Brev.

Tjajkovskij till Nadezhda von Meck. Omkring 1878.


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piano_C...ith_Rubinstein

http://www.youtube.com/user/TheWickedNorth - första satsen

Gottfried Benn till F. W. Oelze


Ausgewählte Briefe (ed. Rychner, pocketutgåvan 1986), s. 79–80. Vi tar väl Rychners kommentar också:

Benn till Armin Mohler


Rychner (op.cit.) 132–33
Rychners kommentarer:


*


Rychner (op.cit.) 133–34
Rychners kommentar:

Seneca till Lucilius (efter det att de under en till synes ganska långavrig korrespondens visat sig ha samma åsikt ifråga om slavar och hur man bör behandla dem [som vilka andra människor som helst, sedan vi alla är slavar under någonting]):


Jag gillar tankegången.

Hela självmordsbrevet som hon skrev är otroligt fint. Det låter aningens morbidt, just eftersom hon sen dog.

Det finaste citatet tycker jag är:

"If anybody could have saved me it would have been you."

Brev från Hector Hugh Munro (pseud. Saki) till systern Ethel:

August Strindberg i ett brev till Lanz von Liebenfels.

Tack för Strindberg breven. Ifall jag hade ekonomi så hade jag köpt samtliga 22 volymer, men jag tänkte börja så smått med denna budgetutgåva: http://www.adlibris.com/se/product.aspx?isbn=9197096245

Jäkla trevligt med brev förresten, förutsatt att dom är välskrivna förstås.

Utdrag ur ett ångestfyllt brev, signerat Heinrich von Kleist strax innan han sköt sig 1811 (dock okänt till vem han skickat det)


Franz Kafka ska i februari 1913, efter att ha läst Kleists Michael Kohlhaas för "säkert minst tionde gången", skrivit följande till Felice Bauer...


...och i ett brev daterat september samma år skrev han...

Ett brev från Gustaf Fröding till Adolf Paul

Elizabetanerna var giftiga brevskrivare, som ofta hanterade pennan lika hotfullt som värjan.
Man får förmoda att mottagaren, en viss sekreterare Molineux, blev ganska blek om nosen när han erhöll följande epistel från sir Philip Sidney (1554-86), som ansåg att han slarvat med sekretessen:

Vissarion Belinskiis brev till V.P. Botkin, Polnoje sobranie sochinenii, XII, 1953-59)

"Socialism, socialism - or death! That is my motto. What I care if genius on earth live in heaven when the crowd is wallowing in the dirt?... My heart bleeds and shudders when I view the crowd and its representatives... And that is life: to sit in the street in rags with an idiotic expression of face collecting farthings in the daytime to be spent on booze in the evening - and men see it and no one cares about it!"


Vissarion Belinskiis brev till Nikolai Gogol som svar för dennes verk; Selected Excerpts from Correspondence with Friends, July 15, 1847.

(Engelsk översättning samt anteckningar av Daniel Field)

DEL 1.

You are only partly right in regarding my article as that of an angered man: that epithet is too mild and inadequate to express the state to which I was reduced on reading your book. But you are entirely wrong in ascribing that state to your indeed none too flattering references to the admirers of your talent. No, there was a more important reason for this. One could endure an outraged sense of self-esteem, and I should have had sense enough to let the matter pass in silence were that the whole gist of the matter; but one cannot endure an outraged sense of truth and human dignity; one cannot keep silent when lies and immorality are preached as truth and virtue under the guise of religion and the protection of the knout.

Yes, I loved you with all the passion with which a man, bound by ties of blood to his native country, can love its hope, its honor, its glory, one of its great leaders on the path toward consciousness, development, and progress. And you had sound reason for losing your equanimity at least momentarily when you forfeited that love. I say that not because I believe my love to be an adequate reward for a great talent, but because I do not represent a single person in this respect but a multitude of men, most of whom neither you nor I have ever set eyes on, and who, in their turn, have never set eyes on you. I find myself at a loss to give you an adequate idea of the indignation your book has aroused in all noble hearts, and of the wild shouts of joy that were set up on its appearance by all your enemies, both the nonliterary-- the Chichikovs, the Nozdrevs, and the mayors and by the literary, whose names are well known to you. You see yourself that even those people who are of one mind with your book have disowned it. Even if it had been written as a result of deep and sincere conviction, it could not have created any impression on the public other than the one it did. And it is nobody’s fault but your own if everyone (except the few who must be seen and known in order not to derive pleasure from their approval) received it as an ingenious but all too unceremonious artifice for achieving a purely earthly aim by celestial means.

