Letter 2268 - Revision history

Tony: "me work" to "my work" / "Figato" to "Figaro" / "give" to "gives" due to context

2024-12-30T10:57:27Z

"me work" to "my work" / "Figato" to "Figaro" / "give" to "gives" due to context

← Older revision		Revision as of 12:57, 30 December 2024
Line 27:		Line 27:

	\|Translated text={{right\|18/30 April, ''Monday''<br/>10.30 in the evening<br/>''Café Durand''}}		\|Translated text={{right\|18/30 April, ''Monday''<br/>10.30 in the evening<br/>''Café Durand''}}
	The day before yesterday, on Holy Saturday, having written a letter in some Café, I don't recall to whom, I returned home at about 12 o'clock in the pouring rain, where considerable unpleasantness awaited me in the form of a telegram from General Richter, which said the following: "''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''". You can imagine my despair. After all, the cantata had been sent precisely three weeks before, together with the march and one act of the opera! Naturally I decided that all this had been lost. What was to be done? I ran to the Grand-Hotel's telegraph office to telegraph Richter and [[Osip Jurgenson]], to whom the parcel had been addressed, and whom I had given instructions to deliver the cantata to Richter. All of this cost me more than 50 francs. Then I returned home and, wrote a huge, desperate letter to Richter, and this had a slight calming effect on me. I slept decently. At 7 o'clock in the morning, dear Anton, who had been greatly involved in my grief the previous day, woke me and gave me a telegram from Richter: "Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude". Ah, what joy and peace of mind that was for me! But I categorically don't understand how the cantata made it to [[Moscow]]. Then I remembered that [[Jurgenson]] (P. I.) wrote to me that he would try to copy the cantata. He probably made a mistake.		The day before yesterday, on Holy Saturday, having written a letter in some Café, I don't recall to whom, I returned home at about 12 o'clock in the pouring rain, where considerable unpleasantness awaited me in the form of a telegram from General Richter, which said the following: "''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''". You can imagine my despair. After all, the cantata had been sent precisely three weeks before, together with the march and one act of the opera! Naturally I decided that all this had been lost. What was to be done? I ran to the Grand-Hotel's telegraph office to telegraph Richter and [[Osip Jurgenson]], to whom the parcel had been addressed, and to whom I had given instructions to deliver the cantata to Richter. All of this cost me more than 50 francs. Then I returned home and wrote a huge, desperate letter to Richter, and this had a slight calming effect on me. I slept decently. At 7 o'clock in the morning, dear Anton, who had been greatly involved in my grief the previous day, woke me and gave me a telegram from Richter: "Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude". Ah, what joy and peace of mind that was for me! But I categorically don't understand how the cantata made it to [[Moscow]]. Then I remembered that [[Jurgenson]] (P. I.) wrote to me that he would try to copy the cantata. He probably made a mistake.

