“As regards myself, I must honestly confess that I have but one interest in life: my success as a composer. But it is impossible to say that I am much spoilt in this respect. For instance, two composers, Famitzin and myself, send in our works at the same time. Famitzin is universally regarded as devoid of talent, while I, on the contrary, am said to be highly gifted. Nevertheless, _Sardanapalus_ is to be given almost immediately, whereas so far nothing has been settled as to the fate of _The Oprichnik_. This looks as though it were going to fall ‘into the water’[28] like _Undine_. For an Undine to fall into the water is not so disastrous; it is her element. But imagine a drowning Oprichnik, how he would battle with the waves! He would certainly perish. But if I went to his rescue I should be drowned too; therefore I have taken my oath never to dip pen in ink again if my _Oprichnik_ is refused.” [Illustration: TCHAIKOVSKY IN 1873] _To Ilia Petrovich Tchaikovsky._ “_November_ 22_nd_ (_December_ 4_th_). “MY DEAR, GOOD FATHER,-- ... As regards marriage, I must confess that I have often thought of finding myself a suitable wife, but I am afraid I might afterwards regret doing so. I earn almost enough (3,000 roubles a year), but I know so little about the management of money that I am always in debt and dilemma. So long as a man is alone, this does not much signify. But how would it be if I had to keep a wife and family? “My health is good: only one thing troubles me a little--my eyesight, which is tried by my work. It is so much weaker than formerly that I have been obliged to get a pair of eyeglasses, which I am told are very becoming to me. My nerves are poor, but this cannot be helped, and is not of much consequence. Whose nerves are not disordered in our generation--especially among artists?” _To Modeste Tchaikovsky._ “_December_ 10_th_ (22_nd_). “You say that Anatol has told you about my depression. It is not a question of depression, only now and then a kind of misanthropical feeling comes over me which has often happened before. It comes partly from my nerves, which sometimes get out of gear for no particular reason, and partly from the rather uncertain fate of my compositions. The symphony, on which I build great hopes, will not be performed apparently before the middle of January, at the earliest.