Любовная переписка знаменитых личностей
В канун замечательного праздника - Дня Святого Валентина, в день, когда все влюбленные пишут своим возлюбленным объяснения в любви, мы желаем Вам написать свое послание так, чтобы Ваше письмо бережно хранилось веками, вошло в семейный архив и передавалось потомками из поколения в поколение, как образец чистой, искренней, пламенной любви. Вдохновения Вам! Кто знает, возможно, и Ваше письмо, со временем попадет на эту страничку! Король Англии Генри VIII Король Англии Генри VIII, правивший в 16 столетии, сменил не только политический курс страны, но и церковь! И все это лишь для того, чтобы получить развод с первой женой, Екатериной Арагонской. Генри был отлучен от католической церкви и создал свою собственную - англиканскую. Получив развод, он тут же женился на Анне Болейн. Любовь к Анне, так ярко выраженная в письмах, к сожалению, продлилась недолго… To Anne Boleyn My Mistress and Friend, I and my heart put ourselves in your hands, begging you to recommend us to your good grace and not to let absence lessen your affection...or myself the pang of absence is already too great, and when I think of the increase of what I must needs suffer it would be well nigh intolerable but for my firm hope of your unchangeable affection... Henry VIII (1528) Наполеон Бонапарт Блестящий полководец, устрашающий правитель Наполеон Бонапарт был ко всему еще и потрясающе «плодовитым» писателем писем…Сохранилось 75 тысяч экземпляров! И большая их часть – к его красавице Джозефине. Причем как до свадьбы, так и в браке с нею. Это письмо, написанное накануне их бракосочетания, открывает нам удивительную нежность и восторженность чувств будущего императора. Paris, December 1795 I wake filled with thoughts of you. Your portrait and the intoxicating evening which we spent yesterday have left my senses in turmoil. Sweet, incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart! Are you angry? Do I see you looking sad? Are you worried?... My soul aches with sorrow, and there can be no rest for you lover; but is there still more in store for me when, yielding to the profound feelings which overwhelm me, I draw from your lips, from your heart a love which consumes me with fire? Ah! it was last night that I fully realized how false an image of you your portrait gives! You are leaving at noon; I shall see you in three hours. Until then, mio dolce amor, a thousand kisses; but give me none in return, for they set my blood on fire. Людвиг Ван Бетховен Людвиг Ван Бетховен - один из самых великих композиторов и таинственных личностей истории умер в возрасте 57 лет, унеся с собой свою тайну! После его смерти среди его личных вещей были найдены любовные письма к незнакомке, которую Бетховен называл просто «Вечная Возлюбленная». Мир, возможно, так никогда и не узнает ни о том, кто была эта таинственная незнакомка, ни об обстоятельствах их любовной связи. Письма Бетховена - это все, что осталось от любви, такой же невероятно страстной, как и его музыка! Рождение «Лунной Сонаты» - подтверждение личной трагедии гения. Трагедии, о которой так никто и не узнал! July 6, 1806 My angel, my all, my very self -- only a few words today and at that with your pencil -- not till tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely determined upon -- what a useless waste of time. Why this deep sorrow where necessity speaks -- can our love endure except through sacrifices -- except through not demanding everything -- can you change it that you are not wholly mine, I not wholly thine? Oh, God! look out into the beauties of nature and comfort yourself with that which must be -- love demands everything and that very justly -- that it is with me so far as you are concerned, and you with me. If we were wholly united you would feel the pain of it as little as I! Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall surely see each other; moreover, I cannot communicate to you the observations I have made during the last few days touching my own life -- if our hearts were always close together I would make none of the kind. My heart is full of many things to say to you - Ah! -- there are moments when I feel that speech is nothing after all -- cheer up -- remain my true, only treasure, my all as I am yours; the gods must send us the rest that which shall be best for us. Your faithful, Ludwig Джек Лондон Джек Лондон был одним из наиболее популярных писателей Америки и, по сути, народным героем. Он испробовал себя в несметном количестве профессий, но успевал при этом поучаствовать и в авантюрах. Женившись, он вскоре влюбился в Анне Странске, своего соавтора. Она же стала причиной его последующего развода. Как ни парадоксально, но не веривший в любовь Джек Лондон, явно демонстрирует симптомы любовного недуга в следующем письме. Oakland, April 3, 1901 Dear Anna: Did I say that the human might be filed in categories? Well, and if I did, let me qualify -- not all humans. You elude me. I cannot place you, cannot grasp you. I may boast that of nine out of ten, under given circumstances, I can forecast their action; that of nine out of ten, by their word or action, I may feel the pulse