The new Conservatoire of Music was founded at St. Petersburg in 1862, with Anton Rubinstein as director, and Tschaikowsky lost no time in entering as a pupil, studying composition and kindred 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 Symphony, Op. 13.  About the end of 1866, he started out with it, only to be again rebuffed and cast down.  The two men whose good opinion he most desired, Anton Rubinstein and Professor Zaremba, could find nothing good in his latest work, and the young composer returned to Moscow to console himself with renewed efforts in composition.  Two years later the “Winter Daydreams” Symphony was produced in Moscow with great success, and its author was much encouraged by this appreciation.  He was, like most composers, very sensitive to criticism and had a perfect dread of controversy.  Efforts to engage him in arguments of this sort only made him withdraw into himself.