“I want nothing for the Mozart,[189] because I have not put much of myself into it.”
To Vladimir Davidov.
“Berlin, May 15th (27th), 1893.
“ ... This time I wept and suffered more than ever, perhaps because I let my thoughts dwell too much on our last year’s journey. It is purely a psychophysical phenomenon! And how I loathe trains, the atmosphere of railway carriages, and fellow-travellers!... I travel too much, that is why I dislike it more and more. It is quite green here, and flowers blooming everywhere—but it does not give me any pleasure, and I am only conscious of an incredible and overwhelming home-sickness.”
To Modeste Tchaikovsky.
“London, May 17th (29th), 1893.
“I arrived here early this morning. I had some difficulty to find a room—all the hotels are packed. The concert takes place on May 20th (June 1st), after which I must rush around for about a week, for the Cambridge ceremony does not come off until the 11th or 12th, and on the 13th—our 1st of June—I begin my homeward journey. I am continually thinking of you all. I never realise all my affection for you so much as when away from home, and oppressed with loneliness and nostalgia.”
To Vladimir Davidov.
“London, May 17th (29th), 1893.
“Is it not strange that of my own free will I have elected to undergo this torture? What fiend can have suggested it to me? Several times during my journey yesterday I resolved to throw up the whole thing and turn tail. But what a disgrace to turn back for no good reason! Yesterday I suffered so much that I could neither sleep nor eat, which is very unusual for me. I suffer not only from torments which cannot be put into words (there is one place in my new Symphony—the Sixth—where they seem to me adequately expressed), but from a dislike to strangers, and an indefinable terror—though of what the devil only knows. This state makes itself felt by internal pains and loss of power in my legs. However, it is for the last time in my life. Only for a heap of money will I ever go anywhere again, and never for more than three days at a time. And to think I must kick my heels here for another fortnight!! It seems like eternity. I arrived early this morning, viâ Cologne and Ostend. The crossing took three hours, but it was not rough.... On the steps of my hotel I met the French pianist Diemer, and to my great astonishment found myself delighted to see him. He is an old acquaintance, and very well disposed towards me. In consequence of our meeting I had to go to his ‘Recital.’ Saint-Saëns also takes part in the concert at which I am conducting.”