	The weather was better yesterday, but due to my anxiety in the night I felt dreadful all day, and had to drag myself to [[Tanya]]'s. I found [[Lizaveta Mikhaylovna]] in a light dress, having just returned from church, and eating lunch in the most cheerful mood. After a while, [[Tanya]] came in with a new white bonnet with lace, completely well and cheerful. They don't even talk now about what's to come, as if it were put off indefinitely. It was decided that today, if the weather was good, they would heed Ferré's advice to go to ''St. Cloud'', and therefore I was given the option of not going round. They submitted a bill for their upkeep, and returning home I again sent 1000 francs to Ferré. Yesterday I wrote from 8 o'clock until 7 (!!!). I had a terribly late dinner, and to mark Easter I went to "''Leon d'or''". I spent 20 francs without any pleasure. Generally I only now have an appetite for the "Diner Européen". I feel at home there. Then I went to the Champs Elysées and wandered around the Café Chantants. This was quite funny {{...}}. But to tell the truth, all this does little to distract me, and generally the evenings have become the most difficult time of day for me — I don't know how to kill the time, more so since I'm not at all drawn to the theatres, and even have some sort of aversion towards them. The weather today is finally ''decent'' (but by no means splendid). As agreed, I didn't go to see [[Tanya]]. Again, as always, I spent the day tolerably, working very hard — but in the evening I became terribly despondent. During the day I can't really grumble, and thanks to me work I give little thought to the future, immersed in my idée fixe to finish the opera as quickly as possible. But in the evenings I become worried, anxious, and slightly angry. When I come home, with the thought of sleep and taking to my beloved bed, I usually find myself completely at peace and sleep well. The mornings, thanks to your daily letters, are very pleasant for me. Today "''Figaro''" came out with an enormous supplement: "''~~Figato~~-Salon''", which includes all the important pictures. Provided I finish work before I can leave, the Salon will be useful to me. What else is there to I say? It seems there are no material facts, and if I start talking about what occupies me and what I think about when I'm not occupied, then there will be nothing new, as you well know what my thoughts are on this.		The weather was better yesterday, but due to my anxiety in the night I felt dreadful all day, and had to drag myself to [[Tanya]]'s. I found [[Lizaveta Mikhaylovna]] in a light dress, having just returned from church, and eating lunch in the most cheerful mood. After a while, [[Tanya]] came in with a new white bonnet with lace, completely well and cheerful. They don't even talk now about what's to come, as if it were put off indefinitely. It was decided that today, if the weather was good, they would heed Ferré's advice to go to ''St. Cloud'', and therefore I was given the option of not going round. They submitted a bill for their upkeep, and returning home I again sent 1000 francs to Ferré. Yesterday I wrote from 8 o'clock until 7 (!!!). I had a terribly late dinner, and to mark Easter I went to "''Leon d'or''". I spent 20 francs without any pleasure. Generally, I only now have an appetite for the "Diner Européen". I feel at home there. Then I went to the Champs Elysées and wandered around the Café Chantants. This was quite funny {{...}}. But to tell the truth, all this does little to distract me, and generally the evenings have become the most difficult time of day for me — I don't know how to kill the time, more so since I'm not at all drawn to the theatres, and even have some sort of aversion towards them. The weather today is finally ''decent'' (but by no means splendid). As agreed, I didn't go to see [[Tanya]]. Again, as always, I spent the day tolerably, working very hard — but in the evening I became terribly despondent. During the day I can't really grumble, and thanks to my work I give little thought to the future, immersed in my idée fixe to finish the opera as quickly as possible. But in the evenings I become worried, anxious and slightly angry. When I come home, with the thought of sleep and taking to my beloved bed, I usually find myself completely at peace and sleep well. The mornings, thanks to your daily letters, are very pleasant for me. Today "''Figaro''" came out with an enormous supplement: "''Figaro-Salon''", which includes all the important pictures. Provided I finish work before I can leave, the Salon will be useful to me. What else is there to say? It seems there are no material facts, and if I start talking about what occupies me and what I think about when I'm not occupied, then there will be nothing new, as you well know what my thoughts are on this.

	Of course I shall carry out your instruction to buy gloves for [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolya]].		Of course, I shall carry out your instruction to buy gloves for [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolya]].

	I had lunch today at a cheap restaurant near the opera, and again had boiled beef with pickled cucumber, you remember? I had a very fine dinner at Alfred's. I was on the Champs Elysées again, {{...}}, called in at a Café, wrote this letter, and now I'm going home. Yesterday I read two more short stories by ''Maupassant'', and I'm completely enraptured by this writer. I ''didn't like'' Sarah Bernhardt in the pantomime. [[Brandukov]] had great success. That's everything.		I had lunch today at a cheap restaurant near the opera, and again had boiled beef with pickled cucumber, you remember? I had a very fine dinner at Alfred's. I was on the Champs Elysées again, {{...}}, called in at a Café, wrote this letter, and now I'm going home. Yesterday I read two more short stories by ''Maupassant'', and I'm completely enraptured by this writer. I ''didn't like'' Sarah Bernhardt in the pantomime. [[Brandukov]] had great success. That's everything.

	Farewell, golubchik, keep writing often — this ~~give~~ me enormous pleasure and joy.		Farewell, golubchik, keep writing often — this gives me enormous pleasure and joy.