of their hearts. But of the tenth I despair. It is beyond me. You are that tenth. Were ever two souls, with dumb lips, more incongruously matched! We may feel in common -- surely, we oftimes do -- and when we do not feel in common, yet do we understand; and yet we have no common tongue. Spoken words do not come to us. We are unintelligible. God must laugh at the mummery. The one gleam of sanity through it all is that we are both large temperamentally, large enough to often understand. True, we often understand but in vague glimmering ways, by dim perceptions, like ghosts, which, while we doubt, haunt us with their truth. And still, I, for one, dare not believe; for you are that tenth which I may not forecast. Am I unintelligible now? I do not know. I imagine so. I cannot find the common tongue. Large temperamentally -- that is it. It is the one thing that brings us at all in touch. We have, flashed through us, you and I, each a bit of universal, and so we draw together. And yet we are so different. I smile at you when you grow enthusiastic? It is a forgivable smile -- nay, almost an envious smile. I have lived twenty-five years of repression. I learned not to be enthusiastic. It is a hard lesson to forget. I begin to forget, but it is so little. At the best, before I die, I cannot hope to forget all or most. I can exult, now that I am learning, in little things, in other things; but of my things, and secret things doubly mine, I cannot, I cannot. Do I make myself intelligible? Do you hear my voice? I fear not. There are poseurs. I am the most successful of them all. Jack Джордж Гордон Байрон Лорд Байрон был одним из печально известных любителей женского пола. Знаменитый поэт в возрасте 24 лет имел короткий, но очень страстный роман с Леди Каролиной Лэмб. Под давлением матери возлюбленной (которая, к слову, сама имела виды на поэта) лорд Байрон решил положить конец роману с Леди Каролиной. В этом письме он объясняет причину разрыва. August 812 My dearest Caroline, If tears, which you saw & know I am not apt to shed, if the agitation in which I parted from you, agitation which you must have perceived through the whole of this most nervous nervous affair, did not commence till the moment of leaving you approached, if all that I have said & done, & am still but too ready to say & do, have not sufficiently proved what my real feelings are & must be ever towards you, my love, I have no other proof to offer. God knows I wish you happy, & when I quit you, or rather when you from a sense of duty to your husband & mother quit me, you shall acknowledge the truth of what I again promise & vow, that no other in word or deed shall ever hold the place in my affection which is & shall be most sacred to you, till I am nothing. I never knew till that moment, the madness of -- my dearest & most beloved friend -- I cannot express myself -- this is no time for words -- but I shall have a pride, a melancholy pleasure, in suffering what you yourself can hardly conceive -- for you don not know me. -- I am now about to go out with a heavy heart, because -- my appearing this Evening will stop any absurd story which the events of today might give rise to -- do you think now that I am cold & stern, & artful -- will even others think so, will your mother even -- that mother to whom we must indeed sacrifice much, more much more on my part, than she shall ever know or can imagine. "Promises not to love you" ah Caroline it is past promising -- but shall attribute all concessions to the proper motive -- & never cease to feel all that you have already witnessed -- & more than can ever be known but to my own heart -- perhaps to yours -- May God protect forgive & bless you -- ever & even more than ever. yr. most attached BYRON P.S. -- These taunts which have driven you to this -- my dearest Caroline -- were it not for your mother & the kindness of all your connections, is there anything on earth or heaven would have made me so happy as to have made you mine long ago? & not less now than then, but more than ever at this time -- you know I would with pleasure give up all here & all beyond the grave for you -- & in refraining from this -- must my motives be misunderstood --? I care not who knows this -- what use is made of it -- it is you & to you only that they owe yourself, I was and am yours, freely & most entirely, to obey, to honour, love --& fly with you when, where, & how you yourself might & may determine. Виктор Гюго Великий французский писатель, вождь и теоретик французского романтизма, один из самых читаемых французских прозаиков, свою будущую жену Адель Фуше знал с самого детства. В возрасте 17-ти лет он по сумасшедшему влюбился в нее. И хотя обе семьи влюбленных были против союза этой пары, они тайно обручились, твердо собираясь пожениться. Затем… В течении трех лет Гюго и Адель обменивались тайными посланиями. Их брак длился до самой смерти Адель. Friday evening, March 15, 1822. After the two delightful evenings spent yesterday and the day before, I shall certainly not go out tonight, but will sit here at home and write to you. Besides, my Adele, my adorable and adored Adele, what