*This time Emilia finds mysterious letters hidden in a crack under the floor* Hmm... What is it? Whooa, more letters from Frycek to Tytus! To read or not to read, umm... *hesitates a bit, but curiosity wins again. She opens the envelopes one by one and begins to read*
"As always, I carry your letters with me. How good it will be when I take out your letter and make sure that you love me. Or at least look at the handwriting and the hand of the one I can only love."
*gasps* It's true what people saying!
"Now give me a kiss, the most affectionate one – F. Chopin. One more kiss – a kiss! But have mercy and write a word sometimes, or even half a letter, even a letter, and it will be dear to me."
Fuj! they wanted to kiss again! *winces, but continues reading anyway*
"How many times do I take night for day and day for night; how many times I live in a dream and sleep during the day, worse as if I were sleeping, because I always feel; and instead of gaining strength in this intoxication, as if in a dream, I still feel I am tired and weak - please, love me."
...
"I'm going to wash myself, don't kiss me now, because I haven't washed myself yet. - You? Even if I smeared myself with Byzantine oils, you wouldn't kiss me. There is some force in nature. Today you will dream that you are kissing me. I have to pay you back for the horrible dream you gave me last night."
...Boże, now I'm going to have nightmares. *hurriedly hides the letters where they were*
My best friend, Tytus Woyciechowski, fought in the 1830 November Uprising as a second lieutenant in the Polish army. After seeing combat, he was decorated with the IV class of the Virtuti Militari, the Golden Cross. He was one among 1.794 others awarded this medal for their heroism and courage.
"Wesoły jestem zewnątrz, szczególnie między swoimi (swoimi nazywam Polaków), ale w środku coś mnie morduje — jakieś przeczucia, niepokoje, sny albo bezsenność — tęsknota — obojętność — chęć życia, a w moment chęć śmierci — jakiś słodki pokój, jakieś odrętwienie, nieprzytomność umysłu, a czasem dokładna pamięć mnie dręczy. Kwaśno mi, gorzko, słono, jakaś szkaradna mieszanina uczuć mną miota! Głupszym niż kiedy."
— Fryderyk Chopin w liście do Tytusa Woyciechowskiego, Paryż, 25 grudnia 1831 r.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756 - 1791): «Là ci darem la mano», duettino di Don Giovanni e Zerlina, dal I atto, scena 9a, del dramma giocoso Don Giovanni K 527 (1787), libretto di Lorenzo Da Ponte. Bryn Terfel, baritono; Cecilia Bartoli, soprano; Orchestra dell’Accademia nazionale di santa Cecilia, dir. Myung-Whun Chung.
Friedrich Dotzauer (1783 - 6 marzo 1860): Andante con Variazioni über ein…
I tell my piano the things I would have once told you.
Fryderyk Chopin, in a letter to Tytus Woyciechowski on October 3, 1829
secret context:
This is probably the most famous Chopin quote of them all, to the point that it's on the verge of cliche. The notion that this teenager (he's 19 here) with his extraordinary musical destiny would be confiding in his piano as if to a friend is super compelling. BUT there's another reason why I find it satisfying, and for that I give you the extended passage, Polish and all:
Nie uwierzysz, jak dla mnie teraz Warszawa smutna; gdyby nie to, że familia mi uprzyjemnia, to bym nie wysiedział. – A jak to przykro nie mieć pójść do kogo rano, podzielić z nim smutku, radości; jak to niegodziwie, kiedy coś cięży, a nie ma gdzie złożyć. Wiesz, do czego ta aluzja. Fortepianowi gadam to, co bym tobie był nieraz powiedział.
You wouldn't believe how depressing Warsaw is to me now; if it weren't for my family cheering me up, I wouldn't be able to stand it. -- How miserable it is not to have someone to go to in the morning, to share with him the sadness, the joy; how wicked it is when something weighs on you, and you have nowhere to lay it down. You know to what I allude. I tell my piano the things I would have once told you.
Yes go ahead and enjoy, it's lovely.
the thing is, historians have interpreted this as: poor Chopin is feeling stifled in Warsaw after his big trip abroad (he'd been to Vienna recently) :'( now he can't wait to leave again and go to a proper european city like Paris or Vienna where he'll finally be able to make real art for real :'( :'(
but the thing is, the only thing Chopin finds "depressing" about Warsaw is specifically that his bff/maybe secret boyfriend, to whom he is writing this letter, is not in it anymore. so while a 100 years worth of historians are trying hard to west-ify him, our boy is over here just telling a man he misses him. hero.
Dearest, how about becoming the beautiful and young Tytus again, just as you remembered me? Especially for you? See, I died at an old age. My old, bald head and big, gray mustache are not very attractive, and here in Afterlife nothing is impossible...
*snaps his fingers and suddenly he becomes Tytus in his 30s, with lush hair and a well-groomed mustache*
@tytus-woyciechowski-official
Cóż… you might not find them attractive but please do not speak for me.
Ale no… Magnificent! Let me run my fingers through your hair, kochanie. How wavy it is again!