	Kisses to [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolichka]]. Why haven't you written to me about ''Zainka'', how did you find it?		Kisses to [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolichka]]. Why haven't you written to me about ''Zainka'', how did you find it?
	{{right\|P. T.}}		{{right\|P. T.}}
	}}		}}

Brett at 17:11, 5 May 2024

2024-05-05T17:11:35Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 19:11, 5 May 2024
Line 29:		Line 29:
	The day before yesterday, on Holy Saturday, having written a letter in some Café, I don't recall to whom, I returned home at about 12 o'clock in the pouring rain, where considerable unpleasantness awaited me in the form of a telegram from General Richter, which said the following: "''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''". You can imagine my despair. After all, the cantata had been sent precisely three weeks before, together with the march and one act of the opera! Naturally I decided that all this had been lost. What was to be done? I ran to the Grand-Hotel's telegraph office to telegraph Richter and [[Osip Jurgenson]], to whom the parcel had been addressed, and whom I had given instructions to deliver the cantata to Richter. All of this cost me more than 50 francs. Then I returned home and, wrote a huge, desperate letter to Richter, and this had a slight calming effect on me. I slept decently. At 7 o'clock in the morning, dear Anton, who had been greatly involved in my grief the previous day, woke me and gave me a telegram from Richter: "Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude". Ah, what joy and peace of mind that was for me! But I categorically don't understand how the cantata made it to [[Moscow]]. Then I remembered that [[Jurgenson]] (P. I.) wrote to me that he would try to copy the cantata. He probably made a mistake.		The day before yesterday, on Holy Saturday, having written a letter in some Café, I don't recall to whom, I returned home at about 12 o'clock in the pouring rain, where considerable unpleasantness awaited me in the form of a telegram from General Richter, which said the following: "''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''". You can imagine my despair. After all, the cantata had been sent precisely three weeks before, together with the march and one act of the opera! Naturally I decided that all this had been lost. What was to be done? I ran to the Grand-Hotel's telegraph office to telegraph Richter and [[Osip Jurgenson]], to whom the parcel had been addressed, and whom I had given instructions to deliver the cantata to Richter. All of this cost me more than 50 francs. Then I returned home and, wrote a huge, desperate letter to Richter, and this had a slight calming effect on me. I slept decently. At 7 o'clock in the morning, dear Anton, who had been greatly involved in my grief the previous day, woke me and gave me a telegram from Richter: "Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude". Ah, what joy and peace of mind that was for me! But I categorically don't understand how the cantata made it to [[Moscow]]. Then I remembered that [[Jurgenson]] (P. I.) wrote to me that he would try to copy the cantata. He probably made a mistake.

