amenities of existence; I yielded to temptation, surrendered my
scores, was surprised at their success, and--hoped. I now curse
this hope. I feel humiliated before myself, because I seek in
vain release from this grief of self-reproach.

Hulsen has told X. that the whole thing in connection with me was
DONE. Fortunately I was able to comfort X. with the thought that
HE had not done it; but Hulsen is right: the thing is "done for."
What finally could enlighten me better as to the truth and
genuineness of my successes than the fact that in the very places
where they had been gained, and with every conceivable trouble,
the loan of--I must speak plainly--1,000 thalers could not be
raised amongst my "admirers?" This very trivial matter speaks
volumes to me.

Pray, dearest Franz, do not talk to me of my fame, my honours, my
position, or whatever the name may be. I am positively certain
that all my "successes" are based on BAD, very BAD, performances
of my works, that they therefore rest on misunderstandings, and
that my public reputation is not worth an empty nutshell. Let us
give up all diplomatic contrivances, this dealing with means
which we despise for ends which, closely considered, can never be
achieved, least of all by those means. Let us leave alone this
COTERIE, this connection with idiots who in a body have no notion
of what we really aim at. I ask you, What satisfaction, what
pleasure, can we derive from the assistance of all these silly
people, whatever their names may be? I sometimes cannot
understand your ironical enjoyment of life, which gets over your
disgust at these people by making fun of them. Away with all this
stuff, this "glory," this nonsense! We live at a time when glory