At The End Of The Year You Shall Get
Some Still Greater Guns From Me, For I Think That By
That time
several of my orchestral works (under the collective title of
"Symphonische Dichtungen" [Symphonic Poems.]) will come out.
Meanwhile
Accept once more my best thanks for the manifold proofs
of your well-wishing sympathy, which you have given me publicly
and personally. You may rest assured that no stupid self-conceit
is sticking in me, and that I mean faithfully and earnestly
towards our Art, which in the end must be formed of our hearts'
blood. - Whether one "worries" a bit more or a bit less, as you
put it, is pretty much the same. Let us only spread our wings
"with our faces firmly set," and all the cackle of goose-quills
will not trouble us at all.
That your article has been rudely and spitefully criticized need
not trouble you. You presuppose your reader to have refinement
and educated feeling, artistic acuteness, a fine perception, and
a certain Atticism. These, my dear friend, are indeed rare
things - and only to be found in very homoeopathic doses among our
Aristarchuses. Sheep and d[onkeys] have no taste for truffles.
"Good hay, sweet hay, has not its equal in the world," as the
artist-philosopher Zettel very truly says in the "Midsummer
Night's Dream"! Moreover, dear friend, things didn't and don't go
any better with other better fellows than ourselves. We need not
make any fancies about it, but only go onward quietly,
perseveringly, and consistently.
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