Chopin's Letters (Dover Books on Music) by Frederic Chopin

Chopin's Letters (Dover Books on Music) by Frederic Chopin

Author:Frederic Chopin [Chopin, Frederic]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dover Publications
Published: 2013-06-03T03:00:00+00:00


106.

To WOJCIECH GRZYMAŁA.

Marseilles, 27 March [1839].

MY DEAR!

I am much better, and can thank you more vigorously for sending the money. You know, I wonder at your goodwill; but also you have in me a grateful man at heart, though not on the outside. You are so kind as to accept my furniture; please pay for the moving. I venture to ask this last, because I know it won’t be a large sum. As for what is happening to my income, the Lord defend me! That idiot Pl[eyel] has made mincemeat1 of my affairs; but it’s difficult; you can’t knock a wall down with your head.

We shall meet in the summer, and I will tell you how glad of it I am. My lady has just finished a magnificent article on Goethe, Byron and Mickiewicz. One must read it; it gladdens the heart. I can see you, how pleased you will be. And all so true, so large in perception, on so huge a scale, of necessity, without manipulation or panegyrics. Let me know who translates it. If Mic[kiewicz] himself should care to put his hand to it, she would gladly revise it; and what she has written could be printed as a discours préliminaire, together with the translation. Everyone would read it, and one could get rid of many cop[ies]. She will write about it to you or to Mick[iewicz].

And what is yourself doing? May God give you good humour, health and strength; those are such necessary things. What do you say about Nourrit? It astonished us very much. We often take you for a walk. You wouldn’t believe how happy we are in your company. Marseilles is ugly: an old, but not ancient place; it bores us rather. Next month we shall probably go to Avignon, and from there to Nohant. There, no doubt, we shall embrace you, not by letter, but whiskers and all, if your whiskers have not gone the way of my favoris.

Kiss — not your — hands and feet. To you I sign myself, with undying highest sentiments:

A real Camaldolite

CH.



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