Letters from Composers

   Palma, 28 Dec 1838
Imagine me, between rocks and sea, in a cell in an
immense, deserted monastery, it's doors bigger than the
coach entrance to any Paris mansion. Here I am with my
hair uncurled, no white gloves, and as pale as usual. My
cell, shaped like a great coffin, has a vast and dusty arched
ceiling, and a little window looking to the garden with its
orange trees, palms and cypresses. Opposite the window,
below a rosette in the lacy Moorish style, is a camp-bed.
Beside the bed is an old untouchable, a kind of square
desk, on which stands a wax candle...on the same desk,
Bach, my scribbles, and other papers, not mine...(....and
the orange trees, palms and cypresses...) Silence... If
you shout...silence again... In short I am writing from a
very strange place...

   Vienna, 9 Jun 1781
Well, Count Arco has managed things to perfection! So that
is the way to persuade people, to win them over, to refuse
petitions out of congenital stupidity, not to say a word to
your master for lack of spirit and love of sycophancy, to
keep a man hanging about for four weeks and at last, when
he is obliged to present the petition himself, instead of
arranging for his admittance, to throw him out and give him
a kick in the pants... I wrote three petitions, handed them
in five times, and each time had them thrown back at
me...and since the Archbishop was planning to leave on
the next day, I was quite beside myself with rage and wrote
another petition, in which I disclosed to him that I had had
a petition in readiness for the past four weeks! With that
petition I received my discharge in the most gallant way.
So seeing the reasons why I left him no father could be
angry with his own son.

    Vienna, 31 Mar 1824
My brightest hopes have come to nothing, the joys of
friendship and love soon turn to sorrows, and even my
pleasure in beauty itself is in danger of dying away! "Meine
Ruh' ist hin, mein Herz ist schwer;" thus sang Gretchen at
her spinning wheel. So might I now sing every day, for every
night I got to bed hoping that I shall not wake again, and
each morning only brings back all the sorrows and grief of
the day before. "Meine Ruh' ist hin, mein Herz ist schwer;"
thus sang Gretchen at her spinning wheel. And so I spend
my days, joyless and friendless.

    Leipzig, 24 Aug 1736
Magnificent, most honourable gentlemen, our wise and
learned councilors, distinguished Lords and Patrons, et
cetera, et cetera, et cetera... . May it please you to
condescend to hear how Herr Johannes Fredrich Eitelwein,
a merchant in the town of Leipzig, was married on the twelfth
of August of the present year out of town, and therefore
thinks himself entitled to withhold the fees due us in all
such cases, and has made bold to disregard our many kind
reminders. Where as the said fees make up the greater part
of our emoluments, a perquisite of this position and no one
has hitherto endeavoured to withhold from us our lawful
share. We therefore feel compelled to beg you, honoured
Lords and Gracious Patrons for this reason to take us under
your protection and by your decision to uphold us in our old
right and agreed Salario, and further to enjoin upon the said
Herr Eitelwein that he remit to us a due proportion of the
foresaid marriage fees, together with the costs occasioned,
in this instance, which we also claim, with all respect and
reverence. Magnificent and honourable gentlemen, most
wise and learned councilors, distinguished Lords and
Patrons, from your most humble and devoted servant,
Johann Sebastian Bach.

    Le Molleau, 3 Dec 1916
I go on with this waiting life, waiting-room life, I might say, for I
am a poor traveler waiting for a train that will never come
again. They tell me it's the morphine! No! Something is
broken in this strange mechanism that used to be my brain.
Who's to blame? Perhaps this miserable war that loses
some of its nobility with every passing day. Who's to blame?
It was stupid enough to trust the Bulgarians. But it's even
worse to trust the Greeks for anything! And good King George
looks like a hawker of lead pencils with no lead in them.
Of course, rumors spread like weeds. Everyone appoints a
new commander-in-chief every morning. It's like a
hunchback changing his tailor in hope that the new one will
be able to conceal his hump......and after all, what does
it matter?

    Paris 10 May 1898
I am sick of Paris! I am sick of panting for the fragrant wood,
for the free movement of my belly in wide trousers and no
waistcoat; I pant, I pant after the wind that blows free and
fragrant from the sea; I savor with wide flaring nostrils its
salty breath, and stretch my lungs to breathe it all! I hate
pavements! I hate palaces! I hate capitals! I hate columns
of marble! I love the beautiful column of poplar and fir; I love
the vault of shady glades; I love the green expanse of cool
shelter in forest old or young; I love the blackbird in flight;
I love the woodpecker, seagull, and lark! I hate the horse,
the cat and the toy dog! I hate the steamer, the top hat, the
dress coat, and I hate Paris!

    Leipzig, 3 Jun 1839
The most certain thing is still that we continue to love each
other with all our hearts and I feel sure that in your heart
there is a rich fund of love, and you will make your husband
happy for a long, long time. You are a wonderful girl, Klara!
There is such a host of varied and beautiful qualities in you
that I will never know how you have managed to bring them
all together during your short life. But there is one thing I
know, Klara, and that is: I believe you would have been a
very different girl if you had never met me at so early a stage
and been impressed by my gentle way. Leave me this
belief, it makes me happy. I taught you to love, [...] 
and drew you close, to be the ideal bride as I imagined her; 
you were my most gifted pupil, and as my reward you said 
to me: "Well, then, take me, take me, take me, take me,
take me, take me, take me!"