TABLE OF CONTENTS

MY LIFE, VOLUME 2 (ENGLISH TRANSLATION PUBLISHED IN NEW YORK, 1911)

 PART III PART IV

MY LIFE, VOLUME 2 (OF 2)

PART III

1850-1861

MINNA had been lucky enough to find quarters near Zurich whichcorresponded very closely with the wishes I had so emphaticallyexpressed before leaving. The house was situated in the parish ofEnge, a good fifteen minutes' walk from the town, on a siteoverlooking the lake, and was an old-fashioned hostelry called'Zum Abendstern, ' belonging to a certain Frau Hirel, who was apleasant old lady. The second floor, which was quite self-contained and very quiet, offered us humble but adequateaccommodations for a modest rent. 

I arrived early in the morning and found Minna still in bed. Shewas anxious to know whether I had returned simply out of pity;but I quickly succeeded in obtaining her promise that she wouldnever again refer to what had taken place. She was soon quiteherself again when she began to show me the progress she had madein arranging the rooms. 

Our position had for some years been growing more comfortable, inspite of the fact that at this time various difficulties againarose, and our domestic happiness seemed tolerably secure. Yet Icould never quite master a restless inclination to deviate fromanything that was regarded as conventional. 

Our two pets, Peps and Papo, largely helped to make our lodgingshomelike; both were very fond of me, and were sometimes even tooobtrusive in showing their affection. Peps would always liebehind me in the armchair while I was working, and Papo, afterrepeatedly calling out 'Richard' in vain, would often comefluttering into my study if I stayed away from the sitting-roomtoo long. He would then settle down on my desk and vigorouslyshuffle about the papers and pens. He was so well trained that henever uttered the ordinary cry of a bird, but expressed hissentiments only by talking or singing. As soon as he heard mystep on the staircase he would begin whistling a tune, as, forinstance, the great march in the finale of the Symphony in Cminor, the beginning of the Eighth Symphony in F major, or even abright bit out of the Rienzi Overture. Peps, our little dog, onthe other hand, was a highly sensitive and nervous creature. Myfriends used to call him 'Peps the petulant, ' and there weretimes when we could not speak to him even in the friendliest waywithout bringing on paroxysms of howls and sobs. These two petsof course helped very much to increase the mutual understandingbetween myself and my wife. 

Unfortunately, there was one perpetual source of quarrel, arisingfrom my wife's behaviour towards poor Nathalie. Until her deathshe shamefully withheld from the girl the fact that she was hermother. Nathalie, therefore, always believed that she was Minna'ssister, and consequently could not understand why she should nothave the same rights as my wife, who always treated her in anauthoritative way, as a strict mother would do, and seemed tothink herself justified in complaining of Nathalie's behaviour. Apparently the latter had been much neglected and spoiled just atthe critical age, and deprived of any proper training. She wasshort in stature and inclined to become stout, her manners wereawkward and her opinions narrow. Minna's hasty temper andcontinual jeering made the girl, who was naturally very good-natured, stubborn and spiteful, so that the behaviour of the'sisters' often caused the most hateful scenes in our quiet home. I never lost my patience at these incidents, however, butremained, completely indifferent to everything going on aroundme. 

The arrival of my young friend Karl was a pleasant diversion inour small household. Ho occupied a tiny attic above our rooms andshared our meals. Sometimes he would accompany me on my walks, and for a time seemed quite satisfied. 

But I soon noticed in him a growing restlessness. He had not beenslow to recognise, by the unpleasant scenes that again becamedaily occurrences in our married life, at what point the shoepinched that I had good-naturedly put on again at his request. However, when one day I reminded him that in coming hack toZurich I had other objects in view besides the longing for aquiet domestic life, he remained silent. But I saw that there wasanother peculiar reason for his uneasiness; he took to coming inlate for meals, and even then he had no appetite. At first I wasanxious at this, fearing he might have taken a dislike to oursimple fare, but I soon discovered that my young friend was sopassionately addicted to sweets that I feared he might eventuallyruin his health by trying to live on large quantities ofconfectionery. My remarks seemed to annoy him, as his absencesfrom the house became more frequent, I thought that probably hissmall room did not afford him the comfort he required, and Itherefore made no objection when he left us and took a room intown. 

As his state of uneasiness still seemed to increase and he didnot appear at all happy in Zurich, I was glad to be able tosuggest a little change for him, and persuade him to go for aholiday to Weimar, where the first performance of Lohengrin wasto take place about the end of August. 

About the same time I induced Minna to go with me for our firstascent of the Righi, a feat we both accomplished veryenergetically on foot. I was very much grieved on this occasionto discover that my wife had symptoms of heart disease, whichcontinued to develop subsequently. We spent the evening of the28th of August, while the first performance of Lohengrin wastaking place at Weimar, in Lucerne, at the Schwan inn, watchingthe clock as the hands went round, and marking the various timesat which the performance presumably began, developed, and came toa close. 

I always felt somewhat distressed, uncomfortable, and ill at easewhenever I tried to pass a few pleasant hours in the society ofmy wife. 

The reports received of that first performance gave me no clearor reassuring impression of it. Karl Ritter soon came back toZurich, and told me of deficiencies in staging and of theunfortunate choice of a singer for the leading part, but remarkedthat on the whole it had gone fairly well. The reports sent me byLiszt were the most encouraging. He did not seem to think itworth while to allude to the inadequacy of the means at hiscommand for such a bold undertaking, but preferred to dwell onthe sympathetic spirit that prevailed in the company and theeffect it produced on the influential personages he had invitedto be present. 

Although everything in connection with this important enterpriseeventually assumed a bright aspect, the direct result on myposition at the time was very slight. I was more interested inthe future of the young friend who had been entrusted to my carethan in anything else. At the time of his visit to Weimar he hadbeen to stay with his family in Dresden, and after his returnexpressed an anxious wish to become a musician, and possibly tosecure a position as a musical director at a theatre. I had neverhad an opportunity of judging of his gifts in this line. He hadalways refused to play the piano in my presence, but I had seenhis setting of an alliterative poem of his own, Die Walkure, which, though rather awkwardly put together, struck me by itsprecise and skilful compliance with the rules of composition. 

He proved himself to be the worthy pupil of his master, RobertSchumann, who, long before, had told me that Karl possessed greatmusical gifts, and that he could not remember ever having had anyother pupil endowed with such a keen ear and such a readyfacility for assimilation. Consequently I had no reason todiscourage the young man's confidence in his capacity for thecareer of a musical director. As the winter season wasapproaching, I asked the manager of the theatre for the addressof Herr Kramer, who was coming for the season, and learned thathe was still engaged at Winterthur. 

Sulzer, who was always ready when help or advice was needed, arranged for a meeting with Herr Kramer at a dinner at the'Wilden Mann' in Winterthur. At this meeting it was decided, onmy recommendation, that Karl Ritter should be appointed musicaldirector at the theatre for the ensuing winter, starting fromOctober, and the remuneration he was to receive was really a veryfair one. As my protege was admittedly a beginner, I had toguarantee his capacity by undertaking to perform his duties inthe event of any trouble arising at the theatre on the ground ofhis inefficiency. Karl seemed delighted. As October drew near andthe opening of the theatre was announced to take place 'underexceptional artistic auspices. ' I thought it advisable to seewhat Karl's views were. 

By way of a debut I had selected Der Freischutz, so that he mightopen his career with a well-known opera. Karl did not entertainthe slightest doubt of being able to master such a simple score, but when he had to overcome his reserve in playing the pianobefore me, as I wanted to go through the whole opera with him, Iwas amazed at seeing that he had no idea of accompaniment. Heplayed the arrangement for the pianoforte with the characteristiccarelessness of an amateur who attaches no importance tolengthening a bar by incorrect fingering. He knew nothingwhatever about rhythmic precision or tempo, the very essentialsof a conductor's career. I felt completely nonplussed and wasabsolutely at a loss what to say. However, I still hoped theyoung man's talent might suddenly break out, and I looked forwardto an orchestral rehearsal, for which I provided him with a pairof large spectacles. I had never noticed before that he was soshortsighted, but when reading he had to keep his face so closeto the music that it would have been impossible for him tocontrol both orchestra and singers. When I saw him, hitherto soconfident, standing at the conductor's desk staring hard at thescore, in spite of his spectacles, and making meaningless signsin the air like one in a trance, I at once realised that the timefor carrying out my guarantee had arrived. 

It was, nevertheless, a somewhat difficult and trying task tomake young Ritter understand that I should be compelled to takehis place; but there was no help for it, and it was I who had toinaugurate Kramer's winter season under such 'exceptionalartistic auspices. ' The success of Der Freischulz placed me in apeculiar position as regards both the company and the public, butit was quite out of the question to suppose that Karl couldcontinue to act as musical director at the theatre by himself. 

Strange to say, this trying experience coincided with animportant change in the life of another young friend of mine, Hans von Bulow, whom I had known in Dresden. I had met his fatherat Zurich in the previous year just after his second marriage. Heafterwards settled down at Lake Constance, and it was from thisplace that Hans wrote to me expressing his regret that he wasunable to pay his long-desired visit to Zurich, as he hadpreviously promised to do. 

As far as I could make out, his mother, who had been divorcedfrom his father, did all in her power to restrain him fromembracing the career of an artist, and tried to persuade him toenter the civil or the diplomatic service, as he had studied law. But his inclinations and talents impelled him to a musicalcareer. It seemed that his mother, when giving him permission togo to visit his father, had particularly urged him to avoid anymeeting with me. When I afterwards heard that he had been advisedby his father also not to come to Zurich, I felt sure that thelatter, although he had been on friendly terms with me, wasanxious to act in accordance with his first wife's wishes in thisserious matter of his son's future, so as to avoid any furtherdisputes after the friction of the divorce had barely beenallayed. Later on I learned that these statements, which roused astrong feeling of resentment in me against Eduard von Bulow, wereunfounded; but the despairing tone of Hans's letter, clearlyshowing that any other career would be repugnant to him and wouldbe a constant source of misery, seemed to be ample reason for myinterference. This was one of the occasions when my easilyexcited indignation roused me to activity. I replied very fully, and eloquently pointed out to him the vital importance of thismoment in his life. The desperate tone of his letter justified mein telling him very plainly that this was not a case in which hecould deal hastily with his views as to the future, but that itwas a matter profoundly affecting his whole heart and soul. Itold him what I myself would do in his case, that is to say, ifhe really felt an overwhelming and irresistible impulse to becomean artist, and would prefer to endure the greatest hardships andtrials rather than be forced into a course he felt was a wrongone, he ought, in defiance of everything, to make up his mind toaccept the helping hand I was holding out to him at once. If, inspite of his father's prohibition, he still wished to come to me, he ought not to hesitate, but should carry out his wishesimmediately on the receipt of my letter. 

Karl Ritter was pleased when I entrusted him with the duty ofdelivering the letter personally at Bulow's country villa. Whenhe arrived he asked to see his friend at the door, and went for astroll with him, during which he gave him my letter. ThereuponHans, who like Karl had no money, at once decided, in spite ofstorm and rain, to accompany Karl back to Zurich on foot. So oneday they turned up absolutely tired out, and came into my roomlooking like a couple of tramps, with visible signs about them oftheir mad expedition. Karl beamed with joy over this feat, whileyoung Bulow was quite overcome with emotion. 

I at once realised that I had taken a very serious responsibilityon my shoulders, yet I sympathised deeply with the overwroughtyouth, and my conduct towards him was guided by all that hadoccurred for a long time afterwards. 

At first we had to console him, and stimulate his confidence byour cheerfulness. His appointment was soon arranged. He was toshare Karl's contract at the theatre, and enjoy the same rights;both were to receive a small salary, and I was to continue to actas surety for their capabilities. 

At this time they happened to be rehearsing a musical comedy, andHans, without any knowledge of the subject, took up his positionat the conductor's desk and handled the baton with great vigourand remarkable skill. I felt safe as far as he was concerned, andall doubt as to his ability as musical director vanished on thespot. But it was a somewhat difficult task to overcome Karl'smisgivings about himself, owing to the idea ingrained in his mindthat he never could become a practical musician. A growingshyness and secret antipathy towards me soon manifested itselfand became more noticeable in this young man, in spite of thefact that he was certainly gifted. It was impossible to keep himany longer in his position or to ask him to conduct again. 

Bulow also soon encountered unexpected difficulties. The managerand his staff, who had been spoiled by my having conducted on theoccasion already mentioned, were always on the look-out for somefresh excuse for requisitioning my services. 

I did, in fact, conduct again a few times, partly to give thepublic a favourable impression of the operatic company, which wasreally quite a good one, and partly to show my young friends, especially Bulow, who was so eminently adapted for a conductor, the most essential points which the leader of an orchestra oughtto know. 

Hans was always equal to the occasion, and I could with a clearconscience say there was no need for me to take his placewhenever he was called upon to conduct. However, one of theartistes, a very conceited singer, who had been somewhat spoiledby my praise, annoyed him so much by her ways that she succeededin forcing me to take up the baton again. When a couple of monthslater we realised the impossibility of carrying on this state ofthings indefinitely, and were tired of the whole affair, themanagement consented to free us from our irksome duties. Aboutthis time Hans was offered the post of musical director at St. Gall without any special conditions being attached to hisengagement, so I sent the two boys off to try their luck in theneighbouring town, and thus gained time for further developments. 

Herr Eduard von Bulow had, after all, come to the conclusion thatit would be wiser to abide by his son's decision, though he didnot do so without evincing a good deal of ill-humour towards me. He had not replied to a letter I had written him to explain myconduct in the matter, but I afterwards learned that he hadvisited his son in Zurich by way of patching up a reconciliation. 

I went several times to St. Gall to see the young men, as theyremained there during the winter months. I found Karl lost ingloomy thought: he had again met with an unfavourable receptionwhen conducting Gluck's Overture to Iphigenia, and was keepingaloof from everybody. Hans was busily rehearsing with a very poorcompany and a horrible orchestra, in a hideous theatre. Seeingall this misery, I told Hans that for the time being he hadpicked up enough to pass for a practical musician or even for anexperienced conductor. 

The question now was to find him a sphere which would give him asuitable scope for his talents. He told me that his father wasgoing to send him to Freiherr von Poissl, the manager of theMunich Court Theatre, with a letter of introduction. But hismother soon intervened, and wanted him to go to Weimar tocontinue his musical training under Liszt. This was all I coulddesire; I felt greatly relieved and heartily recommended theyoung man, of whom I was very fond, to my distinguished friend. 

He left St. Gall at Easter, 1851, and during the long period ofhis stay in Weimar I was released from the responsibility oflooking after him. 

Meanwhile Ritter remained in melancholy retirement, and not beingable to make up his mind whether or not he should return toZurich, where he would be disagreeably reminded of his unluckydebut, he preferred for the present to stay in seclusion at St. Gall. 

The sojourn of my young friends at St. Gall had been pleasantlyvaried during the previous winter by a visit to Zurich, when Hansmade his appearance as pianist at one of the concerts of themusical society there. I also took an active part in it byconducting one of Beethoven's symphonies, and it was a greatpleasure to us both to give each other mutual encouragement. 

I had been asked to appear again at this society's concertsduring the winter. However, I only did so occasionally, toconduct a Beethoven symphony, making it a condition that theorchestra, and more especially the string instruments, should bereinforced by capable musicians from other towns. 

As I always required three rehearsals for each symphony, and manyof the musicians had to come from a great distance, our workacquired quite an imposing and solemn character. I was able todevote the time usually taken up by a rehearsal to the study ofone symphony, and accordingly had leisure to work out theminutest details of the execution, particularly as the technicaldifficulties were not of an insuperable character. My facility ininterpreting music at that time attained a degree of perfection Ihad not hitherto reached, and I recognised this by the unexpectedeffect my conducting produced. 

The orchestra contained some really talented and clevermusicians, among whom I may mention Fries, an oboist, who, starting from a subordinate place, had been appointed a leadingplayer. He had to practice with me, just as a singer would do, the more important parts allotted to his instrument inBeethoven's symphonies. When we first produced the Symphony in Cminor, this extraordinary man played the small passage markedadagio at the fermata of the first movement in a manner I havenever heard equalled. After my retirement from the directorshipof these concerts he left the orchestra and went into business asa music-seller. 

The orchestra could further boast of a Herr Ott-Imhoff, a highlycultured and well-to-do man who belonged to a noble family, andhad joined the orchestra as a patron and as an amateur musician. He played the clarionet with a soft and charming tone which wassomewhat lacking in spirit. I must also mention the worthy HerrBar, a cornet-player, whom I appointed leader of the brassinstruments, as be exercised a great influence on that part ofthe orchestra. I cannot remember ever having heard the long, powerful chords of the last movement of the C minor Symphonyexecuted with such intense power as by this player in Zurich, andcan only compare the recollection of it with the impressions Ihad when, in my early Parisian days, the Conservatoire orchestraperformed Beethoven's Ninth Symphony. 

Our production of the Symphony in C minor made a great impressionon the audience, especially on my intimate friend Sulzer, who hadpreviously kept aloof from any kind of music. He became soincensed when an attack was made on me by a newspaper that heanswered the gratuitous critic in a satirical poem composed withthe skill of a Platen. 

As I have already said, Bulow was invited in the course of thewinter to give a pianoforte recital at a concert at which Ipromised to produce the Sinfonia Eroica. 

With his usual audacity he chose Liszt's piano arrangement of theTannhauser Overture, a work as brilliant as it is difficult, andtherefore a somewhat hazardous undertaking. However, he causedquite a sensation, and I myself was astounded at his execution. Up to this time I had not paid it the attention it deserved, andit inspired me with the greatest confidence in his future. Ifrequently had occasion to admire his masterly skill both asconductor and accompanist. 

During that winter, apart from the occasions in my young friend'slife already briefly alluded to, there were frequentopportunities of displaying his capabilities. My acquaintancesused to foregather in my house, and formed quite a little clubfor the purposes of mutual enjoyment, which, however, wouldhardly have been successful without Bulow's assistance. 

I sang suitable passages from my opera, which Hans accompaniedwith an expressiveness which delighted me very much. On anoccasion like this I also read aloud extracts from mymanuscripts. For instance, during a series of successive eveningsI read the whole of my longer work, Oper und Drama, written inthe course of this winter, and was favoured by a steadily growingand remarkably attentive audience. 

Now that after my return I had secured a certain degree of peaceand tranquillity of mind, I began to think of resuming my moreserious studies. But somehow the composition of Siegfried's Deathdid not seem to appeal to me. The idea of sitting downdeliberately to write a score which should never go further thanthe paper on which it was written, again discouraged me; whereasI felt more and more strongly impelled to lay a foundation onwhich it might some day be possible to present such a work, eventhough the end had to be gained by roundabout means. To securethis object it seemed above all necessary to approach thosefriends, both at home and abroad, who interested themselves in myart, in order to expound to them more clearly the problems thatdemanded solution, which, although definite enough to my ownmind, had scarcely as yet even entered into their heads. Asingularly favourable opportunity for so doing offered itself oneday when Sulzer showed me an article on 'Opera' in Brockhaus'sModern Encyclopedia. The good man was fully convinced that in theopinions expressed in this article I should find a preliminarybasis for my own theories. But a hasty glance sufficed to show meat once how entirely erroneous they were, and I tried hard topoint out to Sulzer the fundamental difference between theaccepted views, even of very sensible people, and my ownconceptions of the heart of the matter. Finding it naturallyimpossible, even with all the eloquence at my command, toelucidate my ideas all at once, I set about preparing amethodical plan for detailed treatment of the subject as soon asI got home. In this way I was lead to write this book which waspublished under the title of Oper und Drama, a task which kept mefully occupied for several months, in fact until February, 1851. 

But I had to pay heavily for the exhausting toil expended on theconclusion of this work. According to my calculations, only a fewdays of persevering industry were needed for the completion of mymanuscript, when my parrot, which usually watched me on mywriting-table, was taken seriously ill. As it had alreadycompletely recovered from several similar attacks, I did not feelvery anxious. Although my wife begged me to fetch a veterinarysurgeon who lived in a village which was rather far off, Ipreferred to stick to my desk, and I put off going from one dayto the next. At last one evening the all-important manuscript wasfinished, and the next morning our poor Papo lay dead on thefloor. My inconsolable grief over this melancholy loss was fullyshared by Minna, and by our mutual affection for this treasuredpet we were once more tenderly united in a way likely to conduceto our domestic happiness. 

In addition to our pets, our older Zurich friends had alsoremained faithful to us, in spite of the catastrophe which hadbefallen my family life. Sulzer was without a doubt the worthiestand most important of these friends. The profound differencebetween us both in intellect and temperament seemed only tofavour this relationship, for each was constantly providingsurprises for the other; and as the divergencies between us wereradical, they often gave rise to most exhilarating and instructiveexperiences. Sulzer was extraordinarily excitable and verydelicate in health. It was quite against his own original desirethat he had entered the service of the state, and in doing so hehad sacrificed his own wishes to a conscientious performance ofduty in the extremest sense of the word, and now, through hisacquaintance with me, he was drawn more deeply into the sphere ofaesthetic enjoyment than he regarded as justifiable. Probably hewould have indulged less freely in these excesses, had I taken myart a little less seriously. But as I insisted upon attaching animportance to the artistic destiny of mankind which fartranscended the mere aims of citizenship, I sometimes completelyupset him. Yet, on the other hand, it was just this intenseearnestness which so strongly attracted him to me and myspeculations. This not only gave rise to pleasant conversationand calm discussion between us, but also, owing to a fiery temperon both sides, sometimes provoked violent explosions, so that, with trembling lips, he would seize hat and stick and hurry awaywithout a word of farewell. Such, however, was the intrinsicworth of the man, that he was sure to turn up again the nextevening at the accustomed hour, when we both felt as thoughnothing whatever had passed between us. But when certain bodilyailments compelled him to remain indoors for many days, it wasdifficult to gain access to him, for he was apt to become furiouswhen any one inquired about his health. On these occasions therewas only one way of putting him in a good temper, and that was tosay that one had called to ask a favour of him. Thereupon he waspleasantly surprised, and would not only declare himself ready tooblige in any way that was in his power, but would assume areally cheerful and benevolent demeanour. 

A remarkable contrast to him was presented by the musicianWilhelm Baumgartner, a merry, jovial fellow, without any aptitudefor concentration, who had learned just enough about the piano tobe able, as teacher at so much an hour, to earn what he requiredfor a living. He had a taste for what was beautiful, provided itdid not soar too high, and possessed a true and loyal heart, fullof a great respect for Sulzer, which unfortunately could not curehim of a craving for the public-house. 

Besides this man, there were two others who had also from thevery first formed part of our circle. Both of them were friendsof the pair I have already mentioned; their names were Hagenbuch, a worthy and respectable deputy cantonal secretary; and BernhardSpyri, a lawyer, and at that time editor of the EidgenossischeZeitung. The latter was a singularly good-tempered man, but notoverburdened with intellect, for which reason Sulzer alwaystreated him with special consideration. 

Alexander Muller soon disappeared from our midst, as he becamemore and more engrossed by domestic calamities, bodilyinfirmities, and the mechanical drudgery of giving lessons by thehour. As for the musician Abt, I had never felt particularlydrawn towards him, in spite of his Schwalben, and he too speedilyleft us to carve a brilliant career for himself in Brunswick. 

In the meantime, however, our Zurich circle was enriched by allkinds of additions from without, mainly due to the politicalshipwrecks. On my return, in January, 1850, I had already foundAdolph Kolatschek, a plain, though not unprepossessing-lookingman, though he was a bit of a bore. He imagined himself born tobe an editor, and had founded a German monthly magazine, whichwas to open a field for those who had been outwardly conquered inthe recent movements to continue their fight in the inner realmof the spirit. I felt almost flattered at being picked out by himas an author, and being informed that 'a power like mine' oughtnot to be absent from a union of spiritual forces such as was tobe established by his enterprise. I had previously sent him fromParis my treatise on Kunst und Klima; and he now gladly acceptedsome fairly long extracts from my still unpublished Oper undDrama, for which he moreover paid me a handsome fee. This manmade an indelible impression on my mind as the only instance Ihave met of a really tactful editor. He once handed me themanuscript of a review on my Kunstwerk der Zukunft, written by acertain Herr Palleske, to read, saying that he would not print itwithout my express consent, though he did not press me to giveit. It was a superficial article, without any true comprehensionof the subject, and couched in most arrogant terms. I felt thatif it appeared in this particular journal it would certainlydemand inconvenient and wearisome rejoinders from me, in which Ishould have to restate my original thesis. As I was by no meansinclined to enter upon such a controversy, I agreed toKolatschek's proposal, and suggested that he had better returnthe manuscript to its author for publication elsewhere. 

Through Kolatschek I also learned to know Reinhold Solger, areally excellent and interesting man. But it did not suit hisrestless and adventurous spirit to remain cooped up in the smalland narrow Swiss world of Zurich, so that he soon left us andwent to North America, where I heard that he went about givinglectures and denouncing the political situation in Europe. It wasa pity that this talented man never succeeded in making a namefor himself by more important work. His contributions to ourmonthly journal, during the brief term of his stay in Zurich, were certainly among the best ever written on these topics by aGerman. 

In the new year, 1851, Georg Herwegh also joined us, and I wasdelighted to meet him one day at Kolatschek's lodgings. Thevicissitudes which had brought him to Zurich came to my knowledgeafterwards in a somewhat offensive and aggressive manner. For thepresent, Herwegh put on an aristocratic swagger and gave himselfthe airs of a delicately nurtured and luxurious son of his times, to which a fairly liberal interpolation of French expletives atleast added a certain distinction. Nevertheless, there wassomething about his person, with his quick, flashing eye andkindliness of manner, which was well calculated to exert anattractive influence. I felt almost flattered by his readyacceptance of my invitation to my informal evening parties, whichmay, perhaps, have been fairly agreeable gatherings, as Bulowentertained us with music, though to me personally they affordedno mental sustenance whatever. My wife used to declare that, whenI proceeded to read from my manuscript, Kolatschek promptly fellasleep, while Herwegh gave all his attention to her punch. When, later on, as I have already mentioned, I read my Oper und Dramafor twelve consecutive evenings to our Zurich friends, Herweghstayed away, because he did not wish to mix with those for whomsuch things had not been written. Yet my intercourse with himbecame gradually more cordial. Not only did I respect hispoetical talent, which had recently gained recognition, but Ialso learned to realise the delicate and refined qualities of hisrichly cultivated intellect, and in course of time learned thatHerwegh, on his side, was beginning to covet my society. Mysteady pursuit of those deeper and more serious interests whichso passionately engrossed me seemed to arouse him to an ennoblingsympathy, even for those topics which, since his sudden leap intopoetic fame, had been, greatly to his prejudice, smothered undermere showy and trivial mannerisms, altogether alien to hisoriginal nature. Possibly this process was accelerated by thegrowing difficulties of his position, which he had hithertoregarded as demanding a certain amount of outward show. In short, he was the first man in whom I met with a sensitive andsympathetic comprehension of my most daring schemes and opinions, and I soon felt compelled to believe his assertion that heoccupied himself solely with my ideas, into which, certainly, noother man entered so profoundly as he did. 

This familiarity with Herwegh, in which an element of affectionwas certainly mingled, was further stimulated by news whichreached me respecting a new dramatic poem which I had sketchedout for the coining spring. Liszt's preparations in the latesummer of the previous year for the production in Weimar of myLohengrin had met with more success than, with such limitedresources, had hitherto seemed possible. This result couldnaturally only have been obtained by the zeal of a friend endowedwith such rich and varied gifts as Liszt. Though it was beyondhis power to attract quickly to the Weimar stage such singers asLohengrin demanded, and he had been compelled on many points tocontent himself with merely suggesting what was intended to berepresented, yet he was now endeavouring by sundry ingeniousmethods to make these suggestions clearly comprehensible. Firstof all, he prepared a detailed account of the production ofLohengrin. Seldom has a written description of a work of art wonfor it such attentive friends, and commanded their enthusiasticappreciation from the outset, as did this treatise of Liszt's, which extended even to the most insignificant details. KarlRitter distinguished himself by providing an excellent Germantranslation of the French original, which was first published inthe Illustrirte Zeitung. Shortly after this Liszt also issuedTannhauser in French, accompanied by a similar preface on itsorigin, and these pamphlets were the chief means of awakening, now and for long after, especially in foreign countries, not onlya surprisingly sympathetic interest in these works, but also anintimate understanding of them such as could not possibly havebeen attained by the mere study of my pianoforte arrangements. But, far from being satisfied with this, Liszt contrived toattract the attention of intellects outside Weimar to theperformances of my operas, in order, with kindly compulsion, toforce them upon the notice of all who had ears to hear and eyesto see. Although his good intentions did not altogether succeedwith Franz Dingelstedt, who would only commit himself to aconfused report on Lohengrin in the Allgemeine Zeitung, yet hisenthusiastic eloquence completely and decisively captured AdolfStahr for my work. His detailed view of Lohengrin in the BerlinNational-Zeitung, in which he claimed a high importance for myopera, did not remain without permanent influence upon the Germanpublic. Even in the narrow circle of professional musicians itseffects seem not to have been unimportant; for Robert Franz, whomLiszt dragged almost by force to a performance of Lohengrin, spoke of it with unmistakable enthusiasm. This example gave thelead to many other journals, and for some time it seemed asthough the otherwise dull-witted musical press wouldenergetically champion my cause. 

I shall shortly have occasion to describe what it was thateventually gave quite a different direction to this movement. Meanwhile Liszt felt emboldened by these kindly signs toencourage me to renew my creative activity, which had now forsome time been interrupted. His success with Lohengrin gave himconfidence in his ability to execute a yet more hazardousundertaking, and he invited me to set my poem of Siegfried'sDeath to music for production at Weimar. On his recommendation, the manager of the Weimar theatre, Herr von Ziegesar, offered tomake a definite contract with me in the name of the Grand Duke. Iwas to finish the work within a year, and during that period wasto receive a payment of fifteen hundred marks (L75). 

It was a curious coincidence that about this time, and alsothrough Liszt, the Duke of Coburg invited me to arrange theinstrumentation for an opera of his own composition, for which heoffered me the sum of two thousand seven hundred marks (L135). Inspite of my position as an outlaw, my noble patron and would-beemployer offered to receive me in his castle at Coburg, where, inquiet seclusion with himself and Frau Birchpfeiffer, the writerof the libretto, I might execute the work. Liszt naturallyexpected nothing more from me than a decent excuse for decliningthis offer, and suggested my pleading 'bodily and mentaldepression. ' My friend told me afterwards that the Duke haddesired my co-operation with him in his score on account of myskilful use of trombones. When he inquired, through Liszt, whatmy rules for their manipulation were, I replied that before Icould write anything for trombones I required first to have someideas in my head. 

On the other hand, however, I felt very much tempted to entertainthe Weimar proposal. Still weary from my exhausting labour onOper und Drama, and worried by many things which had a depressingeffect on my spirits, I seated myself for the first time for manymonths at my Hartel grand-piano, which had been rescued from theDresden catastrophe, to see whether I could settle down tocomposing the music for my ponderous heroic drama. In rapidoutline I sketched the music for the Song of the Norns, orDaughters of the Rhine, which in this first draft was onlyroughly suggested. But when I attempted to turn Brunhilda's firstaddress to Siegfried into song my courage failed me completely, for I could not help asking myself whether the singer had yetbeen born who was capable of vitalising this heroic femalefigure. The idea of my niece Johanna occurred to me, whom, as amatter of fact, I had already destined for this rule when I wasstill in Dresden on account of her various personal charms. Shehad now entered upon the career of prima donna at Hamburg, but, judging from all the reports I had received, and especially fromthe attitude towards me that she openly adopted in her letters toher family, I could only conclude that my modest hopes ofenlisting her talents on my behalf were doomed to disappointment. I was, moreover, confused by the fact that a second Dresden primadonna, Mme. Gentiluomo Spatzer, who had once enraptured Marschnerwith Donizetti's dithyrambics, kept hovering perpetually beforemy mind as a possible substitute for Johanna. At last, in a rage, I sprang up from the piano, and swore that I would write nothingmore for these silly fastidious schoolgirls. Whenever I saw anylikelihood of being again brought into closer contact with thetheatre I was filled with an indescribable disgust which, for thetime being, I was unable to overcome. It was some littleconsolation to discover that bodily ill-health might possibly beat the bottom of this mental disorder. During the spring of thisyear I had been suffering from a curious rash, which spread overmy whole body. For this my doctor prescribed a course of sulphur-baths, to be taken regularly every morning. Although the remedyexcited my nerves so much that later on I was obliged to adoptradical measures for the restoration of my health, yet in themeantime the regular morning walk to the town and back, surrounded by the fresh green and early spring flowers of May, acted as a cheerful stimulant on my mental condition. I nowconceived the idea of the poem of Junger Siegfried, which Iproposed to issue as a heroic comedy by way of prelude andcomplement to the tragedy of Siegfrieds Tod. Carried away by myconception, I tried to persuade myself that this piece would beeasier to produce than the other more serious and terrible drama. With this idea in my mind I informed Liszt of my purpose, andoffered the Weimar management to compose a score for JungerSiegfried, which as yet was unwritten, in return for which Iwould definitely accept their proposal to grant me a year'ssalary of fifteen hundred marks. This they agreed to withoutdelay, and I took up my quarters in the attic-room evacuated theprevious year by Karl Ritter, where, with the aid of sulphur andMay-blossom, and in the highest spirits, I proposed to completethe poem of Junger Siegfried, as already outlined in my originaldesign. 

I must now give some account of the cordial relations which, eversince my departure from Dresden, I had maintained with TheodorUhlig, the young musician of the Dresden orchestra, which I havealready described, and which by this time had developed into agenuinely productive association. His independent and indeedsomewhat uncultivated disposition had been moulded into a warm, almost boundless devotion to myself, inspired both by sympathyfor my fate and a thorough understanding of my works. He also hadbeen among the number of those who had visited Weimar to hear myLohengrin, and had sent me a very detailed account of theperformance. As Hartel, the music-dealer in Leipzig, hadwillingly agreed to my request to publish Lohengrin on conditionthat I should not demand any share in the profits, I entrustedUhlig with the preparation of the pianoforte arrangement. But itwas more the theoretical questions discussed in my works thatformed the chief link that bound us together by a seriouscorrespondence. The characteristic which especially touched meabout this man, whom from his training I could regard merely asan instrumentalist, was that he had grasped with clearunderstanding and perfect agreement those very tendencies of minewhich many musicians of apparently wider culture than his ownregarded with almost despairing horror, as being dangerous to theorthodox practice of their art. He forthwith acquired theliterary facility necessary for the expression of his agreementwith my views, and gave tangible proof of this in a lengthytreatise on 'Instrumental Music, ' which appeared in Kolatschek'sGerman monthly journal. He also sent to me another strictlytheoretical work on the 'Structure of Musical Theme and Phrase. 'In this he showed the originality of his ideas about Mozart's andBeethoven's methods, to an extent which was only equalled by thethoroughness with which he had mastered the question, especiallywhere he discussed their highly characteristic differences. Thisclear and exhaustive treatise appeared to me admirably adapted toform the basis for a new theory of the higher art of musicalphrasing, whereby Beethoven's most obscure construction might beexplained, and elaborated into a comprehensible system that wouldallow of further application. These treatises attracted theattention of Franz Brendel, the astute publisher of the NeueZeitschrift fur Musik, to their brilliant young author. He wasinvited by Brendel to join the staff of his paper, and soonsucceeded in changing his chief's previous attitude ofindecision. As Brendel's aims were on the whole perfectlyhonourable and serious, he was quickly and definitely led toadopt those views which from this time began to make a stir inthe musical world under the title of the 'New Tendency. ' Ithereupon felt impelled to contribute an epoch-making article tohis paper on these lines. I had noticed for some time that suchill-sounding catch-phrases as 'Jewish ornamental flourishes'(Melismas), 'Synagogue Music, ' and the like were being bandiedabout without any rhyme or reason beyond that of givingexpression to meaningless irritation. The question thus raisedregarding the significance of the modern Jew in music stimulatedme to make a closer examination of Jewish influence and thecharacteristics peculiar to it. This I did in a lengthy treatiseon 'Judaism in Music. ' Although I did not wish to hide myidentity, as its author, from all inquiries, yet I considered itadvisable to adopt a pseudonym, lest my very seriously intendedeffort should be degraded to a purely personal matter, and itsreal importance be thereby vitiated. The stir, nay, the genuineconsternation, created by this article defies comparison with anyother similar publication. The unparalleled animosity with which, even up to the present day, I have been pursued by the entirepress of Europe can only be understood by those who have taken anaccount of this article and of the dreadful commotion which itcaused at the time of its publication. It must also be rememberedthat almost all the newspapers of Europe are in the hands ofJews. Apart from these facts, it would be impossible tounderstand the unqualified bitterness of this lastingpersecution, which cannot be adequately explained on the mereground of a theoretical or practical dislike for my opinions orartistic works. The first outcome of the article was a stormwhich broke over poor Brendel, who was entirely innocent, and, indeed, hardly conscious of his offence. This erelong developedinto a savage persecution which aimed at nothing less than hisruin. Another immediate result was that the few friends whomLiszt had induced to declare themselves in my favour forthwithtook refuge in a discreet silence. As it soon seemed advisable, in the interests of their own productions, to give directevidence of their estrangement from me, most of them passed overto the ranks of my enemies. But Uhlig clung to me all the moreclosely on this account. He strengthened Brendel's weaker will toendurance, and kept helping him with contributions for his paper, some of them profound and others witty and very much to thepoint. He fixed his eye more particularly on one of my chiefantagonists, a man named Bischoff, whom Hiller had discovered inCologne, and who first invented for me and my friends the titleof Zukunftsmusiker ('Musicians of the Future'). With him heentered into a prolonged and somewhat diverting controversy. Thefoundation had now been laid for the problem of the so-calledZukunftsmusik ('Music of the Future'), which was to become aEuropean scandal, in spite of the fact that Liszt quickly adoptedthe title himself with good-humoured pride. It is true that I hadto some extent suggested this name in the title of my book, Kunstwerk der Zukunft; but it only developed into a battle-crywhen 'Judaism in Music' unbarred the sluices of wrath upon meand my friends. 

My book, Oper und Drama, was published in the second half of thisyear, and, so far as it was noticed at all by the leadingmusicians of the day, naturally only helped to add fuel to thewrath which blazed against me. This fury, however, assumed morethe character of slander and malice, for our movement hadmeantime been reduced by a great connoisseur in such things, Meyerbeer, to a clearly defined system, which he maintained andpractised with a sure hand until his lamented death. 

Uhlig had come across my book, Oper und Drama, during the earlystages of the furious uproar against me. I had presented him withthe original manuscript, and as it was nicely bound in red, I hitupon the idea of writing in it, by way of dedication, the words, 'RED, my friend, is MY theory, ' in contradistinction to theGothic saying, 'Grey, my friend, is all theory. ' This giftelicited an exhilarating and most delightful correspondence withmy lively and keen-sighted young friend, who, after two longyears of separation, I felt sincerely desirous of seeing again. It was not an easy matter for the poor fiddler, whose pay wasbarely that of a chamber musician, to comply with my invitation. But he gladly tried to overcome all difficulties, and said hewould come early in July. I decided to go as far as Rorschach, onthe Lake of Constance, to meet him, so that we might make anexcursion through the Alps as far as Zurich. I went by a pleasantdetour through the Toggenburg, travelling on foot as usual. Inthis way, cheerful and refreshed, I reached St. Gall, where Isought out Karl Ritter, who, since Bulow's departure, hadremained there alone in curious seclusion. I could guess thereason of his retirement, although he said that he had enjoyedvery agreeable intercourse with a St. Gall musician namedGreitel, of whom I never heard anything further. Though verytired after my long walking tour, I could not refrain fromsubmitting the manuscript of my Jungcr Siegfried, which I hadjust finished, to the quick and critical judgment of thisintelligent young man, who was thus the first person to hear it. I was more than gratified by its effect upon him, and, in highspirits, persuaded him to forsake his strange retreat and go withme to meet Uhlig, so that we might all three proceed over theSantis for a long and pleasant stay in Zurich. My first glance atmy guest, as he landed at the familiar harbour of Rorschach, filled me at once with anxiety for his health, for it revealedbut too plainly his tendency to consumption. In order to sparehim, I wished to give up the proposed mountain climb, but heeagerly protested that exercise of this kind in the fresh aircould only do him good after the drudgery of his wretchedfiddling. After crossing the little canton of Appenzell, we hadto face the by no means easy crossing of the Santis. It was myfirst experience also of travelling over an extensive snow-fieldin summer. After reaching our guide's hut, which was perched on arugged slope, where we regaled ourselves with exceedingly frugalfare, we had to climb the towering and precipitous pinnacle ofrock which forms the summit of the mountain, a few hundred feetabove us. Here Karl suddenly refused to allow us, and to shakehim out of his effeminacy I had to send back the guide for him, who, at our request, succeeded in bringing him along, half byforce. But now that we had to clamber from stone to stone alongthe precipitous cliff, I soon began to realise how foolish I hadbeen in compelling Karl to share our perilous adventure. Hisdizziness evidently stupefied him, for he stared in front of himas though he could not see, and we had to hold him fast betweenour alpenstocks, every moment expecting to see him collapse, andtumble into the abyss. When we at last attained the summit, hesank senseless on the ground, and I now fully understood what aterrible responsibility I had undertaken, as the yet moredangerous descent had still to be made. In an agony of fear, which, while it made me forget my own danger altogether, filledme with a vision of my young friend lying shattered on the rocksbelow, we at last reached the guide's cottage in safety. As Uhligand myself were still determined to descend the precipitousfurther side of the mountain, a feat which the guide informed uswas not without danger, I resolved to leave young Ritter behindin the hut, as the indescribable anguish I had just endured onhis behalf had been a warning to me. Here he was to await thereturn of our guide, and in his company take the not verydangerous path by which we had come. We accordingly parted, as hewas to return in the direction of Gall, while we two roamedthrough the lovely Toggenburg valley, and the next day byRappersweil to the Lake of Zurich, and so home. Not until manydays later did Karl relieve our anxiety concerning him byarriving at Zurich. He remained with us a short time, and thendeparted, probably wishing to escape being tempted into moremountain climbing, which we had certainly planned. I heard fromhim afterwards when he had settled for some time in Stuttgart, where he seemed to be doing well. He soon made great friends witha young actor, and lived on terms of great intimacy with him. 

I was sincerely delighted by the close intercourse I now had withthe gentle young Dresden chamber musician, whose manly strengthof character and extraordinary mental endowments greatly endearedhim to me. My wife said that his curly golden hair and brightblue eyes made her think an angel had come to stay with us. Forme his features had a peculiar and, considering his fate, pathetic interest, on account of his striking resemblance to KingFriedrich August of Saxony, my former patron, who was still aliveat that time, and seemed to confirm a rumour which had reached methat Uhlig was his natural son. It was entertaining to hear hisnews of Dresden, and all about the theatre, and the condition ofmusical affairs in that city. My operas, which had once been itsglory, had now quite vanished from the repertoire. He gave me achoice example of my late colleagues' opinion of me by relatingthe following incident. When Kunst und Revolution and Kunstwerkder Zukunft appeared, and were being discussed among them, one ofthem remarked: 'Ha! he may worry a long time before he will beable to write conductor before his name again. ' By way ofillustrating the advance made in music, he related the manner inwhich Reissiger, having on one occasion to conduct Beethoven'sSymphony in A major, which had been previously executed by me, had helped himself out of a sudden dilemma. Beethoven, as is wellknown, marks the great finale of the last movement with aprolonged forte, which he merely heightens by a sempre piu forte. At this point Reissiger, who had conducted the Symphony beforeme, thinking the opportunity a favourable one, had introduced apiano, in order at least to secure an effective crescendo. This Ihad naturally ignored, and had instructed the orchestra to playwith their full strength throughout. Now, therefore, that theconducting of this work had once more fallen into mypredecessor's hands, he found it difficult to restore his unluckypiano; but, feeling that he must save his authority, which hadbeen compromised, he made a rule that mezzo forte should beplayed instead of forte. 

But the most painful news he gave me was about the state of utterneglect into which my unhappy operatic publications had fallen inthe hands of the court music-dealer Meser, who, seeing that moneyhad to be continually paid out, while nothing came in, regardedhimself as a sacrificial lamb whom I had lured to the slaughter. Yet he steadily refused all inspection of his books, maintainingthat he thereby protected my property, as all I possessed havingbeen confiscated, it would otherwise be seized at once. Apleasanter topic than this was Lohengrin. My friend had completedthe pianoforte arrangement, and was already busy correcting theengraver's proofs. 

By his enthusiastic advocacy of the water cure, Uhlig gained aninfluence over me in another direction, and one which was of longduration. He brought me a book on the subject by a certainRausse, which pleased me greatly, especially by its radicalprinciples, which had something of Feuerbach about them. Its boldrepudiation of the entire science of medicine, with all itsquackeries, combined with its advocacy of the simplest naturalprocesses by means of a methodical use of strengthening andrefreshing water, quickly won my fervent adherence. Hemaintained, for instance, that every genuine medicine can onlyact upon our organism in so far as it is a poison, and istherefore not assimilated by our system; and proved, moreover, that men who had become weak owing to a continuous absorption ofmedicine, had been cured by the famous Priesnitz, who hadeffectually driven out the poison contained in their bodies byexpelling it through the skin. I naturally thought of thedisagreeable sulphur baths I had taken during the spring, and towhich I attributed my chronic and severe state of irritability. In so doing I was probably not far wrong. For a long while afterthis I did my best to expel this and all other poisons which Imight have absorbed in the course of time, and by an exclusivewater regimen restore my original healthy condition. Uhligasserted that by persevering conscientiously in a water cure, hewas perfectly confident of being able to renew his own bodilyhealth entirely, and my own faith in it also grew daily. 

At the end of July we started on an excursion through the centreof Switzerland. From Brunnen, on the Lake of Lucerne, weproceeded via Beckenried to Engelberg, from which place wecrossed the wild Surenen-Eck, and on this occasion learned how toglide over the snow fairly easily. But in crossing a swollenmountain torrent Uhlig had the misfortune to fall into the water. By way of quieting my uneasiness about him, he at once exclaimedthat this was a very good way of carrying out the water cure. Hemade no fuss about the drying of his clothes, but simply spreadthem out in the sun, and in the meanwhile calmly promenaded aboutin a state of nature in the open air, protesting that this novelform of exercise would do him good. We occupied the interval indiscussing the important problem of Beethoven's themeconstruction, until, by way of a joke, I told him that I couldsee Councillor Carns of Dresden coming up behind him with aparty, which for a moment quite frightened him. Thus with lighthearts we reached the Reuss valley near Attinghausen, and in theevening wandered on as far as Amsteg, and the next morning, inspite of our great fatigue, at once visited the Madran valley. There we climbed the Hufi glacier, whence we enjoyed a splendidview over an impressive panorama of mountains, bounded at thispoint by the Tody range. We returned the same day to Amsteg, andas we were both thoroughly tired out, I dissuaded my companionfrom attempting the ascent of the Klausen Pass to the Schachenvalley, which we had planned for the following day, and inducedhim to take the easier way home via Fluelen. When, early inAugust, my young friend, who was always calm and very deliberatein his manner, set out on his return journey to Dresden, I coulddetect no signs of exhaustion about him. He was hoping on hisarrival to lighten the heavy burden of life a little byundertaking the conductorship of the entr'acte music at thetheatre, which he proposed to organise artistically, and thus sethimself free from the oppressive and demoralising service of theopera. It was with sincere grief that I accompanied him to themail-coach, and he too seemed to be seized with suddenforeboding. As a matter of fact, this was the last time we evermet. 

