Weimar, May 25th, 1830.
I have just received your welcome letter, written on Ascension Day.
I cannot help myself, but must still write to you from this place.
I will soon send you, dear Fanny, a copy of my symphony; I am
having it written out here, and mean to forward it to Leipzig
(where perhaps it will be performed), with strict orders to deliver
it into your own hands, as soon as possible. Try to collect
opinions as to the title I ought to select; Reformation Symphony,
Confession Symphony, Symphony for a Church Festival, Juvenile
Symphony, or whatever you like. Write to me on this subject, and
instead of a number of stupid suggestions, send me one clever one;
still, I should rather like to hear some of the nonsensical ones
sure to be devised on the occasion.
Yesterday evening I was at a party at Goethe's, and played alone
the whole evening,--the Concert-Stueck, the Invitation a la Valse,
and Weber's Polonaise in C, my three Welsh pieces, and my Scotch
Sonata. It was over by ten o'clock, but I of course stayed till
twelve o'clock, when we had all sorts of fun, dancing and singing;
so you see I lead a most jovial life here. The old gentleman goes
to his room regularly at nine o'clock, and as soon as he is gone,
we begin our frolics, and never separate before midnight.
To-morrow my portrait is to be finished; a large black-crayon
sketch, and very like; but I look rather sulky. Goethe is so
friendly and kind to me, that I don't know how to thank him
sufficiently, or what to do to deserve it. In the forenoon he likes
me to play to him the compositions of the various great masters, in
chronological order, for an hour, and also tell him the progress
they have made, while he sits in a dark corner, like a _Jupiter
tonans_, his old eyes flashing on me. He did not wish to hear
anything of Beethoven's, but I told him that I could not let him
off, and played the first part of the Symphony in C minor. It
seemed to have a singular effect on him; at first he said, "This
causes no emotion, nothing but astonishment: it is _grandios_." He
continued grumbling in this way, and after a long pause he began
again,--"It is very grand, very wild; it makes one fear that the
house is about to fall down; and what must it be when played by a
number of men together!" During dinner, in the midst of another
subject, he alluded to it again. You know that I dine with him
every day, when he questions me very minutely, and is always so gay
and communicative after dinner, that we generally remain together
alone for an hour while he speaks on uninterruptedly.
I have no greater pleasure than when he brings out engravings, and
explains them to me, or gives his opinion of Ernani, or Lamartine's
Elegies, or the theatre, or pretty girls. He has several times
lately invited people, which he rarely does now, so that most of
the guests had not seen him for a long time. I then play a great
deal, and he compliments me before all these people, and "_ganz
stupend_" is his favourite expression. To-day he has invited a
number of Weimar beauties on my account, because he thinks that I
ought to enjoy the society of young people. If I go up to him on
such occasions, he says, "My young friend, you must join the
ladies, and make yourself agreeable to them." I am not however
devoid of tact, so I contrived to have him asked yesterday whether
I did not come too often; but he growled out to Ottilie, who put
the question to him, that "he must now begin to speak to me in good
earnest, for I had such clear ideas, that he hoped to _learn much
from me_." I became twice as tall in my own estimation, when
Ottilie repeated this to me. He said so to me himself yesterday;
and when he declared that there were many subjects he had at heart
that I must explain to him, I _said_, "Oh, certainly!" but I
_thought_, "This is an honour I can never forget,"--often it is the
very reverse.