“Now, on the point of taking leave of foreign lands and turning my face homewards, a sound, sane man, full of renewed strength and energy—let me thank you once again, my dear and invaluable friend, for all I owe you, which I can never, never forget.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kamenka, April 12th (24th).
“At last we have arrived. The journey was long and tedious and my expectations were disappointed. I had always thought my home-coming would fill me with such sweet and profound sentiments. Nothing of the kind! A tipsy policeman who would hardly let us pass because he could not grasp that the number of passengers on my passport corresponded to the figure on his own; an officer of customs who demanded duty to the amount of fourteen gold roubles upon a dress I had bought for my sister for seventy francs; a conversation with a very importunate gentleman, bent on convincing me that the policy of England was the most humane in the world; the crowd of dirty Jews with their accompanying odours; the numbers of young conscripts who travelled in our train, and the farewell scenes with their wives and mothers at every station—all these things spoilt my pleasure in returning to my beloved native land. At Shmerinka we had to wait a few hours; unfortunately, as it was night, I could not see Brailov,[62] although I knew in which direction to look for it.... As my sister’s house is rather crowded, she has taken a nice, quiet room near at hand for me. I have also a garden, well stocked with flowers, which will soon begin to exhale their lovely perfumes. My little home is very cosy and comfortable. There is even a piano in the tiny parlour next to my bedroom. I shall be able to work undisturbed.
“ ... How glad I am, dear Nadejda Filaretovna, that you take such a just and sensible view of the agitating events which have been taking place in Petersburg and Moscow! I did not expect you to think differently, although I feared lest your pity for Sassoulich personally—in any case a very diluted and involuntary sympathy—might possibly have influenced your opinion. It is one thing, however, to feel sorry for her, and to detest the arrogant and brutal conduct of the arbitrary Prefect of Petersburg, and quite another thing to approve of that display of unpatriotic sentiment by which her acquittal has been signalised, and with the Moscow riots. It seems to me that both these events are most disquieting at the present moment, and I am exceedingly glad that the Russian lower classes have shown the crazy leaders of our younger generation how little their orders are in accord with sound sense and the spirit of the nation. I am glad to feel once again that, in spite of a few differences as to details, we are in agreement on most important matters.”
A few days after receiving this letter, N. F. von Meck invited Tchaikovsky to spend some weeks in the restful solitude of her estate at Brailov. “Of course she herself will not be there,” he wrote to his brother on April 27th (May 9th). “I am delighted to accept her invitation.” Meanwhile his days at Kamenka were fully occupied, as may be seen from the following extract from a letter to Nadejda von Meck, dated April 30th, 1878:—
“I am working very hard. The sonata is already finished, as are also twelve pieces—of moderate difficulty—for pianoforte. Of course all this is only sketched out. To-morrow I shall begin a collection of miniature pieces for children. I thought long ago it would not be a bad thing to do all in my power to enrich the children’s musical literature, which is rather scanty. I want to write a whole series of perfectly easy pieces, and to find titles for them which would interest children, as Schumann has done. I have planned songs and violin pieces for later on, and then, if the favourable mood lasts long enough, I want to do something in the way of Church music. A vast and almost untrodden field of activity lies open to composers here. I appreciate certain merits in Bortniansky, Berezovsky, and others; but how little their music is in keeping with the Byzantine architecture, the ikons, and the whole spirit of the Orthodox liturgy! Perhaps you are aware that the Imperial Chapels have the monopoly of Church music, and that it is forbidden to print, or to sing in church, any sacred compositions which are not included in the published collections of these Chapels. Moreover, they guard this monopoly very jealously, and will not permit new settings of any portions of the liturgy under any circumstances whatever. My publisher, Jurgenson, has discovered a way of evading this curious prohibition, and if I write anything of this kind, he will publish it abroad. It is not improbable that I shall decide to set the entire liturgy of St. John Chrysostom. I shall arrange all this by July. I intend to rest absolutely during the whole of that month, and to start upon some important work in August. I should like to write an opera. Turning over books in my sister’s library, I came upon Joukovsky’s Undine, and re-read the tale which I loved as a child. In 1869 I wrote an opera on this subject, and submitted it to the Opera Direction. It was rejected. Although at the time I thought this very unjust, yet afterwards I became disillusioned with my own work, and was very glad it had not had the chance of being damned. Now I am again attracted to the subject.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Kiev, May 14th (26th), 1878.
“My telegram to-day, sent from Kiev, must have astonished you, dear friend. I left quite suddenly, as my sister had to come here sooner than she expected.... I could not wait at Kamenka for your letter containing directions for my journey to Brailov; but, in any case, I shall leave here on Tuesday, and arrive at Shmerinka at 7 a.m. on Wednesday.”