Letters of Franz Liszt - Vol.1

II

27. To Franz von Schober

[London, May or June, 1840]

My worthy friend,

A fortnight ago my mother wrote me word that she had given several letters, which had come for me from Germany, to a gentleman who was to bring them to me to London. I suppose there was one from you among the number, but up to now I have not received anything.

Allow me to repeat once more the request, which I have already made to you, to come for some time with me (a year or two, and more if you can); for I feel deeply that, the more we are separated by time and space, the more my thoughts and my heart go out to you. I have rarely felt this so strongly, and my wish to feel you settled with me grows daily stronger.

Moreover the persuasion that I feel that we should pass a happy and serious life together, makes me again press you further.

Try then to be at liberty as soon as possible, and once for all make a frank and friendly resolve. I assure you that it will not be difficult to ameliorate, by each other, our two lives, which in their different ways are sad and bad thus separated.

Let me have two words in reply on this point—which, to tell the truth, is the only important one for us both at this moment. Speak quite freely to me, and depend on me thoroughly.

Yours ever,

F. Liszt

Address care of Erard, 18, Great Marlborough Street.

Need I again assure you that any question will not be a question between us?

28. To Franz von Schober

Stonehenge, Salisbury, August 29th, 1840

It is with an unspeakable feeling of sadness and vexation that I write to you today, my dear good friend! Your letter had done me so much good; I was so happy at the thought of our meeting at the end of the autumn at latest; I wanted so to feel that I could rest on your arm, and that your heart, so full of kindness and brotherly help, was near me,—and, lo and behold! I am obliged to give it up, or at least to put it off...

An unfortunate engagement which I have just renewed, and which will keep me in England till the end of January, makes it impossible for me to say to you the one word which I wish to say, "Come!"—

England is not like any other country; the expenses are enormous. I really dare not ask you to travel with me here, for it would almost ruin us. Moreover we should hardly be able to be together, for I have three or four compulsory companions, from whom it is impossible for me to separate. I hoped to have done with all that by the beginning of October, but now I have to begin again in the middle of November. If I have time to make my journey to Russia this year it will be the utmost I can do, but it is a journey that I am in a way obliged to make after the gracious invitation of Her Majesty the Empress at Ems. On the 15th of next May I return again to London, probably by the steamer coming direct from St. Petersburg.

Where shall I find you in a year—fifteen months? It is very possible that I shall come and look for you in Vienna, but then I shall assuredly not leave without taking you with me.

I have some thoughts of spending the following winter at Constantinople. I am tired of the West; I want to breathe perfumes, to bask in the sun, to exchange the smoke of coal for the sweet smoke of the narghileh [Turkish pipe]. In short, I am pining for the East! O my morning land! O my Aborniko!—

My uncle writes that you have been very good and obliging to him. I thank you warmly.—Do you meet Castelli from time to time? When you see him beg him from me to translate the article I published in the Paris "Revue Musicale" (of August 23rd) on Paganini, and to get it put into the "Theater-Zeitung". I should be very glad also if it could be translated into Hungarian, for the Hirnok (excuse me if I make a mess of the word!), but I do not know who could do it.