have I not to tell you? O, God! for two days, I have been asking myself every moment if such happiness is not a dream. It seems to me that what I feel is not of earth. I cannot yet comprehend this cloudless heaven. You do not yet know, Adele, to what I had resigned myself. Alas, do I know it myself? Because I was weak, I fancied I was calm; because I was preparing myself for all the mad follies of despair, I thought I was courageous and resigned. Ah! let me cast myself humbly at your feet, you who are so grand, so tender and strong! I had been thinking that the utmost limit of my devotion could only be the sacrifice of my life; but you, my generous love, were ready to sacrifice for me the repose of yours. ...You have been privileged to receive every gift from nature, you have both fortitude and tears. Oh, Adele, do not mistake these words for blind enthusiasm - enthusiasm for you has lasted all my life, and increased day by day. My whole soul is yours. If my entire existence had not been yours, the harmony of my being would have been lost, and I must have died -- died inevitably. These were my meditations, Adele, when the letter that was to bring me hope of else despair arrived. If you love me, you know what must have been my joy. What I know you may have felt, I will not describe. My Adele, why is there no word for this but joy? Is it because there is no power in human speech to express such happiness? The sudden bound from mournful resignation to infinite felicity seemed to upset me. Even now I am still beside myself and sometimes I tremble lest I should suddenly awaken from this dream divine. Oh, now you are mine! At last you are mine! Soon -- in a few months, perhaps, my angel will sleep in my arms, will awaken in my arms, will live there. All your thoughts at all moments, all your looks will be for me; all my thoughts, all my moments, all my looks, will be for you! My Adele! Adieu, my angel, my beloved Adele! Adieu! I will kiss your hair and go to bed. Still I am far from you, but I can dream of you. Soon perhaps you will be at my side. Adieu; pardon the delirium of your husband who embraces you, and who adores you, both for this life and another. Франц Кафка Франц Кафка большую часть своей жизни работал в страховой компании. Его выдающиеся работы по беллетристике были написаны им в свободное от работы время. В 1912 году Кафка встретил Фелицию Бауэр, и их бурный пятилетний роман, наполненный мучительной, невостребованной любовью вошел в историю. 11 November, 1912 Frulein Felice! I am now going to ask you a favor which sounds quite crazy, and which I should regard as such, were I the one to receive the letter. It is also the very greatest test that even the kindest person could be put to. Well, this is it: Write to me only once a week, so that your letter arrives on Sunday -- for I cannot endure your daily letters, I am incapable of enduring them. For instance, I answer one of your letters, then lie in bed in apparent calm, but my heart beats through my entire body and is conscious only of you. I belong to you; there is really no other way of expressing it, and that is not strong enough. But for this very reason I don't want to know what you are wearing; it confuses me so much that I cannot deal with life; and that's why I don't want to know that you are fond of me. If I did, how could I, fool that I am, go on sitting in my office, or here at home, instead of leaping onto a train with my eyes shut and opening them only when I am with you? Oh, there is a sad, sad reason for not doing so. To make it short: My health is only just good enough for myself alone, not good enough for marriage, let alone fatherhood. Yet when I read your letter, I feel I could overlook even what cannot possibly be overlooked. If only I had your answer now! And how horribly I torment you, and how I compel you, in the stillness of your room, to read this letter, as nasty a letter as has ever lain on your desk! Honestly, it strikes me sometimes that I prey like a spectre on your felicitous name! If only I had mailed Saturday's letter, in which I implored you never to write to me again, and in which I gave a similar promise. Oh God, what prevented me from sending that letter? All would be well. But is a peaceful solution possible now? Would it help if we wrote to each other only once a week? No, if my suffering could be cured by such means it would not be serious. And already I foresee that I shan't be able to endure even the Sunday letters. And so, to compensate for Saturday's lost opportunity, I ask you with what energy remains to me at the end of this letter: If we value our lives, let us abandon it all. Did I think of signing myself Dein? No, nothing could be more false. No, I am forever fettered to myself, that's what I am, and that's what I must try to live with. Franz Франц Лист Пианист и композитор, фигура первостепенной важности в истории музыки, Франц Лист прославил 19-тое столетие своей виртуозной игрой. Завоевав Париж и встретив молодую красавицу графиню Мари д'Агу, он завоевал и ее сердце. Влюбившись до безумия в Франца, Мари, будучи несчастливой в браке, бросила