dred subjects with
Professor Zaremba. His progress was so rapid in the several branches
he took up--piano, organ and flute--that Rubinstein advised him to
make music his profession, and throw his law studies to the winds.
Thanks to Rubinstein, he secured some pupils and also engagements as
accompanist. Meanwhile he worked industriously at composition, and one
of his pieces was a Concert Overture in F, scored for small orchestra.
In 1865 he took his diploma as a musician and also secured a silver
medal for a cantata. One year after this the Moscow Conservatoire
was founded, with Nicholas Rubinstein at its head. The position
of Professor of Composition and Musical History was offered to
Tschaikowsky, then only twenty-six. It was a flattering offer for so
young a man, when many older heads would have liked to secure such
an honor. He moved to Moscow, and retained his position in the
Conservatoire for at least twelve years, in the meantime making many
friends for himself and his art, as his fame as a composer grew. One
of these friends was the publisher Jurgenson, who was to play rather
an important part in the composer's life, through accepting and
putting forth his compositions.

During those first years in Moscow, Tschaikowsky made his home with
Nicholas Rubinstein. His life was of the simplest, his fare always so.
Later on when money was more abundant, and he had his own house in the
country, he lived with just the same simplicity. One would think that
all this care and thought for expense would have taught him the value
of money. Not at all. He never could seem to learn its value, never
cared for it, and never could keep it. He liked to toss his small
change among groups of street boys, and it is said he once spent his
last roubles in sending a cablegram to von Buelow in America, to thank
him for his admirable performance of his first Piano Concerto. Often
his friends protested against this prodigality, but it was no use to
protest, and at last they gave up in despair.

Soon after he began his professorship in Moscow, he composed a Concert
Overture in C minor. To his surprise and disappointment, Rubinstein
disapproved of the work in every way. This was a shock, after the lack
of encouragement in St. Petersburg. But he recovered his poise, though
he made up his mind to try his next work in St. Petersburg instead of
Moscow. He called the new piece a Symphonic Poem, "Winter Daydreams,"
but it is now known as the First S