[Autograph in the possession of M. Gaston Calmann-Levy in Paris.]
Nous disons: "Il est temps. Executons, c'est l'heure." Alors nous
retournons les yeux - La Mort est la! Ainsi de mes projets. - Quand
vous verrai-je, Espagne, Et Venise et son golfe, et Rome et sa
campagne,
Toi, Sicile, que ronge un volcan souterrain, Grece qu'on connait
trop, Sardaigne qu'on ignore, Cites de l'Aquilon, du Couchant, de
l'Aurore, Pyramides du Nil, Cathedrales du Rhin! Qui sait? -
jamais peut-etre!
[We say: "Now it is time. Let's act, for 'tis the hour." Then
turn we but our eyes - lo! death is there! Thus with my plans.
When shall I see thee, Espagna, And Venice with her gulf, and
Rome with her Campagna; Thou, Sicily, whom volcanoes undermine;
Greece, whom we know too well, Sardinia, unknown one, Lands of
the north, the west, the rising sun, Pyramids of the Nile,
Cathedrals of the Rhine! Who knows? Never perchance!]
Earthly life is but a malady of the soul, an excitement which is
kept up by the passions. The natural state of the soul is rest!
Paris, May 2nd [1832]
Here is a whole fortnight that my mind and fingers have been
working like two lost spirits, Homer, the Bible, Plato, Locke,
Byron, Hugo, Lamartine, Chateaubriand, Beethoven, Bach, Hummel,
Mozart, Weber, are all around me. I study them, meditate on them,
devour them with fury; besides this I practice four to five hours
of exercises (3rds, 6ths, 8ths, tremolos, repetition of notes,
cadences, etc., etc.). Ah! provided I don't go mad, you will find
an artist in me! Yes, an artist such as you desire, such as is
required nowadays!
"And I too am a painter!" cried Michael Angelo the first time he
beheld a chef d'oeuvre...Though insignificant and poor, your
friend cannot leave off repeating those words of the great man
ever since Paganini's last performance. Rene, what a man, what a
violin, what an artist! Heavens! what sufferings, what misery,
what tortures in those four strings!
Here are a few of his characteristics: -
[Figure: Liszt here writes down several tiny excerpts from
musical scores of Paganini's violin music, such as his famous
"Caprices"]
As to his expression, his manner of phrasing, his very soul in
fact! - -
May 8th [1832]
My good friend, it was in a paroxysm of madness that I wrote you
the above lines; a strain of work, wakefulness, and those violent
desires (for which you know me) had set my poor head aflame; I
went from right to left, then from left to right (like a sentinel
in the winter, freezing), singing, declaiming, gesticulating,
crying out; in a word, I was delirious. Today the spiritual and
the animal (to use the witty language of M. de Maistre) are a
little more evenly balanced; for the volcano of the heart is not
extinguished, but is working silently. - Until when? -
Address your letters to Monsieur Reidet, the receiver-general at
the port of Rouen.
