1910 Christmas
... One day while he was working Gucki stood beside him, watching with engrossment. He was scratching out one note after another. "Papi," she said, "I wouldn't like to be a note." "Why not?" he asked. "Because then you might scratch me out and blow me away." He was so delighted that he came at once to tell me what she said. ...
... I looked after him now just as if he were a little child. I put every bit into his mouth for him and slept in his room without taking off my clothes. We got so used to it that he said more than once: "When I'm well again we'll go on like this. You'll feed me--it's so nice." ...
1911
... When I arrived on board Mahler was already in bed and Frankel was at his side. He gave me his last instructions and warned me not to call in the ship's doctor. Then he bade Mahler a brief and sad farewell. He knew that he would never see him again. ...
... My mother and he wept bitterly. It was the only time during the whole of his illness that he was so utterly disconsolate. When Moll came in, he said again that he wished to be buried in the same grave as our daughter and asked him never to desert me. ...
... During his last days and while his mind was still unclouded his thought often went anxiously to Schoenberg. "If I go, he will have nobody left." I promised him to do everything in my power. Moll too promised to stand by Shoenberg. ...
... Once when Mahler was feeling better I sat on his bed and we discussed what we should do when he had recovered. "We'll go to Egypt and see nothing but blue sky," he said.
"Once you are well again," I said, "I shall have had enough of suffering. Do you remember when you first got to know me you thought I was too happy. I've suffered enough now. I don't need any more chastening. We'll live a careless, happy life."
He smiled tenderly and stroked my hair. "Yes, you're right. God grant I get better and then we can still be happy." ...
... During his last days he cried out: "My Almschi," hundreds of times, in a voice, a tone I had never heard before and have never heard since. "My Almschi!" As I write it down now, I cannot keep back my tears. ...
... Mahler lay with dazed eyes; one finger was conducting on the quilt. There was a smile on his lips and twice he said: "Mozart!" His eyes were very big. ...
... That ghastly sound ceased suddenly at midnight of the 18th of May during a tremendous thunder storm. With that last breath his beloved and beautiful soul had fled, and the silence was more deathly than all else. As long as he breathed he was there still. But now all was over.
... I could not understand it. Was I alone? Had I to live without him? It was as if I had been flung out of a train in a foreign land. I had no place on earth.
I went up to the Hohe Warte, in Heiligenstadt. The bells tolled without ceasing. I had Mahler's photograph beside me and I lay in bed and talked to him. He was still there--not yet in the earth. ...
... I can never forget his dying hours and the greatness of his face as death drew nearer. His battle for the eternal values, his elevation above trivial things and his unflinching devotion to truth are an example of the saintly life.
(THE END)
... One day while he was working Gucki stood beside him, watching with engrossment. He was scratching out one note after another. "Papi," she said, "I wouldn't like to be a note." "Why not?" he asked. "Because then you might scratch me out and blow me away." He was so delighted that he came at once to tell me what she said. ...
... I looked after him now just as if he were a little child. I put every bit into his mouth for him and slept in his room without taking off my clothes. We got so used to it that he said more than once: "When I'm well again we'll go on like this. You'll feed me--it's so nice." ...
1911
... When I arrived on board Mahler was already in bed and Frankel was at his side. He gave me his last instructions and warned me not to call in the ship's doctor. Then he bade Mahler a brief and sad farewell. He knew that he would never see him again. ...
... My mother and he wept bitterly. It was the only time during the whole of his illness that he was so utterly disconsolate. When Moll came in, he said again that he wished to be buried in the same grave as our daughter and asked him never to desert me. ...
... During his last days and while his mind was still unclouded his thought often went anxiously to Schoenberg. "If I go, he will have nobody left." I promised him to do everything in my power. Moll too promised to stand by Shoenberg. ...
... Once when Mahler was feeling better I sat on his bed and we discussed what we should do when he had recovered. "We'll go to Egypt and see nothing but blue sky," he said.
"Once you are well again," I said, "I shall have had enough of suffering. Do you remember when you first got to know me you thought I was too happy. I've suffered enough now. I don't need any more chastening. We'll live a careless, happy life."
He smiled tenderly and stroked my hair. "Yes, you're right. God grant I get better and then we can still be happy." ...
... During his last days he cried out: "My Almschi," hundreds of times, in a voice, a tone I had never heard before and have never heard since. "My Almschi!" As I write it down now, I cannot keep back my tears. ...
... Mahler lay with dazed eyes; one finger was conducting on the quilt. There was a smile on his lips and twice he said: "Mozart!" His eyes were very big. ...
... That ghastly sound ceased suddenly at midnight of the 18th of May during a tremendous thunder storm. With that last breath his beloved and beautiful soul had fled, and the silence was more deathly than all else. As long as he breathed he was there still. But now all was over.
... I could not understand it. Was I alone? Had I to live without him? It was as if I had been flung out of a train in a foreign land. I had no place on earth.
I went up to the Hohe Warte, in Heiligenstadt. The bells tolled without ceasing. I had Mahler's photograph beside me and I lay in bed and talked to him. He was still there--not yet in the earth. ...
... I can never forget his dying hours and the greatness of his face as death drew nearer. His battle for the eternal values, his elevation above trivial things and his unflinching devotion to truth are an example of the saintly life.
(THE END)
picture from: http://www.library.upenn.edu/collections/rbm/photos/mahler/63-3-18.html
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