But for the present we carried on an active correspondence, andas his communications were always pleasant and entertaining, andfor a long time constituted almost my sole link with the outsideworld, I begged him to write me long letters as often aspossible. As postage was expensive at that time, and voluminousletters touched our pockets severely, Uhlig conceived theingenious idea of using the parcel post for our correspondence. As only packets of a certain weight might be sent in this way, aGerman translation of Beaumarchais' Figaro, of which Uhligpossessed an ancient copy, enjoyed the singular destiny of actingas ballast for our letters to and fro. Every time, therefore, that our epistles had swelled, to the requisite length, weannounced them with the words: 'Figaro brings tidings to-day. '

Uhlig meanwhile found much pleasure in the Mittheilung an meineFreunde ('A Communication to my Friends'), which, immediatelyafter our separation, I wrote as a preface to an edition of mythree operas, the Fliegender Hollander, Tannhauser, andLohengrin. He was also amused to hear that Hartel, who hadaccepted the book for publication on payment of ten louis d'or, protested so vigorously against certain passages in this preface, which wounded his orthodoxy and political feelings, that Ithought seriously of giving the book to another firm. However, hefinally persuaded me to give way, and I pacified his tenderconscience by a few trifling alterations. 

With this comprehensive preface, which had occupied me during thewhole of the month of August, I hoped that my excursion into therealms of literature would be ended once and for all. However, assoon as I began to think seriously about taking up thecomposition of Junger Siegfried, which I had promised for Weimar, I was seized with depressing doubts which almost amounted to apositive reluctance to attempt this work. As I could not clearlydiscern the reason of this dejection, I concluded that its sourcelay in the state of my health, so I determined one day to carryout my theories about the advantages of a water cure, which I hadalways propounded with great enthusiasm. I made due inquiriesabout a neighbouring hydropathic establishment, and informed mywife that I was going off to Albisbrunnen, which was situatedabout three miles from our abode. It was then about the middle ofSeptember, and I had made up my mind not to come back until I wascompletely restored to health. 

Minna was quite frightened when I announced my intention, andlooked upon it as another attempt on my part to abandon my home. I begged of her, however, to devote herself during my absence tothe task of furnishing and arranging our new flat as comfortablyas possible. This, although small, was conveniently situated onthe ground floor of the Vordern Escher Hauser im Zeltweg. We haddetermined to move back to the town, on account of the greatinconvenience of the situation of our present quarters, especially during winter time. Everybody, of course, wasastonished at the idea of my undertaking a water cure so late inthe season. Nevertheless, I soon succeeded in securing a fellow-patient. I was not fortunate enough to get Herwegh, but Fate waskind in sending me Hermann Muller, an ex-lieutenant in the SaxonGuards, and a former lover of Schroder-Devrient, who proved amost cheerful and pleasant companion. It had become impossiblefor him to maintain his position in the Saxon army, and althoughhe was not exactly a political refugee, every career was closedto him in Germany, and yet he met with all the consideration ofan exiled patriot when he came to Switzerland to try and make afresh start in life. We had seen a good deal of each other in myearly Dresden days, and he soon felt at home in my house, wheremy wife always gave him a warm welcome. I easily persuaded him tofollow me shortly to Albisbrunnen to undergo a thorough treatmentfor an infirmity from which he was suffering. I establishedmyself there as comfortably as I could, and I looked forward toexcellent results. The cure itself was superintended in the usualsuperficial way by a Dr. Brunner, whom my wife, on one of hervisits to this place, promptly christened the 'Water Jew, ' andwhom she heartily detested. Early at five o'clock in the morningI was wrapped up and kept in a state of perspiration for severalhours; after that I was plunged into an icy cold bath at atemperature of only four degrees; then I was made to take a briskwalk to restore my circulation in the chilly air of late autumn. In addition I was kept on a water diet; no wine, coffee, or teawas allowed; and this regime, in the dismal company of nothingbut incurables, with dull evenings only enlivened by desperateattempts at games of whist, and the prohibition of allintellectual occupation, resulted in irritability and overwroughtnerves. I led this life for nine weeks, but I was determined notto give in until I felt that every kind of drug or poison I hadever absorbed into my system had been brought to the surface. AsI considered that wine was most dangerous, I presumed that mysystem still contained many unassimilated substances which I hadabsorbed at various dinner-parties at Sulzer's, and which mustevaporate in profuse perspiration. This life, so full ofprivations, which I led in rooms miserably furnished with commondeal and the usual rustic appointments of a Swiss pension, awokein me by way of contrast an insuperable longing for a cosy andcomfortable home; indeed, as the year went on, this longingbecame a passionate desire. My imagination was for ever picturingto itself the manner and style in which a house or a dwellingought to be appointed and arranged, in order to keep my mindpleasantly free for artistic creation. 

At this time symptoms of a possible improvement in my positionappeared. Karl Ritter, unfortunately for himself, wrote to mefrom Stuttgart while I was at the hydro, describing his ownprivate attempts to secure the benefits of a water cure--not bymeans of baths, but by drinking quantities of water. I had foundout that it was most dangerous to drink large quantities of waterwithout undergoing the rest of the treatment, so I implored Karlto submit to the regular course, and not to have an effeminatefear of privations, and to come at once to Albisbrunnen. He tookme at my word, and to my great delight arrived in a few days'time at Albisbrunnen. Theoretically he was filled with enthusiasmfor hydropathy, but he soon objected to it in practice; and hedenounced the use of cold milk as indigestible and against thedictates of Nature, as mother's milk was always warm. He foundthe cold packs and the cold baths too exciting, and preferredtreating himself in a comfortable and pleasant way behind thedoctor's back. He soon discovered a wretched confectioner's shopin the neighbouring village, and when he was caught buying cheappastry on the sly, he was very angry. He soon grew perfectlymiserable, and would fain have escaped, had not a certain feelingof honour prevented him from doing so. The news reached him hereof the sudden death of a rich uncle, who had left a considerablefortune to every member of Karl's family. His mother, in tellinghim and me of the improvement in her position, declared that shewas now able to assure me the income which the two families ofLaussot and Ritter had offered me some time ago. Thus I steppedinto an annual income of two thousand four hundred marks for aslong as I required it, and into partnership with the Ritterfamily. 

This happy and encouraging turn of events made me decide tocomplete my original sketch of the Nibelungen, and to bring itout in our theatres without paying any regard to thepracticability of its various parts. In order to do this I feltthat I must free myself from all obligations to the management ofthe Weimar theatre. I had already drawn six hundred marks salaryfrom this source, but Karl was enchanted to place this sum at mydisposal in order that I might return it. I sent the money backto Weimar with a letter expressing my most gratefulacknowledgments to the management for their conduct towards me, and at the same time I wrote to Liszt, giving him the fullestparticulars of my great plan, and explaining how I feltabsolutely compelled to carry it out. 

Liszt, in his reply, told me how delighted he was to know that Iwas now in a position to undertake such a remarkable work, whichhe considered in every respect worthy of me if only on account ofits surprising originality. I began to breathe freely at last, because I had always felt that it was merely self-deception on mypart to maintain that it would be possible to produce JungerSiegfried with the limited means at the disposal of even the bestGerman theatre. 

My water cure and the hydropathic establishment became more andmore distasteful to me; I longed for my work, and the desire toget back to it made me quite ill. I tried obstinately to concealfrom myself that the object of my cure had entirely failed;indeed, it had really done me more harm than good, for althoughthe evil secretions had not returned, my whole body seemedterribly emaciated. I considered that I had had quite enough ofthe cure, and comforted myself with the hope that I should derivebenefit from it in the future. I accordingly left the hydropathicestablishment at the end of November. Muller was to follow me ina few days, but Karl, wishing to be consistent, was determined toremain until he perceived a similar result in himself to the oneI had experienced or pretended I had experienced. I was muchpleased with the way in which Minna had arranged our new littleflat in Zurich. She had bought a large and luxurious divan, several carpets for the floor and various dainty little luxuries, and in the back room my writing-table of common deal was coveredwith a green tablecloth and draped with soft green silk curtains, all of which my friends admired immensely. This table, at which Iworked continually, travelled with me to Paris, and when I leftthat city I presented it to Blandine Ollivier, Liszt's elderdaughter, who had it conveyed to the little country house at St. Tropez, belonging to her husband, where, I believe, it stands tothis day. I was very glad to receive my Zurich friends in my newhome, which was so much more conveniently situated than my formerone; only I quite spoilt all my hospitality for a long time by myfanatical agitation for a water diet and my polemics against theevils of wine and other intoxicating drinks. I adopted whatseemed almost a new kind of religion: when I was driven into acorner by Sulzer and Herwegh, the latter of whom prided himselfon his knowledge of chemistry and physiology, about the absurdityof Rausse's theory of the poisonous qualities contained in wine, I found refuge in the moral and aesthetic motive which made meregard the enjoyment of wine as an evil and barbarous substitutefor the ecstatic state of mind which love alone should produce. Imaintained that wine, even if not taken in excess, containedqualities producing a state of intoxication which a man sought inorder to raise his spirits, but that only he who experienced theintoxication of love could raise his spirits in the noblest senseof the word. This led to a discussion on the modern relations ofthe sexes, whereupon I commented on the almost brutal manner inwhich men kept aloof from women in Switzerland. Sulzer said hewould not at all object to the intoxication resulting fromintercourse with women, but in his opinion the difficulty lay inprocuring this by fair means. Herwegh was inclined to agree withmy paradox, but remarked that wine had nothing whatever to dowith it, that it was simply an excellent and strengthening food, which, according to Anacreon, agreed very well with the ecstasyof love. As my friends studied me and my condition more closely, they felt they had reason to be very anxious about my foolish andobstinate extravagances. I looked terribly pale and thin; Ihardly slept at all, and in everything I did I betrayed a strangeexcitement. Although eventually sleep almost entirely forsook me, I still pretended that I had never been so well or so cheerful inmy life, and I continued on the coldest winter mornings to takemy cold baths, and plagued my wife to death by making her show memy way out with a lantern for the prescribed early morning walk. 

I was in this state when the printed copies of Oper und Dramareached me, and I devoured rather than read them with aneccentric joy. I think that the delightful consciousness of nowbeing able to say to myself, and prove to the satisfaction ofeverybody, and even of Minna, that I had at last completely freedmyself from my hateful career as conductor and opera composer, brought about this immoderate excitement. Nobody had a right tomake the demands upon me which two years ago had made me somiserable. The income which the Ritters had assured me for life, and the object of which was to give me an absolutely free hand, also contributed to my present state of mind, and made me feelconfidence in everything I undertook. Although my plans for thepresent seemed to exclude all possibility of being realised, thanks to the indifference of an inartistic public, still I couldnot help inwardly cherishing the idea that I should not be forever addressing only the paper on which I wrote. I anticipatedthat before long a great reaction would set in with regard to thepublic and everything connected with our social life, and Ibelieved that in my boldly planned work there lay just the rightmaterial to supply the changed conditions and real needs of thenew public whose relation to art would be completely altered withwhat was required. As these bold expectations had arisen in mymind in consequence of my observations of the state of society ingeneral, I naturally could not say much about them to my friends. I had not mistaken the significance of the general collapse ofthe political movements, but felt that their real weakness lay inthe inadequate though sincere expression of their cause, and thatthe social movement, so far from losing ground by its politicaldefeat, had, on the contrary, gained in energy and expansion. Ibased my opinion upon the experience I had had during my lastvisit to Paris, when I had attended, among other things, apolitical meeting of the so-called social democratic party. Theirgeneral behaviour made a great impression upon me; the meetingtook place in a temporary hall called Salle de la Fraternite inthe Faubourg St. Denis; six thousand men were present, and theirconduct, far from being noisy and tumultuous, filled me with asense of the concentrated energy and hope of this new party. Thespeeches of the principal orators of the extreme left of theAssemblee Nationale astonished me by their oratorical flights aswell as by their evident confidence in the future. As thisextreme party was gradually strengthening itself againsteverything that was being done by the reactionary party then inpower, and all the old liberals had joined these social democratspublicly and had adopted their electioneering programme, it waseasy to see that in Paris, at all events, they would have adecided majority at the impending elections for the year 1852, and especially in the nomination of the President of theRepublic. My own opinions about this were shared by the whole ofFrance, and it seemed that the year 1852 was destined to witnessa very important reaction which was naturally dreaded by theother party, who looked forward with great apprehension to theapproaching catastrophe. The condition of the other Europeanstates, who suppressed every laudable impulse with brutalstupidity, convinced me that elsewhere too this state of affairswould not continue long, and every one seemed to look forwardwith great expectations to the decision of the following year. 

I had discussed the general situation with my friend Uhlig, aswell as the efficacy of the water-cure system; he had just comehome fresh from orchestral rehearsals at the Dresden theatre, andfound it very difficult to agree to a drastic change in humanaffairs or to have any faith in it. He assured me that I couldnot conceive how miserable and mean people were in general, but Imanaged to delude him into the belief that the year 1852 would bepregnant with great and important events. Our opinions on thissubject were expressed in the correspondence which was once morediligently forwarded by Figaro. 

Whenever we had to complain of any meanness or untowardcircumstance, I always reminded him of this year, so great withfate and hope, and at the same time I hinted that we had betterlook forward quite calmly to the time when the great 'upheaval'should take place, as only then, when no one else knew what todo, could we step in and make a start. 

I can hardly express how deeply and firmly this hope had takenpossession of me, and I can only attribute all my confidentopinions and declarations to the increased excitement of mynerves. The news of the coup d'etat of the 2nd of December inParis seemed to me absolutely incredible, and I thought the worldwas surely coming to an end. When the news was confirmed, andevents which no one believed could ever happen had apparentlyoccurred and seemed likely to be permanent, I gave the wholething up like a riddle which it was beneath me to unravel, andturned away in disgust from the contemplation of this puzzlingworld. As a playful reminiscence of our hopes of the year 1852, Isuggested to Uhlig that in our correspondence during that year weshould ignore its existence and should date our letters December'51, in consequence of which this said month of December seemedof eternal duration. 

Soon afterwards I was overpowered by an extraordinary depressionin which, somehow, the disappointment about the turn of politicalevents and the reaction created by my exaggerated water cure, almost ruined my health. I perceived the triumphant return of allthe disappointing signs of reaction which excluded every highideal from intellectual life, and from which I had hoped theshocks and fermentations of the past few years had freed us forever. I prophesied that the time was approaching whenintellectually we should be such paupers that the appearance of anew book from the pen of Heinrich Heine would create quite asensation. When, a short time afterwards, the Romancero appearedfrom the pen of this poet who had fallen into almost completeneglect, and was very well reviewed by the newspaper critics, Ilaughed aloud; as a matter of fact, I suppose I am among the veryfew Germans who have never even looked at this book, which, bythe way, is said to possess great merit. 

I was now compelled to pay a great deal of attention to myphysical condition, as it gave me much cause for anxiety andnecessitated a complete change in my methods. I introduced thischange very gradually and with the co-operation of my friends. Mycircle of acquaintances had widened considerably this winter, although Karl Ritter, who had escaped from Albisbrunnen a weekafter my own departure and had tried to settle in ourneighbourhood, ran off to Dresden, as he found Zurich much tooslow for his youthful spirits. A certain family of the name ofWesendonck, who had settled in Zurich a short time before, soughtmy acquaintance, and took up their abode in the same quarters inthe Hintern Escherhauser where I had lived when I first came toZurich. They had taken the flat there on the recommendation ofthe famous Marschall von Bieberstein, who moved in after me inconsequence of the revolution in Dresden. I remember, on theevening of a party there, that I displayed uncontrolledexcitement in a discussion with Professor Osenbruck. I tormentedhim with my persistent paradoxes all through supper to such anextent that he positively loathed me, and ever afterwardscarefully avoided coming into contact with me. 

The acquaintance with the Wesendoncks was the means of giving methe entree to a delightful home, which in point of comfort was agreat contrast to the usual run of houses in Zurich. Herr OttoWesendonck, who was a few years younger than I was, had amassed aconsiderable fortune through a partnership in a silk business inNew York, and seemed to make all his plans subservient to thewishes of the young wife whom he had married a few years before. They both came from the Lower Rhine country, and, like all theinhabitants of those parts, were fair haired. As he was obligedto take up his abode in some part of Europe which was convenientfor the furtherance of his business in New York, he chose Zurich, presumably because of its German character, in preference toLyons. During the previous winter they had both attended theperformance of a symphony of Beethoven under my conductorship, and knowing what a sensation this performance had aroused inZurich, they thought it would be desirable to include me in theircircle of friends. 

About this time I was persuaded to undertake the directorship ofthe augmented orchestra in view of the performance of somemusical masterpieces at three concerts to be given early in thenew year under the auspices of the Societe Musicale on conditionsarranged in advance. 

It gave me infinite pleasure on one of these occasions to conductan excellent performance of Beethoven's music to Egmont. AsHerwegh was so anxious to hear some of my own music I gave theTannhauser Overture, as I told him, entirely to please him, and Iprepared a descriptive programme as a guide. I also succeeded ingiving an excellent rendering of the Coriolanus Overture, towhich I had also written an explanatory programme. All this wastaken up with so much sympathy and enthusiasm by my friends thatI was induced to accede to the request of Lowe, who was at thattime manager of the theatre, and implored me to give aperformance of the Fliegender Hollander. For the sake of myfriends I agreed to enter into negotiations with the operacompany, an undertaking which, though it only lasted a very shorttime, was exceedingly objectionable. It is true that humaneconsiderations animated me as well, as the performance was forthe benefit of Schoneck, a young conductor, whose real talent forhis art had completely won me over to him. 

The efforts which this unaccustomed excursion into the regions ofopera rehearsals, etc. , cost me, greatly contributed to theoverwrought state of my nerves, and I was obliged, in spite ofall my rooted prejudices against doctors, to break faith withmyself and, in accordance with the Wesendonck's specialrecommendation, to place myself in the hands of Dr. Rahn-Escher, who, by his gentle manner and soothing ways, succeeded after atime in bringing me into a healthier condition. 

I longed to get well enough to be able to take in hand thecompletion of my combined Nibelungen poem. Before I could summonup the courage to begin, I thought I would wait for the spring, and in the meanwhile I occupied myself with a few trifles, amongst other things a letter to Liszt on the founding of aGoethe Institution (Goethe Stiftung), stating my ideas on thenecessity of founding a German National Theatre, as also a secondletter to Franz Brendel about the line of thought which in myopinion should be taken up in founding a new musical journal. 

I recollect a visit from Henri Vieuxtemps at this time, who cameto Zurich with Belloni to give an evening concert, and he againdelighted me and my friends with his violin playing. 

With the approach of spring I was agreeably surprised by a visitfrom Hermann Franck, with whom I had an interesting conversationabout the general course of events since I had lost sight of him. 

In his quiet way he expressed his astonishment at theenthusiastic manner in which I had got mixed up in the Dresdenrevolution. As I quite misunderstood his remark, he explainedthat he thought me capable of enthusiasm in everything, but hecould hardly credit me with having taken a serious part inanything so foolish as trivial matters of that kind. I nowlearned for the first time what the prevalent opinion was aboutthese much-maligned occurrences in Germany, and I was in aposition to defend my poor friend Rockel, who had been branded asa coward, and to put not only his conduct but also my own in adifferent light to that in which it had been regarded hithertoeven by Hermann Franck, who afterwards expressed his sincereregret that he had so misunderstood us. 

With Rockel himself, whose sentence had by royal mercy beencommuted to lifelong imprisonment, I carried on at this time acorrespondence, the character of which soon showed that his lifewas more cheerful and happy in his enforced captivity than minewith its hopelessness, in spite of the freedom I enjoyed. 

At last the month of May arrived, and I felt I needed change ofair in the country in order to strengthen my weakened nerves andcarry out my plans in regard to poetry. We found a fairlycomfortable pied-a-terre on the Rinderknecht estate. This wassituated halfway up the Zurich Berg, and we were able to enjoy analfresco meal on the 22nd of May--my thirty-ninth birthday--witha lovely view of the lake and the distant Alps. Unfortunately aperiod of incessant rain set in which scarcely stopped throughoutthe whole summer, so that I had the greatest struggle to resistits depressing influence. However, I soon got to work, and as Ihad begun to carry out my great plan by beginning at the end andgoing backwards, I continued on the same lines with the beginningas my goal. Consequently, after I had completed the SiegfriedsTod and Junger Siegfried, I next attacked one of the principalsubjects, the Walkure, which was to follow the introductoryprelude of the Rheingold. In this way I completed the poem of theWalkure by the end of June. At the same time I wrote thededication of the score of my Lohengrin to Liszt, as well as arhymed snub to an unprovoked attack on my Fliegender Hollander ina Swiss newspaper. A very disagreeable incident in connectionwith Herwegh pursued me to my retreat in the country. One day acertain Herr Haug, who described himself as an ex-Roman generalof Mazzini's time, introduced himself to me with a view offorming a sort of conspiracy against him, on behalf, as he said, of the deeply offended family of the 'unfortunate lyric poet';however, he did not succeed in getting any assistance from me. Amuch pleasanter incident was a long visit from Julia, the eldestdaughter of my revered friend Frau Ritter, who had marriedKummer, the young Dresden chamber musician, whose health seemedso entirely undermined that they were going to consult acelebrated hydropathic doctor who practised only a few miles fromZurich. I now had a good opportunity of abusing this water cureabout which my young friends were so eager, and had alwaysbelieved that I was perfectly mad on it also. But we left thechamber musician to his fate, and rejoiced at the long andpleasant visit of our amiable and charming young friend. 

As I was quite satisfied with the success of my work, and theweather was exceptionally cold and rainy, we made up our minds toreturn to our cosy winter residence in Zurich at the end of June. I was resolved to stay there until the appearance of some realsummer weather, when I intended to take a walking tour over theAlps, which I felt would be of great advantage to my health. Herwegh had promised to accompany me, but as he was apparentlyprevented from doing so, I started alone in the middle of July, after arranging with my travelling companion to meet me inValais. I began my walking tour at Alpnach, on the Lake ofLucerne, and my plan was to wander by unfrequented paths to theprincipal points of the Bernese Oberland. I worked pretty hard, paying a visit, for instance, to the Faulhorn, which at that timewas considered a very difficult mountain to climb. When I reachedthe hospice on the Grimsel by the Hasli Thal, I asked the host, afine, stately-looking man, about the ascent of the Siedelhorn. Herecommended me one of his servants as a guide, a rough, sinister-looking man, who, instead of taking the usual zig-zag paths upthe mountain, led me up in a bee line, and I rather suspected heintended to tire me out. At the top of the Siedelhorn I wasdelighted to catch a glimpse, on one side, of the centre of theAlps, whose giant backs alone were turned to us; and on the otherside, a sudden panorama of the Italian Alps, with Mont Blanc andMonte Rosa. I had been careful to take a small bottle ofchampagne with me, following the example of Prince Puckler whenhe made the ascent of Snowdon; unfortunately, I could not thinkof anybody whose health I could drink. We now descended vastsnow-fields, over which my guide slid with mad haste on hisalpenstock; I contented myself with leaning carefully on the ironpoint of mine, and coming down at a moderate pace. 

I arrived at Obergestelen dead tired, and stayed there two days, to rest and await the arrival of Herwegh. Instead of cominghimself, however, a letter arrived from him which dragged me downfrom my lofty communings with the Alps to the humdrumconsideration of the unpleasant situation in which my unhappyfriend found himself as a result of the incident I have alreadydescribed. He feared that I had allowed myself to be taken in byhis adversary, and had consequently formed an unfavourableopinion of him. I told him to make his mind easy on that score, and to meet me again, if possible, in Italian Switzerland. So Iset out for the ascent of the Gries glacier, and the climb acrossthe pass to the southern side of the Alps, in the company of mysinister guide alone. During the ascent an extremely sad sightkept meeting my eyes; an epidemic of foot-rot had broken outamong cows in the Upper Alps, and several herds passed me insingle file on their way to the valley, where they were going tobe doctored. The cows had become so lean that they looked likeskeletons, and dragged themselves pitiably down the slopes, andthe smiling country with the fat meadow-land seemed to take asavage delight in gazing on this sad pilgrimage. At the foot ofthe glacier, which stood out sheer and steep before me, I felt sodepressed, and my nerves were so overwrought, that I said Iwished to turn back. I was thereupon met by the coarse sarcasm ofmy guide, who seemed to scoff at my weakness. My consequent angerbraced up my nerves, and I prepared myself at once to climb thesteep walls of ice as quickly as possible, so that this time itwas he who found difficulty in keeping up with me. Weaccomplished the walk over the back of the glacier, which lastednearly two hours, under difficulties which caused even thisnative of Grimsel anxiety, at least on his own account. Freshsnow had fallen, which partially concealed the crevasses, andprevented one from recognising the dangerous spots. The guide, ofcourse, had to precede me here, to examine the path. We arrivedat last at the opening of the upper valley which gives on to theFormazza valley, to which a steep cutting, covered with snow andice, led. Here my guide again began his dangerous game ofconducting me straight over the steepest slopes instead of goingin a safe zig-zag; in this way we reached a precipitous moraine, where I saw such unavoidable danger ahead, that I insisted uponmy guide going back with me some distance, until we struck a paththat I had noticed which was not so steep. He was obliged to givein, much against the grain. I was deeply impressed by the firstsigns of cultivation that we saw in our descent from the desolatewilds. The first scanty meadow-land accessible to cattle wascalled the Bettel-Matt, and the first person we met was a marmothunter. The wild scenery was soon enlivened by the marvellousswirl and headlong rush of a mountain river called the Tosa, which at one spot breaks into a superb waterfall with threedistinct branches. After the moss and reeds had, in the course ofour continuous descent, given place to grass and meadows, and theshrubs had been replaced by pine trees, we at last arrived at thegoal of our day's journey, the village of Pommath, calledFormazza by the Italian population, which is situated in acharming valley. Here, for the first time in my life, I had toeat roast marmot. After having paid my guide, and sent him on hishomeward journey, I started alone on the following morning on myfurther descent of the valley, although I had only partiallyrecovered from my fatigue, owing to lack of sleep. It was notuntil the November of this year, when the whole of Switzerlandwas thrown into a state of consternation by the news that theGrimsel inn had been set fire to by the host himself, who hopedby this means to obtain the renewal of the lease from theauthorities, that I learned my life had been in danger under theguidance of this man. As soon as his crime was discovered, thehost drowned himself in the little lake, on the borders of whichthe inn is situated. The serving-man, however, whom he had bribedto arrange the fire, was caught and punished. I knew by the namethat he was the same man that the worthy innkeeper had given meas companion on my solitary journey across the glacier pass, andI heard at the same time that two travellers from Frankfort hadperished on the same pass a short time before my own journey. Iconsequently realised that I had in a really remarkable mannerescaped a fatal danger which had threatened me. 

I shall never forget my impressions of my journey through thecontinually descending valley. I was particularly astonished atthe southern vegetation which suddenly spreads out before one onclimbing down from a steep and narrow rocky pass by which theTosa is confined. I arrived at Domodossola in the afternoon in ablaze of sunshine, and I was reminded here of a charming comedyby an author whose name I have forgotten, which I had once seenperformed with a refinement worthy of Platen, and to which myattention had been drawn by Eduard Devrient in Dresden. The sceneof the play was laid in Domodossola, and described exactly theimpressions I myself received on coming down from the NorthernAlps into Italy, which suddenly burst upon one's gaze. I shallalso never forget my first simple, but extremely well-served, Italian dinner. Although I was too tired to walk any further thatday, I was very impatient to get to the borders of Lake Maggiore, and I accordingly arranged to drive in a one-horse chaise, whichwas to take me on the same evening as far as Baveno. I felt socontented while bowling along in my little vehicle that Ireproached myself for want of consideration in having rudelydeclined the offer of company which an officer passing throughthe Vetturino made me by means of the driver. I admired thedaintiness of the house decorations and the pleasant faces of thepeople in the pretty villages I passed through. A young mother, strolling along and singing as she spun the flax, with her babyin her arms, also made a never-to-be-forgotten impression on me. Soon after sunset I caught sight of the Borromean Islands risinggracefully out of Lake Maggiore, and again I could not sleep forexcitement at the thought of what I might see on the followingday. The next morning the visit to the islands themselvesdelighted me so much that I could not understand how I hadmanaged to come upon anything so charming, and wondered whatwould result from it. After stopping only one day, I left theplace with the feeling that I had now to flee from something towhich I did not belong, and went round Lake Maggiore, up pastSocarno, to Bellinzona, where I was once again on Swiss soil;from there I proceeded to Lugano, intending, if I followed out myoriginal plan of travel, to stay there some time. But I soonsuffered from the intense heat; even bathing in the sun-scorchedlake was not refreshing. Apart from the dirty furniture, whichincluded the Denksopha ('thinking sofa') from the Clouds byAristophanes, I was sumptuously lodged in a palatial building, which in the winter served as the government house of the cantonof Tessin, but in the summer was used as a hotel. However, I soonfell again into the condition that had troubled me so long, andprevented me from taking any rest, owing to my extreme nervousstrain and excitement, whenever I felt disposed to idlepleasantly. I had taken a good many books with me, and proposedto entertain myself with Byron. Unfortunately it required a greateffort on my part to take any pleasure in his works, and thedifficulty of doing so increased when I began to read his DonJuan. After a few days' time I began to wonder why I had come, and what I wanted to do here, when suddenly Herwegh wrote sayingthat he and several friends intended to join me at this place. Amysterious instinct made me telegraph to my wife to come also. She obeyed my call with surprising alacrity, and arrivedunexpectedly in the middle of the night, after travelling bypost-chaise across the St. Gotthard Pass. She was so fatiguedthat she at once fell into a sound sleep on the Denksopha, fromwhich the fiercest storm that I ever remember failed to awakenher. On the following day my Zurich friends arrived. 

Herwegh's chief companion was Dr. Francois Wille. I had learnedto know him some time before at Herwegh's house: his chiefcharacteristics were a face much scarred in students' duels, anda great tendency to witty and outspoken remarks. He had recentlybeen staying near Meilen on the Lake of Zurich, and he oftenasked me to visit him there with Herwegh. Here we saw somethingof the habits and customs of a Hamburg household, which was keptup in a fairly prosperous style by his wife, the daughter of HerrSloman, a wealthy shipowner. Although in reality he remained astudent all his life, he had made himself a position and formed alarge circle of acquaintances by editing a Hamburg politicalnewspaper. He was a brilliant conversationalist, and wasconsidered good company. He seemed to have taken up with Herweghwith the object of overcoming the latter's antipathy to Alpineclimbing, and his consequent reluctance to undertake it. Hehimself had made preparations to walk over the Gotthard Pass witha Professor Eichelberger, and this had made Herwegh furious, ashe declared that walking tours were only permissible where it wasimpossible to drive, and not on these broad highways. Aftermaking an excursion into the neighbourhood of Lugano, duringwhich I got heartily sick of the childish sound of the churchbells, so common in Italy, I persuaded my friends to go with meto the Borromean Islands, which I was longing to see again. During the steamer trip on Lake Maggiore, we met a delicate-looking man with a long cavalry moustache, whom in private washumourously dubbed General Haynau, and the distrust with which weaffected to treat him was a source of some amusement to us. 

We soon found that he was an extremely good-natured Hanoveriannobleman, who had been travelling about Italy for some time forpleasure, and who was able to give us very useful informationconcerning intercourse with the Italians. His advice was of greatservice when we were visiting the Borromean Islands, where myacquaintances parted from my wife and myself to travel back bythe nearest route, whereas we intended proceeding further acrossthe Simplon and through Le Valais to Chamounix. 

From the fatigue my tour had so far occasioned me, I felt that itwould be some time before I started on a similar one again. I wastherefore eager to see what was best worth seeing in Switzerlandas thoroughly as possible now that I had the chance. Moreover, Iwas just then, and indeed had been for some time, in thatimpressionable humour from which I might anticipate importantresults to myself from novel scenery, and I did not like to missMont Blanc. A view of it was attended with great difficulties, amongst which may be mentioned our arrival by night at Martigny, where, owing to the crowded state of the hotels, we wereeverywhere refused accommodation, and it was only on account of alittle intrigue between a postillion and a maidservant that wefound clandestine shelter for the night in a private house fromwhich the owners were absent. 

We dutifully visited the so-called Mer de Glace in the Val deChamounix and the Flegere, from which I obtained a mostimpressive view of Mont Blanc. However, my imagination was lessbusied with the ascent of that peak than with the spectacle Ibeheld when crossing the Col des Geants, as the great elevationthat we attained did not appeal to me so much as the unbroken andsublime wildness of the latter. For some time I cherished theintention of undertaking just one more venture of the kind. Whiledescending the Flegere, Minna had a fall and sprained her ankle;the consequence of this was so painful as to deter us from anyfurther adventures. We therefore saw ourselves forced to hastenon our journey home via Geneva. But even from this more importantand grander expedition, and almost the only one I had everundertaken purely for recreation, I returned with a strangelyunsatisfied feeling, and I could not resist the longing forsomething decisive in the distance, that would give a freshdirection to my life. 

On reaching home I found announcements of a new and quitedifferent turn in my destiny. These consisted of inquiries andcommissions from various German theatres anxious to produceTannhauser. The first to apply was the Schwerin Court Theatre. Rockel's youngest sister, who afterwards married the actor Moritz(whom I had known from my earliest youth), had now come toGermany as a youthful singer from England, where she had beeneducated. She had given such an enthusiastic account of theimpression produced upon her by Tannhauser at Weimar, to anofficial at the theatre there named Stocks, who held the positionof treasurer, that he had studied the opera most assiduously, andhad now induced the management to undertake to produce it. Thetheatres at Breslau, Prague, and Wiesbaden soon followed; at thelast of these my old friend Louis Schindelmeisser was acting asconductor. In a short time other theatres followed suit; but Iwas most astonished when the Berlin Court Theatre made inquiriesthrough its new manager, Herr von Hulsen. From this last incidentI felt justified in assuming that the Crown Princess of Prussia, who had always had a friendly feeling towards me, fostered by myfaithful friend Alwine Frommann, had again been intenselyinterested by the performance of Tannhauser at Weimar, and hadgiven the impetus to these unexpected developments. 

Whilst I was rejoicing over commissions from the smallertheatres, those of the largest German stage were a source ofanxiety. I knew that at the former there were zealous conductors, devoted to me, who had certainly been roused by the desire ofhaving the opera performed; in Berlin, on the other hand, matterswere quite different. The only other conductor besides Taubert, whom I had known previously as a man devoid of talent, and at thesame time very conceited, was Heinrich Dorn, of whom I retainedmost unpleasant recollections from my earliest years and from ourjoint stay in Riga. I felt little drawn towards either of these, nor did I perceive any possibility of undertaking the directionof my own work; and from my knowledge of their capabilities aswell as of their ill-will, I had every reason to question anysuccessful rendering of my opera under their conductorship. Beingan exile, I was unable to go to Berlin in person in order tosupervise my work, so I immediately begged Listz's permission tonominate him as my representative and alter ego, to which hewillingly agreed. When I afterwards made Liszt's appointment oneof my conditions, objection was raised on the part of the generalmanager at Berlin on the score that the nomination of a Weimarconductor would be regarded as a gross insult to the Prussiancourt conductors, and I must consequently desist from demandingit. Thereupon prolonged negotiations ensued with a view tocompromising the matter, which resulted in the production ofTannhauser at Berlin being considerably delayed. 

However, while Tannhauser was now rapidly spreading to themiddle-class German theatres, I became a prey to great uneasinessas to the quality of these performances, and could never get avery clear idea of them. As my presence was prohibitedeverywhere, I had recourse to a very detailed pamphlet which wasto serve as a guide to the production of my work, and convey acorrect idea of my purpose. I had this somewhat voluminous workprinted at my own expense and tastefully bound, and to everytheatre that had given an order for the operatic score I sent anumber of copies of it, with the understanding that they were tobe given to the conductor, stage manager, and principalperformers for perusal and guidance. But from that time I havenever heard of a single person who had either read this pamphletor taken any notice of it. In the year 1864, when all my owncopies had been exhausted, owing to my painstaking distributionof them, I found to my great delight, among the theatricalarchives, several copies that had been sent to the Munich CourtTheatre, quite intact and uncut. I was therefore in the agreeableposition of being able to procure copies of the missing pamphletfor the King of Bavaria, who wished to see it, as well as formyself and some friends. 

It was a singular coincidence that the news of the diffusion ofmy opera through the German theatres should synchronise with myresolve to compose a work in the conception of which I had beenso decidedly influenced by the necessity of being absolutelyindifferent to our own theatres; yet this unexpected turn ofevents in no wise affected my treatment of my design. On thecontrary, by keeping to my plan, I gained confidence and letthings take their own course, without attempting in any way topromote the performances of my operas. I just let people do asthey liked, and looked on surprised, while continual accountsreached my ears of remarkable successes; none of them, however, induced me to alter my verdict on our theatres in general or onthe opera in particular. I remained unshaken in my resolve toproduce my Nibelungen dramas just as though the present operaticstage did not exist, since the ideal theatre of my dreams must ofnecessity come sooner or later. I therefore composed the librettoof the Rheingold in the October and November of that year, andwith that I brought the whole cycle of the Nibelungen myth as Ihad evolved it to a conclusion. At the same time I was rewritingJunger Siegfried and Siegfrieds Tod, especially the latter, insuch a way as to bring them into proper relation with the whole;and by so doing, important amplifications were made in SiegfriedsTod which were in harmony with the now recognised and obviouspurpose of the whole work. I was accordingly obliged to find forthis last piece a new title suited to the part it plays in thecomplete cycle. I entitled it Gotterdammerung, and I changed thename Junger Siegfried to Siegfried, as it no longer dealt with anisolated episode in the life of the hero, but had assumed itsproper place among the other prominent figures in the frameworkof the whole. The prospect of having to leave this lengthy poemfor some time entirely unknown to those whom I might expect to beinterested in it was a source of great grief to me. As thetheatres now and then surprised me by sending me the usualroyalties on Tannhauser, I devoted a part of my profits to havinga number of copies of my poem neatly printed for my own use. Iarranged that only fifty copies of this edition de luxe should bestruck off. But a great sorrow overtook me before I had completedthis agreeable task. It is true, I met on all sides withindications of sympathetic interest in the completion of my greatlyric work, although most of my acquaintances regarded the wholething as a chimera, or possibly a bold caprice. The only one whoentered into it with any heartiness or real enthusiasm wasHerwegh, with whom I frequently discussed it, and to whom Igenerally read aloud such portions as were completed. Sulzer wasmuch annoyed at the remodelling of Siegfrieds Tod, as he regardedit as a fine and original work, and thought it would be deprivedof that quality if I decided to alter it to any extent. Hetherefore begged me to let him have the manuscript of the earlierversion to keep as a remembrance; otherwise it would have beenentirely lost. In order to get an idea of the effect of the wholepoem when rendered in complete sequence, I decided, only a fewdays after the work was completed in the middle of December, topay a short visit to the Wille family at their country seat, soas to read it aloud to the little company there. Besides Herwegh, who accompanied me, the party there consisted of Frau Wille andher sister, Frau von Bissing. I had often entertained theseladies with music in my own peculiar fashion during my pleasantvisits to Mariafeld, about two hours' walk from Zurich. In them Ihad secured a devoted and enthusiastic audience, somewhat to HerrWille's annoyance, as he often admitted that he had a horror ofmusic; nevertheless, he ended in his jovial way by taking thematter good humouredly. 

I arrived towards evening, and we attacked Rheingold at once, andas it did not seem very late, and I was supposed to be capable ofany amount of exertion, I went on with the Walkure untilmidnight. The next morning after breakfast it was Siegfried'sturn, and in the evening I finished off with Gotterdammerung. Ithought I had every reason to be satisfied with the result, andthe ladies in particular were so much moved that they ventured nocomment. Unfortunately the effort left me in a state of almostpainful excitement; I could not sleep, and the next morning I wasso disinclined for conversation that I left my hurried departureunexplained. Herwegh, who accompanied me back alone, appeared todivine my state of mind, and shared it by maintaining a similarsilence. 

However, I now wished to have the pleasure of confiding the wholecompleted work to my friend Uhlig at Dresden. I carried on aregular correspondence with him, and he had followed thedevelopment of my plan, and was thoroughly acquainted with everyphase of it. I did not want to send him the Walkure before theRheingold was ready, as the latter should come first, and eventhen I did not want him to see the whole thing until I could sendhim a handsomely printed copy. But at the beginning of the autumnI discerned in Uhlig's letters grounds for feeling a growinganxiety as to the state of his health. He complained of theincrease in his serious paroxysms of coughing, and eventually ofcomplete hoarseness. He thought all this was merely weakness, which he hoped to overcome by invigorating his system with thecold-water treatment and long walks. He found the violin work atthe theatre very exhausting, but if he took a sharp seven hours'walk into the country he invariably felt much better. However, hecould not rid himself of his chest attacks or of his hoarseness, and had a difficulty in making himself heard even when speakingto a person quite near him. Up to that time I had been unwillingto alarm the poor fellow, and always hoped that his conditionwould necessitate his consulting a doctor, who would naturallyprescribe rational treatment. Now, however, as I was continuallyhearing nothing from him but assurances of his confidence in theprinciples of the water cure, I could contain myself no longer, and I entreated him to give up this madness and place himself inthe hands of a sensible doctor, for in his condition what he mostneeded was, not strength, but very careful attention. The poorman was extremely alarmed at this, as he gathered from my remarksthat I feared he was already in an advanced stage of consumption. 'What is to become of my poor wife and children, ' he wrote, 'ifthat is really the case?' Unhappily, it was too late; with thelast strength that was left him he tried to write to me again, and finally my old friend Fischer, the chorus-master, carried outUhlig's instructions, and when these were no longer audible hehad to bend down close to his lips. The news of his deathfollowed with frightful rapidity. It took place on the 3rd ofJanuary, 1853. Thus, in addition to Lehrs, another of my reallydevoted friends was carried off by consumption. The handsome copyof the Ring des Nibelungen I had intended for him lay uncutbefore me, and I sent it to his youngest boy, whom he hadchristened Siegfried. I asked his widow to let me have anypamphlets of a theoretical nature he might have left behind, andI came into possession of several important ones, among them thelonger essay on 'Theme-Structure. ' Although the publication ofthese works would involve a great deal of trouble, owing to thenecessity of revising them, I asked Hartel of Leipzig if he wouldpay the widow a fair sum for a volume of Uhlig's writings. Thepublisher declared he could not undertake to bring it out withoutpayment, as works of that nature were quite unremunerative. Itwas obvious to me, even at that time, how thoroughly everymusician who had taken a keen interest in me had made himselfdisliked in certain circles. 

Uhlig's melancholy death gave my home-circle the whip-hand overme with regard to my theories on the subject of water cures. Herwegh impressed upon my wife that she must insist upon mytaking a glass of good wine after all the exertion I underwent atthe rehearsals and concerts which I was attending throughout thatwinter. By degrees, also, I again accustomed myself to enjoy suchmild stimulants as tea and coffee, my friends meanwhileperceiving to their joy that I was once more becoming a manamongst men. Dr. Rahn-Escher now became a welcome and comfortingfriend and visitor, who for many years thoroughly understood themanagement of my health, and especially the misgivings arisingfrom the over-wrought state of my nerves. He soon verified thewisdom of his treatment, when in the middle of February I hadundertaken to read my tetralogy aloud on four consecutiveevenings before a larger audience. I had caught a severe coldafter the first evening, and on the morning of the day for thesecond reading I awoke suffering from severe hoarseness. I atonce informed the doctor that my failure to give the readingwould be a serious matter to me, and asked him what he advised meto do to get rid of the hoarseness as speedily as possible. Herecommended me to keep quiet all day, and in the evening to betaken well wrapped up to the place where the readings were to beheld. When I got there I was to take two or three cups of weaktea, and I should be all right; whereas if I worried over thefailure to keep my engagement I might become seriously worse. And, indeed, the reading of this stirring work went offcapitally, and I was, moreover, able to continue the readings onthe third and fourth evenings, and felt perfectly well. I hadsecured a large and handsome room for these meetings in the HotelBaur au lac, and had the gratifying experience of seeing itfuller and fuller each evening, in spite of having invited only asmall number of acquaintances, giving them the option of bringingany friends who they thought would take a genuine interest in thesubject and not come out of mere curiosity. Here, too, theverdict seemed altogether favourable, and it was from the mostserious university men and government officials that I receivedassurances of the greatest appreciation as well as kindlyremarks, showing that my poem and the artistic ideas connectedwith it had been fully understood. From the peculiar earnestnesswith which they gave vent to their opinions, which in this casewere so confidently unanimous, the idea occurred to me to try howfar this favourable impression might be utilized to serve thehigher aims of art. In accordance with the superficial viewsgenerally prevailing on the subject, every one seemed to think Imight be induced to make terms with the theatre. I tried to thinkout how it would be possible to convert the ill-equipped Zurichtheatre into a highly developed one by adopting sound principles, and I laid my views before the public in a pamphlet entitled 'ATheatre in Zurich. ' The edition, consisting of about a hundredcopies, was sold, yet I never noticed the least indication of anyresult from the publication; the only outcome was, that at abanquet of the Musical Society my excellent friend, Herr Ott-Imhoff, expressed his entire disagreement with the statementsuttered by various people, that these ideas of mine were all verygrand, but unfortunately quite impracticable. Nevertheless, mypropositions lacked the one thing that would have made themvaluable in his eyes, namely my consent to take over themanagement of the theatre in person, as he would not entrust thecarrying out of my ideas to anyone but myself. However, as I wasobliged to declare then and there that I would not have anythingto do with such a scheme, the matter dropped, and in my inmostheart I could not help thinking that the good people were quiteright. 

Meanwhile, the sympathetic interest in my works was increasing. As I now had to refuse firmly to yield to my friends' wishes fora performance of my principal works at the theatre, I begged tobe allowed to arrange a selection of characteristic pieces, whichcould easily be produced at concerts, so soon as I could obtainthe requisite support. A subscription list was accordinglycirculated, and it had the satisfactory result of inducingseveral well-known art patrons to put their names down toguarantee expenses. I had to undertake to engage an orchestra tosuit my requirements. Skilled musicians from far and near weresummoned, and after interminable efforts I began to feel thatsomething really satisfactory would be achieved. 

