TO HIS FAMILY.
I have just received your very welcome letter written on Ascension Day, and must yield to the temptation to send you another answer from here. To you, dear Fanny, I am just about to send the copy of my symphony, which I am having copied here and sent to Leipsic (where, perhaps, it will be performed), with strict injunctions that one copy shall be forwarded you as soon as possible. Please collect votes for a title to it, which I have to choose. “Reformation Symphony,” “Confession Symphony,” “Symphony for a Church Festival,” “Child’s Symphony,” or what you like; only write to me, and, in place of all these dull suggestions, give me a bright one; still I should like to hear the stupid ones that are brought to light by the occasion. Yesterday evening I was at a party at Goethe’s, and played alone the whole evening: a concert piece, “Aufforderung,” and “Polonaise” in C by Weber, three foreign pieces, Scotch sonatas. At ten o’clock came the end, but, of course, I stopped for the frivolities, dancing, singing, and so on, till twelve. I am living like a very pagan. The old man always goes to his room at nine, and when he has gone we dance
