leipzig, who unfortunately died early; the firm was subsequently taken over by A.S. Benjamin.
From 1904 till 1914, Bortkiewicz lived in Berlin, spending his summers in Russia, or traveling over Europe. For a year he also taught at the Klindworth-Scharwenka Conservatory, but left it after some unpleasant experiences. He then took to concertizing not only in Germany, but also in Vienna, Budapest, Italy, Paris and Russia. However, the career of a virtuoso did not appeal to him and he concentrated instead on composition and teaching.
His Etudes, Op. 15 had just been published by D. Rahter when he was in Berlin, and it was there that he found a lifelong friend in Hugo van Dalen, the Dutch pianist and composer (1888-1967). Dalen told him that it was through his playing of the Etude Op. 15, No. 8 that he had met his wife. She liked the piece so much that she came up to van Dalen to ask the composer's name. This acquaintance led to their marriage, as a result of which Bortkiewicz unofficially named this etude the "Verlobungsetude" (Betrothal etude).
The outbreak of the war in 1914 shattered Bortkiewicz's life. Being a Russian alien in Germany he was suspected of being a spy and placed under house arrest. After 6 weeks he was allowed to leave for Russia through Sweden and Finland. He established himself in Kharkov as a music teacher, at the same time giving concerts in Orel and Moscow, where he met Scriabin, whose music he much admired. He describes Scriabin as a slightly built man, with an upturned moustache. "Just imagine Chopin or Raphael with a moustache à la Wilhelm II!" he writes mischievously.
The situation took a turn for the worse in 1917 with the collapse of the Russian army. There was chaos in southern Russia till the German army occupied Kharkov in March 1918 and some order was restored by the German soldiers. However, after the German withdrawal in November, there was a complete social breakdown. Food, electricity and heating oil was scarce. Bortkiewicz describes how his piano students had to sit at the piano in furs and hats, with frost-bitten fingers, continuously drinking tea to keep warm.
The Bolsheviks did not spare Bortkiewicz and plundered his family estate at Artiomowka. In the summer of 1919 he moved on to Crimea with his wife, where he lived in two furnished rooms in Sevastopol with a view of the harbor of Yalta. He rented a piano and composed his haunting Nocturne Op. 24, No. 1, subtitled Diana, during a wonderful moonlit night.
He had decided to leave Russia and waited till November of 1920 till he found place on a crowded steamer bound for Constantinople, now Istanbul, arriving with only 20 dollars in his pocket. His 1.5 million roubles were totally worthless! But his fame had preceded him and soon he was able to attract a cosmopolitan group of students from the well-to-do families in the city. He taught them in French and English.
"Knowing the strict morals of Orientals," he writes, "I had to put up with the presence of mamas or aunts who did not want to leave me alone with young ladies, and read a book during my lessons, while casting suspicious glances at my hands; and even with the presence of a husband who suddenly appeared in the room and looked at my posture jealously." Bortkiewicz did have a sense of humor!
In almost two years he had earned enough money from piano lessons and concerts to think of emigrating to Europe. He had established his old business contact with his publisher D. Rahter and set his goal as Vienna. He did not regret his decision to move on; within a couple of months after his departure, Kemal-Pascha had taken over Istanbul and the Sultan had abdicated. The majority of his students, Greeks and Armenians, had to leave the city.
A new chapter in his life began. He passed through Sofia to Belgrade where he had to wait for quite some time till he obtained an Austrian visa. Finally, he and his wife boarded a Danube steamer and arrived in Vienna on 22 July, 1922.
In 1928 he went to Paris for half a year and then to Berlin, a city which he loved; but again he had to leave because, being a Russian, he was persecuted by the Nazis and his name was deleted from all musical programs. He returned to Vienna in 1935 where he found a suitable residence in Blechturmgasse. He remained in this city till his death in 1952.
The war years 1939-1945 was a terrible time for Bortkiewicz and his wife. Three times, as he recounts in his letters to van Dalen, he was close to death as the Allied bombs rained down on Vienna and the Russians advanced on the city. A postcard from December 1945 reveals how he lived. "I am writing to you from my bathroom," he writes there, "where we have crept in, because it is small and can be warmed now and then by a gas flame... I don't believe in happiness anymore, rather that I am a dead man." To add to his woes, his wife's mental condition had deteriorated due to the hardships of the war and he had to look after her continuously.
All of his music scores were destroyed during the bombardment of Leipzig and his financial situation was desperate. His friend van Dalen, too, seemed to have deserted him in the post-war years, adding to his growing melancholia. He had been suffering from a stomach ailment for quite some, most probably cancer, and on the advice of his physician, he decided to undergo an operation in October 1952. He never recovered and passed away on the 25th of October, 1952. His wife, who was childless, died 8 years later in 1960 in Vienna.
It seems Bortkiewicz was on the wrong side of the fence wherever he went. Though he spoke German fluently and even wrote his "Erinnerungen" in this language, he was not looked upon too kindly in Austria, perhaps because of his Russian origin and the behavior of Soviet troops when they occupied Vienna. In 1977, twenty five years after his death, the Viennese civic authorities levelled his grave in the city cemetery.
The autographs of his unpublished works, which were in van Dalen's possession were bequeathed by van Dalen to the Gemeentemuseum in the Hague. It took me quite an effort to locate Bortkiewicz's Sonata No.2, Op. 60 in this museum and publish it in 1996. Very recently, Malcolm Ballan of Southampton, England, finally found the autographs of his 2 Symphonies in the Fisher Collection in Philadelphia, where Bortkiewicz had sent them for safe keeping just before his death.
It interesting to speculate why Bortkiewicz never recorded his own music, though he lived into the age of high fidelity. Why, one can even hear Scriabin or Saint-Saens playing their works, thanks to the reproducing piano. A clue to his "old-fashioned" attitude is to be found in the remarks he makes in the Erinnerungen. "It is certain, at least for me, that the Mechanization of Art nowadays is a big backward step. The cinema is the greatest enemy of theatre, the radio - of music at home and of concerts." I guess he stuck to his beliefs and refused to record his music "mechanically" for posterity, though during the war years he performed his works in various radio stations.