XII To N. F. von Meck
“Maidanovo, February 2nd (14th), 1887.
“I have now been at home five days, yet there is no question of rest; on the contrary, I am working with such feverish haste at The Enchantress that I feel quite exhausted. I cannot live without work, but why do circumstances always compel me to be in a hurry, to have to overtax my strength? I see such an endless pile of work before me to which I am pledged that I dare not look into the future. How short life is! Now that I have probably reached that last step which means the full maturity of my talent, I look back involuntarily and, seeing so many years behind me, glance timidly at the path ahead and ask: Shall I succeed? Is it worth while? And yet it is only now that I begin to be able to compose without self-doubt, and to believe in my own powers and knowledge.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, February 9th (21st), 1887.
“I am already dreaming of a time when I shall give concerts abroad. But of what does one not dream? If only I were twenty years younger!!! One thing is certain: my nerves are much stronger, and things which formerly were not to be thought of are now quite possible. Undoubtedly I owe this to my free life, relieved from all anxiety of earning my daily bread. And who but you, dear friend, is the author of all the good things fate has brought me?
“The concert will take place in Petersburg on March 5th.”
On February 23rd (March 7th) Tchaikovsky went to Petersburg to attend the rehearsals for the Philharmonic Concert, at which the St. Petersburg public was to make his acquaintance as a conductor, from which dated the commencement of a whole series of similar concerts which made his name known in Russia, Europe and America.
On February 28th (March 12th) the first rehearsal took place, and Tchaikovsky writes in his diary in his customary laconic style: “Excitement and dread.” Henceforth, to the very end of his life, it was not the concert itself so much as the first rehearsal which alarmed him. By the second rehearsal he had usually recovered himself. Abroad, he found it particularly painful to stand up for the first time before an unknown orchestra.
All the important musical circles in Petersburg showed a lively interest in Tchaikovsky’s début as a concert conductor. The three rehearsals attracted a number of the first musicians, who encouraged him by their warm words of sympathy. No début could have been made under more favourable conditions.
The concert itself, which took place on March 5th (17th), in the hall of the Nobles’ Club, went off admirably. The programme consisted of: (1) Suite No. 2 (first performance in St. Petersburg), (2) Aria from the opera The Enchantress, (3) the “Mummers’ Dance” from the same opera, (4) Andante and Valse from the Serenade for strings, (5) Francesca da Rimini, (6) Pianoforte solos, (7) Overture “1812.”
The hall was full to overflowing, and the ovations endless. The Press criticisms of the music, as well as of Tchaikovsky’s conducting, proved colourless and commonplace, but on the whole laudatory. Even Cui expressed some approbation for Tchaikovsky as a conductor, although he again found fault with him as a composer.
Tchaikovsky’s diary contains the following brief account of the concert: “My concert. Complete success. Great enjoyment—but still, why this drop of gall in my honeypot?”
In this question lie the germs of that weariness and suffering which had their growth in Tchaikovsky’s soul simultaneously with his pursuit of fame, and reached their greatest intensity in the moment of the composer’s greatest triumphs.
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, March 12th (24th), 1887.
“The Empress has sent me her autograph picture in a beautiful frame.118 This attention has touched me deeply, especially at a time when she and the Emperor have so many other things to think about.”
Diary.
“Ippolitov-Ivanov and his wife came very late, about ten o’clock. I met them out walking. At first I felt annoyed to see them, and vexed at my work being interrupted; but afterwards these good people (she is extremely sympathetic) made me forget everything, except that it is the greatest pleasure to be in the society of congenial friends. Ivanov played, and she sang beautiful fragments from his opera Ruth (the duet especially charmed me). They left at six. Worked before and after supper.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo, March 15th (27th), 1887.
“Ruth pleases me more and more. I believe Ippolitov-Ivanov will come to the front, if only because he has something original about him, and this ‘something’ is also very attractive.”
Diary.
“March 16th (28th), 1887.
“I will not conceal it: all the poetry of country life and solitude has vanished. I do not know why. Nowhere do I feel so miserable as at home. If I do not work, I torment myself, am afraid of the future, etc. Is solitude really necessary to me? When I am in town, country life seems a paradise; when I am here, I feel no delight whatever. To-day, in particular, I am quite out of tune.”
“March 19th (31st).
“Have just read through my diary for the last two years. Good heavens! how could my imagination have been so deceived by the melancholy bareness of Maidanovo? How everything used to please me!”
“March 26th (April 7th).
“Read through Korsakov’s ‘Snow-Maiden,’ and was astonished at his mastery. I envy him and ought to be ashamed of it.”
“March 30th (April 11th).
“After supper I read the score of A Life for the Tsar. What a master! How did Glinka manage to do it? It is incomprehensible how such a colossal work could have been created by an amateur and—judging by his diary—a rather limited and trivial nature.”
“April 16th (28th).
“Played through The Power of the Evil One.119 An almost repulsive musical monstrosity; yet, at the same time, talent, intuition, and imagination.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Maidanovo, April 24th (May 6th), 1887.
“My very dear Friend,—I wished to leave Maidanovo a month ago, and yet I am still here. My work (the orchestration of the opera) detains me. This work is not really difficult, but it takes time. I notice that the older I grow, the more trouble my orchestration gives me. I judge myself more severely, am more careful, more critical with regard to light and shade. In such a case the country is a real boon. Saint-Saëns has invited me to be present at both his concerts at Moscow, but I have courteously refused. Poor Saint-Saëns had to play to an empty room. I knew it would be so, and that the poor Frenchman would take it deeply to heart, so I did not wish to be a witness of his disappointment. But also I did not want to interrupt my work.”
Tchaikovsky stayed at Maidanovo to complete the instrumentation of the whole score of The Enchantress, and left on May 9th to visit his sick friend, Kondratiev, before starting on his journey to the Caucasus.