“ ... The day after to-morrow my overture Romeo and Juliet will be performed. There has been a rehearsal already: the work does not seem detestable. But the Lord only knows!...

“In the third week of Lent excerpts from my opera Undine will be played at Merten’s[20] concert. I am very curious to hear them. Sietov writes that there is every reason to believe the opera will be given early next season.”

Merten’s concert took place on March 16th (28th). Kashkin says it gave further proof how hardly Tchaikovsky conquered the public sympathy.

“In the orchestration of the aria from Undine,” he says, “the pianoforte plays an important and really beautiful part. Nicholas Rubinstein undertook to play it; yet, in spite of the wonderful rendering of the piece, it had very little success. After the adagio from the First Symphony—also included in the programme—even a slight hissing was heard. The Italian craze was still predominant at the Opera House, so that it was very difficult for a Russian work to find recognition.”

Romeo and Juliet, given at the Musical Society’s Concert on March 4th (16th), had no success.

On the previous day the decision in the case of “Schebalsky v. Rubinstein” had been made public, and the Director of the Conservatoire had been ordered to pay 25 roubles, damages for the summary and wrongful dismissal of this female student. Rubinstein refused to pay, and gave notice of appeal, but the master’s admirers immediately collected the small sum, in order to spare him the few hours’ detention which his refusal involved. This event gave rise to a noisy demonstration when he appeared in public. Kashkin says:—

“From the moment Nicholas Rubinstein came on the platform, until the end of the concert, he was made the subject of an extraordinary ovation. No one thought of the concert or the music, and I felt indignant that the first performance of Romeo and Juliet should have taken place under such conditions.”

So it came about that the long-desired evening, which he hoped would bring him a great success, brought only another disillusionment for Tchaikovsky. The composer’s melancholy became a shade darker. “I just idle away the time cruelly,” he writes, “and my opera, The Oprichnik, has come to a standstill at the first chorus.”

To Modeste Tchaikovsky.

March 25th (April 6th).