To yourself, first
of all, I think you owe it - your name and glory will shine out
all the more powerfully for it. And, secondly, for the public it
will be a work of art the more (and this commodity becomes rather
rare as time goes on), and which will besides have the double
advantage of aiding and fixing them in the understanding of your
past works, whilst at the same time preparing them for, and
initiating them into, your future thoughts.
And, lastly, for us who love you, and who would glory and be
proud to be one day called your disciples, we rejoice in it
because the world will learn to know you better by this means,
and because it will probably be another opportunity for us to
show our sympathetic admiration as well as our unalterable
devotion for you.
Unless something very unforeseen occurs, I shall come again and
beg you to receive me for a few days towards the middle of July;
I trust sufficiently to your sincerity to tell me that you would
rather not have me if my individuality would trouble or bother
you too much. - Before that, I shall have the honor of sending you
a little work, to which I have had the audacity to tack a great
name - yours. - It is an instrumental De profundis. The plain-song
that you like so much is preserved in it with the Faburden.
Perhaps this may give you a little pleasure, at any rate, I have
done it in remembrance of some hours passed (I should say
"lived") at La Chenaie.
Farewell, dear Father. I don't give you any news of Paris, - you
know all that. You know that Ballanche wants to be an
Academician, and accepts Salvandy and Dupaty as competitors, - you
know the little check of January, - the miserable petty intrigues
of court and newspaper and vestry; - in a word, you know how men
are wanting in noble and generous sentiments, and how they make
the most of their own ignoble ends and interests, to which their
words and actions yet give the lie.
Farewell once more, dear Father. Think as often as possible of
all the good you have done, and of that which men have a right to
expect of you. Think sometimes also of the help and the wealth of
affection that you have showered on me in particular, and may the
remembrance of this be sweet to you!...
Yours ever, for life - from heart and soul,
F. Liszt
January 14th, 1835
Tomorrow morning I have to leave for two months. If you should be
so good as to write to me before my return, please address
always, 61, Rue de Provence.
