In 1877, Tchaikovsky embarked precipitously on a disastrous marriage with Antonina Miliukova. He did not love her, but was flattered by her adoration of his music. In all probability he regarded this marriage as a convenient cloak with which to conceal his sexual aberration which was already causing some talk in Moscow and of which he was heartily ashamed. In any event, this marriage proved a nightmare from the beginning. Always hypersensitive, he now became a victim of mental torment which led him to try suicide. Failing that, he fled from his wife to find refuge in his brother’s house where he collapsed physically. For a year after that he traveled about aimlessly in Europe.

This strange relationship with his wife was followed by another one, even more curious and unorthodox, with the woman whom he admired and loved above all others. She was the wealthy patroness and widow, Nadezhda von Meck, with whom he maintained a friendship lasting thirteen years. But during all that time he never once met her personally, their friendship being developed through an exchange of often tender at times even passionate letters. She had written him to speak of her admiration for his music and he had replied in gratitude. Before long, she endowed him with a generous annual subsidy to allow him full freedom to write music. From then on, they wrote each other frequently, with Tchaikovsky often baring his heart and soul. The reason why they never met was that Mme. von Meck had firmly established that condition for the continuation of their friendship and her financial generosity. Why this strange request was made, and why she adhered to it so tenaciously, has never been adequately explained. She may have been influenced by their different stations in life, or by her excessive devotion to her children, or even by a knowledge of the composer’s sexual deviation.

Now financially independent—and strengthened by the kindness, affection and sympathy of his patroness—Tchaikovsky entered upon one of his richest creative periods by producing one masterwork after another: the fourth and fifth symphonies, the opera, Eugene Onegin; the violin concerto; the Capriccio italien, for orchestra; a library of wonderful songs. Inevitably he now assumed a rank of first importance in Russian music. In 1884 he was honored by the Czar with the Order of St. Vladimir, and in 1888 a life pension was conferred upon him by the Russian government.

In 1890, while traveling in the Caucasus, Tchaikovsky heard from Mme. von Meck that she had recently suffered financial reverses and was compelled to terminate her subsidy. The composer replied that he was no longer in need of her financial help but that he hoped their friendship might continue. To this, and to all subsequent letters by Tchaikovsky, Mme. von Meck remained silent. Upon returning to Moscow, Tchaikovsky discovered that his patroness was in no financial difficulties whatsoever, but had used this as an excuse to terminate a relationship of which she had grown weary. The loss of his dearest friend, and the specious reason given for the termination of their relationship, was an overwhelming blow, one largely responsible for the fits of melancholia into which Tchaikovsky lapsed so frequently from this time on.

In 1891, Tchaikovsky paid his only visit to the United States where he helped open Carnegie Hall in New York by directing a performance of his own Overture 1812. After returning to Russia, he became so morbid, and succumbed so helplessly to fits of despair, that at times he thought he was losing his mind. In such a mood he wrote his last symphony, the Pathétique, one of the most tragic utterances in all music; there is good reason to believe that when Tchaikovsky wrote this music he was creating his own requiem. He died in St. Petersburg on November 6, 1893, a victim of cholera contracted when he drank a glass of boiled water during an epidemic.

The qualities in his major serious works that made Tchaikovsky one of the best loved and most frequently performed composers in the world are also the traits that bring his lesser works into the permanent semi-classical repertory: an endless fund of beautiful melody; an affecting sentiment that at times lapses into sentimentality; a lack of inhibitions in voicing his deepest emotions and most personal thoughts.

The Andante Cantabile is a gentle, melancholy song in three-part form which comes from one of the composer’s string quartets, in D major, op. 11 (1871). This is the second movement of the quartet, and the reason why this work as a whole is still occasionally performed. This famous melody, however, is not original with the composer, but a quotation of a Russian folk song, “Vanya Sat on the Divan,” which the composer heard a baker sing in Kamenka, Russia. Tchaikovsky himself adapted this music for orchestra. In 1941, this melody was adapted into the American popular song, “On the Isle of May.”

Chanson Triste is another of the composer’s soft, gentle melodies that is filled with sentiment. This is the second of twelve children’s pieces for the piano “of moderate difficulty,” op. 40 (1876-1877).

Humoresque, op. 10, no. 2 (1871)—a “humoresque” being an instrumental composition in a whimsical vein—finds Tchaikovsky in a less familiar attitude, that of grotesquerie. This sprightly little tune is almost as celebrated as the very popular Humoresque of Dvořák; and like that of Dvořák, it originated as a composition for the piano, a companion to a Nocturne which it follows. Fritz Kreisler made a fine transcription for violin and piano, while Stokowski was one of several to adapt it for orchestra.

The Marche Slav, for orchestra, op. 31 (1876) was intended for a benefit concert in St. Petersburg for Serbian soldiers wounded in the war with Turkey. At that performance, the work aroused a “whole storm of patriotic enthusiasm,” as the composer himself reported. The work opens with a broad Slavic march melody which Tchaikovsky borrowed from a Serbian folk song. The middle trio section is made up of two other folk tunes. The composition ends with a triumphant restatement of the opening march melody, now speaking for the victory of the Serbs over the Turks.