Leipzig, October 29th, 1837.

Dear Brother,

First of all, my most cordial congratulations on the day when this letter will reach you; may you pass it happily, and may it prove a good harbinger of the coming year. You mention in your letter of yesterday, that your quiet, settled and untroubled position sometimes makes you almost anxious and uneasy; but I cannot think you right in this feeling; as little as if you were to complain of the very opposite extreme. Why should it not be sufficient for a man to know how to secure and to enjoy his happiness? I cannot believe that it is at all indispensable first to earn it by trials or misfortunes; in my opinion, heartfelt grateful acknowledgment is the best Polycrates’ ring; and truly in these days it is a difficult problem to acknowledge, and to enjoy good fortune, and other blessings, in such a manner as to share them with others, thus rendering them cheerful and glad also, and showing too that the difference is equally great between this and idle arrogance. It is singular that in my position, I might complain of the very reverse of what troubles you; the more I find what are termed encouragement and recognition in my vocation, the more restless and unsettled does it become in my hands, and I cannot deny that I often long for that rest of which you complain. So few traces remain of performances and musical festivals, and all that is personal; the people indeed shout and applaud, but that quickly passes away, without leaving a vestige behind, and yet it absorbs as much of one’s life and strength as better things, or perhaps even more; and the evil of this is, that it is impracticable to come half out, when you are once in; you must either go on the whole way, or not at all. I dare not even attempt to withdraw, or the cause which I have undertaken will suffer, and yet I would gladly see that it was not merely my cause, but considered a good and universal one. But this is the very point where people are wanting to pursue the same path—not an approving public (for that is a matter of indifference), but fellow-workers (and they are indispensable). So in this sense I long for a less busy life, in order to be able to devote myself to my peculiar province—composition of music, and to leave the execution of it to others. It seems, however, that this is not to be, and I should be ungrateful were I dissatisfied with my life as it is.

Fanny will probably give you to-morrow the parts of my new quartett from me. Whether it will please you or not is uncertain; but think of me when you play it and come to any passage which is peculiarly in my style. How gladly would I have given you something better and prettier, in honour of your birthday, but I did not know what to send.

Yesterday evening my C minor quartett was played in public by David, and had great success. They were made to play the scherzo twice, and the adagio pleased the audience best of all, which caused me very great astonishment. In a few days I mean to begin a new quartett, which may please me better. I also intend soon to compose a sonata for violoncello and piano for you,—by my beard, I will!

And now farewell; till our happy, happy meeting in February.—Your

Felix.