Tchaikovsky’s Nightmare: The ‘Winter Daydreams’ Symphony

"Winter Snowfall Scene With Cabin" by Karl Rosen. Oil on canvas; 16 inches by 20 inches. Public Domain

Having just experienced a severe ice storm and near-zero temperatures in my corner of Missouri, it seems fitting to turn to seasonal music for comfort. Vivaldi’s “Winter” movement from his “Four Seasons” is the most famous example of chilly weather listening, but other composers wrote works inspired by cold climates.

Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 1, “Winter Daydreams,” is one of the best of these. The story of its composition is also a fascinating one. Written when he was only 26 years old, it is his first significant work. It also pushed him to the point of physical exhaustion and caused a complete mental breakdown. He would eventually overcome these difficulties, however, to popular acclaim. While he went on to write many more famous works, however, Tchaikovsky’s greatness began here.

Nikolai Rubinstein Takes a Pupil

In early 1866, composer Nikolai Rubinstein (1835–1881) founded the Moscow Conservatory. Today, this music school is one of the country’s top institutions of higher learning, a Russian equivalent of Juilliard. But back then, Nikolai had to search hard for talent to fill his teaching spaces. On the recommendation of his brother Anton Rubinstein, who had founded the St. Petersburg Conservatory four years prior, Nikolai appointed a promising young composer named Pyotr Illyich Tchaikovsky to be the school’s professor of music theory.

Nikolai (L) and Anton Rubinstein, in a 1900 photograph. Public Domain

The decision was a gamble that showed great foresight on Rubinstein’s part. Only 25 years old, Tchaikovsky had yet to compose anything good. Though he has much overshadowed Nikolai Rubinstein today as a composer, Rubinstein was a celebrated pianist and much the greater man at the time.

Nikolai was a talented but arrogant teacher who made excessive demands on his students. Abuse was not uncommon. Once when a clarinetist performed poorly, Nikolai slapped him in the face until the student had an emotional breakdown. When female students acted up, he would tell someone to “Pour a glass of water over her head!”

Rubinstein could be kind as well as cruel; he donated most of his salary to help poor students.  When Tchaikovsky arrived at the conservatory, Nikolai shared his apartment with the youth and supported his development.

The Nervous Artist

Tchaikovsky took up his new position eagerly, but soon started to experience anxiety over the conflict between his teaching demands and his creative passions. He composed an Overture in F major that received a mixed critical reception when Nikolai Rubinstein conducted it in Moscow. Another work, a cantata for poet Friedrich Schiller’s “Ode to Joy,” received a negative review. Like many artists, Tchaikovsky was hypersensitive about the reception of his work, and criticism shattered his confidence.

It was at this time that he began working on a more ambitious work than anything yet attempted, his Symphony No. 1 in G Minor, titled “Winter Daydreams.” Desperate for approval, Tchaikovsky revised the symphony endlessly to the point of physical exhaustion.

A portrait of Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky by Emile Reutlinger. Public Domain

An ‘Iron Discipline’

To help him write his symphony, Tchaikovsky established a strict daily routine.  He described it to his brother Anatoly in a letter dated April 25, 1866. Between 9 a.m. and 10 a.m., he would “wake up, lounge around in bed, talk with Rubinstein, and then drink tea with him.” At 11 a.m., he would either give a music lesson or work on his symphony, “which, by the way, is going sluggishly,” and would “remain thusly seated in my room for three-and-a-half hours.” Then he walked to a local bookshop and read the newspaper. He ate supper at 4 p.m., either dining with a friend or at a pub. In the evenings, he went to a club or drank tea with friends. Then he went home at midnight to compose, write letters, and read.

This desk overlooks a garden where Tchaikovsky wrote "Pathetique," his 6th symphony.  Though Tchaikovsky lived in many different places throughout his life, he always maintained a strict writing routine. SiefkinDR/CC BY-SA 3.0

Tchaikovsky followed this same routine, more or less, for the remaining three decades of his life. One of his biographers, Alexander Poznansky, described this commitment as an “iron discipline required by his work.”

Mental Breakdown

With his routine in place, Tchaikovsky continued to revise his symphony through the year. In May 1866, he turned 26. His nervousness increased, and he became terrified that he would “soon die and shall not even have time to complete [his] symphony successfully.” He turned to caffeine and cigarettes to help him work and, unsurprisingly, began to suffer from insomnia. Then in July, while spending time with relatives, Tchaikovsky had a mental breakdown, experiencing hallucinations and numbness. His brother Modest wrote that a doctor found him to be “one step away from madness.”

Tchaikovsky struggled with anxiety and depression throughout his life, though never again as bad as this. While recuperating in St. Petersburg, he decided to send his unfinished symphony to Anton Rubinstein, who ran the Conservatory there. Anton was withering in his criticism, and Tchaikovsky began to revise it. Early in 1867, the second and third movements were performed in Petersburg, but Anton refused to arrange a performance of the entire work.

Tchaikovsky responded by packing up his things and heading for Moscow. In February 1868, nearly two years after beginning work on it, the first symphony was finally performed in its full glory. It received an enthusiastic ovation and Tchaikovsky took the first of many bows to a loving audience.

‘Winter Daydreams’

Tchaikovsky didn’t give most of his symphonies formal titles. In doing this for his first symphony, the immature composer was imitating Felix Mendelssohn’s practice.

The poetic title Tchaikovsky came up with, “Winter Daydreams,” might be said to relate to the composer’s own turbulent emotional experiences, as much as it does the music’s evocative imagery.

In the first movement, “Dreams of a Winter Journey,” it may be argued whether the music relates to its apparent seasonal subject. What it does have is a dreamy melody introduced by the flute and bassoon as violins shimmer in support. Structured like a sonata, a clarinet introduces a contrasting second melody. The lyricism of this piece foreshadowed Tchaikovsky’s later work.

The second movement, “Land of desolation, Land of mists,” is more obviously programmatic. The moody, introspective piece brings to mind the bleakness of the Russian landscape with muted strings, a haunting oboe melody, and fluttering flutes.

The third and fourth movements lack picturesque names. Tchaikovsky took the third Scherzo movement from his Piano Sonata in C-sharp minor, reworking it for orchestra here. Lively and elegant, it shows the influence of Mendelssohn, whose complete piano works had just been published in Moscow in 1862. The highlight of this movement, however, is an original trio in waltz-time.

In writing the final movement, Tchaikovsky drew on a Russian folk song for the melody. The piece has a distinctly national character, weaving together different orchestral textures towards a grand, triumphant conclusion.

A statue of Russian composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky in Klin, Russia. Ninetails/Shutterstock

“No other work cost him such effort and suffering,” Tchaikovsky’s brother Modest recalled. But the hard work paid off. The First Symphony, though an immature work, showed Tchaikovsky overcoming his personal demons as well as establishing his identity as a composer.

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