I had made arrangements that the performers should stay at Zuricha whole week from Sunday to Sunday. Half of this time wasallotted exclusively to rehearsals. The performance was to takeplace on Wednesday evening, and on Friday and Sunday eveningsthere were to be repetitions of it. The dates were the 18th, 20th, and 22nd of May, my fortieth birthday falling on the last-named date. I had the joy of seeing all my directions accuratelycarried out. From Mayence, Wiesbaden, Frankfort, and Stuttgart, and on the other side, from Geneva, Lausanne, Bale, Berne, andthe chief towns in Switzerland, picked musicians arrivedpunctually on Sunday afternoon. They were at once directed to thetheatre, where they had to arrange their exact places in theorchestral stand I had previously designed at Dresden--and whichproved excellent here too--so as to begin rehearsing the firstthing next morning without delay or interruption. As these peoplewere at my disposal in the early morning and in the evening, Imade them learn a selection of pieces from the FliegenderHollander, Tannhauser, and Lohengrin. I had greater trouble intrying to train them for a chorus, but this too turned out verysatisfactorily. There was nothing in the way of solo-singing, except the Ballad of Senta from the Hollander, which was sung bythe wife of the conductor Heim in a good though untrained voice, and with an amount of spirit that left nothing to be desired. Asa matter of fact, the performances could hardly be called publicconcerts, but were rather of the nature of family entertainments. I felt I was fulfilling a sincere desire on the part of a largercircle of acquaintances by introducing them to the true nature ofmy music, rendered as intelligibly as circumstances permitted. As, at the same time, it was desirable that they should have someknowledge of the poetical basis of it, I invited those whointended to be present at my concerts to come for three eveningsto the Musical Society's concert-hall to hear me read aloud thelibretto of the three operas, portions of which they were aboutto hear. This invitation met with an enthusiastic response, and Iwas now able to hope that my audience would come better preparedto listen to the selections from my operas than had ever been thecase before. The fact that pleased me most in the performances onthese three evenings was that I was able for the first time toproduce something from Lohengrin myself, and could thus get anidea of the effect of my combination of the instrumental parts inthe overture to that work. 

Between the performances there was a banquet which, with theexception of a subsequent one at Pesth, was the only function ofthe sort ever held in my honour. I was sincerely and deeplyaffected by the speech of the aged President of the MusicalSociety, Herr Ott-Usteri. He drew the attention of all thosemusicians who had come together from so many places to thesignificance of their meeting, and its objects and results, andrecommended as a trustworthy guide to them on their homewardjourney the conviction they had all doubtless arrived at, thatthey had come into close and genuine touch with, a wonderful newcreation in the realm of art. 

The sensation produced by these evening concerts spread throughthe whole of Switzerland in ever-widening circles. Invitationsand requests for further repetitions of them poured in fromdistant towns. I was assured that I might well repeat the threeperformances in the following week without any fear of seeing adiminution in the audience. When this project was discussed, andI pleaded my own fatigue, and also expressed the desire to retainfor these concerts their unique character by not allowing them tobecome commonplace, I was very glad to have the powerful andintelligent support of my friend Hagenbuch, who on this occasionwas indefatigable. The festival was concluded, and the guestswere dismissed at the appointed time. 

I had hoped to be able to welcome Liszt among the visitors, as hehad celebrated a 'Wagner week' at Weimar in the previous March byperforming three operas of which I had only given portions here. Unfortunately he was unable to leave just then, but by way ofamends he promised me a visit at the beginning of July. Of myGerman friends, only the faithful Mme. Julie Kummer and Mme. Emilie Ritter arrived in time. As these two ladies had gone on toInterlaken at the beginning of June, and I also began to feel ingreat need of a change, I started with my wife, towards the endof the month, for a short holiday. The visit was spoilt in themost dismal fashion by continuous rain; and on the 1st of July, as we were starting in desperation on our homeward journey toZurich with our lady friends, magnificent summer weather set in, which lasted a considerable time. With affectionate enthusiasm weat once attributed this change to Liszt, as he arrived inSwitzerland in the best of spirits immediately after we hadreturned to Zurich. Thereupon followed one of those delightfulweeks, during which every hour of the day becomes a treasuredmemory. I had already taken more roomy apartments on the secondfloor in the so-called Vorderen Escher Hausern, in which I hadbefore occupied a flat that was much too small on the groundfloor. Frau Stockar-Escher, who was part owner of the house, wasenthusiastically devoted to me. She was full of artistic talentherself, being an excellent amateur painter in water-colours, andhad taken great pains to rearrange the new dwelling asluxuriously as possible. The unexpected improvement in mycircumstances brought about by the continued demands for myoperas, allowed me to indulge my desire for comfortable domesticarrangements, which had been reawakened since my stay at thehydropathic establishment, and which, after being repressed, hadbecome quite a passionate longing. 

I had the flat so charmingly furnished with carpets anddecorative furniture that Liszt himself was surprised intoadmiration as he entered my 'petite elegance', as he called it. Now for the first time I enjoyed the delight of getting to knowmy friend better as a fellow-composer. In addition to many of hiscelebrated pianoforte pieces, which he had only recently written, we went through several new symphonies with great ardour, andespecially his Faust Symphony. Later on, I had the opportunity ofdescribing in detail the impressions I received at this time in aletter which I wrote to Marie von Wittgenstein, which wasafterwards published. My delight over everything I heard by Lisztwas as deep as it was sincere, and, above all, extraordinarilystimulating. I even thought of beginning to compose again afterthe long interval that had elapsed. What could be more full ofpromise and more momentous to me than this long-desired meetingwith the friend who had been engaged all his life in his masterlypractice of music, and had also devoted himself so absolutely tomy own works, and to diffusing the proper comprehension of them. Those almost bewilderingly delightful days, with the inevitablerush of friends and acquaintances, were interrupted by anexcursion to the Lake of Lucerne, accompanied only by Herwegh, towhom Liszt had the charming idea of offering a 'draught offellowship' with himself and me from the three springs of theGrutli. 

After this my friend took leave of us, after having arranged foranother meeting with me in the autumn. 

Although I felt quite disconsolate after Liszt's departure, theofficials of Zurich took good care that I should soon have somediversion, of a kind to which I had hitherto been a stranger. Ittook the form of the presentation of a masterpiece of calligraphyin the shape of a 'Diploma of Honour, ' awarded me by the ZurichChoral Society, which was ready at last. This was to be awardedto me with the accompaniment of an imposing torchlightprocession, in which the various elements of the Zurichpopulation, who, either as individuals or members of societies, were favourably disposed to me, were to take part. So it came topass that one fine summer evening a large company of torchbearersapproached the Zeltweg, to the accompaniment of loud music. Theypresented a spectacle such as I had never seen before, and made aunique impression on my mind. After the singing, the voice of thePresident of the Choral Society could be heard rising from thestreet. I was so much affected by the incident that myunconquerable optimism quickly overpowered every other sensation. In my speech of acknowledgment I indicated plainly that I saw noreason why Zurich itself should not be the chosen place to givean impetus to the fulfilment of the aspirations I cherished formy artistic ideals, and that it might do so on proper civiclines. I believe this was taken to refer to a special developmentof the men's choral societies, and they were quite gratified atmy bold forecasts. Apart from this confusion, for which I wasresponsible, that evening's ceremony and its effects on me werevery cheerful and beneficial. 

But I still felt the peculiar disinclination and fear of takingup composing again that I had previously experienced afterprotracted pauses in musical production. I also felt very muchexhausted by all I had done and gone through, and the ever-recurring longing to break completely with everything in thepast, that had unfortunately haunted me since my departure fromDresden, as well as the desire and yearning for new and untriedsurroundings, fostered by that anxiety, now acquired fresh andtormenting vigour. I felt that before entering on such a gigantictask as the music to my drama of the Nibelungen, I mustpositively make one final effort to see whether I could not, insome new environment, attain an existence more in harmony with myfeelings than I could possibly aspire to after so manycompromises. I planned a journey to Italy, or such parts of it aswere open to me as a political refugee. The means for carryingout my wish were readily placed at my disposal through thekindness of my friend Wesendonck, who has ever since that timebeen devoted to me. However, I knew it was inadvisable to takethat journey before the autumn, and as my doctor had recommendedsome special treatment for strengthening my nerves--even if onlyto enjoy Italy--I decided first of all to go to St. Moritz Bad inthe Engadine. I started in the latter half of July, accompaniedby Herwegh. Strangely enough, I have often found that what otherpeople could note in their diaries merely as an ordinary visit ora trivial expedition, assumed for me the character of anadventure. This occurred on our journey to the Bad, when, owingto the coaches being crowded, we were detained at Chur in anincessant downpour of rain. We were obliged to pass the time inreading at a most uncomfortable inn. I got hold of Goethe's West-ostlichen Divan, for the reading of which I had been prepared byDaumer's adaptation of Hafiz. To this day I never think ofGoethe's words in elucidating these poems without recalling thatwretched delay in our journey to the Engadine. We did not get onmuch better at St. Moritz; the present convenient Kurhaus was notthen in existence, and we had to put up with the roughestaccommodation; this was particularly annoying to me on Herwegh'saccount, as he had not gone there for health, but simply forenjoyment. However, we were soon cheered by the lovely views ofthe grand valleys, which were quite bare but for the Alpinepastures, that met our eyes on our way down the steep slopes intothe Italian valleys. After we had secured the schoolmaster atSamaden as a guide to the Rosetch glacier, we embarked on moreserious expeditions. We had confidently looked forward toexceptional enjoyment in thus penetrating beyond the precipicesof the great Mont Bernina, to which we gave the palm for beautyabove Mont Blanc itself. Unfortunately the effect was lost on myfriend, owing to the tremendous exertions by which the ascent andcrossing of the glacier were attended. Once again, but this timeto an even greater degree, I felt the sublime impression of thesacredness of that desolate spot, and the almost benumbing calmwhich the disappearance of all vegetation produces on thepulsating life of the human organism. After we had been wanderingfor two hours, deep in the glacier path, we partook of a meal wehad brought with us, and champagne, iced in the fissures, tostrengthen us for our wearisome return. I had to cover thedistance nearly twice over, as, to my astonishment, Herwegh wasin such a nervous condition that I had repeatedly to go backwardsand forwards, showing him the way up and down before he woulddecide to follow. I then realised the peculiarly exhaustingnature of the air in those regions, as on our way back we stoppedat the first herdsman's cottage, and were refreshed with somedelicious milk. I swallowed such quantities of it that we wereboth perfectly amazed, but I experienced no discomfort whateverin consequence. 

The waters, whether for internal or external use, are known to bepowerfully impregnated with iron, and in taking them I had thesame experience as on previous occasions. With my extremelyexcitable nervous system, they were a source of more trouble thanrelief to me. The leisure hours were filled up by readingGoethe's Wahlverwandtschaften, which I had not read since I wasquite young. This time I absolutely devoured the book frombeginning to end, and it also became a source of heateddiscussions between Herwegh and myself. As Herwegh possessed anextensive knowledge of the characteristics of our great poeticliterature, he felt it incumbent on him to defend the characterof Charlotte against my attacks. My vehemence on the subjectshowed what a strange creature I still was at over forty, and inmy heart of hearts I had to admit that Herwegh judged Gothe'spoem objectively more correctly than I did, as I always feltdepressed by a kind of moral bondage, to which Herwegh, if he hadever experienced it at all, submitted placidly, owing to hispeculiar relations with his strong-minded wife. When the timecame to an end, and I realised that I had not much to hope forfrom the treatment, we returned to Zurich. This was about themiddle of August, and I now began to look forward impatiently tomy tour in Italy. At last, in the month of September, which I hadbeen told was quite suitable for visiting Italy, I set off on thejourney via Geneva, full of indescribable ideas of what wasbefore me, and of what I might see as the outcome of my search. Once again amid all sorts of strange adventures, I reached Turinby special mail-coach over Mont Cenis. Finding nothing to detainme there more than a couple of days, I hurried on to Genoa. There, at any rate, the longed-for marvels seemed to be withinreach. The grand impression produced on me by that, cityovercomes, even to this day, any longing to visit the rest ofItaly. For a few days I was in a dream of delight; but my extremeloneliness amidst these impressions soon made me feel that I wasa stranger in that world, and that I should never be at home init. Absolutely inexperienced as I was in searching out thetreasures of art on a systematic plan, I gave myself up in thisnew world to a peculiar state of mind that might be described asa musical one, and my main idea was to find some turning-pointthat might induce me to remain there in quiet enjoyment. My onlyobject still was to find a refuge where I might enjoy thecongenial peace suited to some new artistic creation. Inconsequence, however, of thoughtlessly indulging in ices, I soongot an attack of dysentery, which produced the most depressinglassitude after my previous exaltation. I wanted to flee from thetremendous noise of the harbour, near which I was staying, andseek for the most absolute calm; and thinking a trip to Speziawould benefit me, I went there by steamer a week later. Even thisexcursion, which lasted only one night, was turned into a tryingadventure, thanks to a violent head-wind. The dysentery becameworse, owing to sea-sickness, and in the most utterly exhaustedcondition, scarcely able to drag myself another step, I made forthe best hotel in Spezia, which, to my horror, was situated in anoisy, narrow street. 

After a night spent in fever and sleeplessness, I forced myselfto take a long tramp the next day through the hilly country, which was covered with pine woods. It all looked dreary anddesolate, and I could not think what I should do there. Returningin the afternoon, I stretched myself, dead tired, on a hardcouch, awaiting the long-desired hour of sleep. It did not come;but I fell into a kind of somnolent state, in which I suddenlyfelt as though I were sinking in swiftly flowing water. Therushing sound formed itself in my brain into a musical sound, thechord of E flat major, which continually re-echoed in brokenforms; these broken chords seemed to be melodic passages ofincreasing motion, yet the pure triad of E flat major neverchanged, but seemed by its continuance to impart infinitesignificance to the element in which I was sinking. I awoke insudden terror from my doze, feeling as though the waves wererushing high above my head. I at once recognised that theorchestral overture to the Rheingold, which must long have lainlatent within me, though it had been unable to find definiteform, had at last been revealed to me. I then quickly realised myown nature; the stream of life was not to flow to me fromwithout, but from within. I decided to return to Zurichimmediately, and begin the composition of my great poem. Itelegraphed to my wife to let her know my decision, and to havemy study in readiness. 

The same evening I took my place on the coach going to Genoaalong the Riviera di Levante. I again had the opportunity ofgetting exquisite impressions of the country during this journey, which lasted over the whole of the following day. It was, aboveall, the colouring of the wonders that presented themselves to myeyes which gave me such delight--the redness of the rocks, theblue of the sky and the sea, the pale green of the pines; eventhe dazzling white of a herd of cattle worked upon me sopowerfully that I murmured to myself with a sigh, 'How sad it isthat I cannot remain to enjoy all this, and thus gratify mysensuous nature. '

At Genoa I again felt so agreeably stimulated that I suddenlythought I had only yielded to some foolish weakness, and resolvedto carry out my original plan. I was already making arrangementsfor travelling to Nice along the celebrated Riviera di Ponente, of which I had heard so much, but I had scarcely decided on myformer plans, when I realised that the fact which refreshed andinvigorated me was not the renewal of my delight over Italy, butthe resolve to take up my work again. And indeed, as soon as Imade up my mind to alter this plan, the old condition set in oncemore, with all the symptoms of dysentery. I thereupon understoodmyself, and giving up the journey to Nice, I returned direct bythe nearest route via Alessandria and Novara. 

This time I passed the Borromean Islands with supremeindifference, and got back to Zurich over the St. Gotthard. 

When I had once returned, the only thing that could have made mehappy would have been to start at once on my great work. For thepresent, however, I saw that it would be seriously interrupted bymy appointment with Liszt, who was to be in Bale at the beginningof October. I was restless and annoyed at being so unsettled, andspent the time in visiting my wife, who, thinking that I would beaway longer, was taking the waters at Baden am Stein. As I waseasily prevailed upon to try any experiment of this kind if onlythe person who recommended it were sufficiently sanguine, Iallowed myself to be persuaded into taking a course of hot baths, and the process heightened my excitment considerably. 

At last the time for the meeting in Bale arrived. At theinvitation of the Grand Duke of Baden, Liszt had arranged andconducted a musical festival in Karlsruhe, the aim of which wasto give the public an adequate interpretation of our respectiveworks. As I was not yet allowed to enter the territory of theGerman confederation, Liszt had chosen Bale as the place nearestto the Baden frontier, and had brought with him some young menwho had been his devoted admirers in Karlsruhe, to give me ahearty welcome. 

I was the first to arrive, and in the evening, while sittingalone in the dining-room of the hotel, 'Zu den drei Konigen, ' theair of the trumpet fanfare (from Lohengrin) announcing the King'sarrival, sung by a strong though not numerous chorus of men'svoices, reached me from the adjacent vestibule. The door openedand Liszt entered at the head of his joyful little band, whom heintroduced to me. I also saw Bulow again, for the first timesince his adventurous winter visit to Zurich and St. Gall, andwith him Joachim, Peter Cornelius, Richard Pohl, and DionysPruckner. 

Liszt told me that he was expecting a visit from his friendCaroline von Wittgenstein and her young daughter Marie the nextday. The bright and merry spirit which prevailed at thatgathering (which, like everything that Liszt promoted, in spiteof its intimate nature, was characterised by magnificentunconventionality) grew to a pitch of almost eccentric hilarityas the night wore on. In the midst of our wild mood I suddenlymissed Pohl. I knew him to be a champion of our cause throughhaving read his articles under the pseudonym of 'Hoplit. ' I stoleaway and found him in bed suffering from a splitting headache. Mysympathy had such an effect upon him that he declared himselfsuddenly cured. Jumping out of bed, he allowed me to help himdress hurriedly, and again joining our friends we sat up till thenight was far advanced and enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. On thefollowing day our happiness was complete when the ladies arrived, who for the next few days formed the centre of our little party. In those days it was impossible for any one coming into contactwith Princess Caroline not to be fascinated by her bright mannerand the charming way in which she entered into all our littleplans. 

She was as much interested in the more important questions thataffected us as in the accidental details of our life in relationto society, and she had the magnetic power of extracting the verybest out of those with whom she associated. Her daughter gave onequite a different impression. She was barely fifteen and had arather dreamy look on her young face, and was at the stage 'inwhich womanhood and childhood meet, ' thus allowing me to pay herthe compliment of calling her 'the child. ' During our livelydiscussions and outbursts of merriment, her dark pensive eyeswould gaze at us so calmly that we unconsciously felt that in herinnocence she unwittingly understood the cause of our gaiety. Inthose days I suffered from the vanity of wishing to recite mypoems aloud (a proceeding which, by the bye, annoyed Herwegh verymuch), and consequently it was no difficult task to induce me toread out my Nibelungen drama. As the time of our parting wasdrawing near, I decided I would read Siegfried only. 

When Liszt was obliged to leave for Paris on a visit to hischildren, we all accompanied him as far as Strasburg. I haddecided to follow him to Paris, but the Princess intended goingon from Strasburg to Weimar with her daughter. 

During the few spare hours of our short stay in Strasburg I wasasked to read some of my work to the ladies, but could not find asuitable opportunity. However, on the morning of our intendedparting, Liszt came to my room to tell me that the ladies had, after all, decided to accompany us to Paris, and added, laughing, that Marie had induced her mother to change her plans, as shewished to hear the rest of the Nibelungen poems. The prolongingof our journey, with all its delightful incidents, was quite inaccordance with my taste. 

We were very sorry to part from our younger friends. Bulow toldme that Joachim, who had been holding himself rather aloof, couldnot forget my tremendous article on 'Judaism, ' and that heconsequently felt shy and awkward in my presence. He also saidthat when Joachim had asked him (Bulow) to read one of hiscompositions, he had inquired with a certain gentle diffidence, whether I should be able to trace 'anything Jewish' in it. 

This touching trait in Joachim's character induced me to say afew particularly friendly words to him at parting and to embracehim warmly. I never saw him again, [Footnote: This was written in1869. ] and heard to my astonishment that he had taken up ahostile attitude to both Liszt and myself, almost immediatelyafter we had left. The other young men were the victims, on theirreturn to Germany, of a very funny although unpleasantexperience, that of coming into contact with the police at Baden. They had entered the town singing the same bright tune of thefanfare from Lohengrin, and they had a good deal of difficulty ingiving a satisfactory account of themselves to the inhabitants. 

Our journey to Paris and our stay there were full of importantincidents, and left indelible traces of our exceptionally devotedfriendship. After great difficulty we found rooms for the ladiesin the Hotel des Princes, and Liszt then suggested that we shouldgo for a stroll on the boulevards, which at that hour weredeserted. I presume that our feelings on this occasion must havediffered as much as our reminiscences. When I entered thesitting-room the next morning, Liszt remarked, with hischaracteristic little smile, that the Princess Marie was alreadyin a great state of excitement at the thought of furtherreadings. Paris did not offer much attraction to me, and asPrincess Caroline desired to arouse as little attention aspossible, and Liszt was frequently called away on privatebusiness, we took up our reading, where we had left it off inBale, on the very first morning of our stay in Paris, even beforewe had been outside the hotel. I was not allowed to stop readingon the following days until the Ring des Nibelungen was quitefinished. Finally Paris claimed our attention, but while theladies were visiting the museums I was unfortunately obliged tostay in my room, tortured by continually recurring nervousheadaches. Liszt, however, induced me occasionally to join themin their excursions. At the beginning of our stay he had engageda box for a performance of Robert le Diable, because he wantedthe ladies to see the great opera house under the most favourableconditions. I believe that my friends shared the terribledepression from which I was suffering on this occasion. Liszt, however, must have had other motives for going. He had asked meto wear evening dress, and seemed very pleased I had done so whenat the interval he invited me to go for a stroll with him throughthe foyer. I could see he was under the influence of certainreminiscences of delightful evenings spent in this selfsamefoyer, and that the dismal performance of this night must havecast a gloom over him. We stole quietly back to our friends, hardly knowing why we had started on this monotonous expedition. One of the artistic pleasures I enjoyed most was a concert givenby the Morin-Chevillard Quartette Society, at which they playedBeethoven's Quartettes in E flat major and C sharp minor; theexcellent rendering of this work impressed me in very much thesame way as the performance of the Ninth Symphony by theConservatoire orchestra had once done. I had again theopportunity of admiring the great artistic zeal with which theFrench master these treasures of music, which even to this dayare so coarsely handled by the Germans. 

This was the first time that I really became intimatelyacquainted with the C sharp minor quartette, because I had neverbefore grasped its melody. If, therefore, I had nothing else toremind me of my stay in Paris, this would have been an unfadingmemory. I also carried away with me other equally significantimpressions. One day Liszt invited me to spend an evening withhim and his children, who were living very quietly in the care ofa governess in Paris. 

It was quite a novelty to me to see Liszt with these young girls, and to watch him in his intercourse with his son, then a growinglad. Liszt himself seemed to feel strange in his fatherlyposition, which for several years had only brought him cares, without any of the attendant pleasures. 

On this occasion we again resumed our reading of the last act ofGotterdammerung, which brought us to the longed-for end of thetetralogy. Berlioz, who looked us up during that time, enduredthese readings with quite admirable patience. We had lunch withhim one morning before his departure, and he had already packedhis music for his concert tour through Germany. Liszt playeddifferent selections from his Benvenuto Cellini, while Berliozsang to them in his peculiarly monotonous style. I also met thejournalist, Jules Janin, who was quite a celebrity in Paris, although it took me a long time to realise this; the only thingthat impressed me about him was his colloquial Parisian French, which was quite unintelligible to me. 

A dinner, followed by a musical evening at the house of thecelebrated pianoforte manufacturer, Erard, also remains in mymemory. At this house, as well as at a dinner-party given byLiszt at the Palais Royal, I again met his children. Daniel, theyoungest of them, particularly attracted me by his brightness andhis striking resemblance to his father, but the girls were veryshy. I must not forget to mention an evening spent at the houseof Mme. Kalergis, a woman of exceptional individuality, whom Imet here for the first time since the early performance ofTannhauser in Dresden. When at dinner she asked me a questionabout Louis Napoleon, I forgot myself so far in my excitement andresentment as to put an end to all further conversation by sayingthat I could not understand how anybody could possibly expectgreat things from a man whom no woman could really love. Afterdinner, when Liszt sat down at the piano, young MarieWittgenstein noticed that I had withdrawn silently and rathersadly from the rest of the company; this was due partly to myheadache, and partly to the feeling of isolation that came overme in these surroundings. I was touched by her sympathy andevident wish to divert me. 

After a very fatiguing week my friends left Paris. As I had againbeen prevented from starting on my work, I now decided not toleave Paris until I had restored my nerves to that state of calmwhich was indispensable to the fulfilment of my great project. Ihad invited my wife to meet me on our way back to Zurich, to giveher the opportunity of seeing Paris again, where we had bothsuffered so much. After her arrival, Kietz and Anders turned upregularly for dinner, and a young Pole, the son of my old andbeloved friend, Count Vincenz Tyszkiewicz, also came to see usvery often. 

This young man (who had been born since the early days of myfriendship with his father) had devoted himself passionately tomusic, as so many do nowadays. He had made quite a stir in Parisafter a performance of Freischutz at the Grand Opera, bydeclaring that the many cuts and alterations which had been madewere a fraud on the initiated public, and he had sued themanagement of the theatre for the return of the entrance money, which he regretted ever having paid. He also had an idea ofpublishing a paper with the view of drawing attention to theslovenly conduct of musical affairs in Paris, which in hisopinion was an insult to public taste. 

Prince Eugen von Wittgenstein-Sayn, a young amateur painter whohad belonged to Liszt's circle of intimate friends, painted aminiature of me, for which I had to give him several sittings; itwas done under Kietz's guidance, and turned out pretty well. 

I had an important consultation with a young doctor namedLindemann, a friend of Kietz's; he strongly advised me to give upthe water cure, and tried to convert me to the toxic theory. Hehad attracted the attention of Parisian society by inoculatinghimself with various poisons in the hospital before witnesses, inorder to show their effects upon the system, an experiment whichhe carried out in an accurate and thoroughly effective manner. With regard to my own case, he stated that it could be easilyremedied if we ascertained by careful experiments what metallicsubstance would specifically influence my nervous system. Heunhesitatingly recommended me, in case of very violent attacks, to take laudanum, and in default of that poison he seemed toconsider valerian an excellent remedy. 

Tired out, restless and exceedingly unstrung, I left Paris withMinna towards the end of October, without in the leastunderstanding why I had spent so much money there. Hoping tocounterbalance this by pushing my operas in Germany, I calmlyretired to the seclusion of my Zurich lodgings, fully decided notto leave them again until some parts, at least, of my Nibelungendramas were set to music. 

In the beginning of November I started on this long-postponedwork. For five and a half years (since the end of March, 1848) Ihad held aloof from all musical composition, and as I very soonfound myself in the right mood for composing, this return to mywork can best be compared to a reincarnation of my soul after ithad been wandering in other spheres. As far as the technique wasconcerned, I soon found myself in a difficulty when I started towrite down the orchestral overture, conceived in Spezia in a kindof half-dream, in my usual way of sketching it out on two lines. I was compelled to resort to the complete score-formula; thistempted me to try a new way of sketching, which was a very hastyand superficial one, from which I immediately wrote out thecomplete score. 

This process often led to difficulties, as the slightestinterruption in my work made me lose the thread of my roughdraft, and I had to start from the beginning before I couldrecall it to my memory. 

I did not let this occur in regard to Rheingold. The whole ofthis composition had been finished in outline on the 16th ofJanuary, 1854, and consequently the plan for the musicalstructure of this work in four parts had been drawn in all itsthematic proportions, as it was in this great prelude that thesethematic foundations of the whole had to be laid. 

I remember how much my health improved during the writing of thiswork; and my surroundings during that time consequently left verylittle impression on my mind. 

During the first months of the new year I also conducted a feworchestral concerts. To please my friend Sulzer, I produced, amongst other works, the overture to Gluck's Iphigenia in Aulis, after having written a new finale to it. The necessity foraltering the finale by Mozart induced me to write an article forthe Brendel musical journal on this artistic problem. Theseoccupations did not, however, prevent me from working at theRheingold score, which I quickly dotted down in pencil on a fewsingle sheets. On the 28th May I finished the instrumentation ofthe Rheingold. There had been very little change in my life athome; things had remained the same during the last few years, andeverything went smoothly. Only my financial position was ratherprecarious, owing to the past year's expenses for furniture, etc. , and also to the more luxurious mode of living I hadadopted, on the strength of my belief that my operas, which werenow better known, would bring me in a larger income. 

The most important theatres, however, still held back, and to mymortification all my efforts at negotiation with Berlin andVienna proved fruitless. In consequence of these disappointmentsI suffered great worries and cares during the greater part ofthat year. I tried to counteract these by new work, and insteadof writing out the score of Rheingold I began the composition ofthe Walkure. Towards the end of July I had finished the firstscene, but had to interrupt my work on account of a journey tothe south of Switzerland. 

I had received an invitation from the 'EidgenossischeMusikgesellschaft' to conduct their musical festival at Sion thatyear. I had refused, but at the same time promised that ifpossible I would conduct Beethoven's Symphony in A major at oneof the gala concerts. I intended on the way to call on KarlRitter, who had gone to live with his young wife at Montreux onthe Lake of Geneva. The week I spent with this young couple gaveme ample opportunities for doubting whether their happiness wouldbe of long duration. 

Karl and I left shortly afterwards for the musical festival inValais. On our way we were joined at Martigny by an extraordinaryyoung man, Robert von Hornstein, who had been introduced to me onthe occasion of my great musical festival the year before as anenthusiast and a musician. This quaint mortal was regarded as avery welcome addition to our party, particularly by young Ritter, and both young people looked forward with great enthusiasm to thetreat in store for them; Hornstein had come all the way fromSwabia to hear me conduct the festival in the canton of Valais. We arrived in the midst of the musical festivities, and I wasterribly disappointed to find how very badly and inartisticallythe preliminary arrangements had been made. I was so taken aback, after having received the worst possible impression of the soundof the very scanty orchestra in a small church, which served aschurch and concert-hall combined, and was so furious at thethought of having been dragged into such an affair, that I merelywrote a few lines to Methfessel, the organising director of thefestival, who had come from Berne, and took my leave, withoutfurther ceremony. I escaped by the next post-chaise that was juston the point of leaving, and I did this so expeditiously thateven my young friends were unaware of my departure. I purposelykept the fact of my sudden flight from them; I had my own reasonsfor doing so, and as they were rather interesting from apsychological point of view, I have never forgotten them. 

On coming back to dinner that day feeling miserable and depressedafter the disappointing impression I had just received, myannoyance was treated with foolish and almost insulting roars oflaughter by my young friends. I presumed that their merriment wasthe result of remarks made at my expense before I came in, asneither my admonitions nor even my anger could induce them tobehave differently. I quitted the dining-room in disgust, paid mybill and left, without giving them any opportunity of noticing mydeparture. I spent a few days in Geneva and Lausanne, and decidedto call on Frau Ritter on my way back; and there I again met thetwo young people. Evidently they also had given up the wretchedfestival, and been completely taken aback at my sudden departure, had almost immediately left for Montreux, in the hope of hearingnews of me. 

I made no mention of their rude conduct, and as Karl cordiallyinvited me to stay with them a few days longer I accepted, principally because I was very much interested in a poetical workhe had only just finished. This poem was a comedy calledAlkibiades, which he had really treated with exceptionalrefinement and freedom of form. He had already told me atAlbisbrunnen about the sketch of this work, and had shown me anelegant dagger into the blade of which the syllables Alki hadbeen burnt. 

He explained that his friend, a young actor whom he had left inStuttgart, possessed a similar weapon, the blade of which borethe syllables Biades. It seemed that Karl, even without thesymbolic help of the daggers, had again found the complement ofhis own 'Alkibiadesian' individuality, this time in the youngbooby Hornstein, and it is very probable that the two, whilst inSion, had imagined they were acting an 'Alkibiadesian' scenebefore Socrates. His comedy showed me that his artistic talentwas fortunately far better than his society manners. To this dayI regret that this decidedly difficult play has never beenproduced. 

Hornstein now behaved properly and desired to go to Lausanne viaVevey. We did part of the journey together on foot, and hisquaint appearance with his knapsack on his back was most amusing. Continued my journey alone from Berne to Lucerne, taking theshortest possible route to Selisberg on the Lake of Lucerne, where my wife was staying for a sour-milk cure. 

The symptoms of heart disease, which I had already noticed sometime previously, had increased, and this place had beenrecommended to her as specially invigorating and beneficial. Withgreat patience I endured several weeks of life at a Swisspension, but my wife, who had quite adapted herself to the waysof the house and seemed very comfortable, looked upon me as adisturbing element. 

I found this a great trial, although the beautiful air and mydaily excursions into the mountains did me a great deal of good. I even went so far as to choose a very wild spot, where, inimagination, I ordered a little house to be built in which Ishould be able to work in absolute peace. 

Towards the end of July we went back to Zurich. I returned to myWalkure and finished the first act in the month of August. I wasterribly depressed by my worries just at this time, and as it wasmore than ever necessary for me to have absolute quiet for mywork, I at once agreed to my wife's departure, when she told meof her intended visit to her relations and friends in Dresden andZwickau. She left me at the beginning of September, and wrote tome about her stay in Weimar, where the Princess Wittgenstein hadreceived her with the greatest hospitality at Altenburg Castle. There she met Rockel's wife, who was being cared for in the mostself-sacrificing way by her husband's brother. It showed aspirited and original trait in Minna's character that she decidedto visit Rockel in his prison at Waldheim, solely that she mightgive his wife news of him, although she disliked the manintensely. 

She told me of this visit, saying sarcastically that Rockellooked quite happy and bright, and that life in prison did notseem to suit him badly. 

Meanwhile I plunged with renewed zeal into my work, and hadfinished a fair copy of the Rheingold score by the 26th ofSeptember. In the peaceful quietness of my house at this time Ifirst came across a book which was destined to be of greatimportance to me. This was Arthur Schopenhauer's Die Welt alsWille und Vorstellung. Herwegh recommended this work to me, andtold me that strangely enough it had only been recentlydiscovered, although it had been published over thirty years. Ina pamphlet on this subject a certain Herr Frauenstadt had drawnthe attention of the public to the book, to which I immediatelyfelt attracted, and I at once began to study it. For a long timeI had wanted to understand the real value of philosophy. Myconversations with Lehrs in Paris in my very young days hadawakened my longing for this branch of knowledge, upon which Ihad first launched when I attended the lectures of severalLeipzig professors and in later years by reading Schelling andHegel. I seemed to understand the reason of their failure tosatisfy me from the writings of Feuerbach, which I studied at thesame time. What fascinated me so enormously about Schopenhauer'swork was not only its extraordinary fate, but the clearness andmanly precision with which the most difficult metaphysicalproblems were treated from the very beginning. 

I had been greatly drawn towards the work on learning the opinionof an English critic, who candidly confessed that he respectedGerman philosophy because of its complete incomprehensibility, asinstanced by Hegel's doctrines, until the study of Schopenhauerhad made it clear to him that Hegel's lack of lucidity was duenot so much to his own incapacity as to the intentionallybombastic style in which this philosopher had clothed hisproblems. Like every man who is passionately thrilled with life, I too sought first for the conclusions of Schopenhauer's system. With its aesthetic side I was perfectly content, and wasespecially astonished at his noble conception of music. But, onthe other hand, the final summing-up regarding morals alarmed me, as, indeed, it would have startled any one in my mood; for herethe annihilation of the will and complete abnegation arerepresented as the sole true and final deliverance from thosebonds of individual limitation in estimating and facing theworld, which are now clearly felt for the first time. For thosewho hoped to find some philosophical justification for politicaland social agitation on behalf of so-called 'individual freedom'there was certainly no support to be found here, where all thatwas demanded was absolute renunciation of all such methods ofsatisfying the claims of personality. At first I naturally foundhis ideas by no means palatable, and felt I could not readilyabandon that so-called 'cheerful' Greek aspect of the world, withwhich I had looked out upon life in my Kunstwerk der Zukunft. Asa matter of fact, it was Herwegh who at last, by a well-timedexplanation, brought me to a calmer frame of mind about my ownsensitive feelings. It is from this perception of the nullity ofthe visible world--so he said--that all tragedy is derived, andsuch a perception must necessarily have dwelt as an intuition inevery great poet, and even in every great man. On looking afreshinto my Nibelungen poem I recognised with surprise that the verythings that now so embarrassed me theoretically had long beenfamiliar to me in my own poetical conception. Now at last I couldunderstand my Wotan, and I returned with chastened mind to therenewed study of Schopenhauer's book. I had learned to recognisethat my first essential task was to understand the first part, namely, the exposition and enlarging of Kant's doctrine of theideality of that world which has hitherto seemed to us so solidlyfounded in time and space, and I believed I had taken the firststep towards such an understanding by recognising its enormousdifficulty. For many years afterwards that book never left me, and by the summer of the following year I had already studied thewhole of it for the fourth time. The effect thus graduallywrought upon me was extraordinary, and certainly exerted adecisive influence on the whole course of my life. In forming myjudgment upon all those matters which I had hitherto acquiredsolely through the senses, I had gained pretty much the samepower as I had formerly won in music--after abandoning theteaching of my old master Weinlich--by an exhaustive study ofcounterpoint. If, therefore, in later years I again expressedopinions in my casual writings on matters pertaining to that artwhich so particularly interested me, it is certain that traces ofwhat I learned from my study of Schopenhauer's philosophy wereclearly perceptible. 

Just then I was prompted to send the venerated philosopher a copyof my Nibelungen poem. To its title I merely added by hand thewords, 'With Reverence, ' but without writing a single word toSchopenhauer himself. 

This I did partly from a feeling of great shyness in addressinghim, and partly because I felt that if the perusal of my poem didnot enlighten Schopenhauer about the man with whom he wasdealing, a letter from me, no matter how explicit, would not helphim much. I also renounced by this means the vain wish to behonoured by an autograph letter from his hand. I learned later, however, from Karl Ritter, and also from Dr. Wille, both of whomvisited Schopenhauer in Frankfort, that he spoke impressively andfavourably of my poetry. In addition to these studies, Icontinued writing the music to the Walkure. I was living in greatretirement at this time, my sole relaxation being to take longwalks in the neighbourhood, and, as usual with me when hard atwork at my music, I felt the longing to express myself in poetry. This must have been partly due to the serious mood created bySchopenhauer, which was trying to find ecstatic expression. Itwas some such mood that inspired the conception of a Tristan undIsolde. 

Karl Ritter had just laid before me a sketch for the dramatictreatment of this subject (with which I was thoroughly acquaintedthrough my Dresden studies), and had thereby drawn my attentionto the material for this poem. I had already expressed my viewsto my young friend about the faultiness of his sketch. He had, infact, made a point of giving prominence to the lighter phases ofthe romance, whereas it was its all-pervading tragedy thatimpressed me so deeply that I felt convinced it should stand outin bold relief, regardless of minor details. On my return fromone of my walks I jotted down the incidents of the three acts ina concise form, with the intention of working them out moreelaborately later on. In the last act I introduced an episode, which, however, I did not develop eventually, namely, the visitto Tristan's deathbed by Parsifal during his search for the HolyGrail. The picture of Tristan languishing, yet unable to die ofhis wound, identified itself in my mind with Amfortas in theRomance of the Grail. 

For the moment I forced myself to leave this poem on one side, and to allow nothing to interrupt my great musical work. Meanwhile, through the help of friends, I succeeded in bringingabout a satisfactory change in my financial position. Myprospects with regard to the German theatres also seemedbrighter. Minna had been in Berlin, and through the influence ofour old friend, Alwine Frommann, had had an interview with Herrvon Hulsen, the manager of the court theatre. After losing twoyears in fruitless efforts, I at last felt more certain of seeingTannhauser produced there without further obstacle, as it hadbecome so popular with all the theatres that its failure inBerlin could not injure its reputation; it could only reflectdisadvantageously on the Berlin management. 

In the beginning of November Minna returned from her journey, andacting on the news she gave me about the production of Tannhauserin Berlin, I allowed matters to take their course, a decisionwhich afterwards caused me great annoyance, as the rendering ofmy work was simply wretched. I got some compensation, however, inthe royalties, which were an important and continuous source ofincome to me. 

The Zurich Musical Society now again enlisted my interest fortheir winter concerts. I promised to conduct, but only oncondition that they would give serious consideration to improvingthe orchestra. I had already twice proposed the formation of adecent orchestra, and I now sent in a third plan to thecommittee, in which I described in detail how they might achievethis object at a comparatively slight outlay by cooperation withthe theatre. I told them that this winter would be the last timethat I should interest myself in their concerts unless theyentertained this very reasonable proposition. Apart from thiswork, I took in hand a quartette society, made up of the soloistsof the orchestra, who were anxious to study the rightinterpretation of the various quartettes I had recommended. 

It was a great pleasure to me to see how soon the publicpatronised the efforts of these artists, who, by the way, thusadded a little extra to their incomes for a considerable time. Asfar as their artistic achievements went, the work was ratherslow; the mere fact of their being able to play their respectiveinstruments well did not make them at once understand the art ofplaying together, for which so much more is needed than meredynamic proportions and accents, attainable only by theindividual development of a higher artistic taste in thetreatment of the instrument by its exponent. 

I was too ambitious about them, and actually taught themBeethoven's Quartette in C sharp minor, which meant endlesstrouble and rehearsing. I wrote some analytical annotations forthe better appreciation of this extraordinary work, and had themprinted on the programme. Whether I made any impression on theaudience, or whether they liked the performance, I was never ableto find out. When I say that I completed the sketch of the wholeof the music to the Walkure by the 30th of December of that year, it will suffice to prove my strenuous and active life at thattime, as well as to show that I did not allow any outsidedistraction to disturb my rigorous plan of work. 

In January, 1855, I began the instrumentation of the Walkure, butI was compelled to interrupt it, owing to a promise I made tosome of my friends to give them a chance of hearing the overtureto Faust, which I had written in Paris fifteen years before. Ihad another look at this composition, which had been the means ofso important a change in my musical ideas. Liszt had produced thework in Weimar a little while before, and had written to me invery favourable terms about it, at the same time expressing hiswish that I should rewrite more elaborately some parts that wereonly faintly indicated. So I immediately set to work to rewritethe overture, conscientiously adopting my clear friend's delicatesuggestions, and I finished it as it was afterwards published byHartel. I taught our orchestra this overture, and did not thinkthe performance at all bad. My wife, however, did not like it;she said it seemed to her 'as if nothing good could be made outof it, ' and she begged me not to have it produced in London whenI went there that year. At this time I had an extraordinaryapplication, such as I have never received again. In January theLondon Philharmonic Society wrote asking me if I would be willingto conduct their concerts for the season. I did not answerimmediately, as I wanted to obtain some particulars first, andwas very much surprised one day to receive a visit from a certainMr. Anderson, a member of the committee of the celebratedsociety, who had come to Zurich on purpose to ensure myacceptance. 

I was expected to go to London for four months to give eightconcerts for the Philharmonic Society, for which I was to receivein all L200. I did not quite know what to do, as, from a businesspoint of view, it was of no advantage to me, and, as far as theconducting went, it was not much in my line, unless I could relyon at least a few high-class artistic productions. 

One thing only struck me as favourable, and that was the prospectof again handling a large and excellent orchestra, after havingbeen denied one for so long, while the fact that I had attractedthe attention of that remote world of music fascinated meexceedingly. I felt as if fate were calling me, and at last Iaccepted the invitation of this simple and amiable-lookingEnglishman, Mr. Anderson, who, fully satisfied with the result ofhis mission, immediately left for England wrapped in a big furcoat, whose real owner I only got to know later on. Beforefollowing him to England, I had to free myself from a calamitywhich I had brought upon myself through being too kind-hearted. The managing director of the Zurich theatre for that year, anobtrusive and over-zealous person, had at last made me accede tohis wish to produce Tannhauser, on the plea that as this work wasnow performed at every opera house, it would be a very bad thingfor the Zurich theatre if it were the only one to be deprived ofthe privilege, merely because I happened to live in the town. Besides this, my wife interfered in the matter, and the singerswho played Tannhauser and Wolfram at once put themselves underher wing. She really succeeded, too, in working on myhumanitarian feelings with regard to one of her proteges, a poortenor who had been badly bullied by the conductor till then. Itook these people through their parts a few times, and inconsequence found myself obliged to attend the stage rehearsalsto superintend their performances. What it all came to in the endwas that I was driven to interfere again and again, until I foundmyself at the conductor's desk, and eventually conducted thefirst performance myself. I have a particularly vividrecollection of the singer who played Elizabeth on that occasion. She had originally taken soubrette parts, and went through herrole in white kid gloves, dangling a fan. This time I had reallyhad enough of such concessions, and when at the close theaudience called me before the curtain, I stood there and told myfriends with great frankness that this was the last time theywould get me to do anything of the sort. I advised them in futureto look to the state of their theatre, as they had just had amost convincing proof of its faulty construction--at which theywere all much astonished. I made a similar announcement to the'Musikgesellschaft, ' where I also conducted once more--really forthe last time--before my departure. Unfortunately, they put downmy protests to my sense of humour, and were not in the leastspurred to exert themselves, with the result that I had to bevery stern and almost rude the following winter, to deter them, once and for all, from making further demands upon me. I thusleft my former patrons in Zurich somewhat nonplussed when Istarted for London on 26th February. 

I travelled through Paris and spent some days there, during whichtime I saw only Kietz and his friend Lindemann (whom he regardedas a quack doctor). Arriving in London on 2nd March I first wentto see Ferdinand Prager. In his youth he had been a friend of theRockel brothers, who had given me a very favourable account ofhim. He proved to be an unusually good-natured fellow, though ofan excitability insufficiently balanced by his standard ofculture. After spending the first night at his home, I installedmyself the following day with his help in a house in PortlandTerrace, in the neighbourhood of Regent's Park, of which I hadagreeable recollections from former visits. I promised myselfa pleasant stay there in the coming spring, if only on accountof its close proximity to that part of the park where beautifulcopper beeches over-shadowed the path. But though I spent fourmonths in London, it seemed to me that spring never came, thefoggy climate so overclouded all the impressions I received. Prager was only too eager to escort me when I went to pay thecustomary visits, including one to Costa. I was thus introducedto the director of the Italian Opera, who was at the same timethe real leader of music in London; for he was also directorof the Sacred-Music Society, which gave almost regular weeklyperformances of Handel and Mendelssohn. 

Prager also took me to see his friend Sainton, the leader of theLondon orchestra. After giving me a very hearty reception he toldme the remarkable history of my invitation to London. Sainton, asouthern Frenchman from Toulouse, of naive and fiery temperament, was living with a full-blooded German musician from Hamburg, named Luders, the son of a bandsman, of a brusque but friendlydisposition. I was much affected when I heard, later on, of theincident which had made these two men inseparable friends. Sainton had been making a concert tour by way of St. Petersburg, and found himself stranded at Helsingfors in Finland, unable toget any further, pursued as he was by the demon of ill-luck. Atthis moment the curious figure of the modest Hamburg bandsman'sson had accosted him on the staircase of the hotel, askingwhether he would be inclined to accept his offer of friendshipand take half of his available cash, as he (Luders) had of coursenoticed the awkwardness of the other's position. From that momentthe two became inseparable friends, made concert tours in Swedenand Denmark, found their way back in the strangest fashion toHavre, Paris, and Toulouse, by way of Hamburg, and finallysettled down in London--Sainton to take an important post in theorchestra, while Luders got along as best he could by thedrudgery of giving lessons. Now I found them living together in apretty house like a married couple, each tenderly concerned forhis friend's welfare. Luders had read my essays on art, and myOper und Drama in particular moved him to exclaim, 'Donnerwetter, there's something in that!' Sainton pricked up his ears at this, and when the conductor of the Philharmonic concerts (the greatMr. Costa himself), for some unknown reason, quarrelled with thesociety before the season began and refused to conduct theirconcerts any longer, Sainton, to whom Mr. Anderson, thetreasurer, had gone for advice in this awkward predicament, recommended them, at Luders' instigation, to engage me. I nowheard that they had not acted upon this suggestion at once. Onlywhen Sainton happened to remark casually that he had seen meconduct in Dresden did Mr. Anderson decide to make the journey toZurich to see me (in the fur coat lent by Sainton for thepurpose), as a result of which visit I was now here. I soondiscovered, too, that Sainton had in this case acted with therashness characteristic of his nation. It had never occurred toCosta that he would be taken seriously in his statement to thePhilharmonic Society, and he was thoroughly disgusted at myappointment. As he was at the head of the same orchestra whichwas at my disposal for the Philharmonic concerts, he was able tofoster an attitude of hostility to the undertakings for which Iwas responsible, and even my friend Sainton had to suffer fromhis animosity without actually realising the source of theannoyance. 

