tain sketches designed to form parts of a work which long occupied
his mind, but which never came to anything, namely, the _Lichte Stunden
eines wahnsinnigen Musikers_ (Rational Intervals of a Crack-brained
Musician). In this he purposed to develop his opinions on the theory of
music and the principles of harmony. The fragments were afterwards
revised and appeared as the _Kreisleriana_ in the _Fantasiestuecke_.

In the next month, July, his star of adversity was again to be in the
ascendant. Holbein severed his connection with the theatre, and
Hoffmann lost his fixed income. Things grew darker and darker for him,
until he was almost reduced to actual want; at any rate he came to be
in very embarrassed circumstances. Singular to say, however, under all
this cloud of adversity he maintained a shining face and a light heart
behind it. This was peculiar to him; Rochlitz says "he belonged to the
large class of men who can bear ill fortune better than good fortune."
During this time of distress, which was a repetition of his dark days
in Berlin in 1807-8, he displayed a remarkable activity in his usual
pursuits. His criticism of _Don Juan_, and exposition of the problem of
Mozart's great opera, for which Hoffmann cherished a profound and
almost extravagant admiration, owes its origin to this period.[21] An
anecdote in relation to this will also illustrate his true passionate
admiration of art. Kunz lost a child, for which he grieved sadly; two
days afterwards Hoffmann advised him to go with him to see _Don Juan_
at night, declaring it would assuage his grief and soothe and comfort
his heart. Of course Kunz looked upon the idea as preposterous.
Nevertheless Hoffmann would not be denied; he exerted all his arts of
persuasion to induce his friend to go. At last Kunz did go; on the way
to the theatre Hoffmann discoursed of the opera in such a sensible,
acute, and touching way, and so poetically and with especial reference
to his friend's loss, and afterwards in the theatre he expressed his
sympathy in such kind and delicate lines, whilst tears of genuine
feeling stood in his eyes, that his friend was obliged to admit, "This
music of the spheres, which I had heard at least a dozen times before,
exerted a greater power over me than all the dictates of reason or the
consolations of friends."

In February, 1813, the struggling ex-director received an altogether
unexpected letter from Joseph Seconda, offering him the post of
music-di