мужа. От их с Листом десятилетнего союза родилось трое детей. Thursday morning 1834 My heart overflows with emotion and joy! I do not know what heavenly languor, what infinite pleasure permeates it and burns me up. It is as if I had never loved!!! Tell me whence these uncanny disturbances spring, these inexpressible foretastes of delight, these divine, tremors of love. Oh! all this can only spring from you, sister, angel, woman, Marie! All this can only be, is surely nothing less than a gentle ray streaming from your fiery soul, or else some secret poignant teardrop which you have long since left in my breast. My God, my God, never force us apart, take pity on us! But what am I saying? Forgive my weakness, how couldst Thou divide us! Thou wouldst have nothing but pity for us...No no! It is not in vain that our flesh and our souls quicken and become immortal through Thy Word, which cries out deep within us Father, Father...out Thy hand to us, that our broken hearts seek their refuge in Thee...O! we thank, bless and praise Thee, O God, for all that Thou has given us, and all that Thou hast prepared for us.... This is to be -- to be! Marie! Marie! Oh let me repeat that name a hundred times, a thousand times over; for three days now it has lived within me, oppressed me, set me afire. I am not writing to you, no, I am close beside you. I see you, I hear you. Eternity in your arms... Heaven, Hell, everything, all is within you, redoubled... Oh! Leave me free to rave in my delirium. Drab, tame, constricting reality is no longer enough for me. We must live our lives to the full, loving and suffering to extremes!... Franz Оливер Кромвель Вождь Английской революции, выдающийся военачальник и государственный деятель, упразднивший монархию, генералиссимус и лорд-протектор Англии, Шотландии и Ирландии был, несмотря на свои великие свершения, безгранично любвеобилен и нежен в отношениях со своей женой. Dunbar, 4 September, 1650 For my beloved Wife Elizabeth Cromwell, at the Cockpit: My Dearest, I have not leisure to write much, but I could chide thee that in many of thy letters thou writest to me, that I should not be unmindful of thee and thy little ones. Truly, if I love thee not too well, I think I err not on the other hand much. Thou art dearer to me than any creature; let that suffice. The Lord hath showed us an exceeding mercy: who can tell how great it is. My weak faith hath been upheld. I have been in my inward man marvellously supported; though I assure thee, I grow an old man, and feel infirmities of age marvellously stealing upon me. Would my corruptions did as fast decrease. Pray on my behalf in the latter respect. The particulars of our late success Harry Vane or Gil. Pickering will impart to thee. My love to all dear friends. I rest thine, Oliver Cromwell Айсейдора Дункан Айседора Дункан была лицом Европы на рубеже 19-20 веков. Своей неподражаемой манерой исполнения она с легкостью завоевывала сердца поклонников. Дункан собирала толпы фанатов на свои революционные для того времени представления. На одном из таких представлений, в Берлине, в 1904 году Гордон Крейг, блестящий театральный дизайнер, впервые увидел Айседору. В своих мемуарах Гордон признается, что он буквально онемел от охватившего его трепета. Он пишет, что ее движения по сцене были божественны. После того, как представление закончилось, они встретились в ее гримерке. В тот же вечер, во время танца, Айседора почувствовала «присутствие». Как правило, она никогда не принимала приглашения в ресторан, но в тот вечер ее так потянуло к Крейгу, что она сама пригласила его поужинать. My Darling -- I don't like it at all. All the Chairs are staring at me in the most frightful way -- And there is a Lady on the Mantel piece who has taken a Great objection to me -- and I'm awfully scared -- This is no place for a person with a nice cheerful disposition like me -- it looks like those parlors in the Novels where they plot things -- All night long the train has not been flying over but going pim de pim over Great fields of snow -- vast plains of snow -- Great bare Countries covered with snow (Walt Whitman could have written 'em up fine) and over all this the Moon shining -- and across the window always a Golden shower of sparks -- from the locomotive -- it was quite worth seeing and I lay there looking out on it all and thinking of you -- of you, you dearest sweetest best darling -- The City is covered in snow and little sleighs rushing madly about -- All things go in sliders of course. I send you many little missives along the way -- Hope they arrived! -- I must go now and wash the soot off and have my Breakfast. Give my love to Dear Dear No. 11 and to that musty little dear Home No. 6 and for your dear self my heart is overflowing with just the most unoriginal old fashionest sort of love. Write to me -- and tell me -- I go now to splash Your Isadora Оноре де Бальзак Оноре де Бальзак - французский писатель, Наполеон в литературе, был коротконогим и неуклюжим от природы. Как результат, в отношениях с женщинами он был робок до болезненности. Правды ради следует отметить, что Бальзак не имел возможности уделять