As time went on I saw this more plainly, while there was abundantmaterial for unpleasantness of every description in otherquarters. In the first place Mr. Davison, the musical critic ofthe Times, adopted a most hostile attitude, and it was from thisthat I first realised, clearly and definitely, the effect of myessay entitled 'Judaism in Music. ' Prager had further informed methat Davison's extremely powerful position on the Times hadaccustomed him to expect every one who came to England onbusiness connected with music to propitiate him by all sorts ofdelicate attentions. Jenny Lind was one whose submission to thesepretensions did much to ensure her popular success; whereasSontag considered that her rank as Countess Rossi elevated herabove such considerations. As I had been completely absorbed inthe delight of handling a good, full orchestra, with which Ihoped to give some fine performances, it was a great blow tolearn that I had no control whatever over the number ofrehearsals I thought necessary for the concerts. For eachconcert, which included two symphonies and several minor piecesas well, the society's economical arrangements allowed me onlyone rehearsal. Still I went on hoping that the impressionproduced by the performances I conducted might even here justifythe demand for a special effort. It proved absolutely impossible, however, to depart in any way from the beaten track, and, realising this, I at once felt that the fulfilment of the task Ihad undertaken was a terrible burden. At the first concert weplayed Beethoven's Eroica, and my success as a conductor seemedso marked that the committee of the society were evidentlyprepared to make a special effort for the second. They demandedselections from my own compositions as well as Beethoven's NinthSymphony, and conceded me two rehearsals as an exceptionalfavour. This concert went off quite passably. I had drawn up anexplanatory programme for my Lohengrin Overture, but the words'Holy Grail' and 'God' were struck out with great solemnity, asthat sort of thing was not allowed at secular concerts. I had tocontent myself with the chorus from the Italian Opera for thesymphony, besides putting up with a baritone whose English phlegmand Italian training drove me to despair at the rehearsal. All Iunderstood of the English version of the text was, 'Hail theejoy' for Freudeschoner Gotterfunken. The Philharmonic Societyappeared to have staked everything on the success of thisconcert, which, in fact, left nothing to be desired. They wereaccordingly horrified when the Times reporter fell on thisperformance, too, with furious contempt and disparagement. Theyappealed to Prager to persuade me to offer Mr. Davison someattentions, or at least to agree to meet that gentleman and beproperly introduced to him at a banquet to be arranged by Mr. Anderson. But Prager now knew me well enough to dash their hopesof obtaining any concession of that sort from me. The banquetfell through, and, as I saw later, the society began from thattime forward to regret my appointment, realising that they had anentirely intractable and pig-headed person to deal with. 

As the Easter holidays began after the second concert, therebyinvolving a long pause, I asked my friend's advice as to whetherit would not be more sensible to give up the whole thing--thisconductorship of the Philharmonic concerts which I had so soondiscovered to be a foolish and fruitless undertaking--and goquietly back to Zurich. Prager assured me that the execution ofthis resolve would in no wise be regarded as a reflection on thesituation, but simply as a deplorable piece of rudeness on mypart, and that the principal sufferers would be my friends. Thisdecided me, and I stayed--without, it is true, any hope of givinga fresh impetus to musical life in London. The only stimulatingincident occurred on the occasion of the seventh concert, whichwas the evening chosen by the Queen for her annual visit to thesefunctions. She expressed a wish through her husband, PrinceAlbert, to hear the Tannhauser Overture. The presence of thecourt certainly lent a pleasing air of ceremony to the evening, and I had, too, the pleasure of a fairly animated conversationwith Queen Victoria and her Consort in response to their command. The question arose of putting my operas on the stage, and PrinceAlbert objected that Italian singers would never be able tointerpret my music. I was amused when the Queen met thisobjection by saying that, after all, a great many Italian singerswere really Germans. All this made a good impression and, it wasobvious, served as a demonstration in my favour, without, however, influencing the real situation to any appreciableextent. The leading papers still announced, as before, that everyconcert I conducted was a fiasco. Ferdinand Hiller actuallythought himself justified in proclaiming, for the consolation ofhis friends, that my day in London was coming to an end, and thatmy banishment was practically a certainty. This was on theoccasion of the Rhenish Musical Festival, which was held at thattime. As a set-off against this I reaped great satisfaction froma scene which took place at the close of the eighth and lastconcert which I conducted--one of those strange scenes which nowand again result from the long-suppressed emotion of thoseconcerned. The members of the orchestra had at once realised, after my successes, the advisability of avoiding any expressionof sympathy with me if they wished to keep in good odour withtheir real though unacknowledged chief, Mr. Costa, and savethemselves from a possible speedy dismissal at his hands. Thiswas the explanation given me when the signs of appreciation, which I had become accustomed to receive from the players in thecourse of our work together, suddenly ceased. Now, however, atthe end of the series their suppressed feelings burst forth, andthey crowded round me on all sides with deafening cheers, whilethe audience, who usually left the hall noisily before the end, likewise formed up in enthusiastic groups and surrounded me, cheering warmly and pressing my hand. Thus both players andlisteners combined to make my farewell a scene of cordialitywhich could hardly be surpassed. 

But it was the personal relations which grew out of my stay inLondon that provided the strangest aspect of my life there. 

Immediately after my arrival, Karl Klindworth, a young pupil ofLiszt, who had been recommended to me as particularly gifted, came to see me. He became a faithful and intimate friend, notonly during my stay in London, but ever after. Young as he was, the short time he had spent in London had sufficed to give him anopinion of English musical life, the justice of which I was sooncompelled to admit, terrible though it was. Incapable of adaptinghimself to the curiously organised English musical cliques, he atonce lost all reasonable prospect or hope of meeting with therecognition due to his talent. He resigned himself to making hisway through the dreary wastes of English musical life solely bygiving lessons like a day-labourer, being too proud to pay thesmallest attentions to the ruling critics, who had fallen on himimmediately as a pupil of Liszt. He was really an excellentmusician, and in addition a distinguished pianist. He immediatelyapproached me with the request to be allowed to make a pianofortearrangement of the score of Rheingold, for the use only ofvirtuosi of the first rank. Unfortunately, he was overtaken by atedious illness, which robbed me for a long time of the desiredintercourse with him. 

Although Prager and his wife stood by me with great constancy, myreal centre of intimacy was the original Sainton-Luders'household. I had a standing invitation to dine with them, and Ifound occasion, with few exceptions, to take my meals with thesefriends, whose devotion surpassed that of all the others. It washere that I generally found relaxation from the unpleasantness ofmy business relations in London. Prager was often present, and wefrequently took an evening stroll through the foggy streets. Onsuch occasions Ludors would fortify us against the inclemency ofthe London climate by an excellent punch which he could prepareunder any conditions. Only once did we get separated, and thatwas in the terrific crowd that accompanied the Emperor Napoleonfrom St. James's Palace to Covent Garden Theatre one evening. Hehad come over to London with his Consort, on a visit to QueenVictoria, during the critical stage of the Crimean War, and theLondoners gaped at him as he passed no less greedily than othernations are apt to do under similar circumstances. It so befellthat I was taken for a pushing sightseer, and proportionatelypunished by blows in the ribs when I was crossing the road to tryand get into Regent Street from the Haymarket. This caused memuch amusement, on account of the obvious misunderstanding. 

The grave annoyances which arose, partly from the peculiarlymomentous quarrel between Sainton and Mr. Anderson (instigated byCosta), and which deprived me of every possibility of obtainingany influence over the society, were productive, on the otherhand, of some amusing experiences. Anderson had, it seemed, succeeded in elevating himself to the post of conductor of theQueen's band, through the influence of the Queen's privatecoachman. As he possessed absolutely no knowledge of music, theannual court concert which he had to conduct became a very feastof absurdity to the unruly Sainton, and I heard some very funnystories about it. Another thing brought to light in the course ofthese imbroglios was that Mrs. Anderson, whom I had christenedCharlemagne on account of her great corpulency, had appropriatedto herself, among other things, the office and salary of a courttrumpeter. I soon arrived at the conviction, from these and othersimilar reports, that my lively friend would be beaten by thissnug little clique in the war of disclosures, and was ablesubsequently to see the decision go against him at the point wheneither he or Anderson had to give way. This confirmed my ideathat in this free country of England, things were managed in muchthe same way as elsewhere. 

The arrival of Berlioz made a very important addition to ourlittle company. He, too, had been brought over to London, toconduct two of the New Philharmonic Society's concerts. Thesociety had appointed as ordinary conductor, by whoserecommendation I could never discover, a certain Dr. Wilde, atypical chubby-faced Englishman, remarkably good-natured, butludicrously incompetent. He had taken some special lessons inconducting from the Stuttgart conductor, Lindpaintner, who hadtrained him up to the point of at least attempting to catch upthe orchestra with his beat, the orchestra itself going its ownway entirely. I heard a Beethoven symphony performed in thisfashion, and was surprised to hear the audience break intoprecisely the same applause with which it greeted one of my ownstrictly accurate and really fiery performances. To lenddistinction to these concerts, however, they had, as I said, invited Berlioz over for some of them. I thus heard him conductsome classical works, such as a Mozart symphony, and was amazedto find a conductor, who was so energetic in the interpretationof his own compositions, sink into the commonest rut of thevulgar time-beater. Certain of his own compositions, such as themore effective fragments from the Romeo and Juliet Symphony, again made a particular impression on me, it is true; but I wasnow more consciously awake to the curious weaknesses whichdisfigure even the finest conceptions of this extraordinarymusician than on those earlier occasions, when I only had a senseof general discomfort adequate to the magnitude of theimpression. 

I felt much stimulated, however, on the two or three occasionswhen Sainton invited me to dine with Berlioz. I was now broughtface to face with this strangely gifted person, tormented andeven blunted in some respects as he then was. When I saw him, aman considerably my senior, coming here merely in the hope ofearning a few guineas, I could deem myself perfectly happy, andalmost floating on air, by contrast; for my own coming had beenbrought about rather by a desire for distraction, a craving foroutward inspiration. His whole being expressed weariness anddespair, and I was suddenly seized with deep sympathy for thisman whose talent so far surpassed that of his rivals--for thiswas clear as daylight to me. Berlioz seemed to be pleasantlyaffected by the attitude of gay spontaneity I adopted with him. His usual short, almost reserved, manner thawed visibly duringthe friendly hours we passed together. He told me many comicalthings about Meyerbeer, and the impossibility of escaping fromhis flattery, which was dictated by his insatiable thirst forlaudatory articles. The first performance of his Prophet had beenpreceded by the customary diner de la veille, and when Berliozexcused himself for staying away, Meyerbeer first reproached himtenderly, then challenged him to make good the great injustice hehad done him, by writing 'a real nice article' about his opera. Berlioz declared it was impossible to get anything detrimental toMeyerbeer inserted in a Paris paper. 

I found it less easy to discuss with him matters of a moreprofound artistic nature, as I invariably came up against thereal Frenchman then, who, fluent and glib of tongue, was so sureof himself that it never occurred to him to doubt whether he hadunderstood his companions aright. Once, in a pleasant glow ofinspiration (having suddenly mastered the French language, to myown great surprise), I tried to express to him my idea of the'artistic conception. ' I endeavoured to describe the powerfuleffect of vital impressions on the temperament, how they hold uscaptive, as it were, until we rid ourselves of them by the uniquedevelopment of our inmost spiritual visions, which are not calledforth by these impressions, but only roused by them from theirdeep slumber. The artistic structure, therefore, appears to us asin no wise a result of, but, on the contrary, a liberation from, the vital impressions. At this point Berlioz smiled in apatronising, comprehensive way, and said: 'Nous appelons cela:digerer. ' My amazement at this prompt summing-up of my labouredcommunications was further justified by my new friend's outwardbehaviour. I invited him to be present at my last concert, andalso at a small farewell feast which I was giving at home to myfew friends after it. He soon left the table, saying that he feltunwell, but the friends who were left made no secret to me oftheir belief that Berlioz had been put out of humour by theexceedingly enthusiastic farewell with which the audience hadparted from me. 

The total harvest, however, of acquaintances I made in London wasnot particularly profitable. I took pleasure in the society ofMr. Ellerton, a dignified, agreeable man, the brother-in-law ofLord Brougham--a poet, a music-lover, and, alas! a composer. Heasked to be introduced to me at one of the Philharmonic concerts, and did not hesitate to tell me that he welcomed me to Londonbecause it seemed likely that I was destined to check theexaggerated Mendelssohn worship. He was also the only Englishmanwho honoured me by any hospitality, and by entertaining myselfand my friends at the University Club, gave me an opportunity ofrealising the munificence of such an establishment in London. After we had spent a very agreeable time there, I had a glimpseof the weaker side of English hospitalities of this order, thoughthe incident was friendly enough. My host had to be taken home bytwo men, one holding each arm, quite as a matter of course, as itwas obvious that he would not have got far across the roadwithout this help. 

I made the acquaintance, too, of a curious man, an old-fashionedbut very friendly composer named Potter. I had to play a symphonyof his, which entertained me by its modest dimensions and itsneat development of counterpoint, the more so as the composer, afriendly elderly recluse, clung to me with almost distressinghumility. I had positively to force him into accepting the righttempo for the Andante in his symphony, thus proving to him thatit was really pretty and interesting. He had so little faith inhis work, that he considered the only way to avoid the danger ofboring people with it was to rattle through it at a disgracefulspeed. He really beamed with delight and gratitude when I securedhim great applause by taking this very Andante at my own time. 

I got on less well with a Mr. MacFarrine, a pompous, melancholyScotsman, whose compositions, I was assured, were held in highesteem by the committee of the Philharmonic Society. He seemedtoo proud to discuss the interpretation of any of his works withme, and I was therefore relieved when a symphony of his, whichdid not appeal to me, was laid aside, the substitute chosen beingan overture entitled the Steeple-chase, which I enjoyed playing, on account of its peculiarly wild, passionate character. 

My acquaintance with Beneke (a merchant) and his family wasattended by much awkwardness. Wesendonck had given me a letter ofrecommendation to them, so that I should at least have one'house' to go to in London. I had to travel a full German mile toCamberwell in response to their invitations, only to discoverthat I had dropped into the very family whose house Mendelssohnhad made his home when in London. The good people did not knowwhat to do with me, apart from congratulating me on theexcellence of my Mendelssohn performances, and rewarding me withdescriptions of the generous character of the deceased. 

Howard, the secretary of the Philharmonic Society, a worthy andagreeable old man, was another person (the only one, he believed)in the circle of my English acquaintances who took the trouble toentertain me. I had to go once or twice to the Italian Opera atCovent Garden with his daughter. There I heard Fidelio, given inrather grotesque fashion by unclean Germans and voicelessItalians, and with recitatives. I consequently managed to evadepaying frequent visits to this theatre. When I went to say good-bye to Mr. Howard on leaving London, I was surprised to meetMeyerbeer at his house. He had just arrived in London to conducthis Nordstern. As I saw him come in it occurred to me immediatelythat Howard, whom I had only known as the secretary of thePhilharmonic Society, was also the musical critic of theIllustrated London News; it was in the latter capacity that thegreat operatic composer had called upon him. Meyerbeer wasabsolutely paralysed when he saw me, and this put me into such aframe of mind that we found it impossible to exchange a word. Mr. Howard, who had felt sure that we were acquainted, was muchsurprised at this, and asked me as I was leaving whether I didnot know Meyerbeer. I answered that he had better ask Meyerbeer. On meeting Howard again that evening, I was assured thatMeyerbeer had spoken of me in terms of the highest praise. I thensuggested his reading certain numbers of the Paris Gazettemusicale, in which Fetis had, some time before, given a lessfavourable interpretation of Meyerbeer's views about me. Howardshook his head, and could not understand how two such GREATCOMPOSERS could meet in so strange a manner. 

A visit from my old friend Hermann Franck was a pleasantsurprise. He was then staying at Brighton, and had come up toLondon for a few days. We conversed a great deal, and I had tomake a considerable effort to put him right in his ideas aboutme, as he had heard the most wonderful reports from Germanmusicians during the last few years in which our intercourse hadbeen broken off. He was astonished, in the first place, to findme in London, where he considered it impossible for me ever tofind a suitable field for my musical tendencies. I did notunderstand what he meant by my 'tendencies, ' but I told himquite simply how I came to accept the invitation of thePhilharmonic Society, and that I proposed to fulfil my contractfor this year's concerts, and then to go back to my work atZurich without further ceremony. This sounded quite different tothe state of things he had imagined, for he had felt bound toconclude that I proposed to create a stronghold in London fromwhich to conduct a war of extermination against the whole race ofGerman musicians. This was the unanimous explanation of myintentions which he had heard in Germany. Nothing could be moreastounding, he said, than the surprising incongruity between thefictitious form in which I appeared to these people, and my realnature, which he had recognised at once on seeing me again. Wejoked about this, and came to a closer understanding. I was gladto see that he valued as much as I did the works of Schopenhauer, which had become known in the last few years. He expressed hisopinion of them with singular decision; he considered that Germanintellect was destined, either to complete deterioration, inconjunction with the national political situation, or else to anequally complete regeneration, in which Schopenhauer would playhis part. He left me--soon to meet his terrible and not lessinexplicable fate. Only a few months later, after my return home, I heard of his mysterious death. He was staying, as I said, atBrighton, for the purpose of putting his son, a boy of aboutsixteen, into the English navy. I had noticed that the son'sobstinate determination to serve in this force was repugnant tohis father. On the morning of the day on which the ship was tosail, the father's body was found shattered in the street, as theresult of a fall from the window, while the son was foundlifeless--apparently strangled--on his bed. The mother had diedsome years previously, and there was no one left to giveinformation as to the terrible occurrence, which, so far as Iknow, has never to this day been cleared up. Franck had, out offorgetfulness, left a map of London behind on his visit to me;this I kept, as I did not know his address, and it is still in mypossession. 

I have pleasanter, though not entirely unclouded, recollectionsof my relations with Semper, whom I also met in London, where hehad been settled for some time with his family. He had alwaysseemed to me so violent and morose when in Dresden that I wassurprised and moved to admiration by the comparatively calm andresigned spirit with which he bore the terrible interruption tohis professional career, and by his readiness to adapt his talent(which was of an unusually productive order) to the circumstancesin which he was placed. Commissions for large buildings were outof the question for him in England, but he set his hopes, to acertain extent, on the patronage accorded him by Prince Albert, as this gave him some prospects for the future. For the timebeing he contented himself with commissions to design decorationsfor interiors and luxurious furniture, for which he was wellpaid. He took to this work as seriously, from an artistic pointof view, as if it had been a large building. We often met, and Ialso spent a few evenings at his house in Kensington, when weinvariably dropped into the old vein of strange, serious humourthat helped us to forget the seamy side of life. The report I wasable to give of Semper after my return home did much to influenceSulzer in his successful attempt to get him over to Zurich tobuild the new Polytechnic. 

On various occasions I also visited some not uninterestingtheatres in London, strictly avoiding opera-houses, of course. Iwas most attracted by the little Adelphi Theatre in the Strand, and I frequently made Prager and Luders go with me. They actedsome dramatised fairy-tales there under the title of Christmas. One of the performances interested me particularly because itconsisted of a subtly connected conglomeration of the mostfamiliar tales, played straight through, with no break at the endof the acts. It began with 'The Goose that laid the Golden Eggs, 'and was transformed into 'The Three Wishes'; this passed into'Red Riding Hood' (with the wolf changed into a cannibal who sanga very comical little couplet), and finished as 'Cinderella, 'varied with other ingredients. These pieces were in every respectexcellently mounted and played, and I gained a very good notionthere of the imaginative fare in which the English people canfind amusement. I found the performances at the Olympic Theatreless simple and innocent. Besides witty drawing-room pieces inthe French style, which were very well played there, they actedfairy-tales such as the Yellow Dwarf, in which Hobson, anuncommonly popular actor, took the grotesque title-role. I sawthe same actor again in a little comedy called Garrick Fever, inwhich he ends by representing a drunken man who, when peopleinsisted on taking him for Garrick, undertook the part of Hamletin this condition. I was greatly astonished by many audacities inhis acting on this occasion. 

A small out-of-the-way theatre in Marylebone was just then tryingto attract the public by Shakespeare's plays. I attended aperformance of the Merry Wives there, which really amazed me byits correctness and precision. Even a performance of Romeo andJuliet at the Haymarket Theatre impressed me favourably, in spiteof the great inferiority of the company, on account of itsaccuracy and of the scenic arrangements, which were no doubt aninheritance from the Garrick tradition. But I still remember acurious illusion in connection with this: after the first act Itold Luders, who was with me, how surprised I was at their givingthe part of Romeo to an old man, whose age must at least besixty, and who seemed anxious to retrieve his long-lost youth bylaboriously adopting a sickly-sweet, feminine air. Luders lookedat the programme again, and cried, 'Donnerwetter, it's a woman!'It was the once famous American, Miss Cushman. 

In spite of every effort, I found it impossible to obtain a seatfor Henry VIII at the Princess's Theatre. This play had beenorganised according to the new stage realism, and enjoyed anincredible vogue as a gorgeous spectacular piece, mounted withunusual care. 

In the province of music, with which I was more concerned, I havestill to mention several of the Sacred-Music Society's concerts, which I attended in the large room at Exeter Hall. The oratoriosgiven there nearly every week have, it must be admitted, theadvantage of the great confidence which arises from frequentrepetition. Neither could I refuse to recognise the greatprecision of the chorus of seven hundred voices, which reachedquite a respectable standard on a few occasions, particularly inHandel's Messiah. It was here that I came to understand the truespirit of English musical culture, which is bound up with thespirit of English Protestantism. This accounts for the fact thatan oratorio attracts the public far more than an opera. A furtheradvantage is secured by the feeling among the audience that anevening spent in listening to an oratorio may be regarded as asort of service, and is almost as good as going to church. Everyone in the audience holds a Handel piano score in the same way asone holds a prayer-book in church. These scores are sold at thebox-office in shilling editions, and are followed mostdiligently--out of anxiety, it seemed to me, not to miss certainpoints solemnly enjoyed by the whole audience. For instance, atthe beginning of the 'Hallelujah Chorus' it is considered properfor every one to rise from his seat. This movement, whichprobably originated in an expression of enthusiasm, is nowcarried out at each performance of the Messiah with painfulprecision. 

All these recollections, however, are merged in the all-absorbingmemory of almost uninterrupted ill-health, caused primarily, nodoubt, by the state of the London climate at that season of theyear, which is notorious all over the world. I had a perpetualcold, and I therefore followed the advice of my friends to take aheavy English diet by way of resisting the effect of the air, butthis did not improve matters in the least. For one thing, I couldnot get my home sufficiently warmed through, and the work that Ihad brought with me was the first thing to suffer. Theinstrumentation of the Walkure, which I had hoped to finish offhere, only advanced a paltry hundred pages. I was hindered inthis principally by the circumstance that the sketches from whichI had to work on the instrumentation had been written downwithout considering the extent to which a prolonged interruptionof my working humour might affect the coherence of the sketch. How often did I sit before those pencilled pages as if they hadbeen unfamiliar hieroglyphics which I was incapable ofdeciphering! In absolute despair I plunged into Dante, making forthe first time a serious effort to read him. The Inferno, indeed, became a never-to-be-forgotten reality in that London atmosphere. 

But at last came the hour of deliverance from even those evilswhich I had brought upon myself by my last assumption that Imight be accepted, not to say wanted, in the great world. Thesole consolation I had was in the deep emotion of my new friendswhen I took leave of them. I hurried home by way of Paris, whichwas clothed in its summer glory, and saw people reallypromenading again, instead of pushing through the streets onbusiness. And so I returned to Zurich, full of cheerfulimpressions, on the 30th of June, my net profits being exactlyone thousand francs. 

My wife had an idea of taking up her sour-milk cure again on theSelisberg by Lake Lucerne, and as I thought mountain air would begood for my impaired health also, we decided to move there atonce. Our project suffered a brief delay through the fatalillness of my dog Peps. As the result of old age in histhirteenth year, he suddenly exhibited such weakness that webecame apprehensive of taking him up the Selisberg, for he couldnot have borne the fatigue of the ascent. In a few days his agonybecame alarmingly acute. He grew stupid, and had frequentconvulsions, his only conscious act being to get up often fromhis bed (which was in my wife's room, as he was usually under hercare) and stumble as far as my writing-table, where he sank downagain in exhaustion. The veterinary surgeon said he could do nomore, and as the convulsions gradually became terribly acute, Iwas advised to shorten the poor animal's cruel agony and free himfrom his pain by a little prussic acid. We delayed our departureon his account until I at last convinced myself that a quickdeath would be charity to the poor suffering creature, who wasquite past all hope. I hired a boat, and took an hour's rowacross the lake to visit a young doctor of my acquaintance namedObrist, who had, I knew, come into possession of a villageapothecary's stock, which included various poisons. From him Iobtained a deadly dose, which I carried home across the lake inmy solitary skiff on an exquisite summer evening. I wasdetermined only to resort to this last expedient in case the poorbrute were in extremity. He slept that last night as usual in hisbasket by my bedside, his invariable habit being to wake me withhis paws in the morning. I was suddenly roused by his groans, caused by a particularly violent attack of convulsions; he thensank back without a sound; and I was so strangely moved by thesignificance of the moment that I immediately looked at my watchto impress on my memory the hour at which my extraordinarilydevoted little friend died; it was ten minutes past one on the10th of July. We devoted the next day to his burial, and shedbitter tears over him. Frau Stockar-Escher, our landlady, madeover to us a pretty little plot in her garden, and there weburied him, with his basket and cushions. His grave was shown memany years after, but the last time I went to look at the littlegarden I found that everything had undergone an eleganttransformation, and there were no longer any signs of Pep'sgrave. 

At last we really started for the Selisberg, accompanied thistime only by the new parrot--a substitute for good old Papo--fromthe Kreutzberg menagerie, which I had bought for my wife the yearbefore. This one was a very good and intelligent bird also, but Ileft him entirely to Minna, treating him with invariablekindness, but never making a friend of him. Fortunately for us, our stay in the glorious air of this summer resort, of which wehad grown very fond, was favoured by continuous fine weather. Idevoted all my leisure, apart from my lonely walks, to making afair copy of that part of the Walkure which was fully scored, andalso took up my favourite reading again--the study ofSchopenhauer. I had the pleasure of receiving a charming letterfrom Berlioz, together with Les Soirees de l'Orchestre, his newbook, which I found inspiriting to read, although the author'staste for the grotesque was as foreign to me here as in hiscompositions. Here, too, I met young Robert von Hornstein again, who proved himself a pleasant and intelligent companion. I wasparticularly interested in his quick and evidently successfulplunge into the study of Schopenhauer. He informed me that heproposed to settle for some time in Zurich, where Karl Ritter, too, had decided to take permanent winter quarters for his youngwife and himself. 

In the middle of August we returned to Zurich ourselves, and Iwas able to devote myself steadily to completing theinstrumentation of the Walkure, while my relations with formeracquaintances remained much the same. From outside I receivednews of the steady persistence with which my Tannhauser was, little by little, being propagated in German theatres. Lohengrin, too, followed in its steps, though without a first meeting withan entirely favourable reception. Franz Dingelstedt, who was atthe time manager of the court theatre at Munich, undertook tointroduce Tannhauser there, although, thanks to Lachner, theplace was not prepossessed in my favour. He seemed to havemanaged it fairly well; its success, however, according to him, was not so great as to allow of my promised fee being punctuallypaid. But my income, owing to the conscientious stewardship of myfriend Sulzer, was now sufficient to permit me to work withoutanxiety on that account. But I met with a new vexation whencolder weather set in. I suffered from innumerable attacks oferysipelas during the whole winter, each fresh attack (inconsequence of some tiny error of diet, or of the least cold)being attended by violent pain. It was obviously the result ofthe ill effects of the London climate. What pained me most wasthe frequent interruption of my work on this account. The most Icould do was to read when the illness was taking its course. Burnouff's Introduction a l'Histoire du Bouddhisme interested memost among my books, and I found material in it for a dramaticpoem, which has stayed in my mind ever since, though only vaguelysketched. I may still perhaps work it out. I gave it the title ofDie Sieger. It was founded on the simple legend of a Tschantalagirl, who is received into the dignified order of beggars knownas Clakyamouni, and, through her exceedingly passionate andpurified love for Ananda, the chief disciple of Buddha, herselfgains merit. Besides the underlying beauty of this simplematerial, a curious relation between it and the subsequentdevelopment of my musical experience influenced my selection. Forto the mind of Buddha the past life (in a former incarnation) ofevery being who appears before him stands revealed as plainly asthe present; and this simple story has its significance, asshowing that the past life of the suffering hero and heroine isbound up with the immediate present in this life. I saw at oncethat the continuous reminiscence in the music of this doubleexistence might perfectly well be presented to the emotions, andI decided accordingly to keep in prospect the working out of thispoem as a particularly congenial task. 

I had thus two new subjects stamped on my imagination, Tristanand Die Sieger; with these I was constantly occupied from thistime onwards, together with my great work, the Nibelungen, theunfinished portion of which was still of gigantic dimensions. Themore these projects absorbed me, the more did I writhe withimpatience at the perpetual interruptions of my work by theseloathsome attacks of illness. About this time Liszt proposed topay me a visit that had been postponed in the summer, but I hadto ask him not to come, as I could not be certain, after my lateexperiences, of not being tied to a sick-bed during the few dayshe would be able to give me. Thus I spent the winter, calm andresigned in my productive moments, but moody and irritabletowards the outside world, and consequently a source of someanxiety to my friends. I was glad, however, when Karl Ritter'sarrival in Zurich allowed him to become more intimate with meagain. By his selecting Zurich as a settled home, for the wintermonths, at any rate, he showed his devotion to me in a way thatdid me good, and wiped out more than one bad impression. Hornstein had actually managed to come too, but could not stay. He declared he was so nervous that he could not touch a note ofthe piano, and made no attempt to deny that the fact of hismother's having died insane made him very much afraid of goingmad himself. Although this in a way made him interesting, hisintellectual gifts were marred by such weakness of character, that we were soon reduced to thinking him fairly hopeless, and wewere not inconsolable when he suddenly left Zurich. 

My circle had gained considerably of late by the addition of anew acquaintance, Gottfried Keller, a native of Zurich, who hadjust returned to the welcoming arms of his affectionate fellow-townsmen from Germany, where his writings had brought him somefame. Several of his works--in particular, a longish novel, DerGrune Heinrich--had been recommended to me in favourable thoughnot exaggerated terms by Sulzer. I was therefore surprised tofind him a person of extraordinarily shy and awkward demeanour. Every one felt anxious about his prospects on first becomingacquainted with him, and it was indeed this question of hisfuture that was the difficulty. Although everything he wroteshowed great original talent, it was obvious at once that theywere merely efforts in the direction of artistic development, andthe inevitable inquiry arose as to what was to follow and reallyestablish his fame. I kept continually asking him what he wasgoing to do next. In reply he would mention all sorts of fullymatured schemes, which would none of them hold water on closeracquaintance. Luckily a government post was eventually found forhim (from patriotic considerations, it seemed), --where he nodoubt did good service, although his literary activity seemed tolie fallow after his early efforts. 

Herwegh, another friend of longer standing, was less fortunate. Ihad worried myself for a long time about him too, trying to thinkthat his previous efforts were merely introductions to reallyserious artistic achievements. He admitted himself that he felthis best was still to come. It seemed to him that he had all thematerial--crowds of 'ideas'--in reserve for a great poeticalwork; there was nothing wanting but the 'frame' in which he couldpaint it all, and this is what he hoped, from day to day, tofind. As I grew tired of waiting for it, I set about trying tofind the longed-for frame for him myself. He evidently wished toevolve an epic poem on a large scale, in which to embody theviews he had acquired. As he had once alluded to Dante's luck infinding a subject like the pilgrimage through hell and purgatoryinto paradise, it occurred to me to suggest, for the desiredframe, the Brahman myth of Metempsychosis, which in Plato'sversion comes within reach of our classical education. He did notthink it a bad idea, and I accordingly took some trouble todefine the form such a poem would take. He was to decide uponthree acts, each containing three songs, which would make ninesongs in all. The first act would show his hero in the Asiaticcountry of his birth; the second, his reincarnation in Greece andRome; the third, his reincarnation in the Middle Ages and inmodern times. All this pleased him very much, and he thought, itmight come to something. Not so my cynical friend, Dr. Wille, whohad an estate in the country where we often met in the bosom ofhis family. He was of opinion that we expected far too much ofHerwegh. Viewed at close quarters he was, after all, only a youngSwabian who had received a far larger share of honour and glorythan his abilities warranted, through the Jewish halo thrownaround him by his wife. In the end I had to shrug my shoulders insilent acquiescence with these hopelessly unkind remarks, as Icould, of course, see poor Herwegh sinking into deeper apathyevery year, until in the end he seemed incapable of doinganything. 

Semper's arrival in Zurich, which had at last taken place, enlivened our circle considerably. The Federal authorities hadasked me to use my influence with Semper to induce him to accepta post as teacher at the Federal Polytechnic. Semper came over atonce to have a look at the establishment first, and wasfavourably impressed with everything. He even found cause fordelight, when out walking, in the unclipped trees, 'where onemight light upon a caterpillar again, ' he said, and decideddefinitely to migrate to Zurich, and thus brought himself and hisfamily permanently into my circle of acquaintance. True, he hadsmall prospect of commissions for large buildings, and consideredhimself doomed to play the schoolmaster for ever. He was, however, in the throes of writing a great work on art, which, after various mishaps and a change of publisher, he brought outlater under the title, Der Styl. I often found him engaged withthe drawings for illustrating this book; he drew them himselfvery neatly on stone, and grew so fond of the work that hedeclared the smallest detail in his drawing interested him farmore than the big clumsy architectural jobs. 

From this time forward, in accordance with my manifesto, I wouldhave nothing whatever to do with the 'Musikgesellschaft, ' neitherdid I ever conduct a public performance in Zurich again. Themembers of this society could not at first be brought to believethat I was in earnest, and I was obliged to bring it home to themby a categorical explanation, in which I dwelt on their slacknessand their disregard of my urgent proposals for the establishmentof a decent orchestra. The excuse I invariably received was, thatalthough there was money enough among the musical public, yetevery one fought shy of heading the subscription list with adefinite sum, because of the tiresome notoriety they would winamong the towns-people. My old friend, Herr Ott-Imhof, assured methat it would not embarrass him in the least to pay ten thousandfrancs a year to a cause of that sort, but that from that momentevery one would demand why he was spending his income in thatway. It would rouse such a commotion that he might easily bebrought to account about the administration of his property. Thiscalled to my mind Goethe's exclamation at the beginning of hisErste Schweizer Briefe. So my musical activities at Zurich ceaseddefinitely from that time. 

[Footnote: This doubtless refers to the following passage: 'Andthe Swiss call themselves free! These smug bourgeois shut up intheir little towns, these poor devils on their precipices androcks, call themselves free! Is there any limit at all to whatone can make people believe and cherish, provided that onepreserves the old fable of "Freedom" in spirits of wine for them?Once upon a time they rid themselves of a tyrant and thoughtthemselves free. Then, thanks to the glorious sun, a singulartransformation occurred, and out of the corpse of their lateoppressor a host of minor tyrants arose. Now they continue torelate the old fable; on all sides it is drummed into one's earsad nauseam--they have thrown off the yoke of the despot and haveremained free. And there they are, ensconsed behind their wallsand imprisoned in their customs, their laws, the opinion of theirneighbours, and their Philistine suburbanism' (Goethe's Werke, Briefe aus der Schweiz, Erste Abteilung. )--Editor]

On the other hand, I occasionally had music at home. Neat andprecious copies of Klindworth's pianoforte score of Rheingold, aswell as of some acts of the Walkure, lay ready to hand, andBaumgartner was the first who was set down to see what he couldmake of the atrociously difficult arrangement. Later on we foundthat Theodor Kirchner, a musician who had settled at Winterthurand frequently visited Zurich, was better able to play certainbits of the pianoforte score. The wife of Heim, the head of theGlee Society, with whom we were both on friendly terms, waspressed into the service to sing the parts for female voices whenI attempted to play some of the vocal parts. She had a reallyfine voice and a warm tone, and had been the only soloist at thebig performances in 1853; only she was thoroughly unmusical, andI had hard work to make her keep in tune, and it was even moredifficult to get the time right. Still, we achieved something, and my friends had an occasional foretaste of my Nibelungenmusic. 

But I had to exercise great moderation here too, as everyexcitement threatened to bring on a return of erysipelas. Alittle party of us were at Karl Ritter's one evening, when I hitupon the idea of reading aloud Hoffmann's Der Goldene Topf. I didnot notice that the room was getting gradually cooler, but beforeI had finished my reading I found myself, to every one's horror, with a swollen, red nose, and had to trail laboriously home totend the malady, which exhausted me terribly every time. Duringthese periods of suffering I became more and more absorbed indeveloping the libretto of Tristan, whereas my intervals ofconvalescence were devoted to the score of the Walkure, at whichI toiled diligently but laboriously, completing the fair copy inMarch of that year (1856). But my illness and the strain of workhad reduced me to a state of unusual irritability, and I canremember how extremely bad-tempered I was when our friends theWesendoncks came in that evening to pay a sort of congratulatoryvisit on the completion of my score. I expressed my opinion ofthis way of sympathising with my work with such extraordinarybitterness that the poor insulted visitors departed abruptly ingreat consternation, and it took many explanations, which I hadgreat difficulty in making, to atone for the insult as the dayswent on. My wife came out splendidly on this occasion in herefforts to smooth things over. A special tie between her and ourfriends had been formed by the introduction of a very friendlylittle dog into our house, which had been obtained by theWesendoncks as a successor to my good old Peps. He proved such agood and ingratiating animal that he soon gained my wife's tenderaffection, while I, too, always felt very kindly towards him. This time I left the choice of a name to my wife, however, andshe invented, apparently as a pendant to Peps, the name Fips, which I was quite willing for him to have. But he was always moremy wife's friend, as, despite my great sense of justice, whichmade me recognise the excellence of these animals, I never wasable to become so attached to them as to Peps and Papo. 

About the time of my birthday I had a visit from my old friendTichatschek of Dresden, who remained faithful to his devotion andenthusiasm for me--as far as so uncultured a person was capableof such emotions. On the morning of my birthday I was awakened ina touching way by the strains of my beloved Adagio fromBeethoven's E minor Quartette. My wife had invited the musiciansin whom I took a special interest for this occasion, and theyhad, with subtle delicacy, chosen the very piece of which I hadonce spoken with such great emotion. At our party in the eveningTichatschek sang several things from Lohengrin, and really amazedus all by the brilliancy of voice he still preserved. He had alsosucceeded, by perseverance, in overcoming the irresolution of theDresden management, due to their subserviency to the court, withregard to further performances of my operas. They were now beinggiven there again, with great success and to full houses. I tooka slight cold on an excursion which we made with our visitor toBrunnen on Lake Lucerne, and thus brought on my thirteenth attackof erysipelas. One of the terrible southern gales, which make itimpossible to heat the rooms at Brunnen, made my sufferings thistime more acute, added to the fact that I went through with theexcursion, in spite of my painful condition, rather than spoilour guest's pleasure by turning back sooner. I was still in bedwhen Tichatschek left, and I decided at least to try a change ofair in the south, because this dreadful malady seemed to me tohaunt the locality of Zurich. I chose the Lake of Geneva, anddecided to look out for a well-situated country resort in theneighbourhood of Geneva or thereabouts, where I could start on acure which my Zurich doctor had prescribed. I therefore startedfor Geneva in the beginning of June. Fips, who was to accompanyme into my rural retreat, caused me great anxiety on the journey;I nearly changed my destination, on account of an attempt todislodge him from my carriage in the train for part of thejourney. It was thanks to the energetic way in which I carried mypoint that I started my cure at Geneva, as I should otherwiseprobably have gone in a different direction. 

In Geneva I put up first at the familiar old Hotel de l'Ecu deGeneve, which called up various reminiscences to my mind. Here Iconsulted Dr. Coindet, who sent me to Mornex on Mont Saleve, forthe sake of its good air, and recommended me a pension. My firstthought on arrival was to find a place where I should beundisturbed, and I persuaded the lady who kept the pension tomake over to me an isolated pavilion in the garden whichconsisted of one large reception-room. Much persuasion wasneeded, as all the boarders--precisely the people I wished toavoid--were indignant at having the room originally intended fortheir social gatherings taken away. But at last I secured myobject, though I had to bind myself to vacate my drawing-room onSunday mornings, because it was then stocked with benches andarranged for a service, which seemed to mean a good deal to theCalvinists among the boarders. I fell in with this quite happily, and made my sacrifice honourably the very first Sunday bybetaking myself to Geneva to read the papers. The next day, however, my hostess informed me that the boarders were veryannoyed at only being able to hold the service, and not the week-day games in my drawing-room. I was given notice, and lookedround for other quarters, which I found in the house of aneighbour. 

This neighbour was a Dr. Vaillant, who had taken an equally finesite on which to erect a hydropathic institute. I first madeinquiries about warm baths, as my Zurich doctor had advised theuse of these with sulphur, but there was no prospect of obtainingany such thing. Dr. Vaillant'a whole manner pleased me so much, however, that I told him my troubles. When I asked him which oftwo things I should drink: hot sulphur bath-water or a certainstinking mineral water, he smiled and said: 'Monsieur, vousn'etes que nerveux. All this will only excite you more; youmerely need calming. If you will entrust yourself to me, Ipromise that you will have so far recovered by the end of twomonths as never to have erysipelas again. ' And he kept his word. 

I certainly formed a very different opinion of hydrotherapicmethods through this excellent doctor from any I could haveacquired from the 'Water Jew' of Albisbrunnen and other rawamateurs. Vaillant had been famous as a doctor in Paris itself(Lablache and Rossini had consulted him), but he had themisfortune of becoming paralysed in both legs, and after fouryears of helpless misery, during which he lost his whole practiceand sank into utter misery, he came across the original Silesianhydropathologist, Priessnitz, to whom he was conveyed, with theresult that he recovered completely. There he learned the methodthat had proved so effective, refined it from all the brutalitiesof its inventor, and tried to recommend himself to the Parisiansby building a hydro at Meudon. But he met with no encouragement. His former patients, whom he tried to persuade into visiting hisinstitution, merely asked whether there was dancing there in theevening. He found it impossible to keep it up, and it is to thiscircumstance that I owe my meeting with him there, near Geneva, where he was once more trying to exploit his cure in a practicalway. He laid claim to attention, if only by the fact that hestrictly limited the number of patients he took into his house, insisting that a doctor could only be responsible for the rightapplication and success of his treatment by being in a positionto observe his patients minutely at all hours of the day. Theadvantage of his system, which benefited me so wonderfully, wasthe thoroughly calming effect of the treatment, which consistedin the most ingenious use of water at a moderate temperature. 

Besides this, Vaillant took a special pleasure in satisfying mywants, particularly in procuring me rest and quiet. For instance, my presence at the common breakfast, which I found exciting andinconvenient, was excused, and I was allowed to make tea in myown room instead. This was an unaccustomed treat for me, and Iindulged in it, under cover of secrecy, to excess, usuallydrinking tea behind closed doors for two hours, while I readWalter Scott's novels, after the fatiguing exertions of mymorning cure. I had found some cheap and good French translationsof these novels in Geneva, and had brought a whole pile of themto Mornex. They were admirably suited to my routine, whichprohibited serious study or work; but, apart from that, I nowfully endorsed Schopenhauer's high opinion of this poet's value, of which I had till then been doubtful. On my solitary strolls, it is true, I generally took a volume of Byron with me, because Ipossessed a miniature edition, to read on some mountain heightwith a view of Mont Blanc, but I soon left it at home, for Irealised that I hardly ever drew it from my pocket. 

The only work I permitted myself was the sketching of plans forbuilding myself a house. These, in the end, I tried to work outcorrectly with all the materials of an architect's draughtsman. Ihad risen to this bold idea after negotiations on which I enteredabout that time with Hartel, the music publishers at Leipzig, forthe sale of my Nibelungen compositions. I demanded forty thousandfrancs on the spot for the four works, of which half was to bepaid me when the building of the house began. The publishersreally seemed so far favourably inclined towards my proposals asto make my undertaking possible. 

Very soon, however, their opinion of the market value of my worksunderwent an unhappy change. I could never make out whether thiswas the result of their having only just examined my poemcarefully and decided that it was impracticable, or whetherinfluence had been brought to bear on them from the same quarterto which the opposition directed against most of my undertakingscould be traced, and which grew more and more evident as timewore on. Be that as it may, the hope of earning capital for myhouse-building forsook me; but my architectural studies tooktheir course, and I made it my aim to obtain means to fulfilthem. 

As the two months I had destined to Dr. Vaillant's treatment wereup on the 15th of August, I left the resort which had proved sobeneficial, and went straight off on a visit to Karl Ritter, who, with his wife, had taken a lovely and very unassuming littlehouse near Lausanne for the summer months. Both of them hadvisited me at Mornex, but when I tried to induce Karl to havesome cold-water treatment, he declared, after one trial, thateven the most soothing method excited him. On the whole, though, we found a good number of agreeable topics to discuss, and hetold me he would return to Zurich in the autumn. 

I returned home in a fairly good humour with Fips, on whoseaccount I travelled by mail-coach to avoid the obnoxious railwayjourney. My wife, too, had returned home from her sour-milk cureon the Selisberg, and in addition I found my sister Clarainstalled, the only one of my relatives who had visited me in mySwiss retreat. We at once made an excursion with her to myfavourite spot, Brunnen on Lake Lucerne, and spent an exquisiteevening there enjoying the glorious sunset and other beautifuleffects of the Alpine landscape. At night-fall, when the moonrose full over the lake, it turned out that a very pretty andeffective ovation had been arranged for me (I had been a frequentvisitor there) by our enthusiastic and attentive host, ColonelAuf-der-Mauer. Two boats, illuminated by coloured lanterns, cameup to the beach facing our hotel, bearing the Brunnen brass band, which was formed entirely of amateurs from the countryside. WithFederal staunchness, and without any attempts at punctiliousunison, they proceeded to play some of my compositions in a loudand irrefutable manner. They then paid me homage in a littlespeech, and I replied heartily, after which there was muchgripping of all sorts of horny hands on my part, as we drank afew bottles of wine on the beach. For years afterwards I neverpassed this beach on very frequent visits without receiving afriendly handshake or a greeting. I was generally in doubt as towhat the particular boatman wanted of me, but it always turnedout that I was dealing with one of the brass bandsmen whose goodintentions had been manifested on that pleasant evening. 

My sister Clara's lengthy stay with us at Zurich enlivened ourfamily circle very pleasantly. She was the musical one among mybrothers and sisters, and I enjoyed her society very much. It wasalso a relief to me when her presence acted as a damper upon thevarious household scenes brought on by Minna, who, as a result ofthe steady development of her heart trouble, grew more and moresuspicious, vehement and obstinate. 

