To N. F. von Meck.
“Petersburg, December 17th (29th), 1889.
“My dear, kind, incomparable Friend,—Where are you now? I do not know. But I have such a yearning to talk to you a little that I am beginning this letter with the intention of posting it to you in Moscow, as soon as I can find your address. For three weeks I have been doing nothing in Petersburg. I say ‘doing nothing’ because my real business is to compose; and all this conducting, attending rehearsals for my ballet, etc., I regard as something purposeless and fortuitous, which only shortens my days, for it needs all my strength of will to endure the kind of life I have to lead in Petersburg.... On January 6th I must be back in Moscow to conduct a concert of the Musical Society, at which Anton Rubinstein will play his new compositions, and on the 14th I have a popular concert here; after that I shall be at the end of my forces. I have made up my mind to refuse all engagements at home and abroad, and perhaps to go to Italy for four months to rest and work at my future opera, Pique Dame. I have chosen this subject from Poushkin. It happened in this way: three years ago my brother Modeste undertook to make a libretto for a certain Klenovsky, and gradually put together a very successful book upon this subject.
“Moscow, December 26th (January 7th), 1889.
“I continue my letter. The libretto of Pique Dame was written by Modeste for Klenovsky, but for some reason he declined to set it to music. Then Vsievolojsky, the Director of the Opera, took it into his head that I should write a work on this subject and have it ready by next season. He communicated his wish to me, and as the business fitted in admirably with my determination to escape from Russia for a time and devote myself to composition, I said ‘yes.’ A committee meeting was improvised, at which my brother read his libretto, its merits and demerits were discussed, the scenery planned, and even the parts distributed.... I feel very much inclined to work. If only I can settle myself comfortably in some corner abroad, I should be equal to my task, and could let the Direction have the pianoforte score in May. In the course of the summer the orchestration would be finished.”
On January 1st (13th) Tchaikovsky was back in St. Petersburg, and on the following day attended a gala rehearsal of The Sleeping Beauty, at which the Imperial Court was present.
Practically it was the first night, for while the parterre was reserved for the Imperial party, the boxes on the first tier were crowded with aristocratic spectators. The Imperial family were pleased, but not enthusiastic in their appreciation of the music, although afterwards they grew very fond of this Ballet. “Very nice” was the only expression of opinion Tchaikovsky received from the Emperor’s lips. This scanty praise—judging from the entry in his diary—greatly mortified the composer.
It is interesting to observe that at the first public performance, on the following day, the public seems to have shared the Emperor’s opinion, for the applause, which was lacking in warmth, seemed to pronounce the same lukewarm verdict, “Very nice.” The composer was still further depressed and embittered. “Embittered,” because, during the rehearsals, Tchaikovsky had learnt to appreciate the splendour and novelty of the scenery and costumes, and the inexhaustible taste and invention of M. Petipa, and expected that all this talent and taste, combined with his music—which came only second to Oniegin in his affections—would arouse a storm of enthusiasm in the public.
This was not the case, because the novelty of the programme and the dazzling wealth of detail blinded the public to the musical beauties of the work. They could not appreciate the Ballet at the first performance, as they afterwards learnt to do. Its success was immense, and was proved in the same way as that of Eugene Oniegin—not by frantic applause during the performance, but by a long series of crowded houses.
On January 4th (16th) Tchaikovsky went to Moscow, where he conducted on the 6th. Convinced that no repose was possible in that town, he decided to start abroad immediately, and to take his brother Modeste’s servant, Nazar, in place of Alexis, who remained by his wife’s death-bed. Tchaikovsky left Petersburg on January 14th (26th) without any plans as to his destination.