“Modi, ever since I re-read Romeo and Juliet, Undine, Berthalde, Gulbrand, and the rest seem to me a pack of childish nonsense. Of course, I shall compose an opera on Romeo and Juliet. All your objections will vanish before the vast enthusiasm which possesses me. It shall be my finest work. It seems absurd that I have only just found out that fate has to some extent ordained me for this task. Nothing could be better suited to my musical temperament. No kings, no marches—in a word, none of the usual accessories of Grand Opera. Nothing but love, love, love. And then how delightful are the minor characters: Friar Lawrence, Tybalt, Mercutio! You need not be afraid of monotony. The first love duet will be very different from the second. In the first, brightness and serenity; in the second, a tragic element. From children, happily and carelessly in love, Romeo and Juliet have become passionate and suffering beings, placed in a tragic and inextricable dilemma. How I long to get to work on it!”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“Brailov, May 27th (June 8th), 1878.
“Yesterday I played the whole of Eugene Oniegin, from beginning to end. The author was the sole listener. I am half ashamed of what I am going to confide to you in secret: the listener was moved to tears, and paid the composer a thousand compliments. If only the audiences of the future will feel towards this music as the composer himself does!”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Brailov, May 29th (June 10th), 1878.
“I am spending my last days here. I need hardly tell you why I cannot accept your hospitality any longer, although I might remain until June 10th (22nd). I have spent many unforgettable days here; I have experienced the purest and most tranquil enjoyment. I have drunk in the beauties and sympathetic surroundings of Brailov, so that my visit will remain one of the most beautiful memories of my life. I thank you. Nevertheless it is time I went away.”
To N. F. von Meck.
“Brailov, May 30th (June 11th), 1878.
“I have given my pieces (which are dedicated to Brailov) to Marcel, so that he may deliver them to you. The first is the best, I think, but also the most difficult; it is called Meditation. The second is a very quick Scherzo, and the third a ‘Chant sans Paroles.’ It was very hard to part with them to Marcel. Just recently I had started copying them! Then the lilacs were still in full bloom, the grass uncut, and the roses had hardly begun to bud!”