In October I expected a visit from Liszt, who proposed to make afairly long stay at Zurich, accompanied by various people ofnote. I could not wait so long, however, before beginning thecomposition of Siegfried, and I began to sketch the overture onthe 22nd of September. 

A tinker had established himself opposite our house, and stunnedmy ears all day long with his incessant hammering. In my disgustat never being able to find a detached house protected from everykind of noise, I was on the point of deciding to give upcomposing altogether until the time when this indispensablecondition should be fulfilled. But it was precisely my rage overthe tinker that, in a moment of agitation, gave me the theme forSiegfried's furious outburst against the bungling Mime. I playedover the childishly quarrelsome Polter theme in G minor to mysister, furiously singing the words at the same time, which madeus all laugh so much that I decided to make one more effort. Thisresulted in my writing down a good part of the first scene by thetime Liszt arrived on 13th October. 

Liszt came by himself, and my house at once became a musicalcentre. He had finished his Faust and Dante Symphonies since Ihad seen him, and it was nothing short of marvellous to hear himplay them to me on the piano from the score. As I felt sure thatLiszt must be convinced of the great impression his compositionsmade on me, I felt no scruples in persuading him to alter themistaken ending of the Dante Symphony. If anything had convincedme of the man's masterly and poetical powers of conception, itwas the original ending of the Faust Symphony, in which thedelicate fragrance of a last reminiscence of Gretchen overpowerseverything, without arresting the attention by a violentdisturbance. The ending of the Dante Symphony seemed to me to bequite on the same lines, for the delicately introduced Magnificatin the same way only gives a hint of a soft, shimmering Paradise. I was the more startled to hear this beautiful suggestionsuddenly interrupted in an alarming way by a pompous, plagalcadence which, as I was told, was supposed to represent Domenico. 

'No!' I exclaimed loudly, 'not that! Away with it! No majesticDeity! Leave us the fine soft shimmer. '

'You are right, ' said Liszt. 'I said so too; it was the Princesswho persuaded me differently. But it shall be as you wish. '

All well and good--but all the greater was my distress to learnlater that not only had this ending of the Dante Symphony beenpreserved, but even the delicate ending of the Faust Symphony, which had appealed to me so particularly, had been changed, in amanner better calculated to produce an effect, by theintroduction of a chorus. And this was exactly typical of myrelations to Liszt and to his friend Caroline Wittgenstein!

This woman, with her daughter Marie, was soon to arrive on avisit too, and the necessary preparations were made for herreception. But before these ladies arrived, a most painfulincident occurred between Liszt and Karl Ritter at my house. Ritter's looks alone, and still more, a certain abruptcontradictoriness in his way of speaking, seemed to put Lisztinto a state in which he was easily irritated. One evening Lisztwas speaking in an impressive tone of the merits of the Jesuits, and Ritter's inopportune smiles appeared to offend him. At tablethe conversation turned on the Emperor of the French, LouisNapoleon, whose merits Liszt rather summarily insisted that weshould acknowledge, whereas we were, on the whole, anything butenthusiastic about the general state of affairs in France. WhenLiszt, in an attempt to make clear the important influence ofFrance on European culture, mentioned as an instance the FrenchAcademie, Karl again indulged in his fatal smile. Thisexasperated Liszt beyond all bounds, and in his reply he includedsome such phrase as this: 'If we are not prepared to admit this, what do we prove ourselves to be? Baboons!' I laughed, but againKarl only smiled--this time, with deadly embarrassment. Idiscovered afterwards through Bulow that in some youthfulsquabble he had had the word 'Baboon-face' hurled at him. It soonbecame impossible to hide the fact that Ritter felt himselfgrossly insulted by 'the doctor, ' as he called him, and he leftmy house foaming with rage, not to set foot in it again foryears. After a few days I received a letter in which he demanded, first, a complete apology from Liszt, as soon as he came to seeme again, and if this were unobtainable, Liszt's exclusion frommy house. It distressed me greatly to receive, soon after this, aletter from Ritter's mother, whom I respected very much, reproaching me for my unjust treatment of her son in not havingobtained satisfaction for an insult offered him in my house. Fora long time my relations with this family, intimate as they hadbeen, were painfully strained, as I found it impossible to makethem see the incident in the right light. When Liszt, after atime, heard of it, he regretted the disturbance too, and withpraise-worthy magnanimity made the first advance towards areconciliation by paying Ritter a friendly visit. There wasnothing said about the incident, and Ritter's return visit wasmade, not to Liszt, but to the Princess, who had arrived in themeantime. After this Liszt decided that he could do nothingfurther; Ritter, therefore, withdrew from our society from thistime forward, and changed his winter quarters from Zurich toLausanne, where he settled permanently. 

Not only my own modest residence, but the whole of Zurich seemedfull of life when Princess Caroline and her daughter took uptheir abode at the Hotel Baur for a time. The curious spell ofexcitement which this lady immediately threw over every one shesucceeded in drawing into her circle amounted, in the case of mygood sister Clara (who was still with us at the time), almost tointoxication. It was as if Zurich had suddenly become ametropolis. Carriages drove hither and thither, footmen usheredone in and out, dinners and suppers poured in upon us, and wefound ourselves suddenly surrounded by an increasing number ofinteresting people, whose existence at Zurich we had never evensuspected, though they now undoubtedly cropped up everywhere. Amusician named Winterberger, who felt it incumbent on him oncertain occasions to behave eccentrically, had been brought thereby Liszt; Kirchner, the Schumann enthusiast from Winterthur, waspractically always there, attracted by the new life, and he toodid not fail to play the wag. But it was principally theprofessors of Zurich University whom Princess Caroline coaxed outof their hole-and-corner Zurich habits. She would have them, oneat a time, for herself, and again serve them up en masse for us. If I looked in for a moment from my regular midday walk, the ladywould be dining alone, now with Semper, now with ProfessorKochly, then with Moleschott, and so on. Even my very peculiarfriend Sulzer was drawn in, and, as he could not deny, in amanner intoxicated. But a really refreshing sense of freedom andspontaneity pervaded everything, and the unceremonious eveningsat my house in particular were really remarkably free and easy. On these occasions the Princess, with Polish patriarchalfriendliness, would help the mistress of the house in serving. Once, after we had had some music, I had to give the substance ofmy two newly conceived poems, Tristan und Isolde and Die Sieger, to a group which, half sitting, half lying before me, wascertainly not without charm. 

The crown of our festivities was, however, Liszt's birthday, onthe 22nd October, which the Princess celebrated with due pomp ather own house. Every one who was some one at Zurich was there. Apoem by Hoffmann von Fallersleben was telegraphed from Weimar, and at the Princess's request was solemnly read aloud by Herweghin a strangely altered voice. I then gave a performance, withFrau Heim, of the first act, and a scene from the second, of theWalkure, Liszt accompanying. I was able to obtain a favourableidea of the effect of our performance by the wish expressed byDr. Wille to hear these things badly done, so that he could forma correct judgment, as he feared he might be seduced by theexcellence of our execution. Besides these, Liszt's SymphonicPoems were played on two grand pianos. At the feast, a disputearose about Heinrich Heine, with respect to whom Liszt made allsorts of insidious remarks. Frau Wesendonck responded by askingif he did not think Heine's name as a poet would, nevertheless, be inscribed in the temple of immortality. 

'Yes, but in mud, ' answered Liszt quickly, creating, as may beconceived, a great sensation. 

Unfortunately, our circle was soon to suffer a great loss byLiszt's illness--a skin eruption--which confined him to his bedfor a considerable period. As soon as he was a little better, wequickly went to the piano again to try over by ourselves my twofinished scores of Rheingold and the Walkure. Princess Marielistened carefully, and was even able to make intelligentsuggestions in connection with a few difficult passages in thepoem. 

Princess Caroline, too, seemed to set extraordinary store onbeing quite clear as to the actual intrigue concerning the fateof the gods in my Nibelungen. She took me in hand one day, quitelike one of the Zurich professors, en particulier, to clear upthis point to her satisfaction. I must confess it was irrefutablybrought home to me that she was anxious to understand the mostdelicate and mysterious features of the intrigue, though inrather too precise and matter-of-fact a spirit. In the end I feltas though I had explained a French society play to her. Her highspirits in all such things were as marked as the curiousamiability of her nature in other respects; for when I one dayexplained to her, in illustration of the first of these twoqualities, that four weeks of uninterrupted companionship withher would have been the death of me, she laughed heartily. I hadreason for sadness in the changes which I realised had takenplace in her daughter Marie; in the three years since I had firstseen her she had faded to an extraordinary extent. If I thencalled her a 'child, ' I could not now properly describe her as a'young woman. ' Some disastrous experience seemed to have made herprematurely old. It was only when she was excited, especially inthe evening when she was with friends, that the attractive andradiant side of her nature asserted itself to a marked extent. Iremember one fine evening at Herwegh's, when Liszt was moved tothe same state of enthusiasm by a grand-piano abominably out oftune, as by the disgusting cigars to which at that time he wasmore passionately devoted than to the finer brands. We were allcompelled to exchange our belief in magic for a belief in actualwitchcraft as we listened to his wonderful phantasies on thispianoforte. To my great horror, Liszt still gave evidence on morethan one occasion of an irritability which was thoroughly bad-tempered and even quarrelsome, such as had already manifesteditself in the unfortunate scene with young Ritter. For instance, it was dangerous, especially in the presence of PrincessCaroline, to praise Goethe. Even Liszt and myself had nearlyquarrelled (for which he seemed to be very eager) over thecharacter of Egmont, which he thought it his duty to depreciatebecause the man allows himself to be taken in by Alba. I had beenwarned, and had the presence of mind to confine myself toobserving the peculiar physiology of my friend on this occasion, and turning my attention to his condition, much more than to thesubject of our dispute. We never actually came to blows; but fromthis time forward I retained throughout my life a vague feelingthat we might one day come to such an encounter, in which case itwould not fail to be terrific. Perhaps it was just this feelingthat acted as a check on me whenever any opportunity arose forheated argument. Goodness knows that I myself had a bad enoughreputation with my friends for my own irritability and suddenoutbursts of temper!

After I had made a stay of more than six weeks, we had a finalopportunity for coming together again before my return from thisvisit that had meant so much for me. We had agreed to spend aweek at St. Gall, where we had an invitation from Schadrowsky, ayoung musical director, to give our support to a society concertin that district. 

We stayed together at the Hecht inn, and the Princess entertainedus as if she had been in her own house. She gave me and my wife aroom next her own private apartment. Unfortunately a most tryingnight was in store for us. Princess Caroline had one of hersevere nervous attacks, and in order to preclude the approach ofthe painful hallucination by which she was tormented at suchtimes, her daughter Marie was obliged to read to her all throughthe night in a voice deliberately raised a good deal above itsnatural pitch. I got fearfully excited, especially at whatappeared to be an inexplicable disregard for the peace of one'sneighbour implied by such conduct. At two o'clock in the morningI leaped out of bed, rang the bell continuously until the waiterawoke, and asked him to take me to a bedroom in one of theremotest parts of the inn. We moved there and then, not withoutattracting the attention of our neighbours, upon whom, however, the circumstance made no impression. The next morning I was muchastonished to see Marie appear as usual, quite unembarrassed, andwithout showing the least traces of anything exceptional havingoccurred. I now learned that everybody connected with thePrincess was thoroughly accustomed to such disturbances. Here, too, the house soon filled with all sorts of guests: Herwegh andhis wife came, Dr. Wille and his wife, Kirchner, and severalothers, and before long our life in the Hecht yielded nothing, inpoint of activity, to our life in the Hotel Baur. The excuse forall this, as I have said, was the society concert of the musicalclub of St. Gall. At the rehearsal, to my genuine delight, Lisztimpressed two of his compositions, Orpheus and the Prelude, uponthe orchestra with complete success, in spite of the limitedresources at his command. The performance turned out to be areally fine one, and full of spirit. I was especially delightedwith the Orpheus and with the finely proportioned orchestralwork, to which I had always assigned a high place of honour amongLiszt's compositions. On the other hand, the special favour ofthe public was awarded to the Prelude, of which the greater partwas encored. I conducted the Eroica Symphony of Beethoven undervery painful conditions, as I always caught cold on suchoccasions, and generally became feverish afterwards. Myconception and rendering of Beethoven's work made a powerfulimpression upon Liszt, whose opinion was the only one which hadany real weight with me. We watched each other over our work witha closeness and sympathy that was genuinely instructive. At nightwe had to take part in a little supper in our honour, which wasthe occasion for expressing the noble and deep sentiments of theworthy citizens of St. Gall concerning the significance of ourvisit. As I was regaled with a most complimentary panegyric by apoet, it was necessary for me to respond with equal seriousnessand eloquence. In his dithyrambic enthusiasm, Liszt went so faras to suggest a general clinking of glasses, signifying approvalof his suggestion that the new theatre of St. Gall should beopened with a model performance of Lohengrin. No one offered anyobjection. The next day, the 24th of November, we all met, forvarious festivities, in the house of an ardent lover of music, Herr Bourit, a rich merchant of St. Gall. Here we had somepianoforte music, and Liszt played to us, among other things, thegreat Sonata of Beethoven in B flat major, at the close of whichKirchner dryly and candidly remarked, 'Now we can truly say thatwe have witnessed the impossible, for I shall always regard whatI have just heard as an impossibility. ' On this occasion, attention was called to the twentieth anniversary of my marriagewith Minna, which fell on this day, and after the wedding musicof Lohengrin had been played, we formed a charming procession ala Polonaise through the various rooms. 

In spite of all these pleasant experiences, I should have beenwell content to see the end of the business and return to thepeace of my home in Zurich. The indisposition of the Princess, however, retarded the departure of my friends for Germany forseveral days, and we found ourselves compelled to remain togetherin a state of nervous tension and aimlessness for some time, until at last, on the 27th November, I escorted my visitors toRorschach, and took my leave of them there on the steamer. Sincethen I have never seen the Princess or her daughter, nor I thinkit likely I shall ever meet them again. 

It was not without some misgiving that I took leave of myfriends, for the Princess was really ill, and Liszt seemed to bemuch exhausted. I recommended their immediate return to Weimar, and told them to take care of themselves. Great was my surprise, therefore, when before long I received the news that they weremaking a sojourn of some duration in Munich. This followedimmediately upon their departure, and was also attended with muchnoisy festivity and occasional artistic gatherings. I was thusled to the conclusion that it was foolish of me to recommendpeople with such constitutions either to do a thing or to abstainfrom doing it. I, for my part, returned home to Zurich very muchexhausted, unable to sleep, and tormented by the frosty weatherat this cold season of the year. I was afraid that I had by myrecent method of life subjected myself to a fresh attack oferysipelas. I was very pleased when I awoke the next morning todiscover no trace of what I feared, and from that day I continuedto sing the praises of my excellent Dr. Vaillant wherever I went. By the beginning of December I had so far recovered as to be ableto resume the composition of Siegfried. Thus I again entered uponmy orderly method of life, with all its insignificance as far asoutward things were concerned: work, long walks, the perusal ofbooks, evenings spent with some friend or other of the domesticcircle. The only thing that worried me was the regret I stillfelt for my quarrel with Ritter, in consequence of the unhappycontre-temps with Liszt. I now lost touch entirely with thisyoung friend, who in so many ways had endeared himself to me. Before the close of the winter he left Zurich without seeing meagain. 

During the months of January and February (1857) I completed thefirst act of Siegfried, writing down the composition in full totake the place of the earlier rough pencil draft, and immediatelyset to work on the orchestration; but I probably carried outVaillant's instructions with too much zeal. Pursued by the fearof a possible return of erysipelas, I sought to ward it off by arepeated and regular process of sweating once a week, wrapped upin towels, on the hydropathic system. By this means I certainlyescaped the dreaded evil, but the effort exhausted me very much, and I longed for the return of the warm weather, when I should berelieved from the severities of this treatment. 

It was now that the tortures inflicted upon me by noisy andmusical neighbours began to increase in intensity. Apart from thetinker, whom I hated with a deadly hatred, and with whom I had aterrible scene about once a week, the number of pianos in thehouse where I lived was augmented. The climax came with thearrival of a certain Herr Stockar, who played the flute in theroom under mine every Sunday, whereupon I gave up all hope ofcomposing any more. One day my friends the Wesendoncks, who hadreturned from wintering in Paris, unfolded to me a most welcomeprospect of the fulfilment of my ardent wishes in regard to myfuture place of abode. Wesendonck had already had an idea ofhaving a small house built for me on a site I was to select formyself. My own plans, elaborated with a deceptive skill, had beenalready submitted to an architect. But the acquisition of asuitable plot of land was and still remained a great difficulty. In my walks I had long had my eye on a little winter residence inthe district of Enge, on the ridge of the hill that separates theLake of Zurich from Sihlthal. It was called Lavater Cottage, asit had belonged to that famous phrenologist, and he had been inthe habit of staying there regularly. I had enlisted the servicesof my friend Hagenbuch, the Cantonal Secretary, to use all hisinfluence to secure me a few acres of land at this spot ascheaply as possible. But herein lay the great difficulty. Thepiece of land I required consisted of various lots attached tolarger estates, and it turned out that in order to acquire my oneplot it would have been necessary to buy out a large number ofdifferent owners. I put the difficulties of my case beforeWesendonck, and gradually created in him a desire to purchasethis wide tract of land, and lay out a fine site containing alarge villa for his own family. The idea was that I should alsohave a plot there. However, the demands made upon my friend inregard to the preliminaries and to the building of his house, which was to be on a scale both generous and dignified, were toomany, and he also thought the enclosure of two families withinthe same confines might lead in time to inconveniences on bothsides. There happened to be an unpretentious little country housewith a garden which I had admired, and which was only separatedfrom his estate by a narrow carriage drive; and this Wesendonckdecided to buy for me. I rejoiced beyond measure when I heard ofhis intention. The shock experienced by the over-cautious buyerwas consequently all the greater when one day be discovered thatthe present owner, with whom he had negotiated in too timid afashion, had just sold his piece of land to somebody else. Luckilyit turned out that the buyer was a mental specialist, whose soleintention in making the purchase was to instal himself with hislunatic asylum by the side of my friend. This information awakenedthe most terrible anticipations in Wesendonck, and put the utmoststrain upon his energy. He now gave instructions that this pieceof land must be acquired at any price from the unfortunatespecialist. Thus, after many vexatious vicissitudes, it came intothe possession of my friend, who had to pay pretty heavily for it. He allowed me to come into possession at Easter of this year, charging me the same rent as I had paid for my lodging in theZeltweg, that is to say, eight hundred francs a year. 

Our installation in this house, which occupied me heart and soulat the beginning of the spring, was not achieved without many adisappointment. The cottage, which had only been designed for usein summer, had to be made habitable for the winter by putting inheating apparatus and various other necessaries. It is true, thatmost of the essentials in this respect were carried out by theproprietor; but no end of difficulties remained to be solved. There was not a single thing upon which my wife and I did notconstantly differ, and my position as an ordinary middle-classman without a brass farthing of my own made matters no easier. With regard to my finances, however, events took place from timeto time which were well calculated to inspire a sanguinetemperament with trustful confidence in the future. In spite ofthe bad performances of my operas, Tannhauser brought meunexpectedly good royalties from Berlin. From Vienna, too, Iobtained the wherewithal to give me breathing-space in a mostcurious way. I was still excluded from the Royal Opera, and I hadbeen assured that so long as there was an imperial court, I wasnot to dream of a performance of my seditious works in Vienna. This strange state of affairs inspired my old director, Hoffmannof Riga, now director of the Josephstadt Theatre, to venture onthe production of Tannhauser with a special opera company, in asummer theatre built by himself on the Lerchenfeld outside theboundary of Vienna. He offered me for every performance which Iwould license a royalty of a hundred francs. When Liszt, whom Iinformed of the matter, thought this offer was suspicious, Iwrote and told him that I proposed to follow Mirabeau's examplewith regard to it. Mirabeau, when he failed to be elected by hispeers to the assembly of Notables, addressed himself to theelectors of Marseilles in the capacity of a linen-draper. Thispleased Liszt; and, indeed, I now made my way, by means of thesummer theatre on the Lerchenfeld, into the capital of theAustrian empire. Of the performance itself the most wonderfulaccounts reached me. Sulzer, who on one of his journeys hadpassed through Vienna and had witnessed a performance, hadcomplained principally of the darkness of the house, which didnot allow him to read a single word of the libretto, also of itshaving rained hard right into the middle of the audience. Anotherstory was told me some years later by the son-in-law of Mme. Herold, the widow of the composer of that name. He had been inVienna at that period on his wedding tour, and had heard thisLerchenfeld performance. The young man assured me that, in spiteof all superficial deficiencies, the production there had givenhim genuine pleasure, and had been more deeply impressive thanthe performance in the Berlin Court Theatre, which he had seenafterwards, and found immeasurably inferior. The energy of my oldRiga Theatre director in Vienna brought me in two thousand francsfor twenty performances of Tannhauser. After such a curiousexperience, offering clear proof of my popularity, I may perhapsbe excused for having felt confident about the future, and havingrelied on incalculable results from my works, even with regard toactual gain. 

While I was thus occupied in arranging the little country housefor which I had longed so much, and working on the orchestrationof the first act of Siegfried, I plunged anew into the philosophyof Schopenhauer and into Scott's novels, to which I was drawnwith a particular affection. I also busied myself withelucidating my impressions of Liszt's compositions. For thispurpose I adopted the form of a letter to Marie Wittgenstein, which was published in Brendel's musical journal. 

When we moved to what I intended to be my permanent refuge forlife, I again set myself to consider the means of obtaining abasis for the supply of the necessities of that life. Once againI took up the threads of my negotiations with Hartel about theNibelungen, but I was obliged to put them down as unfruitful, andlittle calculated to end in any success for this work. Icomplained of this to Liszt, and openly told him how glad Ishould be if he would bring this to the ears of the Grand Duke ofWeimar (who, from what my friend told me, wished himself still tobe regarded as the patron of my Nibelungen enterprise), so thathe might realise the difficulties I was encountering in thematter. I added that if one could not expect a common booksellerto assume the responsibility of such an extraordinaryundertaking, one might well hope that the Prince, whose idea wasto make it a point of honour, should take a share, and a seriousshare, in the necessary preliminaries, among which thedevelopment of the work itself must very properly be included. Mymeaning was, that the Grand Duke should take the place of Hartel, should purchase the work from me, and pay by instalments as thescore neared completion; he would thus become the owner, and, later on, could if he liked cover his expenses through apublisher. Liszt understood me very well, but could not refrainfrom dissuading me from taking up such an attitude towards hisRoyal Highness. 

My whole attention was now directed to the young Grand Duchess ofBaden. Several years had passed since Eduard Devrient had beentransferred to Karlsruhe by the Grand Duke to be manager of thecourt theatre there. Since my departure from Dresden I had alwayskept in touch with Devrient, though our meetings were rare. Moreover, he had written the most enthusiastic letters inappreciation of my pamphlets, Das Kunstwerk der Zukunft and Operund Drama. He maintained that the Karlsruhe Theatre was so poorlyequipped, that he thought he could not well entertain the idea ofa performance of my operas in that house. All these conditionswere suddenly changed when the Grand Duke married, and the CrownPrincess's young daughter, who had been turned into a champion ofmine by my old friend Alwine Frommann, thus secured a position ofindependence in Karlsruhe, and was eager in her demand for theperformance of my works. My operas were now being produced therealso, and Devrient in his turn had the pleasure of informing meof the great interest shown in them by the young Princess, whoeven frequently attended the rehearsals. This made a veryagreeable impression upon me. On my own initiative I expressed mygratitude in an address which I directed to the Grand Duchessherself, enclosing 'Wotan's Abschied' from the finale of theWalkure as a souvenir for her album. 

The 20th April was now drawing near, the day on which I was toleave my lodging in the Zeltweg (which had already been let), although I could not occupy the cottage, where the arrangementswere not yet complete. The bad weather had given us colds in thecourse of our frequent visits to the little house, in whichmasons and carpenters had made themselves at home. In the worstof tempers we spent a week in the inn, and I began to wonderwhether it was worth while occupying this new piece of land atall, for I had a sudden foreboding that it would be my fate towander further afield. Eventually we moved in at the end ofApril, in spite of everything. It was cold and damp, the newheating apparatus did not provide any warmth, and we were bothill, and could hardly leave our beds. Then came a good omen: thefirst letter that reached me was one of reconciliation and lovefrom Frau Julie Ritter, in which she told me that the quarrel, brought about by her son's conduct, was at last ended. Beautifulspring weather now set in; on Good Friday I awoke to find the sunshining brightly for the first time in this house: the littlegarden was radiant with green, the birds sang, and at last Icould sit on the roof and enjoy the long-yearned-for peace withits message of promise. Full of this sentiment, I suddenlyremembered that the day was Good Friday, and I called to mind thesignificance this omen had already once assumed for me when I wasreading Wolfram's Parsifal. Since the sojourn in Marienbad, whereI had conceived the Meistersinger and Lohengrin, I had neveroccupied myself again with that poem; now its noble possibilitiesstruck me with overwhelming force, and out of my thoughts aboutGood Friday I rapidly conceived a whole drama, of which I made arough sketch with a few dashes of the pen, dividing the wholeinto three acts. 

In the midst of arranging the house, a never-ending task, atwhich I set to work with all my might, I felt an inner compulsionto work: I took up Siegfried again, and began to compose thesecond act. I had not made up my mind what name to give to my newplace of refuge. As the introductory part of this act turned outvery well, thanks to my favourable frame of mind, I burst outlaughing at the thought that I ought to call my new home'Fafner's Ruhe, ' to correspond with the first piece of work donein it. It was not destined to be so, however. The propertycontinued to be called simply 'Asyl, ' and I have designated itunder this title in the chart of dates to my works. 

The miscarriage of my prospects of support for the Nibelungenfrom the Grand Duke of Weimar fostered in me a continueddepression of spirits; for I saw before me a burden of which Iknew not how to rid myself. At the same time a romantic messagewas conveyed to me: a man who rejoiced in the name of Ferreirointroduced himself to me as the Brazilian consul in Leipzig, andtold me that the Emperor of Brazil was greatly attracted by mymusic. The man was an adept in meeting my doubts about thisstrange phenomenon in the letters which he wrote; the Emperorloved everything German, and wanted me very much to come to himin Rio Janeiro, so that I might conduct my operas in person. Asonly Italian was sung in that country, it would be necessary totranslate my libretto, which the Emperor regarded as a very easymatter, and actually an improvement to the libretto itself. Strange to say, these proposals exercised a very agreeableinfluence on me. I felt I could easily produce a passionatemusical poem which would turn out quite excellent in Italian, andI turned my thoughts once more, with an ever-reviving preference, towards Tristan und Isolde. In order in some way to test theintensity of that generous affection for my works protested bythe Emperor of Brazil, I promptly sent to Senor Ferreiro theexpensively bound volumes containing the pianoforte versions ofmy three earlier operas, and for a long time I indulged in thehope of some very handsome return from their gracious andsplendid reception in Rio Janeiro. But of these pianoforteversions, and the Emperor of Brazil and his consul Ferreiro, Inever heard a single syllable again as long as I lived. Semper, it is true, involved himself in an architectonic entanglementwith this tropical country: a competition was invited for thebuilding of a new opera house in Rio; Semper had announced thathe would take part in it, and completed some splendid plans whichafforded us great entertainment, and appeared to be of specialinterest, among others, to Dr. Wille, who thought that it must bea new problem for an architect to sketch an opera house for ablack public. I have not learned whether the results of Semper'snegotiations with Brazil were much more satisfactory than mine;at all events, I know that he did not build the theatre. 

A violent cold threw me for a few days into a state of highfever; when I recovered from it, my birthday had come. As I wassitting once more in the evening on my roof, I was surprised athearing one of the songs of the Three Rhine Maidens, from thefinale of Rheingold, which floated to my ears from the neardistance across the gardens. Frau Pollert, whose troubles withher husband had once stood in the way of a second performance inMagdeburg of my Liebesverbot (in itself a very difficultproduction), had again appeared last winter as a singer, and alsoas the mother of two daughters, in the theatrical firmament ofZurich. As she still had a fine voice, and was full of goodwilltowards me, I allowed her to practise the last act of Walkure forherself, and the Rhine Maidens scenes from the Rheingold with hertwo daughters, and frequently in the course of the winter we hadmanaged to give short performances of this music for our friends. On the evening of my birthday the song of my devoted lady friendssurprised me in a very touching way, and I suddenly experienced astrange revulsion of feeling, which made me disinclined tocontinue the composition of the Nibelungen, and all the moreanxious to take up Tristan again. I determined to yield to thisdesire, which I had long nourished in secret, and to set to workat once on this new task, which I had wished to regard only as ashort interruption to the great one. However, in order to proveto myself that I was not being scared away from the older work byany feeling of aversion, I determined, at all events, to completethe composition of the second act of Siegfried, which had onlyjust been begun. This I did with a right good will, and graduallythe music of Tristan dawned more and more clearly on my mind. 

To some extent external motives, which seemed to me bothattractive and advantageous to the execution of my task, acted asincentives to make me set to work on Tristan. These motivesbecame fully defined when Eduard Devrient came on a visit to meat the beginning of July and stayed with me for three days. Hetold me of the good reception accorded to my despatch by theGrand Duchess of Baden, and I gathered that he had beencommissioned to come to an understanding with me about someenterprise or other; I informed him that I had decided tointerrupt my work on the Nibelungen by composing an opera, whichwas bound by its contents and requirements to put me once moreinto relation with the theatres, however inferior they might be. I should do myself an injustice if I said that this externalmotive alone inspired the conception of Tristan, and made medetermine to have it produced. Nevertheless, I must confess thata perceptible change had come over the frame of mind in which, several years ago, I had contemplated the completion of thegreater work. At the same time I had come fresh from my writingsupon art, in which I had attempted to explain the reasons for thedecay of our public art, and especially of the theatre, byseeking to establish some connection between these reasons and theprevailing condition of culture. It would have been impossiblefor me at that time to have devoted myself to a work whichcompelled me to study its immediate production at one of ourexisting theatres. It was only an utter disregard of thesetheatres, as I have taken occasion to observe before, that coulddetermine me to take up my artistic work again. With regard tothe Nibelungen dramas, I was compelled to adhere withoutflinching to the one essential stipulation that it could only beproduced under quite exceptional conditions, such as those Iafterwards described in the preface to the printed edition of thepoem. Nevertheless, the successful popularisation of my earlieroperas had so far influenced my frame of mind that, as Iapproached the completion of more than half of my great work, Ifelt I could look forward with growing confidence to thepossibility that this too might be produced. Up to this pointLiszt had been the only person to nourish the secret hope of myheart, as he was confident that the Grand Duke of Weimar would dosomething for me, but to judge from my latest experience theseprospects amounted to nothing, while I had grounds for hopingthat a new work of similar design to Tannhauser or Lohengrinwould be taken up everywhere with considerable alacrity. Themanner in which I finally executed the plan of Tristan showsclearly how little I was thinking of our operatic theatres andthe scope of their capabilities. Nevertheless, I had still tofight a continuous battle for the necessaries of life, and Isucceeded in deceiving myself so far as to persuade myself thatin interrupting the composition of the Nibelungen and taking upTristan, I was acting in the practical spirit of a man whocarefully weighs the issues at stake. Devrient was much pleasedto hear that I was undertaking a work that could be regarded aspractical. He asked me at which theatre I contemplated producingmy new work. I answered that naturally I could only have in viewa theatre in which it would be possible for me to superintend thetask of production in person. My idea was that this would eitherbe in Brazil or, as I was excluded from the territory of theGerman Confederation, in one of the towns lying near the Germanfrontiers, which I presumed would be able to place an operaticcompany at my disposal. The place I had in my mind was Strasburg, but Devrient had many practical reasons for being wholly opposedto such an undertaking; he was of opinion that a performance inKarlsruhe could be arranged more easily and would meet withgreater success. My only objection to this was, that in that townI should be debarred from taking a personal share in the studyand production of my work. Devrient, however, thought that, asfar as this was concerned, I might feel justified in entertainingsome hope, as the Grand Duke of Baden was so well disposedtowards me, and took an active interest in my work. I was highlydelighted to learn this. Devrient also spoke with great sympathyof the young tenor Schnorr, who, besides possessing admirablegifts, was keenly attracted by my operas. I was now in the bestof tempers, and acted the host to Devrient for all I was worth. One morning I played and sang to him the whole of the Rheingold, which seemed to give him great pleasure. Half seriously, and halfin joke, I told him that I had written the character of Mimeespecially for him, and that if, when the work was ready, it wasnot too late, he might have the pleasure of taking the part. AsDevrient was with me, he had, of course, to do his share ofreciting. I invited all the friends in our circle, includingSemper and Herwegh, and Devrient read us the Mark Antony scenesfrom Shakespeare's Julius Caesar. So happy was his interpretationof the part, that even Herwegh, who had approached the recitationfrom its outset in a spirit of ridicule, freely acknowledged thesuccess of the practised actor's skilful manipulation. Devrientwrote a letter from my house to the Grand Duke of Baden, tellinghim his impressions about me and what he had found me like. Soonafter his departure I received an autograph letter from the GrandDuke, couched in very amiable terms, in which he first thanked memost profusely for the souvenir I had presented to his wife forher album, and at the same time declared his intention ofchampioning my cause, and, above all, of securing my return toGermany. 

From this time forward my resolve to produce Tristan had to beseriously entertained, as it was written in plain letters in mybook of fate. To all these circumstances I was indebted for thecontinuation of the favourable mood in which I now brought thesecond act of Siegfried to a close. My daily walks were directedon bright summer afternoons to the peaceful Sihlthal, in whosewooded surroundings I listened long and attentively to the songof the forest birds, and I was astonished to make theacquaintance of entirely new melodies, sung by singers whoseforms I could not see and whose names I did not know. In theforest scene of Siegfried I put down, in artistic imitation ofnature, as much as I could remember of these airs. At thebeginning of August I had carefully sketched the composition ofthe second act. I was glad I had reserved the third act with theawakening of Brunhilda for the time when I should again be ableto go on with the opera, for it seemed to me that all theproblems in my work were now happily solved, and that all thatremained was to get pure joy out of it. 

As I firmly believed in the wisdom of husbanding my artisticpower, I now prepared to write out Tristan. A certain strain wasput upon my patience at this point by the arrival of theexcellent Ferdinand Prager from London. His visit, in otherrespects, was a source of genuine pleasure to me, for I was boundto recognise in him a faithful and life-long friend. The onlydifficulty was, that he laboured under the delusion that he wasexceptionally nervous, and that he was persecuted by fate. Thiswas a source of considerable annoyance to me, as with the bestwill in the world, I could not muster up any sympathy for him. Wehelped ourselves out of the dilemma by an excursion toSchaffhausen, where I paid my first visit to the famous RhineFalls, which did not fail to impress me duly. 

About this time the Wesendoncks moved into their villa, which hadnow been embellished by stucco-workers and upholsterers fromParis. At this point a new phase began in my relations with thisfamily, which was not really important, but neverthelessexercised considerable influence on the outward conduct of mylife. We had become so intimate, through being such nearneighbours in a country place, that it was impossible to avoid amarked increase in our intimacy if only through meeting oneanother daily. I had often noticed that Wesendonck, in hisstraightforward open manner, had shown uneasiness at the way inwhich I made myself at home in his house. In many things, in thematter of heating and lighting the rooms, and also in the hoursappointed for meals, consideration was shown me which seemed toencroach upon his rights as master of the house. It needed a fewconfidential discussions on the subject to establish an agreementwhich was half implied and half expressed. This understanding hada tendency, as time wore on, to assume a doubtful significance inthe eyes of other people, and necessitated a certain measure ofprecaution in an intimacy which had now become exceedingly close. These precautions were occasionally the source of great amusementto the two parties who were in the secret. Curiously enough, thiscloser association with my neighbour coincided with the time whenI began to work out my libretto, Tristan und Isolde. 

Robert Franz now arrived in Zurich on a visit. I was delighted byhis agreeable personality, and his visit reassured me that nodeep significance need be attached to the somewhat strainedrelations which had sprung up between us since the time when hetook up the cudgels for me on the occasion of the production ofLohengrin. The misunderstanding had been chiefly due to theintermeddling of his brother-in-law Heinrich (who had written apamphlet about me). We played and sang together; he accompaniedme in some of his songs, and my compositions for the Nibelungenseemed to please him. But one day, when the Wesendoncks asked himto dinner to meet me, he begged that he might be alone with thefamily without any other guests, because if I were there he wouldnot attain the importance by which he set so much store. Welaughed over this, and I did so the more heartily because I wassometimes quite grateful to be saved the trouble of talking topeople so curiously uncommunicative as I found Franz to be. Afterhe left us, he never sent us a word of himself or his doingsagain. 

When I had almost finished the first act of Tristan, a newlymarried couple arrived in Zurich, who certainly had a prominentclaim on my interest. It was about the beginning of Septemberthat Hans von Bulow arrived with his young wife Cosima (adaughter of Liszt's) at the Raben Hotel. I invited them to mylittle house, so that they might spend the whole time of theirstay in Zurich with me, as their visit was mainly on my account. 

We spent the month of September together most pleasantly. In themeanwhile I completed the libretto of Tristan und Isolde, and atthe same time Hans made me a fair copy of each act. I read itover, act by act, to my two friends, until at last I was able toget them all together for a private reading, which made a deepimpression on the few intimate friends who composed the audience. As Frau Wesendonck appeared to be particularly moved by the lastact, I said consolingly that one ought not to grieve over it, as, under any circumstances, in a matter so grave things generallyturned out in this way, and Cosima heartily agreed. We also had agood deal of music together, as in Billow I had at last found theright man to play Klindworth's atrocious arrangement of myNibelungen scores. But the two acts of Siegfried, which had onlybeen written down as rough drafts, were mastered by Hans withsuch consummate skill that he could play them as if they hadreally been arranged for the piano. As usual, I took all thesinging parts; sometimes we had a few listeners, amongst whomMme. Wille was the most promising. Cosima listened silently withher head bowed; if pressed for an expression of opinion, shebegan to cry. 

Towards the end of September my young friends left me to travelback to their destination in Berlin, and begin their married lifelike good citizens. 

For the time being we had sounded a sort of funeral peal over theNibelungen by playing so much of it, and it was now completelylaid aside. The consequence was, that when later on we took itout of its folio for similar gatherings, it wore a lack-lustrelook, and grew ever fainter, as if to remind us of the past. Atthe beginning of October, however, I at once began to composeTristan, finishing the first act by the new year, when I wasalready engaged in orchestrating the prelude. During that time Ideveloped a dreamy, timorous passion for retirement. Work, longwalks in all winds and weathers, evenings spent in readingCalderon--such was my mode of life, and if it was disturbed, Iwas thrown into the deepest state of irritation. My connectionwith the world confined itself almost entirely to my negotiationswith the music-seller Hartel about the publication of Tristan. AsI had told this man that, by way of contrast to the immenseundertaking of the Nibelungen, I had in my mind a practicablework, which, in its demands upon the producer, confined itself, to all intents and purposes, to the engagement of a few goodsingers, he showed such keenness to take up my offer that Iventured to ask four hundred louis d'or. Thereupon Hartelanswered that I was to read his counter offer, made, in a sealedletter which he enclosed, only on condition that I at once agreedto waive my own demands entirely, as he did not think the work Iproposed to write was one which could be produced withoutdifficulties. In the sealed enclosure I found that he offered meonly one hundred louis d'or, but he undertook, after a period offive years, to give me a half-share in the proceeds, with thealternative of buying out my rights for another hundred louisd'or. With these terms I had to comply, and soon set to work toorchestrate the first act, so as to let the engraver have onebatch of sheets at a time. 

Besides this, I was interested at that time in the expectedcrisis of the American money market in the month of November, theconsequences of which, during a few fatal weeks, threatened toendanger the whole of my friend Wesendonck's fortune. I rememberthat the impending catastrophe was borne with great dignity bythose who were likely to be its victims; still the possibility ofhaving to sell their house, their grounds, and their horses castan unavoidable gloom over our evening meetings; and, after awhile, Wesendonck went away to make arrangements with variousforeign bankers. 

During that time I spent the mornings in my house composingTristan, and every evening we used to read Calderon, which made adeep and permanent impression upon me, for I had become fairlyfamiliar with Spanish dramatic literature, thanks to Schack. Atlast the dreaded American crisis happily blew over, and it wassoon apparent that Wesendonck's fortune had considerablyincreased. Again, during the winter evenings, I read Tristanaloud to a wider circle of friends. Gottfried Keller was pleasedwith the compact form of the whole, which really contained onlythree full scenes. Semper, however, was very angry about it: heobjected that I took everything too seriously, and said that thecharm in the artistic construction of such material consisted inthe fact that the tragic element was broken up in such a way thatone could extract enjoyment even from its most affecting parts. That was just what pleased him in Mozart's Don Juan, one met thetragic types there, as if at a masquerade, where even the dominowas preferable to the plain character. I admitted that I shouldget on much more comfortably if I took life more seriously andart more lightly, but for the present I intended to let theopposite relations prevail. 

As a matter of fact people shook their heads. After I hadsketched the first act of the composition, and had developed thecharacter of my musical production more precisely. I thought witha peculiar smile of my first idea of writing this work as a sortof Italian opera, and I became less anxious at the absence ofnews from Brazil. On the other hand, my attention wasparticularly drawn at the end of this year to what was going onin Paris in regard to my operas. A young author from that citywrote asking me to entrust him with the translation of myTannhauser, as the manager of the Theatre Lyrique, M. Carvalho, was taking steps to produce that opera in Paris. I was alarmed atthis, as I was afraid that the copyright of my works had not beensecured in France, and that they might dispose of them there attheir own sweet will. To this I most strongly objected. I waswell aware how this undertaking would be carried out, from anaccount I had read a short time before of the performance ofWeber's Euryanthe at that very Theatre Lyrique, and of theobjectionable elaborations or rather mutilations which had beeneffected for the purposes of production. As Liszt's elderdaughter Blandine had recently married the famous lawyer E. Ollivier, and I could consequently rely on substantial help fromthem, I made up my mind to go to Paris for a week, and look afterthe matter about which I had been approached, and, at any rate, secure my author's rights legally. In addition to this I was in avery melancholy state of mind, to which overwork and constantoccupation on the kind of task that Semper had, perhaps withjustice, denounced as being too serious, had contributed byreason of the strain on my mental powers. 

If I remember rightly, I gave evidence of this state of mind(which curiously enough led me to despise all worldly cares) in aletter I wrote to my old friend Alwine Frommann on New Year's Eve1857. 

With the beginning of the new year 1858 the necessity for a breakin my work became so manifest, that I positively dreadedbeginning the instrumentation of the first act of Tristan undIsolde, until I had allowed myself the trip for which I longed. For at that moment, unfortunately, neither Zurich, nor my home, nor the company of my friends afforded me any relaxation. 

Even the agreeable and immediate proximity of the Wesendonckfamily increased my discomfort, for it was really intolerable tome to devote all my evenings to conversations and entertainmentsin which my kind friend Otto Wesendonck felt obliged to take asmuch part as myself and the rest of us. His apprehension thateverything in his house would very soon follow my lead instead ofhis, gave him that peculiar aggressiveness with which a man whobelieves himself neglected interpolates himself like anextinguisher into every conversation carried on in his presence. 

All this soon became oppressive and irksome to me, and no one whodid not realise my condition, and show signs of sympathising withit, could excite my interest, and even then it was a very languidone. So I made up my mind in the middle of the severe winterweather, and notwithstanding the fact that for the present I wasquite unprovided with the necessary means, and was consequentlyobliged to take all sorts of tiresome precautions, to carry outmy excursion to Paris. I felt a growing presentiment that I wasgoing away never to return. I reached Strasburg on the 15th ofJanuary, too much upset to travel any further just then. Fromthere I wrote to Eduard Devrient at Karlsruhe, asking him torequest the Grand Duke to send an adjutant to meet me at Kehl onmy return from Paris, to accompany me on a visit to Karlsruhe, asI particularly wanted to become acquainted with the artists whowere to sing in Tristan. A little later I was taken to task byEduard Devrient for my impertinence in expecting to have grand-ducal adjutants at my disposal, from which I gathered that he hadattributed my request to a desire for some mark of honour, whereas my idea had been that that was the only possible way inwhich I, a political outlaw, could venture to visit Karlsruhe, though my object was a purely professional one. I could not helpsmiling at this strange misconception, but I was also startled atthis proof of shallowness in my old friend, and began to wonderwhat he might do next. 

I was trudging wearily along in the twilight through the publicpromenade of Strasburg, to restore my overwrought nerves, when Iwas suddenly taken aback by seeing on a theatre poster the wordTANNHAUSER. Looking at the bill more closely, I saw that it wasthe Overture to Tannhauser that was to be given as a prelude to aFrench play. The exact meaning of this I did not quiteunderstand, but of course I took my seat in the theatre, whichwas very empty. The orchestra, looking all the larger fromcontrast with the empty house, was assembled in a huge space andwas a very strong one. The rendering given of my overture underthe conductor's baton was really a very good one. 

As I was sitting rather near the front in the stalls, I wasrecognised by the man who was playing the kettledrum, as he hadtaken part in my Zurich performances in 1853. The news of mypresence spread like wildfire through the whole orchestra untilit reached the ears of the conductor, and led to greatexcitement. The small audience, who had evidently put inappearance simply on account of the French play, and who were notat all inclined to pay any particular attention to the overture, were very much astonished when, at the conclusion of theoverture, the conductor and the whole orchestra turned round inthe direction of my stall, and gave vent to enthusiasticapplause, which I had to acknowledge with a bow. All eyesfollowed me eagerly as I left the hall after this scene, to paymy respects to the conductor. It was Herr Hasselmann, a native ofStrasburg, and apparently a very good-natured, amiable fellow. Heaccompanied me to my hotel and, amongst other things, told me thecircumstances connected with the performance of my overture. These somewhat surprised me. According to the terms of a legacyleft by a wealthy citizen of Strasburg, a great lover of music, who had already contributed very largely to the building of thetheatre, the orchestra, whose flourishing condition was due tohis beneficence, had to give, during the usual theatricalperformances, one of the greater instrumental works with a fullband once a week. This time, as it happened, it was the turn forthe overture to Tannhauser. The feeling that was uppermost in mymind was one of envy that Strasburg should have produced acitizen whose like had never seen the light of day in any of thetowns in which I had been connected with music, and moreparticularly Zurich. 

Whilst I was discussing the state of music in Strasburg withConductor Hasselmann, Orsini's famous attempt on the life of theEmperor took place in Paris. I heard some vague rumours of it onmy journey the following morning, but it was not until the 17th, on my arrival in Paris, that I heard the full details of it fromthe waiter in my hotel. I looked upon this event as a maliciousstroke of fate, aimed at me personally. Even at breakfast on thefollowing morning, I feared I should see my old acquaintance, theagent of the Ministry of the Interior, walk in and demand myinstant departure from Paris as a political refugee. I presumedthat as a visitor at the Grand Hotel du Louvre, then newlyopened, I should be regarded by the police with greater respect, than at the little hotel at the corner of the Rue des Filles St. Thomas, where I had once stayed for the sake of economy. I hadoriginally intended to take up my quarters at an hotel I knew inthe Rue le Pelletier, but the outrage had been perpetrated justat that spot, and the principal criminals had been pursued andarrested there. It was a strange coincidence! Supposing I hadarrived in Paris just two days earlier, and had gone there!!!