много времени поискам возлюбленных: по пятнадцать часов он работал за письменным столом. Однако женщины сами искали знакомства со знаменитым писателем, забрасывая его письмами. Среди множества таких писем его внимание привлекло одно за подписью «Чужестранка». Это была богатая польская помещица, русская подданная Эвелина Ганская. Новая поклонница была молода, красива и богата. Роман Эвы и Бальзака в письмах длился шестнадцать лет. В счастливом браке Оноре де Бальзак пробыл всего пять месяцев, вплоть до самой смерти… My beloved angel, I am nearly mad about you, as much as one can be mad: I cannot bring together two ideas that you do not interpose yourself between them. I can no longer think of anything but you. In spite of myself, my imagination carries me to you. I grasp you, I kiss you, I caress you, a thousand of the most amorous caresses take possession of me. As for my heart, there you will always be - very much so. I have a delicious sense of you there. But my God, what is to become of me, if you have deprived me of my reason? This is a monomania which, this morning, terrifies me. I rise up every moment saying to myself, "Come, I am going there!" Then I sit down again, moved by the sense of my obligations. There is a frightful conflict. This is not life. I have never before been like that. You have devoured everything. I feel foolish and happy as soon as I think of you. I whirl round in a delicious dream in which in one instant I live a thousand years. What a horrible situation! Overcome with love, feeling love in every pore, living only for love, and seeing oneself consumed by griefs, and caught in a thousand spiders' threads. O, my darling Eva, you did not know it. I picked up your card. It is there before me, and I talk to you as if you were there. I see you, as I did yesterday, beautiful, astonishingly beautiful. Yesterday, during the whole evening, I said to myself "she is mine!" Ah! The angels are not as happy in Paradise as I was yesterday! Виктор Гюго Экстравагантная жизнь и противоречивая натура Виктора Гюго отразились и в его литературных произведениях, и в его любовных связях. Когда Гюго женился, ему было 20 лет, и он был еще девственником. В дальнейшем Адель, его жена, полностью измотанная атлетической сексуальностью Гюго, совсем отказалась от сексуальных отношений с ним. Писатель предпочитал женщин, которые были умными и страстными, но он не отказывался и от тех женщин, которые не обладали этими качествами. Его личность и слава были сильными афродизиаками, и для него всегда и везде находилось достаточное количество партнерш, готовых ради него на все. To Adele Foucher My dearest, When two souls, which have sought each other for, however long in the throng, have finally found each other ...a union, fiery and pure as they themselves are... begins on earth and continues forever in heaven. This union is love, true love, ... a religion, which deifies the loved one, whose life comes from devotion and passion, and for which the greatest sacrifices are the sweetest delights. This is the love which you inspire in me... Your soul is made to love with the purity and passion of angels; but perhaps it can only love another angel, in which case I must tremble with apprehension. Yours forever, Victor Hugo (1821) Бернард Шоу Великий ирландец Бернард Шоу в начале жизненного пути – клерк в земельном агентстве и неудавшийся романист, проведший молодые годы в нужде и безденежье. В конце – нобелевский лауреат со славой второго после Шекспира драматурга Англии. А еще Шоу прославился как любитель и знаток женщин – и едва ли не Казанова. Успех у женщин он имел оглушительный – ведь женщины любят ушами! Роман драматурга в письмах с актрисой Патрик Кемпбелл рождал блистательные, остроумнейшие монологи! На самом деле любовь для Шоу была возможна только в жанре эпистолярном: «Лишь почта может обеспечить идеальное любовное приключение. Воображение превосходит действительность – личный союз только портит сказку, обещанную мечтой. Отношения с миссис Патрик Кемпбелл у меня были самые невинные. Она свела в могилу двух мужей, но ее последнее письмо ко мне, написанное перед смертью, начиналось словами: «Милый, милый Джой!». Взгляды Шоу на любовь были, мягко выражаясь, нестандартными. С женой они договорились, что супружеской близости между ними не будет. February 27, 1913. To ‘Stella’ Beatrice Campbell I want my rapscallionly fellow vagabond. I want my dark lady. I want my angel - I want my tempter. I want my Freia with her apples. I want the lighter of my seven lamps of beauty, honour, laughter, music, love, life and immortality ... I want my inspiration, my folly, my happiness, my divinity, my madness, my selfishness, my final sanity and sanctification, my transfiguration, my purification, my light across the sea, my palm across the desert, my garden of lovely flowers, my million nameless joys, my day’s wage, my night’s dream, my darling and my star... George Bernard Shaw 
Предлагаем Вашему вниманию любовную переписку знаменитых личностей прошлых столетий. Эти поэтические признания в счастливой любви, страсть и часто горе, выраженные на бумаге, были написаны от всего сердца!