	The weather was better yesterday, but due to my anxiety in the night I felt dreadful all day, and had to drag myself to [[Tanya]]'s. I found [[Lizaveta ~~Mikhailyovna~~]] in a light dress, having just returned from church, and eating lunch in the most cheerful mood. After a while, [[Tanya]] came in with a new white bonnet with lace, completely well and cheerful. They don't even talk now about what's to come, as if it were put off indefinitely. It was decided that today, if the weather was good, they would heed Ferré's advice to go to ''St. Cloud'', and therefore I was given the option of not going round. They submitted a bill for their upkeep, and returning home I again sent 1000 francs to Ferré. Yesterday I wrote from 8 o'clock until 7 (!!!). I had a terribly late dinner, and to mark Easter I went to "''Leon d'or''". I spent 20 francs without any pleasure. Generally I only now have an appetite for the "Diner Européen". I feel at home there. Then I went to the Champs Elysées and wandered around the Café Chantants. This was quite funny {{...}}. But to tell the truth, all this does little to distract me, and generally the evenings have become the most difficult time of day for me — I don't know how to kill the time, more so since I'm not at all drawn to the theatres, and even have some sort of aversion towards them. The weather today is finally ''decent'' (but by no means splendid). As agreed, I didn't go to see [[Tanya]]. Again, as always, I spent the day tolerably, working very hard — but in the evening I became terribly despondent. During the day I can't really grumble, and thanks to me work I give little thought to the future, immersed in my idée fixe to finish the opera as quickly as possible. But in the evenings I become worried, anxious, and slightly angry. When I come home, with the thought of sleep and taking to my beloved bed, I usually find myself completely at peace and sleep well. The mornings, thanks to your daily letters, are very pleasant for me. Today "''Figaro''" came out with an enormous supplement: "''Figato-Salon''", which includes all the important pictures. Provided I finish work before I can leave, the Salon will be useful to me. What else is there to I say? It seems there are no material facts, and if I start talking about what occupies me and what I think about when I'm not occupied, then there will be nothing new, as you well know what my thoughts are on this.		The weather was better yesterday, but due to my anxiety in the night I felt dreadful all day, and had to drag myself to [[Tanya]]'s. I found [[Lizaveta Mikhaylovna]] in a light dress, having just returned from church, and eating lunch in the most cheerful mood. After a while, [[Tanya]] came in with a new white bonnet with lace, completely well and cheerful. They don't even talk now about what's to come, as if it were put off indefinitely. It was decided that today, if the weather was good, they would heed Ferré's advice to go to ''St. Cloud'', and therefore I was given the option of not going round. They submitted a bill for their upkeep, and returning home I again sent 1000 francs to Ferré. Yesterday I wrote from 8 o'clock until 7 (!!!). I had a terribly late dinner, and to mark Easter I went to "''Leon d'or''". I spent 20 francs without any pleasure. Generally I only now have an appetite for the "Diner Européen". I feel at home there. Then I went to the Champs Elysées and wandered around the Café Chantants. This was quite funny {{...}}. But to tell the truth, all this does little to distract me, and generally the evenings have become the most difficult time of day for me — I don't know how to kill the time, more so since I'm not at all drawn to the theatres, and even have some sort of aversion towards them. The weather today is finally ''decent'' (but by no means splendid). As agreed, I didn't go to see [[Tanya]]. Again, as always, I spent the day tolerably, working very hard — but in the evening I became terribly despondent. During the day I can't really grumble, and thanks to me work I give little thought to the future, immersed in my idée fixe to finish the opera as quickly as possible. But in the evenings I become worried, anxious, and slightly angry. When I come home, with the thought of sleep and taking to my beloved bed, I usually find myself completely at peace and sleep well. The mornings, thanks to your daily letters, are very pleasant for me. Today "''Figaro''" came out with an enormous supplement: "''Figato-Salon''", which includes all the important pictures. Provided I finish work before I can leave, the Salon will be useful to me. What else is there to I say? It seems there are no material facts, and if I start talking about what occupies me and what I think about when I'm not occupied, then there will be nothing new, as you well know what my thoughts are on this.

	Of course I shall carry out your instruction to buy gloves for [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolya]].		Of course I shall carry out your instruction to buy gloves for [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolya]].