After thus apostrophising the demon of my fate, I hunted up M. Ollivier and his young wife. In the former I soon found a verytaking and active friend, who at once resolutely took in hand thematter which was my chief object in Paris. One day we called on anotary who was a friend of his, and who seemed to be under anobligation to him. I there gave Ollivier a formal and carefullyconsidered power of attorney, to represent my proprietary rightsas author, and in spite of many official formalities in the wayof stamps I was treated with perfect hospitality, so that I feltI was well sheltered under my friend's protection. In the courseof my walks with my friend Ollivier in the Palais de Justice andin the Salle des pas perdus, I was introduced to the mostcelebrated lawyers in the world strolling about there in theirberrettas and robes, and I was soon on such intimate terms withthem that they formed a circle around me, and made me explain thesubject of Tannhauser. This pleased me greatly. I was no lessdelighted by my conversation with Ollivier regarding hispolitical views and position. He still believed in the Republicwhich would come to stay after the inevitable overthrow of theNapoleonic rule. He and his friends did not intend to provoke arevolution, but they held themselves in readiness for the momentwhen it should come, as it necessarily must, and fully resolvedthis time not to give it up again to the plunder of baseconspirators. In principle he agreed with the logical conclusionsof socialism; he knew and respected Proudhon, but not as apolitician; he thought nothing could be founded on a durablebasis except through the initiative of political organisation. Bymeans of simple legislation, which had already passed severalenactments protecting the public good against the abuses ofprivate privilege, even the boldest demands for a commonwealthbased on equal rights for all would gradually be met. 

I now noticed with great satisfaction that I had madeconsiderable progress in the development of my character, as Icould listen to and discuss these and other topics withoutgetting into a state of excitement, as I used formally to do insimilar discussions. 

Blandine impressed me at the same time most favourably with hergentleness, her cheerfulness, and a certain quiet wit added to aquick mental perception. We very soon understood each other; theslightest suggestion sufficed to create a mutual understanding onany subject in which we were interested. 

Sunday arrived, and with it a concert at the Conservatoire. As Ihad hitherto been present only at rehearsals, and had never gotso far as the performances, my friends succeeded in procuring aseat for me in the box of Mme. Herold, the widow of the composer, a woman of sympathetic disposition, who at once declared herselfwarmly in favour of my music. It is true her knowledge of it wasslight, but she had been won over to it by the enthusiasm of herdaughter and son-in-law, who, as I have previously mentioned, hadheard Tannhauser during their honeymoon in Vienna and Berlin. This was really a pleasant surprise. Added to this, I now heardfor the first time in my life a performance of Haydn's Seasons, which the audience enjoyed immensely, as they thought the steadyflorid vocal cadences, which are so rare in modern music, butwhich so frequently occur at the conclusion of the musicalphrases in Haydn's music, very original and charming. The rest ofthe day was spent very pleasantly in the bosom of the Heroldfamily. Towards the end of the evening a man came in whoseappearance was hailed with marked attention. This was Herr Scudo, who, I found out afterwards, was the famous musical editor of theRevue des deux Mondes. His influence with other journals wasconsiderable, but so far it had certainly not been in my favour. The kind hostess wished me to make his acquaintance, so that hemight have a good impression of me, but I told her such an objectcould not be attained through the medium of a drawing-roomconversation, and later on I was confirmed in my opinion that thereasons why a gentleman of this type, who possesses no knowledgeof the subject, declares himself hostile to an artist, havingnothing whatever to do with his convictions or even with hisapproval or disapproval. On a subsequent occasion these goodpeople had to suffer for having interested themselves in me, as, in a report of my concerts by Herr Scudo, they were held up toridicule as a family of strong democratic tendencies. 

I now looked up my friend Berlioz, whose acquaintance I hadrecently renewed in London, and on the whole I found him kindlydisposed. 

I informed him that I had only just come to Paris on a shortpleasure trip. He was at that time busy composing a grand opera, Die Trojaner. In order to get an impression of the work, I wasparticularly anxious to hear the libretto Berlioz had writtenhimself, and he spent an evening reading it out to me. I wasdisappointed in it, not only as far as it was concerned, but alsoby his singularly dry and theatrical delivery. I fancied that inthe latter I could see the character of the music to which he hadset his words, and I sank into utter despair about it, as I couldsee that he regarded this as his masterpiece, and was lookingforward to its production as the great object of his life. 

I also received an invitation with the Olliviers from the Erardfamily, at whose house I again met my old friend the widow ofSpontini. We spent a rather charming evening there, during which, strange to say, I had to be responsible for the musicalentertainment at the piano. They declared they had thoroughlyentered into the spirit of the various selections I had playedfrom my operas in my now characteristic fashion, and that theyhad enjoyed them immensely. At any rate, such intimate heartfeltplaying had never before been heard in that gorgeous drawing-room. Apart from this, I made one great acquisition, through thefriendly courtesy of Mme. Erard and her brother-in-law Schaffer, who since the death of her husband had carried on the business, in the shape of a promise of one of the celebrated grand-pianosof their manufacture. With this the gloom of my excursion toParis seemed to be turned into light, for I was so rejoiced atit, that I looked upon every other result as chimerical, and uponthis as the only reality. 

After that I left Paris on the 2nd of February in a more cheerfulframe of mind, and on my homeward journey went to look up my oldfriend Kietz in Epernay, where M. Paul Chandon, who had knownKietz since boyhood, had interested himself in the ruined painterby taking him into his house, and giving him a number ofcommissions for portraits. As soon as I arrived I wasirresistibly drawn into Chandon's hospitable house, and could notrefuse to remain there for a couple of days. I found in Chandon apassionate admirer of my operas, particularly of Rienzi, thefirst performance of which he had witnessed during his Dresdendays. I also visited the marvellous wine vaults at Champagne, which extended for miles into the heart of the rocky ground. Kietz was painting a portrait in oils, and the opinionentertained by every one that it would very soon be finishedrather amused me. 

After much superfluous entertainment I at last freed myself fromthis unexpected hospitality and returned to Zurich on the 5th ofFebruary, where I had arranged by letter for an evening partyimmediately after my arrival, as I thought I had much to relatewhich I could tell them all collectively instead of by means oflong and wearisome communications to individual friends. Semper, who was one of the company, was annoyed that he had stayed inZurich whilst I had been in Paris, and he became quite furiousover my cheerful adventures and declared I was an impudent childof fortune, while he looked upon it as the greatest calamity thathe should be chained to that wretched hole Zurich. How I smiledinwardly at his envy of my fortune!

My affairs were making but little progress, as my operas had beensold to almost every theatre and I had very little left out ofthe proceeds. I now heard nothing about all these performancesexcept that they were yielding very little money. I resignedmyself to the fact of bringing out Rienzi, as it was just suitedto our inferior class of theatre. Before offering it for sale, itwas desirable to have it performed again in Dresden; but this, itwas said, was impossible on account of the impression created bythe Orsini outrage. So I worked on at the instrumentation of thefirst act of Tristan, and during that time I could not helpfeeling that most probably other objections, besides those ofpolitical captiousness, would be raised against the spread ofthis work. I therefore continued my work vaguely and somewhathopelessly. 

In the month of March Frau Wesendonck informed me that shethought of having a kind of musical entertainment in her house tocelebrate her husband's birthday. She had a predilection for alittle serenade music, which, with the help of eightinstrumentalists from Zurich, I had arranged during the winterfor the occasion of her own birthday. The pride of the Wesendonckvilla was a spacious hall which had been very elegantly decoratedby Parisian stucco-workers, and I had once remarked that musicwould not sound at all badly there. We had tested it on a smallscale, but now it was to be tried on a larger one. I offered tobring together a respectable orchestra to perform fragments ofthe Beethoven symphonies, consisting mainly of the brighterparts, for the entertainment of the company. The necessarypreparations required a good deal of time, and the date of thebirthday had to be overstepped. As it was, we had nearly reachedEaster, and our concert took place almost at the end of March. The musical At Home was most successful. A full orchestra for theBeethoven pieces played with the greatest eclat under myconductorship, to the assembly of guests scattered about in thesurrounding rooms, selections from the symphonies. Such anunprecedented home concert seemed to throw every one into a greatstate of excitement. 

The young daughter of the house presented me at the beginning ofthe performance with an ivory baton, carved from a design bySemper, the first and only complimentary one I ever received. There was no lack of flowers and ornamental trees, under which Istood when conducting, and when to suit my taste for musicaleffect we concluded, not with a loud, but with a deeply soothingpiece, like the Adagio from the Ninth Symphony, we felt thatZurich society had indeed witnessed something quite unique, andmy friends on whom I had bestowed this mark of distinction weredeeply touched by it. 

This festival left on me the most melancholy impressions; I feltas though I had reached the meridian of my life, that I had infact passed it, and that the string of the bow was over-stretched. Mme. Wille told me afterwards that she had beenovercome by similar feelings on that evening. On the 3rd of AprilI sent the manuscript of the score of the first act of Tristanund Isolde to Leipzig to be engraved; I had already promised togive Frau Wesendonck the pencil-sketch for the instrumentation ofthe prelude, and I sent this to her accompanied by a note inwhich I explained to her seriously and calmly the feelings thatanimated me at the time. My wife had for some time been anxiousas to her relations with our neighbour; she complained withincreasing bitterness that she was not treated by her with theattention due to the wife of a man whom Frau Wesendonck was sopleased to welcome in her house, and that when we did meet, itwas rather by reason of that lady's visits to me than to her. Sofar she had not really expressed any jealousy. As she happened tobe in the garden that morning, she met the servant carrying thepacket for Frau Wesendonck, took it from him and opened theletter. As she was quite incapable of understanding the state ofmind I had described in the letter, she readily gave a vulgarinterpretation to my words, and accordingly felt herselfjustified in bursting into my room and attacking me with the mostextraordinary reproaches about the terrible discovery she hadmade. She afterwards admitted that nothing had vexed her so muchas the extreme calmness and apparent indifference with which Itreated her foolish conduct. As a matter of fact I never said aword; I hardly moved, but simply allowed her to depart. I couldnot help realising that this was henceforth to be the intolerablecharacter of the conjugal relations I had resumed eight yearsbefore. I told her peremptorily to keep quiet and not be guiltyof any blunder either in judgment or in act, and tried to makeher realise to what a serious state of affairs this foolishoccurrence had brought us. She really seemed to understand what Imeant, and promised to keep quiet and not to give way to herabsurd jealousy. Unfortunately the poor creature was alreadysuffering from a serious development of heart disease, whichaffected her temper; she could not throw off the peculiardepression and terrible restlessness which enlargement of theheart causes, and only a few days after she felt that she mustrelieve her feelings, and the only possible way in which shecould think of doing so was by warning our neighbour, FrauWesendonck, with an emphasis she thought was well meant, againstthe consequences of any imprudent intimacy with me. 

As I was returning from a walk I met Herr Wesendonck and his wifein their carriage just starting for a drive. I noticed hertroubled demeanour in contrast to the peculiarly smiling andcontented expression of her husband. I realised the positionclearly when I afterwards met my wife looking wonderfullycheerful. She held out her hand to me with great generosity, assuring me of her renewed affection. In answer to my question, whether she had by any chance broken her promise, she saidconfidently that like a wise woman she had been obliged to putthings into proper order. I told her she would very probablyexperience some very unpleasant consequences through breaking herword. In the first place, I thought it essential she should takesteps to improve her health as we had previously arranged, andtold her she had better go as soon as possible to the healthresort she had been recommended at Brestenberg on the HallwylerLake. We had heard wonderful accounts of the cures of heartdisease which the doctor there had effected, and Minna was quiteprepared to submit to his treatment. A few days later, therefore, I took her and her parrot to the pleasantly situated and well-appointed watering-place which was about three hours distant. Meantime, I avoided asking any questions as to what had takenplace in regard to our neighbours. When I left her at Brestenbergand took my leave she quite seemed to realise the painfulseriousness of our position. I could say very little to comforther, except that I would try, in the interests of our future lifetogether, to mitigate the dreaded consequences of her havingbroken her word. 

On my return home I experienced the unpleasant effects of mywife's conduct towards our neighbour. In Minna's uttermisconstruction of my purely friendly relations with the youngwife, whose only interest in me consisted in her solicitude formy peace of mind and well-being, she had gone so far as tothreaten to inform the lady's husband. Frau Wesendonck felt sodeeply insulted at this, as she was perfectly unconscious ofhaving done any wrong, that she was absolutely astounded at me, and said she could not conceive how I could have led my wife intosuch a misunderstanding. The outcome of this disturbance wasthat, thanks to the discreet mediation of our mutual friend Mme. Wille, I was absolved from any responsibility for my wife'sconduct; still, I was given to understand that henceforth itwould be impossible for the injured lady to enter my house again, or indeed to continue to have any intercourse with my wife. Theydid not seem to realise, and would not admit, that this wouldentail the giving up of my home and my removal from Zurich. Ihoped that although my relations with these good friends had beendisturbed, they were not really destroyed, and that time wouldsmooth things over. I felt that I must look forward to animprovement in my wife's health, when she would admit her folly, and thus be able to resume her intercourse with our neighbours ina reasonable manner. 

Some time elapsed, during which the Wesendonck family took apleasure trip of several weeks to Northern Italy. 

The arrival of the promised Erard grand-piano made me painfullyconscious of what a tin kettle my old grand-piano from Breitkopfund Hartel had been, and I forthwith banished it to the lowerregions, where my wife begged she might keep it as a souvenir 'ofold times. ' She afterwards took it with her to Saxony, where shesold it for three hundred marks. The new piano appealed to mymusical sense immensely, and whilst I was improvising I seemed todrift quite naturally into the soft nocturnal sounds of thesecond act of Tristan, the composition of which I now began tosketch out. This was at the beginning of May. My work wasunexpectedly interrupted by the command of the Grand Duke ofWeimar to meet him on a certain day in Lucerne, where he wasstaying after his return from Italy. I availed myself of thisopportunity to have a lengthy interview at the hotel inChamberlain von Beaulieu's room, with my former nominal patronwhose acquaintance I had made at the time of my flight. 

From this interview with Karl Alexander I gathered that myattitude towards the Grand Duke of Baden, in regard to theperformance of Tristan, in Karlsruhe, had made an impression onthe Weimar court, for while he made particular mention of thatmatter, I gathered from what he said that he was also anxiousabout my Nibelungen work, in which he declared he had alwaystaken the liveliest interest, and wanted my assurance that thiscomposition would be produced at Weimar. I had no seriousobjection to that. Moreover, I was vastly entertained by thepersonality of this free-and-easy good-natured Prince, who, though he sat chatting next to me on a narrow sofa, was evidentlyanxious by his singularly choice language to impress me as a manof culture. I was much struck to find that his dignified bearingwas not in the least disturbed when Herr von Beaulieu, with theobject of amusing us, made some rather clumsy remarks which weremeant to be witty. After the Grand Duke had asked me in the mostguarded way my opinion of Liszt's compositions, I was surprisedto notice by his general bearing that he was not at alluncomfortable when the chamberlain expressed the mostcontemptuous opinions about the Grand Duke's famous friend, saying that Liszt's composing was a mere mania on his part. Thisgave me a strange insight into this royal friendship, and I hadsome difficulty in keeping serious during the interview. I had topay the Grand Duke another visit on the following morning, but onthat occasion I saw him without his chamberlain, whose absencecertainly had a favourable effect on the Prince's remarks abouthis friend. 

Liszt, whose inspiring conversation and advice he loudly assertedthat he could not praise enough. I was surprised to see the GrandDuchess walk in upon us, and was received by her with a mostcondescending bow, the formality of which I have never forgotten. I looked upon my meeting with these exalted personages as anexceedingly amusing adventure in my travels. I have never heardfrom them since. [Footnote: This was dictated in 1869] Later on, when I called on Liszt at Weimar, just before he left there, hecould not even induce the Grand Duke to receive me!

A short time after my return from that expedition Karl Tausigcalled with a letter of introduction from Liszt; he was thensixteen years of age, and astonished everybody by his daintyappearance and his unusual precocity of understanding anddemeanour. He had already been greeted in Vienna, on his publicappearance as a pianist, as a future Liszt. He gave himself allthe airs of a Liszt, and already smoked the strongest cigars tosuch an extent that I felt a perfect horror of them. Otherwise Iwas very glad he had made up his mind to spend some time in theneighbourhood, all the more so as I could appreciate to theutmost his amusing, half-childish, though very intelligent andknowing personality, and, above all, his exceptionally finishedpiano-playing and quick musical faculty. He played the mostcomplicated pieces at sight, and knew how to use his astonishingfacility in the most extravagant tricks for my entertainment. Heafterwards came to live quite near us; he was my daily guest atall meals, and accompanied me on my usual walks to the Sihlthal. He soon tried to wriggle out of these, however. He also went withme on a visit to Minna at Brestenberg. As I had to repeat theseexpeditions regularly every week, being anxious to watch theresult of the treatment, Tausig endeavoured to escape from thesealso, as neither Brestenberg nor Minna's conversation seemed toappeal to him. However, he could not avoid meeting her when, feeling obliged to interrupt her cure for a few days to lookafter her household affairs, she returned at the end of May. Inoticed by her manner that she no longer attached any importanceto the recent domestic upheaval; the view she took of the matterwas that there had been a little 'love affair' which she had putstraight. As she referred to this with a certain amount ofunpleasant levity, I was obliged, though I would willingly havespared her on account of the state of her health, to explainclearly and firmly, that in consequence of her disobedience andher foolish conduct towards our neighbour, the possibility of ourremaining on the estate, where we had only just settled with somuch difficulty, was a matter of the most serious doubt, and Ifelt bound to warn her that we must be prepared for the necessityof a separation, as I was fully determined that if this dreadedevent took place, I would not agree to live under similardomestic conditions elsewhere. The earnestness with which I dwelton the character of our past life together, on that occasion, soimpressed and shocked her that, fully realising it was throughher fault that the home it had cost us so much pain to build uphad been destroyed, she broke into a low wail of lamentation forthe first time in our lives. This was the first and only occasionon which she gave me any token of loving humility, when late atnight she kissed my hand as I withdrew. I was deeply touched atthis, and the idea flashed across my mind that possibly a greatand decided change might take place in the character of the poorwoman, and this determined me to renew my hope of the possibilityof continuing the life we had resumed. 

Everything contributed to the maintenance of this hope: my wifereturned to Brestenberg to complete the second part of her cure;the most glorious summer weather favoured my disposition to workat the second act of Tristan; the evenings with Tausig cheered meup, and my relations with my neighbours, who had never borne meany ill-will, seemed to me to favour the possibility of adignified and desirable understanding in the future. It was quiteprobable that if my wife went on a visit to her friends in Saxonyafter her cure, time would eventually cover the past withoblivion, and her own future conduct as well as the changedattitude of our deeply offended neighbour, would make it possibleto renew our mutual intercourse in a dignified way. 

I was still further cheered by the prospect of the arrival of anagreeable visitor, as well as by some satisfactory negotiationswith two of the most important German theatres. 

In June the Berlin manager approached me about Lohengrin, and wesoon came to an agreement. In Vienna, too, the forced intrusionof Tannhauser had produced its effect on the attitude of themanagement of the court theatre. Just recently the well-knownconductor, Karl Eckert, had been entrusted with the technicalmanagement of the Opera. He seized the happy opportunity affordedby the possession of a very good company of singers, and by theclosing of the theatre for much needed restoration, to give thecompany time to study Lohengrin, with the object of securing theacceptance of this new and difficult work by the courtauthorities. He thereupon made me his offers. I wanted to insiston the author's rights on the same terms as those granted inBerlin, but he would not agree to this, because the takings ofthe house were very small, owing to the lack of space in the oldtheatre. On the other hand, Conductor Esser called on me one day;he had come from Vienna to make all arrangements, and in the nameof the management he offered me about two thousand marks, cashdown, for the first twenty performances of Lohengrin, andpromised me a further sum of two thousand marks on theircompletion. The frank and genial manner of the worthy musicianwon me over, and I closed with him at once. The result was thatEsser went through the score of Lohengrin with me there and then, with great conscientiousness and zeal, and paid special attentionto all my wishes. With every confidence in a favourable result Ibid him farewell, and he hurried back to Vienna to set to work atonce. 

I then completed the composition sketches for the second act ofTristan in excellent spirits, and began the more detailedexecution of it, but I did not get quite through the first scene, as I was exposed to continual interruptions. Tichatschek came topay me another visit, and took up his abode in my little spareroom, to recover, as he said, from the effects of his recentexertions. He boasted that he had again introduced my operas, which had been repeatedly forbidden, into the repertoire of theDresden theatre, and had also taken part in them himself withgreat success. 

Lohengrin was also to be produced there. Although this was verygratifying, I did not in the least know what to do with the goodman at such close quarters. Fortunately I was able to hand himover to Tausig, who understood my embarrassment, and keptTichatschek to himself pretty well the whole day, by playingcards with him. The young tenor Niemann, of whose great talent Ihad heard so much, soon arrived with his bride, the famousactress Seebach, and owing to his almost gigantic frame, hestruck me as being just the man for Siegfried. The fact of havingtwo famous tenors with me at the same time gave rise to theannoyance that neither of them would sing anything to me, as theywere ill at ease in each other's presence. I quite believed, however, that Niemann's voice must be on a par with his imposingpersonality. About that time (15th July) I fetched my wife fromBrestenberg. During my absence my servant, who was a cunningSaxon, had thought fit to erect a kind of triumphal arch tocelebrate the return of the mistress of the house. This led togreat complications, as, much to her delight, Minna was convincedthat this flower-bedecked triumphal arch would greatly attractthe attention of our neighbours, and thought this would besufficient to prevent them from regarding her return home as ahumiliating one. She insisted with triumphant joy upon thedecorations remaining up for several days. About the same timethe Bulows, true to their promise, paid another visit. Theunfortunate Tichatschek again put off his departure, andconsequently continued to occupy our one small spare room, so Iwas obliged to let my friends stay at the hotel several dayslonger. However, the visits they paid to the Wesendoncks as wellas to me soon afforded me an opportunity of hearing, much to mysurprise, of the effect the triumphal arch had produced on ourneighbour's young wife, who was still nursing her injuredfeelings. When I heard of her passionate protests I realised towhat a pass things had come, and immediately gave up all hope ofputting a peaceful end to the discordant situation. Those weredays of terrible anxiety. I wished myself in the most distantdesert, and yet was in the awkward position of having to keep myhouse open to a succession of visitors. At last Tichatschek tookhis departure, and I could at least devote the remainder of mystay to the pleasant duty of entertaining favourite guests. TheBulows really seemed to me to have been providentially sent forthe purpose of quelling the horrible excitement that prevailed inthe house. Hans made the best of things when, on the day of hisarrival, he caught me in the midst of a terrific scene withMinna, as I had just told her plainly that from what I could seeof the present position of affairs, our stay here was no longerpossible, and that I was only deferring my departure until afterthe visit of our young friends. This time, however, I had toadmit that she was not altogether to blame. 

We spent another whole month together in the cottage, which, bythe way, I had unconsciously christened Asyl. It was an extremelytrying period, and the experiences I went through every day onlyconfirmed me in my decision to give up the house. Under thecircumstances my young guests also had to suffer, as my worrycommunicated itself to all who were in sympathy with me. Klindworth, who was coming on a visit from London, to add to thegloom of this extraordinary menage, soon joined us. So the housewas suddenly filled, and the table surrounded by sad, mysteriously depressed guests, whose wants were ministered to byone who was shortly to leave her home for ever. 

It seemed to me that there must be one human being in existencespecially qualified to bring light and reconciliation, or atleast tolerable order, into the gloom and trouble by which wewere all surrounded. Liszt had promised me a visit, but he was sohappily situated beyond the reach of these harassing conditions, he had had such experience of the world, and possessed thatinnate aplomb to such an extraordinary degree, that he did notseem to me to be very likely to approach these misunderstandingsin a rational spirit. I almost felt inclined to make my finaldecision dependent on the effect of his expected visit. It was invain that we begged of him to hasten his journey; he offered tomeet me at the Lake of Geneva a month later! Then my couragefailed. Intercourse with my friends now afforded me nosatisfaction, for although they could not understand why I shouldbe turned out of a home that suited me so well, yet it wasapparent to every one that I could not remain under theseconditions. We still had music every now and then, but it was ina half-hearted and absent-minded fashion. To make matters worse, we had a national vocal festival inflicted upon us, during whichI was obliged to face all kinds of demands; matters did notalways pass off without unpleasantness, as amongst others I hadto decline to see Franz Lachner, who had been specially engagedfor the festival, and did not return his call. Tausig certainlydelighted us by carolling Lachner's 'Old German Battle Song' inthe upper octave, which, thanks to his boyish falsetto, waswithin his reach; however, even his pranks were no longer able tocheer us. Everything, which under other circumstances would havemade this summer month one of the most stimulating in my life, now contributed to my discomfort, as did also the stay of theCountess d'Agoult, who, having come on a visit to her daughterand son-in-law, attached herself to our party for the time being. By way of filling up the house, Karl Ritter also came after muchgrumbling and sulking, and once again proved himself to be veryinteresting and original. 

As the time for the general leave-taking at last drew near, I hadarranged all the details connected with the breaking up of myhome. I settled the necessary business part by a personal visitto Herr Wesendonck, and in the presence of Bulow I took leave ofFrau Wesendonck, who, in spite of her ever-recurringmisconceptions on the matter, eventually reproached herselfbitterly when she saw that these misunderstandings had ended bybreaking up my home. My friends were much distressed at partingfrom me, whilst I could only meet their expressions of sorrowwith apathy. On the 16th August the Bulows also left; Hans wasbathed in tears and his wife Cosima was gloomy and silent. I hadarranged with Minna that she should remain there for about a weekto clear up and dispose of our little belongings as she thoughtbest. I had advised her to entrust these unpleasant duties tosome one else, as I hardly thought it possible that she would befitted for such a wretched task, which, under the circumstances, would be very trying to her. She replied reproachfully that 'itwould be a fine thing if, with all our misfortunes, we neglectedour property. Order there must be. ' I afterwards learned to mydisgust that she carried out the removal and her own departurewith such formality, by advertising in the daily papers that theeffects would be sold cheaply owing to sudden departure, andthereby exciting much curiosity, that perplexed rumours werespread about giving the whole affair a scandalous signification, which afterwards caused much unpleasantness both to me and theWesendonck family. 

On the 17th August, the day after the departure of the Bulows(whose stay had been the only reason for detaining me), I got upat early dawn after a sleepless night, and went down into thedining-room, where Minna was already expecting me to breakfast, as I intended to start by the five o'clock train. She was calm;it was only when accompanying me in the carriage to the stationthat she was overpowered by her emotion under the tryingcircumstances. It was the most brilliant summer day with abright, cloudless sky; I remember that I never once looked back, or shed a tear on taking leave of her, and this almost terrifiedme. As I travelled along in the train I could not conceal frommyself an increasing feeling of comfort; it was obvious that theabsolutely useless worries of the past weeks could not have beenendured any longer, and that my life's ambition demanded acomplete severance from them. On the evening of the same day Iarrived in Geneva; here I wished to rest a little and pull myselftogether, so as to arrange my plan of life calmly. As I had anidea of making another attempt to settle in Italy, I proposed, after my former experience, to wait till the cooler autumnweather, so as not to expose myself again to the malignantinfluence of the sudden change of climate. I arranged to stay fora month at the Maison Fazy, deluding myself into the idea that alengthy stay there would be very pleasant. I told Karl Ritter, who was at Lausanne, of my intention of going to Italy, and to mysurprise he wrote saying that he also intended to give up hishome and go to Italy alone, as his wife was going to Saxony forthe winter on account of family affairs. He offered himself as mytravelling companion. This suited me excellently, and as Ritteralso assured me that he knew, from a previous visit, that theclimate of Venice was quite agreeable at this season, I wasinduced to make a hasty departure. I had, however, to arrangeabout my passport. I expected that the embassies in Berne wouldcorroborate the fact that as a political refugee I should havenothing to fear in Venice, which, although belonging to Austria, did not form part of the German Confederation. Liszt, to whom Ialso applied for information on this point, advised me on noaccount to go to Venice; on the other hand, the report that someof my friends in Berne obtained from the Austrian ambassadorpronounced it as quite safe; so, after barely a week's stay inGeneva, I informed Karl Ritter of my readiness to start, andcalled for him at his villa in Lausanne, so that we might beginthe journey together. 

We did not talk much on the way, but gave ourselves up silentlyto our impressions. The route was over the Simplon to LakeMaggiore, where I again visited the Borromean Islands fromBaveno. There, on the terrace garden of Isola Bella, I spent awonderful late summer morning in the company of my young friend, who was never obtrusive, but, on the contrary, inclined to be toosilent. For the first time I felt my mind entirely at rest, andfilled with the hope of a new and harmonious future. We continuedour journey by coach through Sesto Calende to Milan; and Karl wasfilled with such a longing for his beloved Venice, that he couldbarely grant me time to admire the famous Duomo; but I had noobjection to being hurried with this object in view. As we werelooking from the railway dike at Venice rising before us from themirror of water, Karl lost his hat out of the carriage owing toan enthusiastic movement of delight; I thought that I must followsuit, so I too threw my hat out; consequently we arrived inVenice bareheaded, and immediately got into a gondola to go downthe Grand Canal as far as the Piazzetta near San Marco. Theweather had suddenly become gloomy, and the aspect of thegondolas quite shocked me; for, in spite of what I had heardabout these peculiar vessels draped in black, the sight of onewas an unpleasant surprise: when I had to go under the blackawning, I could not help remembering the cholera-scare some timeearlier. I certainly felt I was taking part in a funeralprocession during a pestilence. Karl assured me that every onefelt the same at first, but that one soon got accustomed to it. Next came the long sail through the twists and turns of the GrandCanal. The impression that everything made on me here did nottend to dispel my melancholy frame of mind. Where Karl, onlooking at the ruined walls, only saw the Ca d'Oro of Fanny Elseror some other famous palace, my doleful glances were completelyabsorbed by the crumbling ruins between these interestingbuildings. At last I became silent, and allowed myself to be putdown at the world-famous Piazzetta, and to be shown the palace ofthe Doges, though I reserved to myself the right of admiring ituntil I had freed myself from the extremely melancholy mood intowhich my arrival in Venice had thrown me. 

Starting on the following morning from the Hotel Danieli, wherewe had found only a gloomy lodging, I began by looking for aresidence that would suit me for my prolonged stay. I heard thatone of the three Giustiniani palaces, situated not far from thePalazzo Foscari, was at present very little patronised byvisitors, on account of its situation, which in the winter issomewhat unfavourable. I found some very spacious and imposingapartments there, all of which they told me would remainuninhabited. I here engaged a large stately room with a spaciousbedroom adjoining. I had my luggage quickly transferred there, and on the evening of 30th August I said to myself, 'At last I amliving in Venice. ' My leading idea was that I could work hereundisturbed. I immediately wrote to Zurich asking for my Erard'Grand' and my bed to be sent on to me, as, with regard to thelatter, I felt that I should find out what cold meant in Venice. In addition to this, the grey-washed walls of my large room soonannoyed me, as they were so little suited to the ceiling, whichwas covered with a fresco which I thought was rather tasteful. Idecided to have the walls of the large room covered with hangingsof a dark-red shade, even if they were of quite common quality. This immediately caused much trouble; but it seemed to me that itwas well worth surmounting, when I gazed down from my balconywith growing satisfaction on the wonderful canal, and said tomyself that here I would complete Tristan. I also had a littlemore decorating done; I arranged to have dark-red portieres, evenif they were of the cheapest material, to cover the common doorswhich the Hungarian landlord had had put into the ruined palacein place of the original valuable ones, which had probably beensold. In addition, the host had contrived to get some showyfurniture, such as a few gilded chairs, covered with commoncotton plush; but the most prominent article was a finely carvedgilded table-pedestal, on which was placed a vulgar pinewood topwhich I had to cover with a plain red cloth. Finally the Erardarrived; it was placed in the middle of the large room, and nowwonderful Venice was to be attacked by music. 

However, the dysentery I had previously suffered from in Genoalaid hold of me again, and rendered me incapable of anyintellectual activity for weeks. I had already learned toappreciate the matchless beauty of Venice, and I was full of hopethat my joy in it would give me back my power to satisfy myreviving artistic yearnings. On one of my first promenades on theRiva I was accosted by two strangers, one of whom introducedhimself as Count Edmund Zichy, the other as Prince Dolgoroukow. They had both left Vienna barely a week before, where they hadbeen present at the first performances of my Lohengrin; they gaveme the most satisfactory reports about the result of it, and bytheir enthusiasm I could see that their impressions were veryfavourable. Count Zichy left Venice soon afterwards, but PrinceDolgoroukow decided to stay on for the winter. Although Icertainly intended to avoid company, this Russian, who was aboutfifty years of age, soon managed to make me yield to hispersuasions. He had an earnest and extremely expressive face (heprided himself on being of direct Caucasian descent), and showedremarkable culture in every respect, a wide knowledge of theworld, and above all a taste for music, in the literature ofwhich he was also so well versed that it amounted to a passion. Ihad at first explained to him that owing to the state of myhealth I was bound to renounce all society, and that I neededquiet more than anything. Apart from the difficulty of avoidinghim altogether on the limited walks in Venice, the restaurant atAlbergo San Marco where I joined Ritter every day for meals ledto inevitable meetings with this stranger, to whom I eventuallybecame sincerely attached. He had taken up his abode in thathotel, and I could not prevent him from taking his meals there. During my stay in Venice we met almost daily, and continued to beon very friendly terms. On the other hand I had a great surprise, on returning to my apartments one evening, to be informed thatLiszt had just arrived. I rushed eagerly to the room pointed outto me as his, and there, to my horror, saw Winterberger thepianist, who had introduced himself to my host as a mutual friendof myself and of Liszt, and in the confusion of the moment thehost had concluded that the new arrival was Liszt himself. As amatter of fact I had recently got to know this young man as afollower of Liszt during his comparatively long stay in Zurich;he was considered an excellent organist, and was also called intorequisition as second at the piano when there were arrangementsfor two pianofortes. Except for some foolish behaviour on hispart I had not noticed anything particular about him. I wassurprised, however, that he should have selected my address ashis lodging in Venice. He told me that he was merely theprecursor of a certain Princess Galitzin, for whom he had toarrange winter quarters in Venice; that he knew nobody there, buthaving heard in Vienna that I was staying here, it was verynatural he should apply first at my hotel. I argued with him thatthis was not an hotel, and announced that if his Russian Princessthought of taking up her abode next to me, I should move out atonce. He then reassured me, by telling me that he had only wantedto make a good impression on the host by mentioning the Princess, as he thought she had already engaged rooms elsewhere. As I againasked what he thought of doing in this palace, and drew hisattention to the fact that it was very expensive, and that I putup with the large outlay simply because it was most essentialthat I should be undisturbed, and have no neighbours, and hear nopiano, he tried to pacify me by the assurance that he wouldcertainly not be a burden to me, and that I could make my mindeasy about his presence in the same house until he could arrangeto move elsewhere. His next attempt was to work his way into thegood graces of Karl Ritter; they both discovered a living-room inthe palace at a sufficient distance from mine to be out ofearshot. In this way I consented to put up with his proximity, although it was a long time before I allowed Ritter to bring himto me of an evening. 

A Venetian piano-teacher, Tessarin by name, was more successfulthan Winterberger in winning favour with me. He was a typicalhandsome Venetian, with a curious impediment in his speech; hehad a passion for German music, and was well acquainted withLiszt's new compositions, and also with my own operas. Headmitted that having regard to his surroundings he was a 'whiteraven' in matters musical. He also succeeded in approaching methrough Ritter, who seemed to be devoting himself in Venice tothe study of human nature rather than to work. He had taken asmall and extremely modest dwelling on the Riva dei Schiavoni, which, being in a sunny position, required no artificial heating. This was in reality less for himself than for his scanty luggage, as he was hardly ever at home, but was running about in thedaytime after pictures and collections; in the evening, however, he studied human nature in the cafes on the Piazza San Marco. Hewas the only person I saw regularly every day; otherwise Irigorously avoided any other society or acquaintance. I wasrepeatedly asked by the Princess Galitzin's private physician tocall upon that lady, who came to Venice very shortly and appearedto be living in grand style. Once, when I wanted the piano scoresof Tannhauser and Lohengrin, and had heard that the Princess wasthe only person in Venice who possessed them, I was bold enoughto ask her for them, but I did not feel it incumbent on me tocall on her for that purpose. On only one occasion did anystranger succeed in interrupting my seclusion, and then it wasbecause his appearance had pleased me when I had met him in theAlbergo San Marco; this was Rahl the painter, from Vienna. I oncewent so far as to arrange a sort of soiree for him, PrinceDolgoroukow, and Tessarin the pianoforte teacher, at which a fewof my pieces were played. It was then that Winterberger made hisdebut. 

All my social experiences during the seven months I spent inVenice were limited to these few attempts at friendlyintercourse, and apart from these my days were planned out withthe utmost regularity during the whole time. I worked till twoo'clock, then I got into the gondola that was always in waiting, and was taken along the solemn Grand Canal to the brightPiazzetta, the peculiar charm of which always had a cheerfuleffect on me. After this I made for my restaurant in the PiazzaSan Marco, and when I had finished my meal I walked alone or withKarl along the Riva to the Giardino Pubblico, the only pleasure-ground in Venice where there are any trees, and at nightfall Icame back in the gondola down the canal, then more sombre andsilent, till I reached the spot where I could see my solitarylamp shining from the night-shrouded facade of the old PalazzoGiustiniani. After I had worked a little longer Karl, heralded bythe swish of the gondola, would come in regularly at eighto'clock for a few hours' chat over our tea. Very rarely did Ivary this routine by a visit to one of the theatres. When I did, I preferred the performances at the Camploi Theatre, whereGoldoni's pieces were very well played; but I seldom went to theopera, and when I did go it was merely out of curiosity. Morefrequently, when bad weather deprived us of our walk, wepatronised the popular drama at the Malibran Theatre, where theperformances were given in the daytime. The admission cost us sixkreuzers. The audiences were excellent, the majority being intheir shirt-sleeves, and the pieces given were generally of theultra-melodramatic type. However, one day to my greatastonishment and intense delight I saw there Le BaruffeChioggiote, the grotesque comedy that had appealed so strongly toGoethe in his day, at this very theatre. So true to nature wasthis performance that it surpassed anything of the kind I haveever witnessed. 

There was little else that attracted my attention in theoppressed and degenerate life of the Venetian people, and theonly impression I derived from the exquisite ruin of thiswonderful city as far as human interest is concerned was that ofa watering-place kept up for the benefit of visitors. Strangelyenough, it was the thoroughly German element of good militarymusic, to which so much attention is paid in the Austrian army, that brought me into touch with public life in Venice. Theconductors in the two Austrian regiments quartered there beganplaying overtures of mine, Rienzi and Tannhauser for instance, and invited me to attend their practices in their barracks. ThereI also met the whole staff of officers, and was treated by themwith great respect. These bands played on alternate evenings amidbrilliant illuminations in the middle of the Piazza San Marco, whose acoustic properties for this class of production werereally excellent. I was often suddenly startled towards the endof my meal by the sound of my own overtures; then, as I sat atthe restaurant window giving myself up to impressions of themusic, I did not know which dazzled me most, the incomparablepiazza magnificently illuminated and filled with countlessnumbers of moving people, or the music that seemed to be borneaway in rustling glory to the winds. Only one thing was wantingthat might certainly have been expected from an Italian audience:the people were gathered round the band in thousands listeningmost intently, but no two hands ever forgot themselves so far asto applaud, as the least sign of approbation of Austrian militarymusic would have been looked upon as treason to the ItalianFatherland. All public life in Venice also suffered by thisextraordinary rift between the general public and theauthorities; this was peculiarly apparent in the relations of thepopulation to the Austrian officers, who floated about publiclyin Venice like oil on water. The populace, too, behaved with noless reserve, or one might even say hostility, to the clergy, whowere for the most part of Italian origin. I saw a procession ofclerics in their vestments passing along the Piazza San Marcoaccompanied by the people with unconcealed derision. 

It was very difficult for Ritter to induce me to interrupt mydaily arrangements even to visit a gallery or a church, though, whenever we had to pass through the town, the exceedingly variedarchitectonic peculiarities and beauties always delighted meafresh. But the frequent gondola trips towards the Lidoconstituted my chief enjoyment during practically the whole of mystay in Venice. It was more especially on our homeward journeysat sunset that I was always over-powered by unique impressions. During the first part of our stay in the September of that yearwe saw on one of these occasions the marvellous apparition of thegreat comet, which at that time was at its highest brilliancy, and was generally said to portend an imminent catastrophe. Thesinging of a popular choral society, trained by an official ofthe Venetian arsenal, seemed like a real lagoon idyll. Theygenerally sang only three-part naturally harmonised folk-songs. It was new to me not to hear the higher voice rise above thecompass of the alto, that is to say, without touching thesoprano, thereby imparting to the sound of the chorus a manlyyouthfulness hitherto unknown to me. On fine evenings they glideddown the Grand Canal in a large illuminated gondola, stoppingbefore a few palaces as if to serenade (when requested and paidfor so doing, be it understood), and generally attracted a numberof other gondolas in their wake. During one sleepless night, whenI felt impelled to go out on to my balcony in the small hours, Iheard for the first time the famous old folk-song of thegondolieri. I seemed to hear the first call, in the stillness ofthe night, proceeding from the Rialo to about a mile away like arough lament, and answered in the same tone from a yet furtherdistance in another direction. This melancholy dialogue, whichwas repeated at longer intervals, affected me so much that Icould not fix the very simple musical component parts in mymemory. However, on a subsequent occasion I was told that thisfolk-song was of great poetic interest. As I was returning homelate one night on the gloomy canal, the moon appeared suddenlyand illuminated the marvellous palaces and the tall figure of mygondolier towering above the stern of the gondola, slowly movinghis huge sweep. Suddenly he uttered a deep wail, not unlike thecry of an animal; the cry gradually gained in strength, andformed itself, after a long-drawn 'Oh!' into the simple musicalexclamation 'Venezia!' This was followed by other sounds of whichI have no distinct recollection, as I was so much moved at thetime. Such were the impressions that to me appeared the mostcharacteristic of Venice during my stay there, and they remainedwith me until the completion of the second act of Tristan, andpossibly even suggested to me the long-drawn wail of theshepherd's horn at the beginning of the third act. 

These sensations, however, did not manifest themselves veryeasily or consecutively. Bodily sufferings and my usual cares, that never quite left me, often considerably hindered anddisturbed my work. I had scarcely settled down comfortably in myrooms, the northerly aspect of which exposed them to frequentgusts of wind (from which I had practically no protection in theform of heating appliances), and had barely got over thedemoralising effect of dysentery, when I fell a victim to aspecific Venetian complaint, namely a carbuncle on my leg, as theresult of the extreme change of climate and of air. This happenedjust when I was intending to resume the second act, that had beenso cruelly interrupted. The malady, which I had first regarded asslight, soon increased and became exceedingly painful, and I wasobliged to call in a doctor, who had to treat me carefully fornearly four weeks. It was in the late autumn, towards the end ofNovember, that Ritter left me to pay a visit to his relations andfriends in Dresden and Berlin; I therefore remained quite aloneduring this long illness, with no other society than that of theservants of the house. Incapable of work, I amused myself byreading the History of Venice by Count Daru, in which I becamemuch interested, as I was on the spot. Through it I lost some ofmy popular prejudices against the tyrannical mode of governmentin ancient Venice. The ill-famed Council of Ten and the StateInquisition appeared to me in a peculiar, although certainlyhorrible, light; the open admission that in the secrecy of itsmethods lay the guarantee of the power of the state, seemed to meso decidedly in the interests of each and every member of themarvellous republic, that the suppression of all knowledge wasvery wisely considered a republican duty. Actual hypocrisy wasentirely foreign to this state constitution; moreover theclerical element, however respectfully treated by the government, never exercised an unworthy influence on the development of thecharacter of the citizens as in other parts of Italy. Theterrible selfish calculations of state reasons were turned intomaxims of quite an ancient heathen character, not really evil inthemselves, but reminiscent of similar maxims among theAthenians, which, as we read in Thucydides. Were adopted by themin all simplicity, as the foundations of human morality. Inaddition to this I once more took up, by way of a restorative, asI had often done before, a volume of Schopenhauer, with whom Ibecame on intimate terms, and I experienced a sensation of reliefwhen I found that I was now able to explain the tormenting gapsin his system by the aids which he himself provided. 

My few associations with the outer world now became calmer, butone day I was distressed by a letter from Wesendonck in which heinformed me of the death of his son Guido, who was about fouryears old; it depressed me to think that I had refused to standgodfather to him, on the pretext that I might bring him bad luck. This event touched me deeply, and as I was longing for a thoroughrest, I mapped out for myself a short journey across the Alps, with the idea that I might spend Christmas with my old friends, and offer them my condolences. I informed Mme. Wille of thisidea, and in reply received, strange to say, from her husbandinstead of from herself, some quite unexpected particularsregarding the extremely unpleasant curiosity which my suddendeparture from Zurich had caused, especially in reference to thepart my wife had played in it, and at which the Wesendonck familyhad been so much annoyed. As I also heard how skilfullyWesendonck had treated the matter, some agreeable communicationsfollowed couched in conciliatory terms. It was much to Minna'scredit that in her relations towards me she had by her lettersproved herself wise and considerate, and while staying inDresden, where she met her old friends, she lived quietly, and Ialways provided for her amicably. By so doing she strengthenedthe impression she had made on me at the time of that touchingnocturnal scene, and I willingly put before her the possibilityof a domestic reunion, provided that we could establish a homethat promised to be a permanent one, which at that time I couldonly picture to myself as feasible in Germany, and if possible inDresden. To obtain some idea as to whether it was possible tocarry out such an arrangement, I lost no time in applying toLuttichau, as I had received favourable reports from Minna abouthis kindly feeling and warm attachment to me. I really went sofar as to write to him cordially and in detail. It was anotherlesson for me when in return I received occasionally a few drylines in a businesslike tone, in which he pointed out that atthat moment nothing could be done with respect to my desiredreturn to Saxony. On the other hand, I learned through the policeauthorities in Venice, that the Saxon ambassador in Viennaardently wished to drive me even out of Venice. This provedunsuccessful, however, as I was sufficiently protected by a Swisspassport, which to my great delight the Austrian authorities dulyrespected. The only hope I had with regard to my longed-forreturn to Germany was based on the friendly efforts of the GrandDuke of Baden. Eduard Devrient, to whom I also applied for moredefinite information respecting our project of a firstperformance of Tristan, informed me that the Grand Duke lookedupon my presence at the performance as an understood thing;whether he was taking any steps on his own account against theLeague, in case his direct efforts to obtain the King of Saxony'spermission should be fruitless, or whether he intended toaccomplish it in some other way, he did not know. Consequently Irealised that I could not count on the possibility of an earlysettlement in Germany. 