Nor is that in any way surprising; what is surprising is that you find it surprising. I believe that is so because your profound knowledge of Russia is only that of an artist, but not of a thinker, whose role you have so ineffectually tried to play in your fantastic book. Not that you are not a thinker, but that you have been accustomed for so many years to look at Russia from your beautiful far-away; and who does not know that there is nothing easier than seeing things from a distance the way we want to see them; for in that beautiful far-away you live a life that is entirely alien to it; you live in and within yourself or within a circle of the same mentality as your own that is powerless to resist your influence on it.

Therefore you failed to realize that Russia sees her salvation not in mysticism or asceticism or pietism, but in the successes of civilization, enlightenment, and humanity. What she needs is not sermons (she has heard enough of them!) or prayers (she has repeated them too often!), but the awakening in the people of a sense of their human dignity lost for so many centuries amid dirt and refuse; she needs rights and laws conforming not to the preaching of the church but to common sense and justice, and their strictest possible observance. Instead of which she presents the dire spectacle of a country where men traffic in men, without even having the excuse so insidiously exploited by the American plantation owners who claim that the Negro is not a man; a country where people call themselves not by names but by nicknames such as Vanka, Vaska, Steshka, Palashka; a country where there are not only no guarantees for individuality, honor and property, but even no police order, and where there is nothing but vast corporations of official thieves and robbers of various descriptions. The most vital national problems in Russia today are the abolition of serfdom and corporal punishment and the strictest possible observance of at least those laws that already exist. This is even realized by the government itself (which is well aware of how the landowners treat their peasants and how many of the former are annually done away with by the latter), as is proved by its timid and abortive half-measures for the relief of the white Negroes and the comical substitution of the single-lash knout by a cat-o-three tails.

Such are the problems that prey on the mind of Russia in her apathetic slumber! And at such a time a great writer, whose astonishingly artistic and deeply truthful works have so powerfully contributed toward Russia’s awareness of herself, enabling her as they did to take a look at herself as though in a mirror—publishes a book in which he teaches the barbarian landowner to make still greater profits out of the peasants and to abuse them still more in the name of Christ and Church.... And would you expect me not to become indignant?... Why, if you had made an attempt on my life I could not have hated you more than I do for these disgraceful lines.... And after this, you expect people to believe the sincerity of your book’s intent! No! Had you really been inspired by the truth of Christ and not by the teaching of the devil you would certainly have written something entirely different in your new book. You would have told the landowner that since his peasants are his brethren in Christ, and since a brother cannot be a slave to his brother, he should either give them their freedom or, at least, allow them to enjoy the fruits of their own labor to their greatest possible benefit, realizing, as he does, in the depths of his own conscience, the false relationship in which he stands toward them.

And the expression “Oh, you unwashed snout, you!” From what Nozdrev and Sobakevich did you overhear it, in order to present it to the world as a great discovery for the edification and benefit of the peasants, whose only reason for not washing is that they have let themselves be persuaded by their masters that they are not human beings? And your conception of the national Russian system of trial and punishment, whose ideal you have found in the foolish saying that both the guilty and innocent should be flogged alike? That, indeed, is often the case with us, though more often than not it is the man who is in the right who takes the punishment, unless he can ransom himself, and for such occasions another proverb says: Guiltlessly guilty! And such a book is supposed to have been the result of an arduous inner process, a lofty spiritual enlightenment! Impossible! Either you are ill—and you must hasten to take a cure, or...I am afraid to put my thought into words!...

Proponent of the knout, apostle of ignorance, champion of obscurantism and Stygian darkness, panegyrist of Tartar morals—what are you about. Look beneath your feet—you are standing on the brink of an abyss!... That you base such teaching on the Orthodox Church I can understand: it has always served as the prop of the knout and the servant of despotism; but why have you mixed Christ up in it? What have you found in common between Him and any church, least of all the Orthodox Church? He was the first to bring to people the teaching of freedom, equality, and brotherhood and to set the seal of truth to that teaching by martyrdom. And this teaching was men’s salvation only until it became organized in the Church and took the principle of Orthodoxy for its foundation. The Church, on the other hand, was a hierarchy, consequently a champion of inequality, a flatterer of authority, an enemy and persecutor of brotherhood among men—and so it has remained to this day. But the meaning of Christ’s message has been revealed by the philosophical movement of the preceding century. And that is why a man like Voltaire who stamped out the fires of fanaticism and ignorance in Europe by ridicule, is, of course, more the son of Christ, flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone, than all your priests, bishops, metropolitans, and patriarchs —Eastern or Western. Do you really mean to say you do not know that? Now it is not even a novelty to a schoolboy.