Brett at 10:40, 30 April 2024

2024-04-30T10:40:25Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 12:40, 30 April 2024
Line 7:		Line 7:
	\|Publication={{bib\|1955/37\|П. И. Чайковский. Письма к близким}} (1955), p. 294–295 (abridged)<br/>{{bib\|1970/86\|П. И. Чайковский. Полное собрание сочинений ; том XII}} (1970), p. 127–129 (abridged)<br/>{{bib\|1981/81\|Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Letters to his family. An autobiography}} (1981), p. 289–290 (English translation; abridged)		\|Publication={{bib\|1955/37\|П. И. Чайковский. Письма к близким}} (1955), p. 294–295 (abridged)<br/>{{bib\|1970/86\|П. И. Чайковский. Полное собрание сочинений ; том XII}} (1970), p. 127–129 (abridged)<br/>{{bib\|1981/81\|Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Letters to his family. An autobiography}} (1981), p. 289–290 (English translation; abridged)
	}}		}}
	==Text==		==Text and Translation==
			The ellipses (...) indicate parts of the letter which have been omitted from all previous publications of this letter, and which it has not yet proved possible to restore from other sources.
	{{Lettertext		{{Lettertext
	\|Language=Russian		\|Language=Russian
	\|Translator=		\|Translator=Brett Langston
	\|Original text={{right\|18/30 апр[еля], ''понед[ельник]''<br/>10½ [часов] веч[ера]<br/>''Café Durand''}}		\|Original text={{right\|18/30 апр[еля], ''понед[ельник]''<br/>10½ [часов] веч[ера]<br/>''Café Durand''}}
	Третьего дня, в страстную субботу, написавши в Café каком-то, не помню к кому, письмо, я около 12 часов вернулся по проливному дождю домой. где меня ждала большая неприятность в виде телеграммы от генерала Рихтера, гласившей следующее: «''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''». Можешь себе представить моё отчаянье. Ведь кантата была выслана ровно за три недели до этого и вместе с ней был марш и действие оперы! Разумеется я решил, что все это пропало. Что было делать? Я побежал в телеграф Grand-Hôtel's телеграфировать Рихтеру и Осипу Юргенсону, на имя коего посылка была адресована и коему я поручил отнести и сдать на руки Рихтеру кантату. Все это мне стоило более 50 франков. Затем вернулся домой, накатал громадное, отчаянное письмо к Рихтеру, и это меня слегка успокоило. Спал порядочно. В 7 часов утра милый Антон, принявший накануне большое участие в моей горести, разбудил меня и подал телеграмму от Рихтера: «Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude». Ух, какая это была мне радость и успокоение! Но как кантата попала в Москву, решительно не понимаю. Потом я вспомнил, что Юргенсон (П. И.) писал мне, что постарается списать кантату. Вероятно, это он напутал. Погода была вчера лучше, но вследствие ночной моей тревоги я чувствовал себя весь день скверно и насилу добрел до Тани. Нашёл Лиз[авету] Мих[айловну] в светлом платье, только что воротившуюся из церкви и завтракавшую в самом весёлом настроении. Через несколько времени пришла Таня в новом белом капоте с кружевами, вполне здоровая и весёлая. Теперь даже уж не говорится об предстоящем, как будто это и надолго отложено. Было решено, что сегодня, если будет хорошая погода, они поедут по совету Ferré в ''S[ain]t Cloud'' и поэтому мне дана свобода не приходить. Подали счёт за содержание и опять Ferré, возвратившись домой, я послал 1000 франков. Писал вчера до 8 часов 7 (!!!). Обедал страшно поздно и по случаю пасхи пошёл в «''Leon d'or''». Истратил 20 франков без всякого удовольствия. У меня вообще теперь аппетит бывает только в «Diner Européen». Я там как дома. Пошёл потом в Champs Elysées и побродил около Café Chantants. Это довольно забавно {{...}}. Но всё это по правде сказать мало всё-таки рассеивает меня и вообще вечер сделался для меня самым тяжёлым временем дня, — не знаю, как убить его, тем-более что в театры совершенно не тянет, и даже скорее какое- то отвращение от них. Сегодня погода наконец ''порядочная'' (всё-таки не отличная). К Тане, согласно уговору, не ездил. Опять, как и всегда, день провёл сносно, очень много работал, — но вечер наводит уныние страшное. Днём я не ропщу и, благодаря работе, мало думаю о будущем, поглощённый своей idée fixe поскорее кончить оперу. Но вечером начинаю беспокоиться, тревожиться и слегка злиться. Обыкновенно, придя домой, имея в виду столь любимую здешнюю постель и сон, совершенно успокаиваюсь и сплю отлично. Утро же, благодаря твоим ежедневным письмам, мне очень приятно. Сегодня «''Figaro''» вышел с огромным прибавлением: «''Figaro-Salon''», в коем помещены все главные картины. В случае если я кончу работу до того, как можно будет уехать, — салон будет для меня ресурсом. Что ещё сказать? Кажется, фактического материала никакого нет, — а если начать говорить о том, что занимает меня и о чем я думаю, когда не занят, — то нового ничего не будет, — ты хорошо знаешь, каковы эти мысли.		Третьего дня, в страстную субботу, написавши в Café каком-то, не помню к кому, письмо, я около 12 часов вернулся по проливному дождю домой, где меня ждала большая неприятность в виде телеграммы от генерала Рихтера, гласившей следующее: «''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''». Можешь себе представить моё отчаянье. Ведь кантата была выслана ровно за три недели до этого и вместе с ней был марш и действие оперы! Разумеется я решил, что все это пропало. Что было делать? Я побежал в телеграф Grand-Hôtel's телеграфировать Рихтеру и Осипу Юргенсону, на имя коего посылка была адресована и коему я поручил отнести и сдать на руки Рихтеру кантату. Все это мне стоило более 50 франков. Затем вернулся домой, накатал громадное, отчаянное письмо к Рихтеру, и это меня слегка успокоило. Спал порядочно. В 7 часов утра милый Антон, принявший накануне большое участие в моей горести, разбудил меня и подал телеграмму от Рихтера: «Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude». Ух, какая это была мне радость и успокоение! Но как кантата попала в Москву, решительно не понимаю. Потом я вспомнил, что Юргенсон (П. И.) писал мне, что постарается списать кантату. Вероятно, это он напутал.