A great deal of my time was taken up in correspondence with theobject of procuring the necessary means of subsistence, which atthat time, owing to the divided household, made no small callsupon my purse. Fortunately a few of the larger theatres had notyet come to terms about my operas, so I might still expect somefees from them, whereas those from the more active theatres hadalready been spent. The Stuttgart Court Theatre was the last toapply for Tannhauser. At that time I had a particular affectionfor Stuttgart, owing to the reasons I have already mentioned;this was also true of Vienna, which had been the first place toproduce Lohengrin, and, in consequence of its success, thought itnecessary to secure Tannhauser. My negotiations with Eckert, whowas director at that time, quickly led to satisfactory results. 

All this happened during the course of the winter and earlyspring of 1859. Otherwise I lived very quietly and with greatregularity, as I have described. After recovering the use of myleg, I was able in December to begin my regular gondola trips tothe Piazzetta again and the return journeys in the evening, andalso to give myself up for some time uninterruptedly to mymusical work. I spent Christmas and New Year's Eve quite alone, but in my dreams at night I often found myself in society, whichhad a very disturbing effect on my rest. 

At the beginning of 1859 Karl Ritter suddenly turned up again atmy rooms for his usual evening visits. His anxiety about theperformance of a dramatic piece he had written had taken him tothe shores of the Baltic. This was a work he had completed ashort time before ARMIDA, much of which again showed his greattalent. The tendency of the whole play is to show terribleglimpses of the poet's soul, and these prevent one from passing afavourable judgment on some parts of the piece, but other parts, notably the meeting of Rinaldo with Armida, and the violent birthof their love, are depicted by the author with real poetic fire. As is the case with all such works, which are in reality alwayshampered by the superficiality of the dilettante, much shouldhave been altered and rewritten for stage effect. Karl would nothear of this; on the contrary, he thought he had discovered, inan intelligent theatrical manager in Stettin, the very man whowould lay aside any such considerations as were peculiar to me. He had, however, been disappointed in this hope, and had comeback to Venice intending to carry out his fond desire of livingaimlessly. To wander through Rome clad in the garb of a capuchin, studying the treasures of art from hour to hour, was the kind ofexistence he would have preferred to any other. 

He would not hear of a remodelled version of ARMIDA, but declaredhis intention to set to work on some new dramatic material whichhe had taken from Machiavelli's FLORENTINE HISTORIES. He wouldnot specify what this material was more definitely, lest I shoulddissuade him from using it, inasmuch as it contained onlysituations, and absolutely no indication of any purpose. Heseemed no longer to have any desire to give himself up to musicalwork, although even in this respect the young man showed himselfto me in a thoroughly interesting light by a fantasy for thepiano which he had written soon after his arrival in Venice. Nevertheless he displayed a more highly intelligent appreciationthan before of the development of the second act of Tristan, inwhich I had at last made regular progress. In the evening Ifrequently played to him, Winterberger and Tessarin, the portionsI had completed during the day, and they were always deeplymoved. During the previous interruption in my work, which hadlasted rather a long time, Hartel had engraved the first act ofthe score, and Bulow had arranged it for the piano. Thus aportion of the opera lay before me in monumental completeness, while I was still in a fruitful state of excitement with regardto the execution of the whole. And now in the early months of theyear the orchestration of this act, which I continued to send ingroups of sheets to the publisher to be engraved, also nearedcompletion. By the middle of March I was able to send off thelast sheets to Leipzig. 

It was now necessary to make new decisions for my plan of life. The question presented itself as to where I was going to composethe third act; for I wished to begin it only in a place where Ihad a prospect of finishing it undisturbed. It seemed as if thiswas not destined to be the case in Venice. My work would haveoccupied me until late into the summer, and on account of myhealth I did not think I dared spend the hot weather in Venice. Its climate about this time of the year did not commend itself tome. Already I had found great disadvantages and anything butfavourable results from the fact that it was not possible toenjoy the invigorating recreation of rambling about in thisplace. Once in the winter, when I wanted a good walk, I had goneby train to Viterbo to take my fill of exercise by trampinginland for several miles towards the mountains. Inhospitableweather had opposed my progress, and this, added to otherunfavourable circumstances, resulted in my bringing away from myexcursion nothing more valuable than a favourable opinion of thecity of lagoons, to which I fled as to a place of refuge againstthe dust of the streets and the spectacle of horses being cruellyused. Moreover, it now turned out that my further stay in Veniceno longer depended wholly on my own will. I had been recentlycited (very politely) before a commissioner of police, whoinformed me, without mincing the matter, that there had been anincessant agitation on the part of the Saxon embassy in Viennaagainst my remaining in what was a part of the Austrian Empire. When I explained that I only wished to extend my stay to thebeginning of spring, I was advised to obtain permission to do sofrom the Archduke Maximilian, who as viceroy resided in Milan, preferring my request on the ground of ill-health as alleged by adoctor's certificate. I did this, and the Archduke issuedimmediate instructions by telegram to the AdministrativeGovernment of Venice, to leave me in peace. 

But soon it became clear to me that the political situation, which was putting Austrian Italy into a state of ferment, mightdevelop into an occasion for renewing active precautionarymeasures against strangers. The outbreak of war with Piedmont andFrance became more and more imminent, and the evidence of deepagitation in the Italian population grew more unmistakable everymoment. One day, when I was sauntering up and down the Riva withTessarin, we came upon a fairly large crowd of strangers, who, with a mixture of respect and curiosity, were watching theArchduke Maximilian and his wife as they were taking the airduring a short visit to Venice. The situation was rapidlyconveyed to me by my Venetian pianist, who nudged me violentlyand sought to drag me away from the spot by my arm: in orderthat, as he explained, I might be spared the necessity of raisingmy hat to the Archduke. Seeing the stately and very attractivefigure of the young Prince passing along, I slipped by my friendwith a laugh, and took honest pleasure in being able by mygreeting to thank him for his protection, although, of course, hedid not know who I was. 

Soon, however, everything began to assume a more serious aspect, and to look gloomy and depressing. Day by day the Riva was socrowded with troops newly disembarked, that it became quiteunavailable for a promenade. The officers of these troops, on thewhole, made a very favourable impression on me, and their homelyGerman tongue, as they chatted harmlessly with one another, reminded me pleasantly of home. In the rank and file, on theother hand, I could not possibly feel any confidence, for in themI saw chiefly the dull servile features of certain leading Slavraces in the Austrian monarchy. One could not fail to recognisein them a certain brute force, but it was no less clear that theywere entirely devoid of that naive intelligence which is such anattractive characteristic of the Italian people. I could not butgrudge the former race their victory over the latter. The facialexpression of these troops recurred forcibly to my memory in theautumn of this year in Paris, when I could not avoid comparingthe picked French troops, the Chasseurs de Vincennes and theZouaves, with these Austrian soldiers; and without any scientificknowledge of strategy, I understood in a flash the battles ofMagenta and Solferino. For the present I learned that Milan wasalready in a state of seige and was almost completely barred toforeigners. As I had determined to seek my summer refuge inSwitzerland on the Lake of Lucerne, this news accelerated mydeparture; for I did not want to have my retreat cut off by theexigencies of war. So I packed up my things, sent the Erard oncemore over the Gotthard, and prepared to take leave of my few, acquaintances. Ritter had resolved to remain in Italy; heintended to go to Florence and Rome, whither Winterberger, withwhom he had struck up a friendship, had hurried in advance. Winterberger declared that he was provided by a brother withmoney enough to enjoy Italy--an experience which he declarednecessary for his recreation and recovery, from what disease I donot know. Ritter therefore counted upon leaving Venice within avery short time. My leave-taking with the worthy Dolgoroukow, whom I left in great suffering, was very sincere, and I embracedKarl at the station, probably for the last time, for from thatmoment I was left without any direct news of him, and have notseen him to this day. 

On the 24th of March, after some adventures caused by themilitary control of strangers, I reached Milan, where I allowedmyself to stay three days to see the sights. Without any officialguide to help me, I contented myself with following up thesimplest directions I could obtain to the Brera, the AmbrosianLibrary, the 'Last Supper' of Leonardo da Vinci, and thecathedral. I climbed the various roofs and towers of thiscathedral at all points. Finding, as I always did, that my firstimpressions were the liveliest, I confined my attention in theBrera chiefly to two pictures which confronted me as soon as Ientered; they were Van Dyck's 'Saint Anthony before the InfantJesus' and Crespi's 'Martyrdom of Saint Stephen. ' I realised onthis occasion that I was not a good judge of pictures, becausewhen once the subject has made a clear and sympathetic appeal tome, it settles my view, and nothing else counts. A strange light, however, was shed on the effect made by the purely artisticsignificance of a masterpiece, when I stood before Leonardo daVinci's 'Last Supper' and had the same experience as every oneelse. This work of art, although it is almost entirely destroyedas a picture, produces such an extraordinary effect on the mindof the spectator, that even after a close examination of thecopies hanging beside it representing it in a restored state, when he turns to the ruined picture the fact is suddenly revealedto the eye of his soul that the contents of the original areabsolutely inimitable. In the evening I made all haste to get tothe Italian comedy again. I grew very fond of it, and found ithad installed itself here in the tiny Teatro Re for the benefitof a small audience of the lower orders. The Italians of to-dayunfortunately despise it heartily. Here, too, the comedies ofGoldoni were played with, as it seemed to me, considerable andingenious skill. On the other hand, it was my fate to be presentat a performance in the Scala Theatre, where, in a setting of anexternal magnificence that was extraordinary, it was proved truethat Italian taste was degenerating sadly. Before the mostbrilliant and enthusiastic audience one could wish for, gatheredtogether in that immense theatre, an incredibly worthless fake ofan opera by a modern composer, whose name I have forgotten, wasperformed. The same evening I learned, however, that although theItalian public was passionately fond of song, it was the balletwhich they regarded as the main item; for, obviously, the drearyopera, at the beginning was only intended to prepare the way fora groat choreographic performance on a subject no less pretentiousthan that of Antony and Cleopatra. In this ballet I saw even thecold politician Octavianus, who until now had not so far lost hisdignity as to appear as a character in any Italian opera, actingin pantomime and contriving fairly successfully to maintain anattitude of diplomatic reserve. The climax, however, was reachedin the scene of Cleopatra's funeral. This afforded the immensestaff of the ballet an opportunity for displaying the most variedpicturesque effects in highly characteristic costumes. 

After receiving these impressions all by myself, I travelled toLucerne one brilliant spring day by way of Como, where everythingwas in full blossom, through Lugano, which I knew already, andthe Gotthard, which I had to cross in small open sledges alongtowering walls of snow. When I reached Lucerne the weather wasbitterly cold, in contrast with the genial spring I had enjoyedin Italy. The allowance of money I had made for my stay inLucerne was based on the assumption that the big HotelSchweizerhof was quite empty from about this time until thesummer season began, and that without further preliminaries Ishould be able to find a lodging there both spacious and freefrom noise. This hope had not been entertained in vain. Thecourteous manager of the hotel, Colonel Segesser, allotted to mea whole floor in the annexe on the left, to occupy at mypleasure. I could make myself quite comfortable here in thelarger rooms at a moderate price. As the hotel at this time ofthe year had only a very small staff of servants, it was left tome to make arrangements for some one to wait upon me. For thispurpose I found a careful woman well suited to look after mycomfort. Many years afterwards, remembering the good services shehad rendered me, especially later on when the number of guestshad increased, I engaged her as my housekeeper. 

Soon my things arrived from Venice. The Erard had been obliged tocross the Alps again when the snow was on the ground. When it wasset up in my spacious drawing-room, I said to myself that allthis trouble and expense had been incurred to enable me at lastto complete the third act of Tristan und Isolde. There were timeswhen this seemed to me to be an extravagant ambition; for thedifficulties in the way of finishing my work seemed to make itimpossible. I compared myself to Leto who, in order to find aplace in which to give birth to Apollo and Artemis, was huntedabout the world and could find no resting-place until Poseidon, taking compassion on her, caused the island of Delos to rise fromthe sea. 

I wished to regard Lucerne as this Delos. But the terribleinfluence of the weather, which was intensely cold andcontinuously wet, weighed upon my spirits in a most unfriendlyfashion until the end of May. As such great sacrifice had beenmade to find this new place of refuge, I thought every day hadbeen uselessly frittered away which had not contributed somethingto my work of composing. For the greater part of my third act Iwas occupied with a subject sad beyond words; it came to such apass that it is only with a shudder that I can recall the firstfew months of this emigration to Lucerne. 

A few days after my arrival I had already visited the Wesendoncksin Zurich. Our meeting was melancholy, but in no way embarrassed. I spent some days in my friends' house, where I saw my old Zurichacquaintances again, and felt as though I were passing from onedream to another. In fact, everything assumed an air ofunsubstantiality for me. Several times in the course of my stayin Lucerne I repeated this visit, which was twice returned to me, once on the occasion of my birthday. 

Besides the work on which I was now somewhat gloriously engaged, I was also heavy with cares about keeping myself and my wifealive. Of my own accord and out of necessary respect for thecircumstances in which my friends the Ritters were placed, I hadalready in Venice felt myself for the future obliged to declinetheir voluntary support. I was beginning to exhaust the littlethat I could contrive to extract with difficulty from those of myoperas which up to this period it had been possible to produce. It was settled that I should take up the Nibelungen work whenTristan was finished, and I thought it my duty to find out someway of making my future existence easier. This Nibelungen workspurred me to the attempt. The Grand Duke of Weimar still kept uphis interest in it, to judge from the communications I hadreceived from him during the previous year. I therefore wrote toLiszt and repeated my request that he would make a seriousproposal to the Grand Duke to buy the copyright of the work andarrange for its publication, with the right of disposing of it toa publisher on his own terms. I enclosed my former negotiationswith Hartel, which had been broken off, and which were nowintended to serve as a fair basis for what may be called thebusiness arrangement that Liszt was to enter into with the GrandDuke. Liszt soon gave me an embarrassed hint that his RoyalHighness was not really keen on it. This was quite enough for me. 

On the other hand, I was driven by circumstances to come to anagreement with Meser in Dresden about the unfortunate copyrightof my three earlier operas. The actor Kriete, one of my principalcreditors, was making piteous demands for the return of hiscapital. Schmidt, a Dresden lawyer, offered to put the matterright, and after a long and heated correspondence it was arrangedthat a certain H. Muller, successor to Meser, who had died ashort time before, should enter into possession of the copyrightof these publications. On this occasion I heard of nothing but ofthe costs and expenditure to which my former agent had been put;but it was impossible to get any clear account of the receipts hehad taken from my works beyond the fact that the lawyer admittedto me that the late Meser must have put aside some thousands ofthalers, which, however, it would not be possible to lay handson, as he had not left his heirs any funds at all. 

In order to pacify the woeful Kriete, I was eventually obliged toagree to sell my rights in the works Meser had published for ninethousand marks, which represented the exact sum I owed to Krieteand another creditor who held a smaller share. With regard to thearrears of interest still owing on the money at compound rate, Iremained Kriete's personal debtor; the joint sum amounted in theyear 1864 to five thousand four hundred marks, which were dulyclaimed of me about this time with all the pressure of the law. In the interests of Pusinelli, my chief creditor, who could onlybe provided under this arrangement with inadequate payment, Ireserved to myself the French copyright of these three operas, inthe event of this music being produced in France through myefforts at finding a publisher to purchase it in that country. 

According to the contents of a letter from the lawyer Schmidt, this reservation of mine had been accepted by the presentpublisher in Dresden. Pusinelli in a friendly spirit forbore totake advantage of the benefits accruing to him from thisarrangement, in regard to the capital he had formerly lent me. Heassured me he would never claim it. Thus one possibility remainedopen to me for the future: that if my operas could make their wayinto France, although there would be no question of any profitcoming to me through those works of mine, I should be reimbursedfor the capital I had spent on them and for that which I had beenobliged to guarantee. When, later on, my Paris publisher Flaxlandand I came to make out an agreement, Meser's successor in Dresdenannounced himself as absolute proprietor of my operas, andactually succeeded in putting so many obstacles in Flaxland's wayin the conduct of his French business, that the latter wascompelled to purchase peace at the price of six thousand francs. The natural result of this was that Flaxland was placed in theposition of being able to deny that it was I who owned the Frenchcopyright of my work. Upon this I made repeated appeals to AdolphSchmidt, the lawyer, to give evidence in my favour, askingnothing more of him than that he should forward to me a copy ofthe correspondence referring to the rights I had reserved, whichhad become valid in the Lucerne transaction. To all the lettersaddressed to him on this subject, however, he obstinately refusedan answer, and I learned later on from a Viennese lawyer that Imust give up hoping to get this kind of evidence, as I had nolegal means in my possession to force the advocate to give it, ifhe were not so inclined. 

While, owing to this, I had little opportunity of improving myprospects for the future, I had at least the satisfaction ofseeing the score of Tannhauser engraved at last. As the stock ofmy earlier autograph copies had come to an end, chiefly throughthe wasteful management of Meser, I had already persuaded Hartelwhen I was in Venice to have the score engraved. Meser'ssuccessor had acquired the complete rights of this work, andtherefore regarded it as a point of honour not to give up thescore to another publisher; consequently he took over the task ofproducing it at his own cost. Unluckily fate demanded that just ayear later I had to revise and reconstruct the first two scenescompletely. To this day it is a subject of regret to me not tohave been able to introduce this fresh piece of work into theengraved score. 

The Hartels, never faltering in their assumption that Tristanmight provide good food for the theatre, set their men busily towork upon engraving the score of the second act, while I was atwork on the third. The process of registering corrections, whileI was in the throes of composing the third act--one long ecstasy--wielded over me a strange, almost uncanny influence; for in thefirst scenes of this act it was made clear to me that in thisopera (which had been most unwarrantably assumed to be an easyone to produce), I had embodied the most daring and most exoticconception in all my writings. While I was at work on the greatscene of Tristan, found myself often asking whether I was not madto want to give such work to a publisher to print for thetheatre. And yet I could not have parted with a single accent inthat tale of pain, although the whole thing tortured me to thelast degree. 

I tried to overcome my gastric troubles by using (among otherthings) Kissingen water in moderate doses. As I was fatigued andmade incapable of work by the early walks I had to take duringthis treatment, it occurred to me to take a short ride instead. For this purpose the hotel manager lent me a horse, aged twenty-five, named Lise. On this animal I rode every morning as long asit would carry me. It never conveyed me very far, but turned backregularly at certain spots without taking the slightest notice ofmy directions. 

Thus passed the months of April, May, and the greater part ofJune, without my completing even half of my composition for thethird act, and all the while I was contending with a mood of thedeepest melancholy. At last came the season for the visitors toarrive; the hotel with its annexes began to fill, and it was nolonger possible to think of maintaining my exceptional privilegewith regard to the use of such choice quarters. It was proposedto move me to the second storey of the main building, where onlytravellers who spent the night on their way to other places inSwitzerland were put up, whereas in the annexes people werelodged who came to make a long stay, and who used their rooms dayand night. As a matter of fact, this arrangement answeredadmirably. From this time forward I was completely undisturbedduring the hours of my work in my little sitting-room with itsadjoining bedchamber, as the rooms engaged for the night bystrangers in this storey were perfectly empty in the daytime. 

Really splendid summer weather set in eventually, lasting a goodtwo months with a continuously cloudless sky. I enjoyed thecurious charm of protecting myself against the extremes of thesun's heat by carefully keeping my room cool and dark, and goingout on to my balcony only in the evening to surrender myself tothe influence of the summer air. Two good horn-players gave megreat pleasure by providing a performance of simple folk-songsalmost regularly in a skiff on the lake. In my work, too, I hadnow luckily passed the critical point, and in spite of itssorrowful character, the more subdued mood of that part of mypoem which I had still to master, threw me into a sincerespiritual ecstasy, during which I completed the composition ofthe whole work by the beginning of August, fragments onlyremaining to be orchestrated. 

Lonely as was my life, the exciting events of the Italian warprovided me plenty of interest. I followed this struggle, asunexpected as it was significant, through the thrilling course ofits successes and reverses. Still I did not remain entirelywithout company. In July, Felix Drasecke, whom I had not knownbefore, came to Lucerne for a lengthy visit. After hearing aperformance of the prelude to Tristan und Isolde conducted byLiszt, he had almost immediately determined to make himselfpersonally acquainted with me. I was completely terrified by hisarrival, and was at a loss to know what to do with him. Moreover, as his talk was in a certain facetious vein, overflowing withstories of persons and circumstances for which I was graduallylosing all appreciation, he soon began to bore me, a fact whichastonished him, and which he recognised so clearly that hethought he had better leave after a few days. This made me in myturn embarrassed, and I now took special care to deprive him ofthe bad opinion he had formed of me. I soon learned to like him, and for a considerable time, until shortly before his departurefrom Lucerne, he was my daily companion, from whose intercourse Iderived much pleasure, as he was a highly gifted musician and byno means a prig. But Drasecke was not my only visitor. 

Wilhelm Baumgartner, my old Zurich acquaintance, came to spend afew weeks in Lucerne out of kindness to me. And lastly AlexanderSeroff from St. Petersburg came to stay some time in theneighbourhood. He was a remarkable man, of great intelligence, and openly prepossessed in favour of Liszt and myself. He hadheard my Lohengrin in Dresden and wanted to know more of me--anambition I was obliged to satisfy by playing Tristan to him inthe rough-and-ready fashion which was peculiar to me. I went upMount Pilatus with Drasecke, and again had to look after acompanion who suffered from giddiness. To celebrate his departureI invited him to take an excursion to Brunnen and the Grutli. After this we took leave of each other for the time being, as hismoderate resources did not permit him to remain any longer, and Itoo was seriously thinking of taking my departure. 

The question now arose as to where I was to go. I had addressedletters, first through Eduard Devrient, and finally direct to theGrand Duke of Baden, asking the latter for a guarantee that Imight settle, if not in Karlsruhe itself, at least in some smallplace in the neighbourhood. This would suffice to set at rest acraving, which could no longer be suppressed, for intercourse nowand then with an orchestra and a company of singers, if only tohear them play. I learned later that the Grand Duke had reallybestirred himself in the matter by writing to the King of Saxony. But the view still prevailed in that quarter that I could not begranted an amnesty, but could only hope to receive an act ofgrace; it being assumed, of course, that I would first have toreport myself to a magistrate for examination. Thus thefulfilment of my wish remained impossible, and I shrank in dismaybefore the problem of how to secure a performance of my Tristanwhich I could superintend in person, as I had determined to do. Iwas assured that the Grand Duke would know what measures toresort to in order to meet the situation. But the question was, where was I to turn for a place in which to settle with someprospect of being able to remain there. I longed for a permanenthome again. After due consideration I decided that Paris was theonly place where I could make sure of now and then hearing a goodorchestra and a first-class quartette. Without these stimulatinginfluences Zurich at last became unbearable, and in no other citybut Paris, where I could stay undisturbed, could I safely reckonon being able to obtain artistic recreation of a sufficientlyhigh standard. 

At last I had to bestir myself to come to a decision about mywife. We had now been apart from each other for a whole year. After the hard lessons she had received from me, and which, according to her letters, had left a deep impression upon her, Iwas justified in assuming that the renewal of our life in commonmight be made tolerable; especially as it would remove the gravedifficulty of her maintenance. I therefore agreed with her thatshe should join me late in the autumn in Paris. In the meantime Iwas willing to look for a possible abode there, and undertook toarrange for the removal of our furniture and household goods tothe French capital. In order to carry out this plan financialassistance was imperative, as the means at my disposal were quiteinadequate. I then made to Wesendonck the same offer in regard tomy Nibelungen that I had made to the Grand Duke of Weimar, thatis to say, I proposed that he should buy the copyright forpublishing the work. Wesendonck acceded to my wishes withoutdemur, and was ready to buy out each of the completed portions ofmy work in turn for about the same sum as it was reasonable tosuppose a publisher would pay for it later on. I was not able tofix my departure, which took place on the 7th of September, whenI went for a three days' visit to my friends in Zurich. I spentthese days at the Wesendonck's, where I was well looked after andsaw my former acquaintances, Herwegh, Semper, and GottfriedKeller. One of the evenings I spent with them was marked by ananimated dispute with Semper over the political events of thetime. Semper professed to recognise, in the recent defeat ofAustria, the defeat of the German nationality; in the Romanceelement represented by Louis Napoleon, he recognised a sort ofAssyrian despotism which he hated both in art and politics. Heexpressed himself with such emphasis that Keller, who wasgenerally so silent, was provoked into a lively debate. Semper inhis turn was so aggravated at this, that at last in a fit ofdesperation he blamed me for luring him into the enemy's camp, bybeing the cause of his invitation to the Wesendonck's. We made itup before we parted that night, and met again on severaloccasions after this, when we took care never again to let ourdiscussions become so passionate. From Zurich I went toWinterthur to visit Sulzer. I did not see my friend himself, butonly his wife and the boy she had borne to him since my lastvisit; the mother and child made a very touching and friendlyimpression on me, particularly when I realised that I must nowregard my old friend in the light of a happy father. 

On the 15th of September I reached Paris. I had intended to fixmy abode somewhere in the neighbourhood of the Champs Elysees, and with this object in view at once looked out for temporarylodgings in that district, which I found eventually in the Avenuede Matignon. My main object was to discover my desired peacefulplace of refuge in some small house remote from thethoroughfares. I at once bestirred myself to find this, andthought it my duty to make use of every acquaintance I could callto mind. The Olliviers were not in Paris at the time; Countessd'Agoult was ill, and was also busy arranging her departure forItaly, and unable to receive me. She referred me to her daughterthe Countess Charnace, upon whom I called, but without being ableto explain to her the purpose I had in view. I also looked up theHerold family, who had received me in such a friendly way on mylast visit to Paris; but I found Mme. Herold in a strange andmorbidly excitable state of mind, the result of ill-health, sothat instead of discussing my views with her, my only thought wasto keep her calm and avoid upsetting her by even the slightestappeal for help. In my passionate longing to find a home Idecided to get no further information, but set about the mattermyself. At last I discovered in the Rue Newton near the Barrierede l'Etoile, a side street off the Champs Elysees, not yetcompleted in accordance with a former plan of Paris, a nicelittle villa with a small garden. I took this on a three-years'agreement at a rent of four thousand francs a year. Here, at allevents, I might look for complete quiet and total isolation fromthe noise of the streets. This fact alone prepossessed me verymuch in taking the little house, the late occupier of which hadbeen the well-known author Octave Feuillet, who was at that timeunder the patronage of the imperial court. But I was puzzled thatthe building, in spite of my being unable to detect anything oldin its structure, had been so neglected inside. The proprietorcould in no way be induced to do anything to restore the placeand make it habitable, even if I had consented to pay a higherrent. The reason of this I discovered some time afterwards: theestate itself was doomed in consequence of the plans for therebuilding of Paris; but the time had not yet come to make theofficial announcement of the government's intentions to theproprietors, because, had this been done, their claims tocompensation would have become valid at once. I consequentlylaboured under the pleasant delusion that whatever I was obligedto spend on interior decoration and on restoring the propertywould, in the course of years, prove to be money well invested. Itherefore proceeded to give the necessary instructions for thework without hesitating, and ordered my furniture to be sent fromZurich, thinking that as fate had driven me to my choice, I couldregard myself as a resident of Paris for the rest of my life. 

While the house was being prepared, I tried to get my bearings asto what could be extracted for my future existence out of thepopularity of my artistic works. The first thing I did was tolook up M. De Charnal and to get information from him about thetranslation of the libretto of my Rienzi with which he had beenentrusted. It turned out that M. Carvalho, the director of theTheatre Lyrique, would hear of absolutely nothing but Tannhauser. I prevailed upon Carvalho to visit me to talk the matter over. Hedeclared that he was most certainly inclined to produce one of myoperas, only it must be Tannhauser, because, as he explained, this opera was identified with me among the Parisians, who wouldthink it ridiculous to produce any other work under the name of'Wagner. ' As to my choice of a translator for the poem of thisopera he seemed to entertain grave doubts: he asked whether I hadnot made a mistake, whereupon I tried to get more definiteinformation about the capabilities of M. De Charnal, anddiscovered to my horror that this charming young man, who boastedthat he had collaborated in a melodrama called Schinderhannes, which he thought was a German romantic subject, had not had theslightest conception of the character of the work he washandling. 

As his enthusiasm moved me, I tried to shape some verses with himand make them practicable for musical purposes; but I failedutterly, and all my trouble was in vain. Bulow had once drawn myattention to Auguste de Gasperini, a young doctor who had ceasedto practise, and whose acquaintance he had made in Baden-Baden, where he discovered that he was extraordinarily fond of my music. I called upon him without loss of time, and as he was not inParis, I wrote to him. This man sent his friend Leroy to me witha letter of recommendation. He was a well-educated Parisianmusic-master, who won my esteem by his attractive personality. Myconfidence in him was aroused, because he at once dissuaded mefrom associating myself with an obscure journalist on atheatrical newspaper (in which character M. De Charnal finallydisclosed himself), and advised me to go to Roger, a highlygifted and experienced operatic singer, who had been a favouritewith the Parisian public and was master of the German language. This lifted a load from my heart: I accepted the invitation whichLeroy arranged for me through another friend, who took me down toRoger's country place one day to meet him. I have forgotten thename of this large estate which was occupied by the Paris tenor, whose fame had been so celebrated up to that time; the chateauhad once belonged to a marquis, and was built in a very sumptuousstyle and surrounded by extensive hunting-grounds. It was thedesire to handle a gun and make use of these grounds (which heloved) that, only a short time before, had landed this charmingsinger in a terrible disaster which had shattered his right arm. 

I found Roger, some months after the accident, completelyrecovered; but the forearm had had to be amputated. The questionnow was whether a famous mechanician, who had promised to makehim a perfect substitute for the lost limb even in the matter offree gesticulation, would be able to carry out his task. Hesucceeded fairly well, as I saw with my own eyes some time later, when I witnessed Roger act in a benefit performance which theGrand Opera had given him, and use his arm so ingeniously that hereceived great applause for this reason alone. In spite of thishe had to accept the fact that he was regarded as 'disabled, ' andthat his career at the Grand Opera in Paris had come to a close. For the time being he seemed to be glad to secure for himselfsome sort of literary occupation, and accepted with much pleasuremy proposal that he should make a translation of Tannhauser forpractical use. He sang to me the French text of some of the mainthemes which he had already translated, and they seemed to megood. After I had spent a day and a night with the singer, whohad once been such a popular favourite, and was now condemned tolook forward to a sad decline, I felt in very good spirits andfull of hope, more especially as his intelligent way ofapproaching my opera gave me a pleasing idea of the extent towhich it was possible to cultivate the French mind. In spite ofthis I had soon to give up the notion of Roger's working for me, as for a long time he was entirely absorbed in trying to makesecure the position into which he had fallen through his terribleaccident. He was so busy with his own affairs that he couldhardly give me an answer to my inquiries, and for the time beingI lost sight of him altogether. 

I had come to this arrangement with Roger more by chance than outof necessity, as I continued to adhere firmly to my plan simplyto seek a suitable pied-a-terre in Paris. My serious artisticenterprises, on the other hand, were still directed to Germany, from which, from another point of view, I was an enforced exile. Soon, however, the whole aspect of affairs changed: the proposedperformance of Tristan in Karlsruhe, on which I had continued tokeep an eye, was finally announced as abandoned. I had to remainuncertain as to the precise reason why this undertaking had beengiven up, which at an earlier stage had apparently been pursuedwith so much zeal. Devrient pointed out to me that all hisattempts to secure an appropriate representation of the rule ofIsolde had been shattered by my deciding against the singerGarrigues (who had already married young Schnorr), and that hefelt his incapacity to offer advice on the rest of the businessall the more keenly because Schnorr, the tenor, whose devotion tome was so great, had himself despaired of being able to executethe last portion of the task assigned to him. I realised at oncethat this was an obstacle which I should have been able toovercome, together with all its disastrous consequences, if I hadbeen permitted, even for a brief space of time, to visitKarlsruhe. But the mere expression of this wish seemed, as soonas it was reiterated, to arouse the bitterest feelings againstme. Devrient expressed his opinion on the matter with so muchviolence and brutality that I could not help seeing that whatkept me from Karlsruhe was mainly his personal disinclination tohave me there, or to be interfered with in the conduct of histheatre. 

A less potent factor in the situation I found in the painfulfeeling now aroused in the Grand Duke at the prospect of notbeing able to fulfil the promise he had once held out to me, thatI should visit him in Karlsruhe, where he was in residence; ifthe main object for the visit were to subside under pressure ofother considerations, he could only regard this circumstance inthe light of an almost desirable event. At the same time Ireceived from Bulow, who had gone several times to Karlsruhe, fairly broad hints as to what Devrient was aiming at. Full lightwas shed on the affair at a later stage; for the present it was amatter of the utmost importance for me to face the fact that Iwas entirely cut off from Germany, and must think of a freshfield for the production of Tristan, which lay so near my heart. I rapidly sketched a plan for starting a German theatre in Parisitself, such as had existed in bygone years with the co-operationof Schroder-Devrient. I thought I could safely rely on thepossibility of doing so, as the most eminent singers of theGerman theatre were known to me, and would gladly follow me if Iwere to summon them to Paris on such a mission. I receivedmessages of ready acceptance, in the event of my succeeding infounding a German opera season in Paris on a solid basis, fromTichatschek, Mitterwurzer, Niemann the tenor, and also LuiseMeyer in Vienna. My immediate and besetting care was then todiscover in Paris a suitable man for the task, who wouldundertake the execution of my plan at his own risk. My object wasto secure the Salle Ventadour for a spring season of two monthsafter the close of the Italian opera. There would then beperformances of my operas, Tannhauser, Lohengrin, and finallyTristan, by a chosen company and chorus of German singers, forthe benefit of the Parisian public in general and myself inparticular. 

With this purpose in mind, my anxieties and endeavours now took atotally different direction from that towards which they hadtended when I first settled again in Paris; to cultivateacquaintances, especially among those who had influence, was nowof the utmost importance to me. For this reason I was glad tohear that Gasperini had arrived in Paris for good. Although I hadonly known him very slightly before, I now immediatelycommunicated my plans to him, and was introduced in thefriendliest way to a rich man who was well disposed towards him, a M. Lucy, who, so I was told, was not without influence, and wasat that time Receiver-General in Marseilles. Our deliberationsconvinced us that the most necessary, and indeed indispensable, thing was to find some one to come forward and finance ourenterprise. My friend Gasperini could not but agree that, on thestrength of the opinions he had himself advanced, it was naturalI should look upon M. Lucy as the very man we wanted; but hethought it advisable to put our wishes before his friend withsome caution, for though Lucy had much chaleur de coeur, he wasprincipally a man of business and understood but little of music. Above all, it was necessary that my compositions should becomewell known in Paris, so that further enterprises might be foundedon the results thus obtained. With this object in view I decidedto arrange a few important concerts. To effect this I had towelcome my old friend Belloni, Liszt's former secretary, into thecircle of my closer acquaintances. He immediately enlisted acompanion of his in our cause, a highly intelligent man calledGiacomelli, whom I never knew to be anything but good-natured. Hewas the editor of a theatrical journal and was cordiallyrecommended to me by Belloni, as much for his excellent French asfor his exceptional capabilities in other respects. My newprotector's strange editorial office became from this time one ofmy most important places of rendezvous, which I frequented almostdaily, and where I met all the curious creatures with whom, forthe purpose of theatrical and similar matters, one is obliged tomix in Paris. The next thing to be considered was how to obtainthe most suitable hall for my intended concerts. It was evidentthat I should appear to greatest advantage before the Parisianpublic if I could secure the theatre and orchestra of the GrandOpera. 

For this I had to address myself to the Emperor Napoleon, which Idid in a concise letter composed for me by Gasperini. Thehostility of Fould, who was at that time the Minister of theHousehold to Napoleon, would probably have to be reckoned with, on account of his friendly relations to Meyerbeer. The injuriousand dreaded influence of this personage we hoped to counteract bythat of M. Mocquard, Napoleon's secretary, who, as Ollivierdeclared, composed all the imperial speeches. In an elan of fierygenerosity Lucy decided to appeal to the friend of his youth, foras such he regarded Mocquard, in a letter of recommendation tohim on my behalf. As even this communication received no answerfrom the Tuileries, I and my more practical friends, Belloni andGiacomelli, with whom I held consultations, grew more doubtfulevery day of our own power as opposed to that of the Minister ofthe Household, and we therefore entered into negotiations withCalzado, the director of the Italian Opera, instead. We met witha direct refusal in this quarter, whereupon I finally decided toseek a personal interview with the man. By a power of persuasionwhich astonished even myself, and, above all, by holding out theprospect of my Tristan at the Italian Opera possibly proving ahuge success, I actually succeeded in at last obtaining hisconsent to let the Salle Ventadour for three evenings with aweek's interval between each. But even my passionate eloquence, which Giacomelli extolled on our way home, could not persuade himto lower the rent, which he fixed at four thousand francs anevening, merely for the hire and lighting of the hall. 

After this the most important point was to get a first-classorchestra for my concerts, and my two agents had, for the timebeing, more than enough to do in this respect. In consequence oftheir endeavours on my behalf I now began to notice the firstsigns of a hostile, and hitherto unsuspected, attitude towards meand my undertaking on the part of my old friend Berlioz. Full ofthe favourable impression he had made upon me when we met inLondon in 1855, which was strengthened by a friendlycorrespondence he had kept up for a time, I had called at hishouse as soon as I arrived in Paris. As he was not in I turnedback into the street, where I met him on his way home, andnoticed that the sight of me occasioned a convulsive movement offright, which showed itself in his whole physiognomy and bearingin a way which was almost gruesome. I saw at a glance how mattersstood between us, but concealed my own uneasiness under anappearance of natural concern about his state of health, which heimmediately assured me was one of torture, and that he could onlybear up against the most violent attacks of neuralgia with thehelp of electric treatment, from which he was just returning. Inorder to allay his suffering I offered to leave him immediately, but this made him so far ashamed of his attitude that he pressedme to return with him to his house. Here I succeeded in makinghim feel somewhat more friendly towards me by disclosing my realintentions in Paris: even the concerts I proposed giving weremerely to serve the purpose of so far attracting public attentionas to make it possible to establish German opera here, so thatwhen I wished to do so I could superintend the representation ofsuch of my own works I had not yet heard; while, on the otherhand, I completely renounced the idea of a French production ofTannhauser, such as the manager Carvalho had seemed tocontemplate. In consequence of these explanations I wasapparently for a time on quite a friendly footing with Berlioz. Iconsequently thought that, with regard to the engagement ofmusicians for the proposed concerts, I could not on this occasiondo better than refer my agents to this experienced friend, whoseadvice would certainly prove invaluable. They afterwards informedme that Berlioz had at first shown himself sympatheticallyinclined, but his manner had suddenly changed one day when Mme. Berlioz entered the room where they were discussing matters, andexclaimed in a tone of angry surprise, 'Comment, je crois quevous donnez des conseils pour les concerts de M. Wagner?' Bellonithen discovered that this lady had just accepted a valuablebracelet sent her by Meyerbeer. Being a man of the world he saidto me, 'Do not count upon Berlioz, ' and there the whole matterended. 

From this time forward Belloni's bright face was clouded overwith an expression of the deepest anxiety. He thought he haddiscovered that the whole Parisian press was exceedingly hostiletowards me, which he had not the slightest doubt was due to thetremendous agitation Meyerbeer had set on foot from Berlin. Hediscovered that an urgent correspondence had been carried on fromthere with the editors of the principal Paris journals, and thatamongst others the famous Fiorentino had already taken advantageof Meyerbeer's alarm at my Parisian enterprise, to threaten himwith praise of my music, thus naturally exciting Meyerbeer tofurther bribery. This increased Belloni's anxiety, and he advisedme, above all, to try and find financial support for my plans, orif I had no prospect of this, to rely on the imperial poweralone. He pointed out that it was absolutely impossible for me tocarry out the concerts entirely on my own responsibility withoutfinancial support, and his arguments had the effect of making medecide to be careful; for what with my journey to Paris and myinstallation there, my funds were thoroughly exhausted. So I wasagain forced to enter into negotiations with the Tuileries aboutthe letting of the Opera House and its orchestra free of charge. Ollivier now came forward with judicious advice andintroductions, which brought me into touch with all kinds ofpeople, and, amongst others, with Camille Doucet (a leadingmember of Fould's ministry and also a dramatic author). By thismeans I hoped to penetrate into the presence of Meyerbeer'sadmirer, the unapproachable and terrible Minister of State. Oneresult of these introductions, however, was that I formed alasting friendship with Jules Ferry, though our acquaintanceproved quite useless to the immediate purpose in hand. TheEmperor and his secretary remained obstinately silent, and thiseven after I had obtained the Grand Duke of Baden's consent tothe intercession of his ambassador in Paris on my behalf, andalso that of the Swiss ambassador, Dr. Kern, whose combinedforces were to try and enlighten me, and possibly also theEmperor, about Fould's manoeuvres. But it was useless--allremained silent as before. 

Under these circumstances I regarded it as a freak of fate thatMinna should announce her readiness to join me in Paris, and thatI should have to expect her arrival shortly. In the selection aswell as in the arrangement of the little house in the Rue NewtonI had had particular regard to our future existence together. Myliving-room was separated from hers by a staircase, and I hadtaken care that the part of the house to be occupied by hershould not be wanting in comfort. But, above all, the affectionwhich had been revived by our last reunion in Zurich had promptedme to furnish and decorate the rooms with special care, so thatthey might have a friendly appearance and make life in commonwith this woman, who was becoming quite a stranger to me, morepossible to bear. On account of this I was afterwards reproachedwith a love of luxury. There was also a possibility of arranginga drawing-room in our house, and though I had not intended to beextravagant, I finally discovered that, in addition to thetrouble of negotiations with unreliable Parisian workmen, I wasdrawn into expenses I had not counted upon. But I comfortedmyself with the reflection that, as it could not be helped now, Minna would at least be pleased when she entered the house shewas henceforth to manage. I also thought it necessary to get amaid for her, and a particularly suitable person was recommendedme by Mme. Herold. I had also engaged a man-servant as soon as Iarrived, and although he was rather a thick-headed Swiss fromValais, who had at one time belonged to the Pope's bodyguard, hesoon became quite devoted to me. In addition to these twoservants there was my wife's former cook, whom she had taken withher from Zurich, and by whom she was accompanied when at last Iwas able to go and meet her at the station on the 17th ofNovember. Here Minna immediately handed me the parrot and her dogFips, which involuntarily reminded me of her arrival in theharbour of Rorschach ten years ago. Just as she had done on thatoccasion also, she now immediately gave me to understand that shedid not come to me out of need, and that if I treated her badlyshe knew quite well where to go. Moreover, there was no denyingthat since then a not unimportant change had taken place in her;she owned that she was filled with a similar anxiety and fearlike a person feels who is about to enter a new situation, anddid not know whether she would be able to stand it. Here I soughtto divert her thoughts by acquainting her with my publicposition, which as my wife she would naturally share. Unfortunately she could not understand this at all, and it failedto make any appeal to her, while her attention was immediatelyabsorbed by the interior arrangement of our house. The fact of myhaving taken a man-servant merely filled her with scorn; butthat, under the title of lady's maid, I should have provided herwith what I had really considered a very necessary attendant, made her furious. This person, whom Mme. Herold had recommendedto me with the assurance that she had shown angelic patience inthe care of her sick and aged mother, speedily became sodemoralised by Minna's treatment of her that, at the end of avery short time, I of my own accord hurriedly dismissed her, andin doing so was violently reproached by my wife for giving thewoman a small tip. To an even greater extent did she succeed inspoiling my man-servant, who finally refused to obey her orders, and when I found fault with him became so impertinent towards mealso that I had to send him away at the shortest notice. He lefta very good complete set of livery behind, which I had justbought at great expense, and which remained on my hands, as Ifelt no inclination ever to have a man-servant again. On theother hand, I cannot but bear the highest testimony in favour ofthe Swabian Therese, who from this time forward performed theentire service of the household alone during the whole of mysojourn in Paris. This woman, who was gifted with unusualpenetration, at once grasped my painful position towards hermistress, and understanding my wife's faults, succeeded by herindefatigable activity in turning matters to the best advantagefor me as well as for the household, and thus neutralising theirbad effect. 

So in this last reunion with Minna I once more entered upon astate of existence which I had repeatedly lived through before, and which it seemed was now to start afresh. This time it wasalmost a blessing that there could be no question of quietretirement, but that, on the contrary, it was necessary to enterupon an endless succession of worldly relations and activities, to which I was again driven by fate entirely against my choiceand inclination. 

With the opening of the year 1860 a very unexpected turn ofaffairs made it seem possible that I should succeed in carryingout my plans. The musical director Esser in Vienna informed methat Schott, the music publisher of Mayence, wished to obtain anew opera by me for publication. I had nothing to offer atpresent but the Rhieingold; the peculiar composition of thiswork, meant only as a prelude to the Nilielungen trilogy I meantto write, made it difficult for me to offer it as an operawithout adding any further explanation. However, Schott'seagerness, at all costs, to have a work of mine to add to hiscatalogue of publications was so great that I no longerhesitated, and, without concealing from him the fact that hewould have great difficulty in propagating this work, I offeredto place it at his disposal for the sum of ten thousand francs, promising him at the same time the option of purchasing the threemain operas which were to follow at the same price for each. Inthe event of Schott accepting my offer, I immediately formed aplan of spending the sum thus unexpectedly acquired for thefurthering of my Paris undertaking. 

Tired out with the obstinate silence maintained by the imperialcabinet, I now commissioned my agents to close with SignorCalzado for three concerts to be given at the Italian Opera, aswell as to obtain the necessary orchestra and singers. When thearrangements for this had been set in motion, I was again madeanxious by Schott's tardy offers of lower terms; in order not toalienate him, however, I wrote to the musical director Schmidt inFrankfort commissioning him to continue the negotiations withSchott on considerably reduced terms, to which I gave my consent. I had scarcely sent off this letter when an answer from Schottreached me, in which he at last expressed his willingness to payme the sum of ten thousand francs for which I had asked. Ithereupon sent a telegram to Schmidt promptly cancelling thecommission with which I had just charged him. 

With renewed courage I and my agents now followed up our plans, and the necessary preparations for the concerts engaged my wholeattention. I had to look out for a choir, and for this I thoughtit necessary to reinforce the expensively paid company of theItalian Opera by a German society of singers who had beenrecommended to me and who were under the direction of a certainHerr Ehmant. In order to ingratiate myself with its members, Ihad one evening to visit their meeting-place in the Rue duTemple, and cheerfully accommodate myself to the smell of beerand the fumes of tobacco with which the atmosphere was laden, andin the midst of which sturdy German artists were to reveal theircapabilities to me. I was also brought into contact with a M. Cheve, the teacher and director of a French national choralsociety, whose rehearsals took place in the Ecole de Medecine. Ithere met an odd enthusiast, who, by his method of teachingpeople to sing without notes, hoped to bring about theregeneration of the French people's genius. But the worst troublewas occasioned by the necessity of my having the differentorchestral parts of the selections I was going to have playedcopied out for me. For this task I hired several poor Germanmusicians, who remained at my house from morning till night, inorder to make the necessary arrangements, which were often ratherdifficult, under my direction. 

In the midst of these absorbing occupations Hans von Bulow lookedme up. He had come to Paris for some length of time, as it turnedout, more to assist me in my undertaking than to follow his ownpursuit as a concert virtuoso. He was staying with Liszt'smother, but spent the greater part of the day with me, in orderto give help wherever it was needed, as, for instance, with theimmediate preparation of the copies. His activity in alldirections was extraordinary, but he seemed, above all, to haveset himself the task of making certain social connections, thathe and his wife had formed during their visit to Paris the yearbefore, useful to my undertaking. The result of this was felt indue course, but for the present he helped me to arrange theconcerts, the rehearsals for which had begun. 

