On February 25th (March 9th), the Second Symphony was performed for the first time in Petersburg, under Napravnik’s direction. It was greatly applauded, especially the finale; but, in the absence of the composer, its success was not so remarkable, nor so brilliant, as it had been a year earlier in Moscow. The symphony won the approval of the “Invincible Band,” with the exception of Cæsar Cui, who expressed himself in the St. Petersburg _Viedomosti_ as follows:-- “The Introduction and first Allegro are very weak; the poverty of Tchaikovsky’s invention displays itself every moment. The March in the second movement is rough and commonplace. The Scherzo is neither good nor bad; the trio is so innocent that it would be almost too infantile for a ‘Sniegourotchka.’ The best movement is the Finale, and even then the opening is as pompously trivial as the introduction to a _pas de deux_, and the end is beneath all criticism.” Towards the end of March, Tchaikovsky went to St. Petersburg to attend the rehearsals of _The Oprichnik_, and took up his abode with his father. During his first interviews with Napravnik his pride suffered many blows to which he was not accustomed. Somewhat spoilt by Nicholas Rubinstein’s flattering attitude towards every note of his recent orchestral works, he was rather hurt by the number of cuts Napravnik considered it necessary to make in the score of his opera. Afterwards he approved of them all, but at the moment he felt affronted. From the very first rehearsal Tchaikovsky was dissatisfied with his work. On March 25th he wrote to Albrecht:-- “Kindly inform all my friends that the first performance takes place on Friday in Easter week, and let me know in good time whether they intend to come and hear it, so that I may secure tickets for them. Frankly speaking, I would rather none of you came. _There is nothing really fine in the work._” To his pupil, Serge Taneiev, he writes in the same strain:-- “Serioja,[34] if you really seriously intend to come here on purpose to hear my opera, I implore you to abandon the idea, for there is _nothing good in it_, and it would be a pity if you travelled to Petersburg on that account.” The more the opera was studied, the gloomier grew Tchaikovsky’s mood. One day, unsuspicious of the true reason of his depression, I ventured to criticise _The Oprichnik_ rather severely, and made fun of the scene in which Andrew appears in Jemchoujny’s garden, merely to “draw” him for some money. My brother lost his temper and flew out at me fiercely. I was almost reduced to tears, for at the time I could not guess the real reason for his anger. It was not until long after that I realised my criticism had wounded his artistic feelings in the most sensitive spot.