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He saw stallion and rider sink beneath the water, and rise again, a flurry of foam and floundering of hoofs, and a woman's face that laughed while she drowned her hair in the drowning mane of the beast. And the first ringing bars of the Prelude sounded in his ears as again he saw the same hands that had guided the stallion lift the piano to all Rachmaninoff's pure splendor of sound.
Among them were men of education, graduates of universities both in America and abroad; you might hear one of the group about these camp-fires telling about slave-revolts in ancient Egypt and Greece; or quoting Strindberg and Stirner, or reciting a scene from Synge, or narrating how he had astounded the family of some lonely farm-house by playing Rachmaninoff's "Prelude" on a badly out-of-tune piano.
But whatever he might have fancied she would play, he was all unprepared for Rachmaninoff's sheerly masculine Prelude, which he had heard only men play when decently played. She took hold of the piano, with the first two ringing bars, masterfully, like a man; she seemed to lift it, and its sounding wires, with her two hands, with the strength and certitude of maleness.
After meeting with failure, using the available therapeutic remedies available at that time, he was persuaded by his relatives, the Satins, to seek the help of a hypnotist called Dr. Dahl. With much reluctance, he agreed to see Dr. Dahl and be treated specifically with hypnosis. Rachmaninoff's own words read as follows: "Although it may sound incredible, hypnosis really helped me.
In all the elaborate score of "The Island of the Dead," in the very one of M. Rachmaninoff's works that is generally deemed his best, there are few accents that are either very large or very poignant or very noble. The music lacks distinction, lacks vitality. The style is strangely soft and unrefreshing. Emotion is communicated, no doubt. But it is emotion of a second or even third order.
It was in an interview given at the beginning of his recent American tour that M. Sergei Rachmaninoff styled himself a "musical evolutionist." The phrase, doubtless uttered half in jest, is scarcely nice. It is one of those terms that are so loose that they are well-nigh meaningless. Nevertheless, there was significance in M. Rachmaninoff's use of it. For he employed it as an apology for his work.
Turning abruptly to Errington she continued: "Will you play instead?" Max hesitated a moment, then resumed his place at the piano, and, after a pause, the three grave notes with which Rachmaninoff's wonderful "Prelude" opens, broke the silence. It was speedily evident that Errington was a musician of no mean order; indeed, many a professional reputation has been based on a less solid foundation.
It is a therapy which is positive, dynamic and constructive. An excellent example of this is contained in the autobiography, Rachmaninoff's Recollections. In this book, immortal Rachmaninoff describes in detail his success in overcoming a severe case of mental depression. He had stopped composing and kept to himself, seldom leaving his room.
Your two magical formulas the Russian "w" and the sad story about Rachmaninoff's daughter may, of course, be held in reserve but the chances are that you will be unable to use them, for during an evening at the opera there will probably be no mention of music.
Among Rachmaninoff's works are three operas, "Aleko," "The Miser Knight," "Francesca da Rimini"; two symphonies, Opus 13 and Opus 27; three concertos for pianoforte, Opus 1, 18 and 30; a symphonic poem "Die Toteninsel," Opus 29; a work for chorus and orchestra, "The Bells"; two 'cello sonatas, Opus 19 and Opus 28; a pianoforte trio, Opus 9; piano pieces, Opera 3, 5, 10, 16, 23, 32; and numerous songs.