			Погода была вчера лучше, но вследствие ночной моей тревоги я чувствовал себя весь день скверно и насилу добрел до Тани. Нашёл Лиз[авету] Мих[айловну] в светлом платье, только что воротившуюся из церкви и завтракавшую в самом весёлом настроении. Через несколько времени пришла Таня в новом белом капоте с кружевами, вполне здоровая и весёлая. Теперь даже уж не говорится об предстоящем, как будто это и надолго отложено. Было решено, что сегодня, если будет хорошая погода, они поедут по совету Ferré в ''S[ain]t Cloud'' и поэтому мне дана свобода не приходить. Подали счёт за содержание и опять Ferré, возвратившись домой, я послал 1000 франков. Писал вчера до 8 часов 7 (!!!). Обедал страшно поздно и по случаю пасхи пошёл в «''Leon d'or''». Истратил 20 франков без всякого удовольствия. У меня вообще теперь аппетит бывает только в «Diner Européen». Я там как дома. Пошёл потом в Champs Elysées и побродил около Café Chantants. Это довольно забавно {{...}}. Но всё это по правде сказать мало всё-таки рассеивает меня и вообще вечер сделался для меня самым тяжёлым временем дня, — не знаю, как убить его, тем-более что в театры совершенно не тянет, и даже скорее какое-то отвращение от них. Сегодня погода наконец ''порядочная'' (всё-таки не отличная). К Тане, согласно уговору, не ездил. Опять, как и всегда, день провёл сносно, очень много работал, — но вечер наводит уныние страшное. Днём я не ропщу и, благодаря работе, мало думаю о будущем, поглощённый своей idée fixe поскорее кончить оперу. Но вечером начинаю беспокоиться, тревожиться и слегка злиться. Обыкновенно, придя домой, имея в виду столь любимую здешнюю постель и сон, совершенно успокаиваюсь и сплю отлично. Утро же, благодаря твоим ежедневным письмам, мне очень приятно. Сегодня «''Figaro''» вышел с огромным прибавлением: «''Figaro-Salon''», в коем помещены все главные картины. В случае если я кончу работу до того, как можно будет уехать, — салон будет для меня ресурсом. Что ещё сказать? Кажется, фактического материала никакого нет, — а если начать говорить о том, что занимает меня и о чем я думаю, когда не занят, — то нового ничего не будет, — ты хорошо знаешь, каковы эти мысли.

	Поручение купить Коле перчатки, конечно, исполню.		Поручение купить Коле перчатки, конечно, исполню.
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	{{right\|П. Ч.}}		{{right\|П. Ч.}}

			\|Translated text={{right\|18/30 April, ''Monday''<br/>10.30 in the evening<br/>''Café Durand''}}
			The day before yesterday, on Holy Saturday, having written a letter in some Café, I don't recall to whom, I returned home at about 12 o'clock in the pouring rain, where considerable unpleasantness awaited me in the form of a telegram from General Richter, which said the following: "''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''". You can imagine my despair. After all, the cantata had been sent precisely three weeks before, together with the march and one act of the opera! Naturally I decided that all this had been lost. What was to be done? I ran to the Grand-Hotel's telegraph office to telegraph Richter and [[Osip Jurgenson]], to whom the parcel had been addressed, and whom I had given instructions to deliver the cantata to Richter. All of this cost me more than 50 francs. Then I returned home and, wrote a huge, desperate letter to Richter, and this had a slight calming effect on me. I slept decently. At 7 o'clock in the morning, dear Anton, who had been greatly involved in my grief the previous day, woke me and gave me a telegram from Richter: "Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude". Ah, what joy and peace of mind that was for me! But I categorically don't understand how the cantata made it to [[Moscow]]. Then I remembered that [[Jurgenson]] (P. I.) wrote to me that he would try to copy the cantata. He probably made a mistake.

