“There exist, as you are aware, three remarkable personages, whom you know intimately: the feeble poetaster N. N.,[66] who has written a few verses for your editions of Russian songs; B. L.,[67] formerly musical critic of the Russky Viedomosti, and the composer and ex-professor, Mr. Tchaikovsky.
“An hour or two ago Mr. Tchaikovsky invited the two other gentlemen—who live with him—to follow him to the piano, and played them the second act of his new opera The Maid of Orleans. Mr. Tchaikovsky, who is on very intimate terms with Messrs. N. N. and B. L., conquered his timidity without much difficulty, and played his new work with great skill and inspiration. You should have seen the enthusiasm of these two gentlemen! Anyone might have supposed they had some share in the composition of the opera, to see how they strutted about the room and admired the music. Finally, the composer, who had long tried to preserve his modesty intact, was infected by their enthusiasm, and all three rushed on to the balcony, as though possessed, to cool their disordered nerves and control their wild desire to hear the rest of the opera as soon as possible. In vain Messrs. N. N. and B. L. endeavoured to persuade Mr. Tchaikovsky that operas could not be tossed out like pancakes, the latter began to despair over the weakness of human nature and the impossibility of transferring to paper in a single night all that had long been seething in his brain. Finally, the good folks induced the insane composer to calm himself, and he sat down to write to a certain publisher in Moscow....”
To N. F. von Meck.
“January 20th (February 1st), 1879.
“Of the music you sent me, I have only played, as yet, through the pieces by Grieg and two acts of Goldmark’s opera, The Queen of Sheba. I do not know if I ever told you that I bought Le Roi de Lahore in Paris. Thus I possess two operas of the most modern French school. Let me tell you, dear friend, that I have no hesitation in giving the preference to Le Roi de Lahore. I know you do not care very much for Massenet, and hitherto I, too, have not felt drawn to him. His opera, however, has captivated me by its rare beauty of form, its simplicity and freshness of ideas and style, as well by its wealth of melody and distinction of harmony. Goldmark’s opera does not greatly please me—just enough to interest me in playing it through. Yet it is the work of a good German master. But all the German composers of the present day write laboriously, with pretensions to depth of thought, and strive to atone for their extraordinary poverty of invention by exaggerated colouring. For instance, the duet in the second act. How unvocal! How little freedom it gives to the singer! What insipid melodies! Massenet’s love duet, on the contrary, is far simpler, but a thousand times fresher, more beautiful, more melodious....
“Learn to know this opera, dear friend, and give me your opinion upon it.
“My work progresses. I am composing the first scene of Act III.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Clarens, January 24th (February 5th), 1879.
“Do not be surprised if my letter is somewhat incoherent. I am very tired after my day’s work. To-day I wrote the love duet in the second act, and it is very complicated, so that at the present moment my brain works with difficulty. I jumped from the first scene of the third act to the fourth, because it is not so easy, and I wanted to get the most difficult scene—between Lionel and Joan—off my mind. On the whole I am pleased with myself, but feel rather exhausted. In Paris, I will rest by returning to my Suite and leaving the two remaining scenes of the opera until my return to Russia.