Reynaldo HAHN (1874-1947). 10 L.A.S. (mostly "R" or "RH"), [1928-1945, to Suzanne Serge]; 33pages in-8 or in-12, 4 addresses (some minor flaws). Curious sentimental correspondence to a young dancer. The first letters date from the late 1920s; the last letter is post-war. Hahn seems to have had an affair with this dancer, Suzanne Grothé dite Suzanne Serge, nicknamed "Suzon" or "Suzy" by Reynaldo, who danced in 1926 at the Porte Saint-Martin in Une revue; he later gave her advice. These letters are very interesting for the psychology of the musician. [June 15, 1928]. "I've been - I'm still very rushed because I'm going to conduct the Noces at the Mozart Cycle. I hope to see you soon - without artifice - and without clothing - naked and abandoned - indecent and charming." "Since you accept my advice, let me give you the advice not to complicate your life and feelings with psychological musings. Don't think so much about yourself. Just let yourself be as you are, without constantly trying to analyze yourself. Live and wait for what each day brings. You're young, pretty and talented. You'll be fine"... It's "absolutely impossible for me to face psychological sentimental situations right now. I'm sick and tired of it all; I've suffered too much and my life is too painful. In Deauville, I wanted to escape from the grief that is poisoning my existence. And, while being very kind, you made a fuss. So, while being very nice, I gave up; because I don't care about anything enough to persist. And then the tide turned; you're charming and desirable. But I don't want anything - or rather, I don't want anything to complicate my life. You ask me: "Would you put up with me taking a lover?" I tell you, frankly: I'd rather not know whether you have one or not. Because I always hope that physical intimacy will one day intervene between us - fleeting intimacy, intermittent, what have you, and on that day it would be painful to get into questions of jealousy. I can't and I don't want to suffer again. - But I have no right to prevent you from doing anything, and I can give you nothing in return but moments of whimsy. If I'd known you sooner, all this would have been different. - But fate has decided otherwise. I live with one fixed idea, just one - I'm sick and I'd like to get well. You're delicious, but you're COMPLIED. That's why I can only breathe you in once in a while, like a refreshing perfume - if I breathed you in for too long, I'd be stubborn, as they say. You have to like me, not love me. I don't want sentimental responsibilities, drama or conflict. I want to suffer in peace, with moments of rest or pleasure without tomorrow"... He writes to her from the Café de la Régence (late 1920s): "I've been thinking a lot about our little adventure. It began, as far as I'm concerned, with sentiment - I saw you at a time when I was distraught, and if, at that moment, you hadn't said a little phrase - oh, so banal - that drove me away from you, a lot would probably have happened. - But you were in love. And I couldn't linger. - Now everything has changed - I've been thinking about you again. You're one of the very few women I've thought about. First of all, you put up with me, out of politeness "out of respect". And then, perhaps, knowing me better, you had a little sympathy for me. Your ravishing face, your quiet charm, your confidence seduced me - turned my head a little - kept me busy and preoccupied for several days, and I stayed in Deauville for you. And it was all very nice, - right up to the moment - the second I felt in myself and saw in your eyes that sentiment was getting involved. [...] Who knows if, in the ruin that I am, you haven't found an attraction [...] I have in me a possibility of loving and suffering that has tormented me all my life. But this fatal ability to love and suffer is captured by one person, whose thought never leaves me. I have no right to make another believe that I can love her. My life is poisoned by an unhappy, desperate love against which so far neither my talent, nor my occupations, nor the countless distractions to which I have resorted, can do anything. I can only afford [...] adventures. Nothing lasting or even vaguely stable can take its place in my existence. I am tossed from day to day