			The weather was better yesterday, but due to my anxiety in the night I felt dreadful all day, and had to drag myself to [[Tanya]]'s. I found [[Lizaveta Mikhailyovna]] in a light dress, having just returned from church, and eating lunch in the most cheerful mood. After a while, [[Tanya]] came in with a new white bonnet with lace, completely well and cheerful. They don't even talk now about what's to come, as if it were put off indefinitely. It was decided that today, if the weather was good, they would heed Ferré's advice to go to ''St. Cloud'', and therefore I was given the option of not going round. They submitted a bill for their upkeep, and returning home I again sent 1000 francs to Ferré. Yesterday I wrote from 8 o'clock until 7 (!!!). I had a terribly late dinner, and to mark Easter I went to "''Leon d'or''". I spent 20 francs without any pleasure. Generally I only now have an appetite for the "Diner Européen". I feel at home there. Then I went to the Champs Elysées and wandered around the Café Chantants. This was quite funny {{...}}. But to tell the truth, all this does little to distract me, and generally the evenings have become the most difficult time of day for me — I don't know how to kill the time, more so since I'm not at all drawn to the theatres, and even have some sort of aversion towards them. The weather today is finally ''decent'' (but by no means splendid). As agreed, I didn't go to see [[Tanya]]. Again, as always, I spent the day tolerably, working very hard — but in the evening I became terribly despondent. During the day I can't really grumble, and thanks to me work I give little thought to the future, immersed in my idée fixe to finish the opera as quickly as possible. But in the evenings I become worried, anxious, and slightly angry. When I come home, with the thought of sleep and taking to my beloved bed, I usually find myself completely at peace and sleep well. The mornings, thanks to your daily letters, are very pleasant for me. Today "''Figaro''" came out with an enormous supplement: "''Figato-Salon''", which includes all the important pictures. Provided I finish work before I can leave, the Salon will be useful to me. What else is there to I say? It seems there are no material facts, and if I start talking about what occupies me and what I think about when I'm not occupied, then there will be nothing new, as you well know what my thoughts are on this.

			Of course I shall carry out your instruction to buy gloves for [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolya]].

			I had lunch today at a cheap restaurant near the opera, and again had boiled beef with pickled cucumber, you remember? I had a very fine dinner at Alfred's. I was on the Champs Elysées again, {{...}}, called in at a Café, wrote this letter, and now I'm going home. Yesterday I read two more short stories by ''Maupassant'', and I'm completely enraptured by this writer. I ''didn't like'' Sarah Bernhardt in the pantomime. [[Brandukov]] had great success. That's everything.

			Farewell, golubchik, keep writing often — this give me enormous pleasure and joy.

	\|~~Translated text=~~		Kisses to [[Nikolay Konradi\|Kolichka]]. Why haven't you written to me about ''Zainka'', how did you find it?
			{{right\|P. T.}}
	}}		}}

