Letter 2188: Difference between revisions

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|Translated text={{right|''[[Paris]]''<br/>3/15 January 1883}}
|Translated text={{right|''[[Paris]]''<br/>3/15 January 1883}}
My dear friend! I'm in [[Paris]]. With the exception of [[Rome]], for me this is the sole foreign city where I can put up with absolute solitude without fear and ennui. Here, even if it doesn't feel entirely like ''home'', then in any case, it's less isolated than [[Berlin]]. I am at heart ''still Russian'', and this is probably the reason why I find the Germans so objectionable, foreign, wretched and abominable. To be fair to them, I marvel at [[Berlin]]'s cleanliness and orderliness —  the affordability of things there, and the availability of every pleasure — I admire the cuisine at the Hôtel St. Petersburg, I find the [[Berlin]] museum and aquarium superb, and all the same I cannot stand the German air for more than a couple of days. On my third day staying in [[Berlin]] I nearly retched from my disgust for all things German. How strange! For 3 days in a row I intended visiting [[Kotek]], always putting it off, and putting it off, and... ultimately, I didn't go. I was afraid of the explanations and mutual reproaches, as well as that false note which, alas, will always sound in my relations with him. Please, if you write to him, don't mention that I was in [[Berlin]]. I'll make up something from here, and I'll be seeing him on my return to Russia.
My dear friend! I'm in [[Paris]]. With the exception of [[Rome]], for me this is the sole foreign city where I can put up with absolute solitude without fear and ennui. Here, even if it doesn't feel entirely like ''home'', then in any case, it's less isolated than [[Berlin]]. I am at heart ''still Russian'', and this is probably the reason why I find the Germans so horrible, foreign, wretched and abominable. To be fair to them, I marvel at [[Berlin]]'s cleanliness and orderliness —  the affordability of things there, and the availability of every pleasure — I admire the cuisine at the Hôtel St. Petersburg, I find the [[Berlin]] museum and aquarium superb, and all the same I cannot stand the German air for more than a couple of days. On my third day staying in [[Berlin]] I nearly retched from my disgust for all things German. How strange! For 3 days in a row I intended visiting [[Kotek]], always putting it off, and putting it off, and... ultimately, I didn't go. I was afraid of the explanations and mutual reproaches, as well as that false note which, alas, will always sound in my relations with him. Please, if you write to him, don't mention that I was in [[Berlin]]. I'll make up something from here, and I'll be seeing him on my return to Russia.


Lord, what a waste of time! And I can't even think about finishing the opera by the spring; it won't be ready before the summer. I'll set to work tomorrow, and I'll be writing diligently. [[Modest]] will be arriving in a few days, staying with me for a week, and then we'll leave for dear [[Rome]]. [[Berlin]] had a severe frost without snow, but I've happened upon the ultimate spring here, although this morning it's been raining incessantly.  
Lord, what a waste of time! And I can't even think about finishing the opera by the spring; it won't be ready before the summer. I'll set to work tomorrow, and I'll be writing diligently. [[Modest]] will be arriving in a few days, staying with me for a week, and then we'll leave for dear [[Rome]]. [[Berlin]] had a severe frost without snow, but I've happened upon the ultimate spring here, although this morning it's been raining incessantly.  

Latest revision as of 17:35, 24 January 2024

Date 3/15 January 1883
Addressed to Pyotr Jurgenson
Where written Paris
Language Russian
Autograph Location Klin (Russia): Tchaikovsky State Memorial Musical Museum-Reserve (a3, No. 2404)
Publication П. И. Чайковский. Переписка с П. И. Юргенсоном, том 1 (1938), p. 271–272
П. И. Чайковский. Полное собрание сочинений, том XII (1970), p. 15–16

Text and Translation

Russian text
(original)
English translation
By Brett Langston
Париж
3/15 янв[аря] 1883

Милый друг мой! Я в Париже. За исключением Рима, это для меня единственный город на чужбине, где сношу абсолютное одиночество без тоски и страха. Здесь чувствуешь себя если не совсем как дома, то, во всяком случае, менее изолированным, чем в Берлине. Я в душе echter Russe, и, вероятно, на этом основании немец мне противен, чужд, тошен, мерзок. Я отдаю им в уме своём справедливость, я удивляюсь берлинскому порядку и чистоте, люблю тамошнюю дешевизну и доступность всех удовольствий, восхищаюсь кухней Hôtel St. Petersburg, нахожу превосходным Берлинский музей и аквариум и всё-таки более двух дней не могу выдержать немецкого воздуха. На третий день пребывания в Берлине чуть не задохся от отвращения ко всему немецкому. Какая странность! Собирался идти к Котеку 3 дня сряду, все откладывал, откладывал и, наконец, не пошёл. Убоялся объяснений, взаимных упреканий, а также той фальшивой нотки, которая, увы, всегда будет звучать в моих сношениях с ним. Пожалуйста, если будешь писать ему, — не говори, что я был в Берлине. Я ему отсюда что-нибудь навру, а возвращаясь в Россию, повидаюсь с ним.

Господи, сколько времени пропало! И думать нечего кончить к весне оперу; ранее как к лету она не будет готова. Завтра принимаюсь за работу и буду усердно писать. Через несколько дней приедет Модест, пробудем с ним вместе недельку и уедем в милый Рим. В Берлине стоял сильный мороз без снегу, а здесь я застал совершеннейшую весну, хотя сегодня с утра идёт бесконечный дождь.

До свидания, дружище! Пиши сюда Rue Richepanse, Hôtel Richepanse (s, а не c). Всем поклоны.

Твой П. Чайковский

Paris
3/15 January 1883

My dear friend! I'm in Paris. With the exception of Rome, for me this is the sole foreign city where I can put up with absolute solitude without fear and ennui. Here, even if it doesn't feel entirely like home, then in any case, it's less isolated than Berlin. I am at heart still Russian, and this is probably the reason why I find the Germans so horrible, foreign, wretched and abominable. To be fair to them, I marvel at Berlin's cleanliness and orderliness — the affordability of things there, and the availability of every pleasure — I admire the cuisine at the Hôtel St. Petersburg, I find the Berlin museum and aquarium superb, and all the same I cannot stand the German air for more than a couple of days. On my third day staying in Berlin I nearly retched from my disgust for all things German. How strange! For 3 days in a row I intended visiting Kotek, always putting it off, and putting it off, and... ultimately, I didn't go. I was afraid of the explanations and mutual reproaches, as well as that false note which, alas, will always sound in my relations with him. Please, if you write to him, don't mention that I was in Berlin. I'll make up something from here, and I'll be seeing him on my return to Russia.

Lord, what a waste of time! And I can't even think about finishing the opera by the spring; it won't be ready before the summer. I'll set to work tomorrow, and I'll be writing diligently. Modest will be arriving in a few days, staying with me for a week, and then we'll leave for dear Rome. Berlin had a severe frost without snow, but I've happened upon the ultimate spring here, although this morning it's been raining incessantly.

Until we meet, dear chap! Write here to Rue Richepanse, Hôtel Richepanse (with an 's', not a 'c'). Regards to everyone.

Yours P. Tchaikovsky