“ ... At Grossman’s grand evening I observed that the Polish ladies (many very aristocratic women were there) are amiable, cultivated, interesting, and sympathetic. The farewell at the station yesterday was very magnificent. There is some talk of giving one of my operas in Polish next season. I am spending a day in Berlin to recover from the exciting existence in Warsaw. To-morrow I leave for Hamburg, where I conduct Oniegin on January 7th (19th). On the 29th (February 10th) my concert takes place in Amsterdam, and on the 30th (February 11th), at the Hague. After that—full steam homewards. I can only look forward with fearful excitement and impatience to the blessed day when I shall return to my adored Mother Russia.”
Tchaikovsky arrived in Hamburg to find Oniegin had been well studied, and the preparations for its staging satisfactory on the whole. “The conductor here,” he wrote to his favourite nephew, “is not merely passable, but actually has genius, and he ardently desires to conduct the first performance. Yesterday I heard a wonderful rendering of Tannhäuser under his direction. The singers, the orchestra, Pollini, the managers, and the conductor—his name is Mahler[178]—are all in love with Oniegin; but I am very doubtful whether the Hamburg public will share their enthusiasm.” Tchaikovsky’s doubts as to the success of Eugene Oniegin were well founded. The opera was not much applauded.
To Vladimir Davidov.
“Paris, January 12th (24th), 1892.
“ ... I am in a very awkward position. I have a fortnight in prospect during which I do not know how to kill time. I thought this would be easier in Paris than anywhere else—but it was only on the first day that I did not feel bored. Since yesterday I have been wondering how I could save myself from idleness and ennui. If Sapellnikov and Menter would not be offended at my not going to Holland, how gladly I should start homewards! If the Silotis had not been here, I do not think I could have stayed. Yesterday I was at the ‘Folies-Bergères,’ and it bored me terribly. The Russian clown Durov brings on 250 dressed-up rats. It is most curious in what forms the Parisians display their Russophile propensities. Neither at the Opera, nor at any of the more serious theatres, is anything Russian performed, and while we are giving Esclarmonde, they show their goodwill towards Russian art by the medium of Durov and his rats! Truly, it enrages me—I say it frankly—partly on account of my own interests. Why cannot Colonne, who is now the head of the Opera, give my Pique Dame, or my new Ballet? In autumn he spoke of doing so, and engaged Petipa with a view to this. But it was all empty talk.... You will say: ‘Are you not ashamed to be so envious and small-minded?’ I am ashamed. Having nothing to do, I am reading Zola’s La bête humaine. I cannot understand how people can seriously accept Zola as a great writer. Could there be anything more false and improbable than the leading idea of this novel? Of course, there are parts in which the truth is set forth with realism and vitality. But, in the main, it is so artificial that one never for a moment feels any sympathy with the actions or sufferings of the characters. It is simply a story of crime à la Gaboriau, larded with obscenities.”
His increasing nostalgia and depression of spirits finally caused Tchaikovsky to abandon the concerts in Holland and return to Petersburg about the end of January. There he spent a week with his relatives, and went back to Maidanovo on the 28th (February 9th).
While in Paris, Tchaikovsky completed the revision of his Sextet, and on his return to Russia devoted himself to the orchestration of the Nut-cracker Ballet. He was in haste to finish those numbers from this work, which, in the form of a Suite, were to be played in St. Petersburg on March 7th (19th), instead of the ill_fated ballade, The Voyevode.
To Anatol Tchaikovsky.
“Maidanovo, February 9th (21st), 1892.
“I am living very pleasantly here and enjoying the most beautiful of all the winter months. I love these clear, rather frosty days, when the sun sometimes begins to feel quite warm. They bring a feeling of spring.... Volodya Napravnik is staying with me just now, and has turned out to be excellent company. He is very musical, and that is a great pleasure. I often play pianoforte duets with him in the evening, or simply listen while he plays my favourite pieces. I have taken a house at Klin which will be my future home.... Later on I may buy it. Thank God, my financial position is excellent. Pique Dame was given nineteen times in Moscow, and the house was always sold out. Besides, there are the other operas. There is a good deal due to me from Petersburg.”