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{{letterhead
|Date=18/30 April 1883
|To=[[Modest Tchaikovsky]]
|Place=[[Paris]]
|Language=Russian
|Autograph=[[Klin]] (Russia): {{RUS-KLč}} (a{{sup|3}}, No. 1696)
|Publication={{bib|1955/37|П. И. Чайковский. Письма к близким}} (1955), p. 294–295 (abridged)<br/>{{bib|1970/86|П. И. Чайковский. Полное собрание сочинений ; том XII}} (1970), p. 127–129 (abridged)<br/>{{bib|1981/81|Piotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky. Letters to his family. An autobiography}} (1981), p. 289–290 (English translation; abridged)
}}
==Text==
{{Lettertext
|Language=Russian
|Translator=
|Original text={{right|18/30 апр[еля], ''понед[ельник]''<br/>10½ [часов] веч[ера]<br/>''Café Durand''}}
Третьего дня, в страстную субботу, написавши в Café каком-то, не помню к кому, письмо, я около 12 часов вернулся по проливному дождю домой. где меня ждала большая неприятность в виде телеграммы от генерала Рихтера, гласившей следующее: «''Vôtre cantate n'arrive pas, recherches n'aboutissent pas à la trouver, par quelle voie l'avez vous expédié, prenez renseignements''». Можешь себе представить моё отчаянье. Ведь кантата была выслана ровно за три недели до этого и вместе с ней был марш и действие оперы! Разумеется я решил, что все это пропало. Что было делать? Я побежал в телеграф Grand-Hôtel's телеграфировать Рихтеру и Осипу Юргенсону, на имя коего посылка была адресована и коему я поручил отнести и сдать на руки Рихтеру кантату. Все это мне стоило более 50 франков. Затем вернулся домой, накатал громадное, отчаянное письмо к Рихтеру, и это меня слегка успокоило. Спал порядочно. В 7 часов утра милый Антон, принявший накануне большое участие в моей горести, разбудил меня и подал телеграмму от Рихтера: «Partition trouvée à Moscou; pardon d'avoir causé inquiétude». Ух, какая это была мне радость и успокоение! Но как кантата попала в Москву, решительно не понимаю. Потом я вспомнил, что Юргенсон (П. И.) писал мне, что постарается списать кантату. Вероятно, это он напутал. Погода была вчера лучше, но вследствие ночной моей тревоги я чувствовал себя весь день скверно и насилу добрел до Тани. Нашёл Лиз[авету] Мих[айловну] в светлом платье, только что воротившуюся из церкви и завтракавшую в самом весёлом настроении. Через несколько времени пришла Таня в новом белом капоте с кружевами, вполне здоровая и весёлая. Теперь даже уж не говорится об предстоящем, как будто это и надолго отложено. Было решено, что сегодня, если будет хорошая погода, они поедут по совету Ferré в ''S[ain]t Cloud'' и поэтому мне дана свобода не приходить. Подали счёт за содержание и опять Ferré, возвратившись домой, я послал 1000 франков. Писал вчера до 8 часов 7 (!!!). Обедал страшно поздно и по случаю пасхи пошёл в «''Leon d'or''». Истратил 20 франков без всякого удовольствия. У меня вообще теперь аппетит бывает только в «Diner Européen». Я там как дома. Пошёл потом в Champs Elysées и побродил около Café Chantants. Это довольно забавно {{...}}. Но всё это по правде сказать мало всё-таки рассеивает меня и вообще вечер сделался для меня самым тяжёлым временем дня, — не знаю, как убить его, тем-более что в театры совершенно не тянет, и даже скорее какое- то отвращение от них. Сегодня погода наконец ''порядочная'' (всё-таки не отличная). К Тане, согласно уговору, не ездил. Опять, как и всегда, день провёл сносно, очень много работал, — но вечер наводит уныние страшное. Днём я не ропщу и, благодаря работе, мало думаю о будущем, поглощённый своей idée fixe поскорее кончить оперу. Но вечером начинаю беспокоиться, тревожиться и слегка злиться. Обыкновенно, придя домой, имея в виду столь любимую здешнюю постель и сон, совершенно успокаиваюсь и сплю отлично. Утро же, благодаря твоим ежедневным письмам, мне очень приятно. Сегодня «''Figaro''» вышел с огромным прибавлением: «''Figaro-Salon''», в коем помещены все главные картины. В случае если я кончу работу до того, как можно будет уехать, — салон будет для меня ресурсом. Что ещё сказать? Кажется, фактического материала никакого нет, — а если начать говорить о том, что занимает меня и о чем я думаю, когда не занят, — то нового ничего не будет, — ты хорошо знаешь, каковы эти мысли.

Поручение купить Коле перчатки, конечно, исполню.

Я сегодня завтракал в дешёвом ресторане у оперы и опять ел варёную говядину с солёным огурцом, помнишь. Обедал у Альфреда очень хорошо. Опять был в Champs Elysées, {{...}} зашёл в Café, написал это письмо и теперь пойду домой. Вчера я прочёл ещё два рассказика ''Maupassant'' и совершенно очарован этим писателем. Сара Бернар в пантомиме ''не понравилась''. Брандуков имел большой успех. Вот и всё.

Прощай, голубчик, продолжай часто писать, — это для меня огромное удовольствие и отрада.

Количку целую. Отчего ты о ''Заиньке'' мне не пишешь, как нашёл его?
{{right|П. Ч.}}

|Translated text=
}}