You will be pleased, perhaps, oh Nation, to hear that I have less and less time for letters. I'm rushing through the material of The Wedding and there's still a long way ahead of me. Or rather, I'd like to rush, but I'm trudging through it like dense thickets. I could speed up significantly by not looking around, just plowing and cutting, let's say with a saber. But it would be a shame for many of these bushes and flowers. So, I examine each one closely, only speeding up for brief moments.

Wyspiański, as one can read here and there, supposedly loved music above all, especially opera. Supposedly, he wrote many of his dramas, or maybe all of them, anyway definitely The Wedding, with the ideal of opera in mind. I'm very curious how he imagined this opera. He particularly valued Wagner, I hear. But here is anti-Wagner. Tenderness instead of fervent pathos. Dizziness with dance and drunkenness, instead of frenzied possession. Short-lived impulsiveness, not eternal elevation. Pathetic caricatures in the role of mythical heroes. Tight shoes instead of Liebestod. Quick, frequent, sharp punchline instead of tectonic culmination.

Well, back to work.