Fatum was given almost simultaneously by the Petersburg section of the Musical Society, under Balakirev’s direction. But here the fantasia fell flat, and pleased neither the public nor the musicians.
Nevertheless, Cui did not handle the young composer so severely as on the occasion of his Diploma Cantata. He found fault with a good deal in Fatum, but described the music as being on the whole “agreeable, but not inspired,” the instrumentation “somewhat rough,” and the harmonies “bold and new, if not invariably beautiful.”
Balakirev—to whom the work was dedicated—did not admire it, and his feelings were shared by the rest of the “Invincible Band.” He wrote to Tchaikovsky as follows:—
“Your Fatum has been played, and I venture to hope the performance was not bad—at least everyone seemed satisfied with it. There was not much applause, which I ascribe to the hideous crash at the end. The work itself does not please me; it is not sufficiently thought out, and shows signs of having been written hastily. In many places the joins and tacking-threads are too perceptible. Laroche says it is because you do not study the classics sufficiently. I put it down to another cause: you are too little acquainted with modern music. You will never learn freedom of form from the classical composers. You will find nothing new there. They can only give you what you knew already, when you sat on the students’ benches and listened respectfully to Zaremba’s learned discourses upon ‘The Connection between Rondo-form and Man’s First Fall.’
“At the same concert Les Préludes of Liszt was performed. Observe the wonderful form of this work; how one thing follows another quite naturally. This is no mere motley, haphazard affair. Or take Glinka’s Night in Madrid; in what a masterly fashion the various sections of this overture are fused together! It is just this organic coherence and connection that are lacking in Fatum. I have chosen Glinka as an example because I believe you have studied him a great deal, and I could see all through Fatum you were under the influence of one of his choruses.
“The verse you chose as an epigraph is altogether beneath criticism. It is a frightful specimen of manufactured rhyme. If you are really so attracted to Byronism, why not have chosen a suitable quotation from Lermontov? With the object of making the verse run smoother I left out the first two lines (Melchisedek seemed really too absurd!), but apparently I perpetrated a blunder. Our entire circle dropped upon me and assured me that the whole of the introduction to Fatum was intended to express the awful utterance of Melchisedek himself. Perhaps they are right. If so, you must forgive my excellent intention.... I write to you quite frankly, and feel sure you will not on this account abandon your intention of dedicating Fatum to me. This dedication is very precious, as indicating your regard for me, and on my part I reciprocate your feeling.”
Tchaikovsky did not resent Balakirev’s opinion, although it may have wounded him. That he was grateful for the friendly tone of the letter, in which Balakirev’s confidence in his talent was clearly perceptible, is evident from the fact that three months later he appeared in the press as the champion of the leader of the “Invincible Band.” Moreover, after a short time, he shared Balakirev’s opinion of his work, and destroyed the score of Fatum.
Early in the season Tchaikovsky began to look out for material for a new opera. The chief requisite he asked was that the scene should not be laid in Russia. The discussion with Ostrovsky of a plot from the period of Alexander the Great, mentioned in his letter of September 25th, had come to nothing. Without applying to another librettist, he began to search for a ready-made text. Great was his joy to discover a book among the works of Count Sollogoub, based upon his favourite poem, Joukovsky’s “Undine.”
Without reflection, or closer inspection of the libretto, he began to compose with fervour, even in the midst of the rehearsals for The Voyevode; that is in January, 1869. By February he had already written most of the first act. The two following acts he wrote in April, and began the orchestration in the course of the same month. He hoped to complete the first act in May, and the remainder during the summer, and to send the whole score to the Direction of the Petersburg Opera by November, when Gedeonov had given him a formal promise to produce it.
This feverish work, the many excitements of the winter season, his anxiety about the elder of the twins, who had to pass his final examination at the School of Jurisprudence, and all the trouble and correspondence involved in trying to find him an opening in Moscow, told upon Tchaikovsky’s nerves. His health was so far impaired that he gradually lost strength, until he became quite exhausted, and the doctor ordered him to the seaside, or to an inland watering-place, enjoining absolute repose.