with applause. The four performers, on the other hand, are hardworking artists, who are superbly trained and work together cordially, without any trace of virtuoso egotism, to bring pure versions of these masterly old quartets to light. Itâs a great test for the audience: most drift away; limitations in intellect and education become quite clear. The opera fans are the first to leave; one senses with some embarrassment that the music and orchestra in the theaters have dulled even good ears and made it impossible for them to appreciate these elegant, but by no means pompous works of art. If you had heard todayâs andante ma non troppo, there would be no need for me to resort to words: the four violinists sitting on their little chairs, painfully misunderstood.
Now it has got very late, so addio! Iâm eager to hear whether your husband has any use for my manuscript. My thanks for your letter, and also for your friendship. You know, the trust and understanding you have shown have created an echo in me, indeed more than an echo. With an expression of friendship
TO EUGEN DIEDERICHS
Tübingen, April 6, 1899
I was delighted to get your friendly letter. I fully agree with your plan to publish 600 copies; 52 please let me know if you have any other suggestions. I fully realize that we cannot expect any great demand given the specific and perhaps all too personal nature of my little book. The very thought of those 600 customers makes me want to burst out laughing.
The twenty-one-year-old bookdealerâs apprentice in Tübingen: âThere I struggled through the three-year apprenticeship, which was anything but easy, and remained another year as the youngest employee in the store, with a salary of eighty marks monthlyâ
( Above ) The Petit Cénacle. Left to right: Otto Erich Faber, Oskar Rupp, Ludwig Finckh, Carlo Hammelehle, Hesse
We were considered decadent and modern
And we believed it complacently.
In reality we were young gentlemen
Of extremely modest demeanor.
â âTo the Petit Cénacleâ
( Below ) Drinking Chianti in Fiesole, 1906
People warn you against the profession of poet,
Also against playing the flute, the drums, the violin,
Because riffraff of this sort
So often tend toward drinking and frivolity.
â From Hesseâs unpublished light verse
In accepting my book for your press, you are fulfilling an ardent wish of mine and I shall always appreciate and be grateful for what you have done. I would also like to thank you for giving such an honest account of your impression of me. I hope we can get to know each other at some point by discussing, e.g., the Proteus of âRomanticism.â Today I can only give you a hint: I was rather ill when I wrote most of my previous work and had to steal the time and mental energy from a busy professional life. For the time being I have shelved my larger plans. But Iâm sure that you will eventually discover those qualities that you find lacking in me. All I can claim by way of literary assets is my painstaking reverence for language, and especially for its musical qualities. That is the keystone of my Romanticism: loving care of the language, which I envision as a rare old violin; many qualities are required for such a violin to last and continue sounding beautiful history, training, careful maintenance by expert hands. Of course what is language without the mind! Yet âmorality is self-explanatory,â according to Vischerâs Auch Einer. 53 Have you noticed also how sloppy, crude, and rather stilted the ordinary language of our contemporary literati is, even of poets, as if they intended to caricature Heine today, Nietzsche tomorrow.
But enough of that! I cordially reciprocate your greetings and those of your spouse. May the time come soon when the give-and-take between our two houses will be more equitable and less embarrassing for me than hitherto.
TO KARL ISENBERG
Basel, January 16, 1900
So
Now it has got very late, so addio! Iâm eager to hear whether your husband has any use for my manuscript. My thanks for your letter, and also for your friendship. You know, the trust and understanding you have shown have created an echo in me, indeed more than an echo. With an expression of friendship
TO EUGEN DIEDERICHS
Tübingen, April 6, 1899
I was delighted to get your friendly letter. I fully agree with your plan to publish 600 copies; 52 please let me know if you have any other suggestions. I fully realize that we cannot expect any great demand given the specific and perhaps all too personal nature of my little book. The very thought of those 600 customers makes me want to burst out laughing.
The twenty-one-year-old bookdealerâs apprentice in Tübingen: âThere I struggled through the three-year apprenticeship, which was anything but easy, and remained another year as the youngest employee in the store, with a salary of eighty marks monthlyâ
( Above ) The Petit Cénacle. Left to right: Otto Erich Faber, Oskar Rupp, Ludwig Finckh, Carlo Hammelehle, Hesse
We were considered decadent and modern
And we believed it complacently.
In reality we were young gentlemen
Of extremely modest demeanor.
â âTo the Petit Cénacleâ
( Below ) Drinking Chianti in Fiesole, 1906
People warn you against the profession of poet,
Also against playing the flute, the drums, the violin,
Because riffraff of this sort
So often tend toward drinking and frivolity.
â From Hesseâs unpublished light verse
In accepting my book for your press, you are fulfilling an ardent wish of mine and I shall always appreciate and be grateful for what you have done. I would also like to thank you for giving such an honest account of your impression of me. I hope we can get to know each other at some point by discussing, e.g., the Proteus of âRomanticism.â Today I can only give you a hint: I was rather ill when I wrote most of my previous work and had to steal the time and mental energy from a busy professional life. For the time being I have shelved my larger plans. But Iâm sure that you will eventually discover those qualities that you find lacking in me. All I can claim by way of literary assets is my painstaking reverence for language, and especially for its musical qualities. That is the keystone of my Romanticism: loving care of the language, which I envision as a rare old violin; many qualities are required for such a violin to last and continue sounding beautiful history, training, careful maintenance by expert hands. Of course what is language without the mind! Yet âmorality is self-explanatory,â according to Vischerâs Auch Einer. 53 Have you noticed also how sloppy, crude, and rather stilted the ordinary language of our contemporary literati is, even of poets, as if they intended to caricature Heine today, Nietzsche tomorrow.
But enough of that! I cordially reciprocate your greetings and those of your spouse. May the time come soon when the give-and-take between our two houses will be more equitable and less embarrassing for me than hitherto.
TO KARL ISENBERG
Basel, January 16, 1900
So
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