The first of these took place in the Herz Hall, and led to suchan agitation on the part of the musicians against me that it wasalmost as bad as a riot. I had continually to remonstrate withthem about habits on their part, which I on my side felt unableto overlook, and tried to prove, on common-sense grounds, howimpossible it was to give way to them. My 6/8 time, which I tookas 4/4 time, particularly incensed them, and with tumultuousprotestations they declared it should be taken alla-breva. Inconsequence of a sharp call to order and an allusion on my partto the discipline of a well-drilled orchestra, they declared theywere not 'Prussian soldiers, ' but free men. 

At last I saw that one of the chief mistakes had lain in thefaulty setting up of the orchestra, and I now formed my plan forthe next rehearsal. After a consultation with my friends I wentto the concert-room on the next occasion the first thing in themorning and superintended the arranging of the desks myself, andordered a plentiful lunch for the musicians to which, at thebeginning of the rehearsal, I invited them in the followingmanner. I told them that on the result of our meeting of that daydepended the possibility of my giving my concerts; that we mustnot leave the concert-room till we were quite clear about it. Itherefore requested the members to rehearse for two hours, thento partake of a frugal lunch prepared for them in the adjoiningsalon, whereupon we would immediately hold a second rehearsal forwhich I would pay them. The effect of this proposal wasmiraculous: the advantageous arrangement of the orchestracontributed to the maintenance of the general good-humour, andthe favourable impression made upon every one by the prelude toLohengrin, which was then played, rose to enthusiasm, so that atthe conclusion of the first rehearsal both players and audience, amongst whom was Gasperini, were delighted with me. This friendlydisposition was most agreeably displayed at the principalrehearsal, which took place on the stage of the Italian OperaHouse. I had now gained sufficient control to allow me to dismissa careless cornet-player from the orchestra with a severereproof, without incurring any difficulties owing to their espritde corps. 

At last the first concert took place on the 25th of January(1860); all the pieces which I had chosen from my various operas, including Tristan und Isolde, met with an entirely favourable, nay enthusiastic, reception from the public, and I even had theexperience of one of my pieces, the march from Tannhauser, beinginterrupted by storms of applause. The pleasure thus expressedwas aroused, it seems, because the audience was surprised to findthat my music, of which there had been so many contradictoryreports, contained such long phrases of connected melody. Wellsatisfied as I was, both with the way in which the concert hadbeen carried out and its enthusiastic reception, I had on thefollowing days to overcome contrary impressions caused by thepapers giving vent to their feelings against me. It was now clearthat Belloni had been quite right in supposing that they werehostile to me, and his foresight, which had led us to omitinviting the press, had merely roused our opponents to greaterfury. As the whole undertaking had been arranged more for thestimulation of friends than to excite praise, I was not so muchdisturbed by the blustering of these gentlemen as by the absenceof any sign from the former. What caused me most anxiety was thatthe apparently well-filled house should not have brought usbetter returns than was found to be the case. We had made fromfive to six thousand francs, but the expenses amounted to eleventhousand francs. This might be partially covered if, in the caseof the two less expensive concerts still to come, we could relyon considerably higher returns. Belloni and Giacomelli shooktheir heads, however; they thought it better not to close theireyes to the fact that concerts were not suited to the taste ofthe French people, who demanded the dramatic element as well, that is to say, costumes, scenery, the ballet, etc. , in order tofeel satisfied. The small number of tickets sold for the secondconcert, which was given on the 1st of February, actually put myagents to the necessity of filling the room artificially, so asat least to save appearances. I had to allow them to do as theythought best in this matter, and was afterwards astonished tolearn how they had managed to fill the first places in thisaristocratic theatre in such a way as to deceive even ourenemies. The real receipts amounted to little over two thousandfrancs, and it now required all my determination and my contemptfor the miseries that might result not to cancel the thirdconcert to be given on the 8th of February. My fees from Schott, a part of which, it is true, I had to devote to the householdexpenses of my troubled domestic existence, were all spent, and Ihad to look round for further subsidies. These I obtained withgreat difficulty, through Gasperini's mediation, from the veryman to win whose assistance in a much wider sense had been thewhole object of the concerts. In short, we had to have recourseto M. Lucy, the Receiver-General of Marseilles, who was to cometo Paris at the time my concerts were being given, and upon whommy friend Gasperini had assumed that an important Parisiansuccess would have the effect of making him declare his readinessto finance my project of establishing German opera in Paris. M. Lucy, on the contrary, did not appear at the first concert atall, and was only present at a part of the second, during whichhe fell asleep. The fact that he was now called upon to advanceseveral thousands of francs for the third concert naturallyseemed to him to protect him against any further demands on ourpart, and he felt a certain satisfaction at being exempt from allfurther participation in my plans, at the price of this loan. Although, as a matter of fact, this concert now seemed useless, it nevertheless gave me great pleasure, as much through thespirited performance itself as on account of its favourablereception by the audience, which, it is true, my agents had againto supplement in order to give the appearance of a full hall, butwhich, nevertheless, showed a marked increase in the number oftickets paid for. 

The realisation of the deep impression I had made on certainpeople had more effect upon me at this time than the dejection Ifelt at having to all outward appearances failed in thisenterprise. It was undeniable that the sensation I had producedhad directly, as the comments of the press had indirectly, aroused extraordinary interest in me. My omission to invite anyjournalists seemed to be regarded on all sides as a wonderfulpiece of audacity on my part. I had foreseen the attitude likelyto be adopted by the majority of reporters, but I was sorry thateven such men as M. Franc-Marie, the critic of the Patrie, who atthe end of the concert had come forward to thank me with deepemotion, should have found themselves forced to follow the leadof the others, without compromising, and even to go so far as todeny their true opinion of me. Berlioz aroused a universalfeeling of anger amongst my adherents, by an article which beganin a roundabout way, but ended with an open attack on me which hepublished in the Journal des Debats. As he had once been an oldfriend, I was determined not to overlook this treatment, andanswered his onslaught in a letter which, with the greatestdifficulty, I managed to get translated into good French, andsucceeded, not without trouble, in having it inserted in theJournal des Debats. It so happened that this very letter had theeffect of drawing those on whom my concerts had already made animpression more enthusiastically towards me. Amongst others a M. Perrin introduced himself to me; he had formerly been director ofthe Opera Comique, and was now a well-to-do bel esprit andpainter, and later became director of the Grand Opera. He hadheard Lohengrin and Tannhauser performed in Germany, andexpressed himself in such a way as led me to suppose that hewould make it a point of honour to bring these operas to Franceshould he at any time be in a position to do so. A certain CountFoucher de Careil had also become acquainted with my operas inthe same way, through seeing them performed in Germany, and hetoo became one of my distinguished and lasting friends. He hadmade a name by various publications on German philosophy, andmore especially through a book on Leibnitz, and it could not butprove interesting to me to be brought through him into touch witha form of the French genius as yet unknown to me. 

It is impossible to record all the passing acquaintances withwhom I was brought in contact at this time, amongst whom aRussian Count Tolstoi was conspicuously kind; but I must heremention the excellent impression made upon me by the novelistChampfleury's amiable pamphlet, of which I and my concerts formedthe subject. In a series of light and airy aphorisms he displayedsuch a comprehension of my music, and even of my personality, that I had never again met with such a suggestive and masterlyappreciation, and had only come across its equal once before inLiszt's lucubrations on Lohengrin and Tannhauser. My personalacquaintance with Champfleury, which followed, brought me face toface with a very simple and in a certain sense easy-temperedindividual, such as one seldom meets, and belonging to a type ofFrenchman fast becoming extinct. 

The advances made me by the poet Baudelaire were in their waystill more significant. My acquaintance with him began with aletter in which he told me his impressions of my music and theeffect it had produced upon him, in spite of his having thoughttill then that he possessed an artistic sense for colouring, butnone for sound. His opinions on the matter, which he expressed inthe most fantastic terms and with audacious self-assurance, proved him, to say the least, a man of extraordinaryunderstanding, who with impetuous energy followed the impressionshe received from my music to their ultimate consequences. Heexplained that he did not put his address to his letter in orderthat I might not be led to think that he wanted something fromme. Needless to say, I knew how to find him, and had soonincluded him among the acquaintances to whom I announced myintention of being at home every Wednesday evening. 

I had been told by my older Parisian friends, amongst whom Icontinued to count the faithful Gasperini, that this was theright thing to do in Paris; and so it came about that, inaccordance with the fashion, I used to hold a salon in my smallhouse in the Rue Newton, which made Minna feel that she occupieda very dignified position, though she only knew a few scraps ofFrench, with which she could barely help herself out. This salon, which the Olliviers also attended in a friendly way, was crowdedfor a time by an ever-growing circle. Here an old acquaintance ofmine, Malwida von Meysenburg, again came across me, and from thattime forth became a close friend for life. I had only met heronce before; this was during my visit to London in 1855, when shehad made herself known to me by a letter in which sheenthusiastically expressed her agreement with the opinionscontained in my book Das Kunstwerk der Zukunft. The occasion onwhich we had met in London had been at an evening party at thehouse of a family called Althaus, when I found her full of thedesires and projects for the future perfection of the human raceto which I had given expression in my book, but from which, underthe influence of Schopenhauer and a profound realisation of theintense tragedy of life and the emptiness of its phenomena, I hadturned away with almost a feeling of irritation. I found it verypainful in discussing the question, not to be understood by thisenthusiastic friend and to have to appear to her in the light ofa renegade from a noble cause. We parted in London on very badterms with one another. It was almost a shock to me to meetMalwida again in Paris. Very soon, however, all unpleasantrecollections of our discussion in London were wiped out, as sheat once explained to me, that our dispute had had the effect ofmaking her decide to read Schopenhauer at once. When, by earneststudy, she had made herself acquainted with his philosophy, shecame to the conclusion that the opinions she had at that timeexpressed and eagerly maintained concerning the happiness of theworld must have vexed me on account of their shallowness. Shethen declared herself to be one of my most zealous followers inthe sense that she, from now, became a true friend who was everanxious for my welfare. When the laws of propriety compelled meto introduce her as a friend of mine to my wife, she could nothelp noticing at the first glance the misery of our merelynominal life in common, and realising the discomfort resultingfrom it; made it her business to interpose with affectionatesolicitude. She also quickly saw the difficult position in whichI was placed in Paris with my almost purposeless enterprises andthe absence of all material security. The tremendous expenses Ihad incurred in giving the three concerts had not remained asecret from any of those concerned about me. Malwida also soonguessed the difficulties in which I found myself, since noprospect was opened on any side which could be looked upon as apractical result of my enterprise and a compensation for thesacrifices I had made. Entirely of her own accord she felt it herduty to try and obtain help for me, which she endeavoured to getfrom a certain Mme. Schwabe, the widow of a rich Englishtradesman, in whose house she had found shelter as governess tothe eldest daughter, and whom she now proposed to introduce tome. She did not conceal from herself or from me what adisagreeable task the cultivation of this acquaintance might beto me; nevertheless she relied on the kindness she thought thissomewhat grotesque woman possessed, as well as on her vanity, which would prompt her to repay me for the distinction sheobtained by frequenting my salon. As a matter of fact I wasentirely at the end of my resources, and I only found courage todeny my poverty-stricken condition in public on account of thehorror I felt when I learned that a collection was being made forme amongst the Germans in Paris to indemnify me for the expense Ihad incurred in giving the three concerts. When the news of thisreached me I immediately interfered with the declaration that theidea that I was in distress in consequence of the losses I hadsustained was founded on a false report, and that I should beobliged to refuse all efforts made on my behalf. On thissupposition Mme. Schwabe, who regularly attended my soirees andas regularly fell asleep while any music was going on, washowever induced, through the solicitations of Malwida, to offerme her personal assistance. She gave me about three thousandfrancs, of which at this moment I was certainly in the greatestneed; as I did not wish to accept this money as a gift, I gavethe lady, who in no way exacted it, a written agreement of my ownaccord, by which I undertook to return this sum at the end of ayear. She good-naturedly accepted this, not as a security butmerely in order to satisfy my feelings. When, at the end of thistime, I found it impossible to meet my obligation, I turned toMalwida, who was still in Paris, and asked her to tell Mme. Schwabe, who had left, how matters stood, and to obtain herconsent to the renewal of the agreement for another year. Malwidaearnestly assured me I need not take the trouble to ask for arenewal, as Mme. Schwabe had never looked upon the sum given meas anything but a contribution towards rny undertaking, in whichshe flattered herself that she took great interest. We shall seelater on how the case really stood. 

During this stirring time I was deeply moved and surprised toreceive a present from an admirer in Dresden called RichardWeiland; it was an artistic silver ornament representing a sheetof music surrounded by a crown of laurels; upon the sheet wereengraved the first bars from the principal themes of my variousoperas up to Rheingold and Tristan. The modest fellow once paidme a visit afterwards and told me that he had gone regularly todifferent places in order to see the productions of my operas, which had given him the opportunity of comparing therepresentation of Tannhauser in Prague, in which the overture hadlasted twenty minutes, with the one in Dresden, which, under mydirection, had only taken twelve minutes. 

My acquaintance with Rossini also proved agreeably stimulating tome in another way; a comic writer had attributed an anecdote tohim according to which, when his friend Caraffa declared himselfan admirer of my music, he had served him his fish without sauceat dinner, and explained in so doing that his friend liked musicwithout melody. Rossini openly protested against this in anarticle in which he designated the story as a mauvaise blague andat the same time declared that he would never allow himself sucha jest at the expense of a man who was trying to extend hisinfluence in the artistic world. When I heard of this, I did notfor a moment hesitate to pay Rossini a visit, and was received byhim in the friendliest manner, which I afterwards described in amemorandum devoted to reminiscences of him. I was also glad tohear that my old acquaintance Halevy, during the controversyoccasioned by my music, had taken my part in a kindly way, and Ihave already described my visit to him and our conversation onthat occasion. 

In spite of all these pleasant and stimulating events, nothingoccurred to make my position less uncertain. I was still kept indoubt as to whether I should receive an answer from the EmperorNapoleon to my request for the use of the Opera House for therepetition of my concerts. Only by obtaining this, and having nopreliminary expenses in consequence, could I gain the benefitwhich was becoming more and more necessary to me. It remained anunderstood thing that the Minister Fould was assiduously usinghis influence to turn the Emperor against me. As, on the otherhand, I had made the surprising discovery that Marshal Magnan hadbeen present at all three of my concerts, I hoped to enlist thisgentleman's sympathy, which might be turned to good account, asthe Emperor was particularly indebted to him since the events ofthe 2nd of December. I was anxious to circumvent Fould'sintrigues, as the man had become most obnoxious to me, and Iconsequently introduced myself to the Marshal, and was one daysurprised to see a hussar ride up to my door, who got down fromhis horse, rang the bell, and handed my astonished man-servant aletter from Magnan, in which he summoned me to his presence. 

I was therefore duly received at the Commandant's residence bythis military man, whose bearing struck me as stately, almost tothe point of rudeness. He chatted very intelligently with me, frankly confessing his delight in my music, and listening veryattentively to the report of my flagrantly futile addresses tothe Emperor, as well as to my expressions of suspicion regardingFould. I was told later that he spoke very plainly to Fould thatvery evening at the Tuileries on my behalf. 

This much at least is certain, that from that moment I noticedthat my affairs took a more favourable turn in that quarter. Yetthe deciding factor was found at last in a movement on my behalffrom a source I had hitherto entirely disregarded. Bulow, arrested by his interest in the outcome of these matters, continued to prolong his stay in Paris. He had come with lettersof introduction from the Princess-Regent of Prussia to theAmbassador, Count Pourtales. His hope that the latter mighteventually express a desire to have me presented to him had sofar remained unfulfilled. In order, therefore, to compel him tomake my acquaintance, he finally adopted the plan of inviting thePrussian Ambassador and his attache, Count Paul Hatzfeld, tolunch at Vachette's, a first-class restaurant, where I was toaccompany him. The result of this meeting was certainlyeverything that could be desired. Not only did Count Pourtalescharm me with the simplicity and undisguised warmth of hisconversation and attitude towards me, but from this time forwardCount Hatzfeld used to visit me and also frequented my Wednesdayevening At Homes, and at last brought me the news that there wasa distinct movement in my favour at the Tuileries. Finally, oneday he requested me to go with him to call on the Emperor'smilitary chamberlain, Count Bacciochi, and from this official Ireceived the first hints of a reply to my earlier application tohis Imperial Majesty, who now expressed a wish to know why Iwanted to give a concert in the Grand Opera House. No one, hesaid, took any serious interest in such enterprises, and it coulddo me no good. He thought it might perhaps be better if he wereto persuade M. Alphonse Royer, the director of this imperialinstitution, to come to some understanding with me respecting thecomposition of an opera written on purpose for Paris. As I wouldnot agree to his suggestion, this and other subsequent interviewsremained for the time being without result. On one of theseoccasions Bulow accompanied me, and we were both struck by aridiculous habit peculiar to this singular old man, whom Bellonisaid he had known in his youth as a box-office clerk at the ScalaTheatre in Milan. He suffered from involuntary spasmodicmovements of the hands, the result of certain not very creditablephysical infirmities, and probably to conceal these hecontinually toyed with a small stick, which he tossed to and frowith seeming affectation. But even after I had at last succeededin gaining access to the imperial officials, it seemed as thoughnext to nothing would be done on my behalf, when suddenly onemorning Count Hatzfeld overwhelmed me with news that on thepreceding evening the Emperor had given orders for a performanceof my Tannhauser. The decisive word had been spoken by PrincessMetternich. As I happened to be the subject of conversation nearthe Emperor, she had joined the circle, and on being asked forher opinion, she said she had heard Tannhauser in Dresden, andspoke in such enthusiastic terms in favour of it that the Emperorat once promised to give orders for its production. It is truethat Fould, on receiving the imperial command the same evening, broke out into a furious rage, but the Emperor told him he couldnot go back upon his promise, as he had pledged his word toPrincess Metternich. I was now once more taken to Bacciochi, whothis time received me very seriously, but first of all made thesingular inquiry as to what was the subject of my opera. This Ihad to outline for him, and when I had finished, he exclaimedwith satisfaction, 'Ah! le Pape ne vient pas en scene? C'est bon!On nous avait dit que vous aviez fait paraitre le Saint Pere, etceci, vous comprenez, n'aurait pas pu passer. Du reste, monsieur, on sait a present que vous avez enormement de genie; l'Empereur adonne l'ordre de representer votre opera. ' He moreover assured methat every facility should be placed at my disposal for thefulfilment of my wishes, and that henceforth I must make myarrangements direct with the manager Royer. This new turn ofaffairs put me into a state of vague agitation, for at first myinner conviction could only make me feel that singularmisunderstandings would be sure to arise. For one thing, all hopeof being able to carry out my original plan of producing my workin Paris with a picked German company was now at an end, and Icould not conceal from myself that I had been launched upon anadventure which might turn out well or badly. A few interviewswith the manager Royer sufficed to enlighten me as to thecharacter of the enterprise entrusted to me. His chief anxietywas to convince me of the necessity of rearranging my second act, because according to him it was absolutely necessary for a grandballet to be introduced at this point. To this and similarsuggestions I hardly deigned to reply, and as I went home askedmyself what I should do next, in case I decided to refuse toproduce my Tannhauser at the Grand Opera. 

Meanwhile other cares, more immediately connected with mypersonal affairs, pressed heavily upon me, and compelled me todevote every effort to their removal. With this object in view Idecided at once to carry out an undertaking suggested to me byGiacomelli, namely, a repetition of my concerts in Brussels. Acontract had been made with the Theatre de la Monnaie there forthree concerts, half the proceeds of which, after the deductionof all expenses, was to be mine. Accompanied by my agent, Istarted on 19th March for the Belgian capital, to see whether Icould not manage to recoup the money lost on my Paris concerts. Under the guidance of my mentor I found myself compelled to callupon all sorts of newspaper editors and, among other Belgianworthies, a certain M. Fetis pere. All I knew about him was that, years before, he had allowed himself to be bribed by Meyerbeer towrite articles against me, and I now found it amusing to enterinto conversation with this man, who, although he assumed greatairs of authority, yet in the end declared himself entirely of myopinion. 

Here also I made the acquaintance of a very remarkable man, theCouncillor of State Klindworth, whose daughter, or, as some said, his wife, had been recommended to me by Liszt when I was inLondon. But I had not seen her on that occasion, and I now hadthe pleasant surprise of being invited to call upon her inBrussels. While she, on her part, showed the greatest cordialitytowards me, M. Klindworth provided me with inexhaustibleentertainment by the narrative of his wonderful career as adiplomatist in numerous transactions of which I had hithertoknown nothing. I dined with them several times, and met Count andCountess Condenhoven, the latter being a daughter of my oldfriend Mme. Kalergis. M. Klindworth showed a keen and lastinginterest in me, which even prompted him to give me a letter ofrecommendation, to Prince Metternich, with whose father he saidhe had been on very familiar terms. He had a strange habit ofinterlarding his otherwise frivolous conversation with continualreferences to an omnipotent Providence, and when, during one ofour later interviews, I once hazarded a risky retort, he quitelost his temper, and I fancied he was going to break off ourconnection. Fortunately this fear was not realised, either atthat time or afterwards. 

But except for these interesting acquaintances, I gained nothingin Brussels but anxiety and fruitless exertion. The firstconcert, for which season-tickets were suspended, drew a largeaudience. But, owing to my misconception of a clause in ouragreement, the cost of musical accompaniment, which was put downto me alone, was reckoned at so high a figure by the managers, that next to nothing was left over by way of profit. Thisdeficiency was to be recouped from the second concert, to which, however, season-ticket holders were admitted free. But beyondthese persons, who, I was told, almost filled the house, therewere few single-ticket holders, so that there was not enough leftto pay my travelling and hotel expenses, which had been increasedby the inclusion of my agent and servant. I consequently gave upthe idea of having a third concert, and set off once more forParis in a not very cheerful frame of mind, but with the gift ofa vase of Bohemian glass from Mme. Street, Klindworth's daughterwhom I have already mentioned. Nevertheless, my stay in Brussels, including a short trip from there to Antwerp, had served todistract my thoughts a little. As I did not at that moment feelat all inclined to devote my precious time to looking at works ofart, I contented myself in Antwerp with a cursory glance at itsoutward aspect, which I found less rich in antiquities than I hadanticipated. The situation of its famous citadel provedpeculiarly disappointing. In view of the first act of myLohengrin I had presumed that this citadel, which I imagined asthe ancient keep of Antwerp, would from the opposite side of theScheldt be a prominent object to the eye. Instead of which, nothing whatever was to be seen but a monotonous plain, withfortifications sunk into the earth. After this, whenever I sawLohengrin again, I could not restrain a smile at the scene-painter's castle, perched aloft in the background on its statelymountain. 

On returning to Paris at the end of March my sole anxiety was howto repair my impecunious and therefore hopeless position. Thepressure of these monetary cares seemed all the more incongruousfrom the fact that the notoriety of my position had made myhouse, where, of course, I allowed no signs of poverty to appear, exceedingly popular. My Wednesday receptions became morebrilliant than ever. Interesting strangers sought me out, in thehope that they, too, might attain to equal fortune throughknowing me. Fraulein Ingeborg Stark, who afterwards married youngHans von Bronsart, put in an appearance among us, a vision ofbewitching elegance, and played the piano, in which she wasmodestly assisted by Fraulein Aline Hund of Weimar. A highlygifted young French musician, Camille Saint-Saens, also played avery agreeable part in our musical entertainments; a noteworthyaddition to my other French acquaintances was made in the personof M. Frederic Villot. He was Conservateur des Tableaux duLouvre, an exceedingly polished and cultured man, whom I met forthe first time in Flaxland's music-shop, where I did a good dealof business. To my surprise I happened to overhear him askingabout the score of Tristan, which he had ordered. On beingintroduced to him I learned, in reply to my inquiry, that healready possessed the scores of my earlier operas; and when Ithen asked whether he thought it possible for me to make mydramatic compositions pay, as I could not understand how he, without any knowledge of the German language, could rightlyappreciate the music, which was so closely allied to the sense ofthe poetry, he answered wittily that it was precisely my musicwhich afforded him the best guidance to a comprehension of thepoem itself. This reply strongly attracted me to the man, andfrom that time I found great pleasure in keeping up an activecorrespondence with him. For this reason, when I brought out atranslation of my operatic poems, I felt that its very detailedpreface could not be dedicated to any worthier man. As he was notable to play the scores of my operas himself, he had themperformed for him by Saint-Saens, whom he apparently patronised. I thus learned to appreciate the skill and talent of this youngmusician, which was simply amazing. With an unparalleled surenessand rapidity of glance with regard to even the most complicatedorchestral score, this young man combined a not less marvellousmemory. He was not only able to play my scores, including Tristan, by heart, but could also reproduce their several parts, whetherthey were leading or minor themes. And this he did with suchprecision that one might easily have thought that he had theactual music before his eyes. I afterwards learned that thisstupendous receptivity for all the technical material of a workwas not accompanied by any corresponding intensity of productivepower; so that when he tried to set up as a composer I quite lostsight of him in the course of time. 

I now had to enter into closer communication with the manager ofthe Opera House, M. Royer, with regard to the production ofTannhauser, which he had been commissioned to prepare. Two monthspassed before I was able to make up my mind whether to say yes orno to the business. At no single interview did this man fail topress for the introduction of a ballet into the second act. Imight bewilder him, but with all the eloquence at my command Icould never convince him on the point. At last, however, I couldno longer refuse to consider the advisability of preparing asuitable translation of the poem. 

Arrangements for this work had so far progressed very slowly. AsI have already said, I had found M. De Charnal altogetherincompetent, Roger had permanently disappeared from my sight, andGasperini showed no real desire for the work. At last a certainHerr Lindau came to see me, who protested that with the aid ofyoung Edmond Roche he could produce a faithful translation ofTannhauser. This man Lindau was a native of Magdeburg, who hadfled to escape the Prussian military service. He had first beenintroduced to me by Giacomelli on an occasion when the Frenchsinger engaged by him to sing 'L'Etoile du Soir' at one of myconcerts had disappointed us, and he had recommended Lindau as avery efficient substitute. This man promptly declared hisreadiness to undertake this song, with which he was quitefamiliar, without any rehearsal, an offer which led me to regardhim as a genius sent down from heaven on purpose for me. Nothingcould, therefore, equal my amazement at the unbounded impudenceof the man; for on the evening of the concert he executed histask with the most amateurish timidity; he did not enunciate asingle note of the song clearly, and nothing but astonishment atso unprecedented a performance appeared to restrain the audiencefrom breaking out into marked disapproval. Yet, in spite of this, Lindau, who had all sorts of explanations and excuses to offerfor his short-comings, contrived to insinuate himself into myhouse, if not as a successful singer, at least as a sympatheticfriend. There, thanks to Minna's partiality, he soon became analmost daily guest. In spite of a certain inward repugnancetowards him, I treated him with tolerant good-nature, not so muchbecause of the 'enormous connection' he said he could influence, but because he really showed himself to be a most obliging fellowon all sorts of occasions. 

But the fact that finally induced me to grant him a share in thetranslation of Tannhauser was his suggestion that young Rocheshould also participate in the work. 

I had become acquainted with Roche immediately after my arrivalin Paris (in the September of the previous year), and this in asomewhat remarkable and flattering way. In order to receive myfurniture on its arrival from Zurich I had to go to the CustomHouse, where I was referred to a pale, seedy-looking young man, who appeared full of life, however, with whom I had to settle mybusiness. When I wished to give him my name, he enthusiasticallyinterrupted me with the exclamation, 'O, je connais bien MonsieurRichard Wagner, puisque j'ai son portrait suspendu au-dessus demon piano. ' Much astonished, I asked what he knew about me, andlearned that by careful study of my pianoforte arrangements hehad become one of my most fervent admirers. After he had helpedme with self-sacrificing attentions to complete my tiresomebusiness with the Custom House, I made him promise to pay me avisit. This he did, and I was able to obtain a clearer insightinto the necessitous position of the poor fellow, who, so far asI was able to judge, showed signs of possessing great poetictalent. He further informed me that he had tried to eke out aprecarious living as a violinist in the orchestras of the smallervaudeville theatres, but that being a married man he would, forthe sake of his family, much prefer a situation in some officewith a fixed salary and prospects of promotion. I soon found thathe thoroughly understood my music, which, he assured me, gave himthe only pleasure he had in his hard life. As regards his powerof poetical composition, I could only gather from Gasperini andother competent judges that he could, at any rate, turn out verygood verse. I had already thought of him as a translator forTannhauser, and now that the only obstacle to his doing the work, his ignorance of the German language, was removed by Lindau'sproffered collaboration, the possibility of such an arrangementat once decided me to accept the latter's offer. 

The first thing on which we agreed was that a fair prosetranslation of the whole subject should be taken in hand, andthis task I naturally entrusted to Lindau alone. A serious delay, however, intervened before this was delivered to me, which wassubsequently explained by the fact that Lindau was quite unableto provide even this dry version, and had pressed the work onanother man, a Frenchman who knew German, and whom he induced toundertake it by holding out hopes of a fee, to be squeezed out ofme later on. At the same time Roche turned a few of the leadingstanzas of my poem into verse, with which I was well contented. As I was thus satisfied about the ability of my two helpers, Ivisited Royer in order to make my position secure by obtaininghis authority for a contract with the two men. He did not seem tolike my placing the work in the hands of two perfectly unknownpeople; but I insisted that they should at least have a fairtrial. As I was obstinately resolved not to withdraw the workfrom Roche, but soon realised Lindau's complete inefficiency, Ijoined in the task myself at a cost of much exertion. Wefrequently spent four hours together in my room in translating afew verses, during which time I often felt tempted to kick Lindauout, for although he did not even understand the German text, hewas always ready with the most impudent suggestions. It was onlybecause I could not think of any other way of keeping poor Rochein the business that I endured such an absurd association. 

This irritating and laborious work lasted for several months, during which I had to enter into fuller negotiations with Royerrespecting his preparations for the production of Tannhauser, andparticularly with regard to the cast and distribution of theparts. It struck me as odd that hardly any of the leading singersof the Opera were suggested by him. As a matter of fact none ofthem aroused my sympathy, with the sole exception of Mme. Gueymard, whom I would gladly have secured for Venus, but who, for reasons I never clearly understood, was refused me. In orderto form an honest opinion of the company at my disposal, I nowhad to attend several performances of such operas as La Favorita, Il Trovatore, and Semiramis, on which occasions my innerconviction told me so clearly that I was being hopelessly ledastray, that each time I reached home I felt I must renounce thewhole enterprise. On the other hand, I found continualencouragement in the generous way in which M. Royer, in obedienceto authority, now offered to secure me any singer I might chooseto designate. The most important item was a tenor for the title-role. I could think of no one but Niemann of Hanover, whose famereached me from every quarter. Even Frenchmen such as Foucher deCareil and Perrin, who had heard him in my operas, confirmed thereport of his great talent. The manager also regarded such anacquisition as highly desirable for his theatre, and Niemann wasaccordingly invited to come to Paris with a view of beingengaged. Besides him, M. Royer wished me to agree to his securinga certain Mme. Tedesco, a tragedienne, who, on account of herbeauty, would be a very valuable addition to the repertoire ofhis theatre, protesting that he could think of no woman betterfitted for the part of Venus. Without knowing the lady I gave myconsent to this excellent proposal, and moreover agreed to theengagement of a Mlle. Sax, a still unspoiled young singer with avery beautiful voice, as well as of an Italian baritone, Morelli, whose sonorous tones, as contrasted with the sickly Frenchsingers of this class, had greatly pleased me during my visits tothe Opera. When these arrangements were concluded, I thought Ihad done all that was really necessary, though I did not cherishany very firm conviction on the matter. 

Amid these labours I passed my forty-seventh birthday in a farfrom happy frame of mind, to which, however, on the evening ofthis day, the peculiarly bright glow of Jupiter gave me an omenof better things to come. The beautiful weather, suitable to thetime of year, which in Paris is never favourable to the conductof business, had only tended to increase the stringency of myneeds. I was and still continued to be without any prospect ofmeeting my household expenses, which had now become very heavy. As I was ever anxious, amid all my other discomforts, to findsome relief from this burden, I had made an agreement with themusic-dealer Flaxland for the sale of all my French rights in theFliegender Hollander, Tannhauser, and Lohengrin for whatever theywould fetch. Our contract stipulated that for each of these threeoperas he was to pay me a sum of one thousand francs down, andfurther payments on their being performed in a Paris theatre, namely, one thousand francs after the first ten performances, andthe same amount for the following performances up to thetwentieth. I at once notified my friend Pusinelli of thiscontract, having made this condition in his favour when sellingmy operas to Meser's successors. This I did by way ofguaranteeing him the repayment of the capital advanced for theirpublication. I begged him, however, to allow me to retainFlaxland's first instalment on account, as otherwise I should bestranded in Paris without the means of bringing my operas to thepoint of being profitable. My friend agreed to all mysuggestions. The Dresden publisher, on the contrary, was just asdisagreeable, and complained at once that I was infringing hisrights in France, and so worried Flaxland that the latter feltjustified in raising all sorts of difficulties against me. 

I had almost become involved in fresh complications inconsequence, when one day Count Paul Hatzfeld appeared at myhouse with a request that I would visit Mme. Kalergis, who hadjust arrived in Paris, to receive certain communications fromher. I now saw the lady again for the first time since my stay inParis with Liszt in 1853. She greeted me by declaring how muchshe regretted not having been present at my concerts in thepreceding winter, as she had thereby missed the chance of helpingme in a time of great stress. She had heard that I had sufferedgreat losses, the account of which she had been told ran to tenthousand francs, and she now begged me to accept that sum fromher hand. Although I had thought it right to deny these losses toCount Hatzfeld, when an application was made to the Prussianembassy on behalf of the odious subscription-list, yet I had nowno reason whatever for hiding the truth from this noble-heartedwoman. I felt as though something were now being fulfilled whichI had always been entitled to expect, and my only impulse was animmediate desire to show my gratitude to this rare lady by atleast doing something for her. All the friction which disturbedour later intercourse sprang solely from my inability to fulfilthis desire, in which I felt ever more and more confirmed by hersingular character and restless, unsettled life. For the presentI endeavoured to do something for her which should prove thereality of my feeling of obligation. I improvised a specialperformance of the second act of my Tristan, in which Mme. Viardot was to share the singing parts with myself, and on whichoccasion my friendship for the latter received a considerableimpetus; while for the pianoforte accompaniment I summonedKlindworth at my own expense from London. This exceedingly selectperformance took place in Mme. Viardot's house. Besides Mme. Kalergis, in whose honour alone it was given, Berlioz was theonly person present. Mme. Viardot had specially charged herselfwith securing his presence, apparently with the avowed object ofeasing the strained relations between Berlioz and myself. I wasnever clear as to the effect produced upon both performers andlisteners by the presentation under such circumstances of thisextraordinary selection. Mme. Kalergis remained dumb. Berliozmerely expressed himself warmly on the chaleur of my delivery, which may very well have afforded a strong contrast to that of mypartner in the work, who rendered most of her part in low tones. Klindworth seemed particularly stirred to anger at the result. His own share was admirably executed; but he declared that he hadbeen consumed with indignation at observing Viardot's lukewarmexecution of her part, in which she was probably determined bythe presence of Berlioz. By way of set-off to this, we were verypleased by the performance, on another evening, of the first actof the Walkure, at which, in addition to Mme. Kalergis, thesinger Niemann was present. This man had now arrived in Paris, atthe request of the manager Royer, to arrange a contract. Iconfess I was astounded at the pose he assumed, and the airs withwhich he presented himself at my door with the question, 'Well, do you want me or do you not?' Nevertheless, when we went to themanager's office he pulled himself together, so as to make a goodeffect. In this he succeeded admirably, for every one was amazedto meet a tenor of such extraordinary physical endowments. Nevertheless, he had to submit to a nominal trial performance, for which he chose the description of the pilgrimage inTannhauser, acting and singing it upon the stage of the GrandOpera House. Mme. Kalergis and Princess Metternich, who weresecretly present at this performance, were both enthusiasticallyprepossessed in Niemann's favour, as were also all the members ofthe management. He was engaged for eight months at a monthlysalary of ten thousand francs. His contract referred solely toTannhauser, as I felt obliged to protest against the singerappearing before this in other operas. 

The conclusion of this agreement, and the remarkablecircumstances under which it had been brought about, filled mewith a hitherto unknown consciousness of the power thus suddenlyplaced in my hands. I had also been drawn into closer contactwith Princess Metternich, who was undoubtedly the good fairy ofthe whole enterprise, and I was now also received with flatteringcordiality by her husband and by the whole diplomatic circle towhich they belonged. To the Princess, in particular, peopleattributed an almost omnipotent influence at the French ImperialCourt, where Fould, the otherwise influential Minister of State, could effect nothing against her in matters pertaining to myself. She instructed me to apply only to her for the fulfilment of allmy wishes, and said she would know how to find ways and means ofattaining the success of the project, on which she had nowevidently set her heart, all the more firmly because she saw thatI still had no real faith in the enterprise. 

Under these more hopeful auspices I spent the months from summerto autumn, when rehearsals were to begin. It was a great boon tome that I was just then able to make provision for Minna'shealth, as the doctors had urgently prescribed her a visit to thebaths of Soden, near Frankfort. She accordingly set off at thebeginning of July, when I promised myself the pleasure offetching her on the completion of her cure, as it happened that Imyself had occasion to visit the Rhine at that time. 

It was just at this moment that an improvement took place in myrelations with the King of Saxony, who had hitherto obstinatelyopposed to grant me an amnesty. I owed this to the growinginterest now taken in me by the other German embassies, especially those of Austria and Prussia. Herr von Seebach, theSaxon Ambassador, who was married to a cousin of my magnanimousfriend, Mme. Kalergis, had shown great kindness to me, and atlast he seemed to grow tired of being continually taunted by hiscolleagues about my objectionable position as a 'politicalrefugee, ' and consequently felt it his duty to makerepresentations to his court on my behalf. In this action heappears to have been generously assisted by the Princess-Regentof Prussia--once more through the intervention of CountPourtales. I heard that on the occasion of a meeting between theGerman princes and the Emperor Napoleon in Baden she used herinfluence on my behalf with the King of Saxony. The result wasthat, after settling several ridiculous objections, all of whichHerr von Seebach had to repeat to me, the latter was able toreport that, although King John would not pardon me, nor permitmy return to the kingdom of Saxony, yet he would raise noobstacle to my staying in any other state in the GermanConfederation which I might have to visit in pursuit of myartistic aims, provided such a state made no objection to mypresence. Herr von Seebach added the further hint, that it wouldbe advisable for me to present myself to the Princess-Regent onthe occasion of my next visit to the Rhineland, in order toexpress my thanks for her kindly intercession, a courtesy whichhe gave me to understand the King of Saxony himself appeared todesire. 

But before this project could be realised I had still to endurethe most harassing torments with my translators of Tannhauser. Amid these anxieties, and indeed throughout all my previousworries, I was again suffering from my old malady, which nowseemed to have settled in my abdomen. As a remedy I was advisedto take horse exercise. The painter Czermak, a friendly youngman, whom Fraulein Meysenburg had introduced to me, offered hishelp for the necessary riding lessons. In return for asubscription for a fixed period, a man from a livery stablesbrought round his quietest horses, for which we had speciallybargained, for the use of myself and comrade, upon which weventured forth with the utmost caution for a ride in the Bois deBoulogne. We chose the morning hours for this exercise, so as notto meet the elegant cavaliers of the fashionable world. As Iplaced implicit reliance on Czermak's experience, I was naturallyastonished to find that I far excelled him, if not inhorsemanship, at least in courage, for I was able to endure theexceedingly disagreeable trot of my horse, whereas he loudlyprotested against every repetition of the experience. As I grewbolder I resolved one day to ride out alone. The groom whobrought me the horse prudently kept an eye on me as far as theBarriere de l'Etoile, as he was doubtful of my ability to take myhorse beyond this point. And, in fact, as I drew near to theAvenue de l'Imperatrice my steed obstinately refused to go anyfurther: he curveted sideways and backwards and frequently stoodstock-still. In this he persisted until at last I decided toreturn, in which the prudent foresight of the groom luckily cameto my rescue. He helped me down from my beast in the open streetand led it home smiling. With this experience my last effort tobecome a horseman came to an inglorious end, and I lost tenrides, the vouchers for which remained unused in my desk. 

By way of compensation I found abundant refreshment and regularexercise in solitary walks in the Bois de Boulogne, gailyaccompanied by my little dog Fips, during which I learned oncemore to appreciate the sylvan beauty of this artificial pleasure-ground. Life also had become quieter, as is usually the case atthis season in Paris. Bulow, after hearing that his dejeuner atVachette's had produced the extraordinary result of an imperialcommand for the production of Tannhauser, had long since goneback to Germany; and in August I also set out on my carefullyplanned excursion to the German Rhine districts. There I firstturned my steps, via Cologne, to Coblenz, where I expected tofind Princess Augusta of Prussia. Learning, however, that she wasin Baden, I made my way towards Soden, whence I fetched Minna fora further tour, accompanied by her recently acquired friend, Mathilde Schiffner. We touched at Frankfort, where I met mybrother Albert for the first time since leaving Dresden, as healso happened to be passing through this city. 

When I was there it occurred to me that this was the residence ofSchopenhauer, but a singular timidity restrained me from callingupon him. My temper just then seemed too distraught and too farremoved from all that which might have formed a subject forconversation with Schopenhauer, even if I had felt stronglyattracted towards him, and which alone could have furnished areason for intruding myself upon him, in spite of suchdisinclination. As with so many other things in my life, I againdeferred one of its most precious opportunities until thatfervently expected 'more favourable season, ' which I presumed wassure to come some day. When, a year after this flying visit, Iagain stayed some time in Frankfort to superintend the productionof my Meistersinger, I imagined that at last this more favourableopportunity for seeing Schopenhauer had come. But, alas! he diedthat very year, a fact which led me to many bitter reflections onthe uncertainty of fate. 

During this earlier visit another fondly cherished hope also cameto nothing. I had reckoned on being able to induce Liszt to meetme in Frankfort, but instead found only a letter declaring itimpossible to grant the fulfilment of my wish. 

From this town we went straight to Baden-Baden. Here I abandonedMinna and her friend to the seductions of the roulette-table, while I availed myself of a letter of introduction from CountPourtales to Countess Hacke, a lady-in-waiting on her RoyalHighness, through whom I hoped to be presented to her exaltedpatroness. After a little delay I duly received an invitation tomeet her in the Trinkhalle at five o'clock in the afternoon. Itwas a wet, cold day, and at that hour the whole surroundings ofthe place seemed absolutely devoid of life as I approached mymomentous rendezvous. I found Augusta pacing to and fro withCountess Hacke, and as I approached she graciously stopped. Herconversation consisted almost entirely of assurances that she wascompletely powerless in every respect, in response to which Iimprudently cited the hint received from the King of Saxony thatI should offer her my personal thanks for previous interventionon my behalf. This she seemed evidently to resent, and dismissedme with an air of indifference meant to show that she took verylittle interest in my concerns. My old friend Alwine Frommanntold me later that she did not know what there was about me thatdispleased the Princess, but thought it might possibly be mySaxon accent. 

This time I left the much-praised paradise of Baden withoutcarrying away any very friendly impression, and at Mannheimboarded a steamer, accompanied only by Minna, on which for thefirst time I was borne along the famous Rhine. It struck me asvery strange that I should so often have crossed the Rhinewithout having once made the acquaintance of this mostcharacteristic historical thoroughfare of mediaeval Germany. Ahasty return to Cologne concluded this excursion, which hadlasted only a week, and from which I returned to face once morethe solution of the problems of my Parisian enterprise, nowopening out painfully before me. 

One factor which seemed likely greatly to relieve thedifficulties confronting me was to be found in the friendlyrelationship into which the young banker, Emil Erlanger, waspleased to enter towards me. This I owed, in the first place, toan extraordinary man named Albert Beckmann, a former Hanoverianrevolutionary, and afterwards private librarian to LouisNapoleon, who was at this time a press agent for severalinterests, respecting which I was never quite clear. This mansucceeded in making my acquaintance as an open admirer, in whichcapacity he showed himself remarkably obliging. He now informedme that M. Erlanger, by whom he was also employed in connectionwith the press, would be pleased to know me. I was on the pointof bluntly declining the honour, saying that I wanted to knownothing about any banker except with regard to his money, when heanswered my jest by telling me in all seriousness that it wasprecisely in this way that M. Erlanger desired to serve me. As aresult of this invitation I made the acquaintance of a genuinelyagreeable man, who, having often heard my music in Germany, hadbecome inspired by a sympathetic interest in my person. Hefrankly expressed a desire that I should commit the management ofmy financial business entirely to his hands, which meant, infact, nothing less than that he would permanently hold himselfresponsible for any needful subsidies, in return for which I wasto assign to him all the eventual proceeds of my Parisundertakings. This offer was distinctly novel, and moreoverexactly fell in with the needs of my peculiar situation. And, infact, so far as my subsequent financial security was concerned, Ihad no further difficulties to encounter until my position inParis was fully decided. And although my later intercourse withM. Erlanger was accompanied by many circumstances which no man'skindly courtesy could have relieved, yet I ever found in him atruly devoted friend, who earnestly studied both my own personalwelfare and the success of my enterprises. 

This eminently satisfactory turn of events was calculated toinspire me with high courage had the circumstances been somewhatdifferent. As it was, it had no power to excite in me even theslightest enthusiasm for an undertaking of which the hollownessand unsuitability for me personally were clearly revealed everytime I approached it. It was with a feeling of ill-humour that Imet every demand made by this venture, and yet it represented thefoundation of the confidence reposed in me. My mind wassubjected, however, to a certain refreshing uncertainty as to thecharacter of my scheme by a new acquaintance who was introducedto me in connection with it. M. Royer informed me that he couldnot 'pass' the translation which I had taken infinite pains toconjure into existence through the two men who had volunteered tohelp me. He most earnestly recommended a thorough revision by M. Charles Truinet, whose pseudonym was Nuitter. This man was stillyoung and extraordinarily attractive, with something friendly andopen in his manner. He had called on me a few months ago to offerhis co-operation in the translation, of my operas, on theintroduction of Ollivier, his colleague at the Paris bar. Proudof my connection with Lindau, however, I had refused his help;but the time had now come when, in consequence of M. Royer'sstrictures, Truinet's renewed offer of his services had to betaken into consideration. He understood no German, but maintainedthat as far as this was concerned he could place sufficientreliance upon his old father, who had travelled for a long timein Germany and had acquired the essentials of our language. As amatter of fact, there was no need for special knowledge in thisrespect, as the sole problem seemed to be to make the Frenchverses less stiff and stilted which poor Roche had constructedunder the shameful control of Lindau, who used to make out thathe knew everything better than any one else. The inexhaustiblepatience with which Truinet proceeded from one change to anotherin order to satisfy my requirements, even with regard to themusical fitness of the version, won my sympathy for this lastcollaborator. From this time forward we had to keep Lindau awayfrom the slightest interference in this new modelling of the'book. ' He had been recognised as quite incompetent. Roche, onthe other hand, was retained, in so far as his work served as abasis for the new versification. As it was difficult for him toleave his custom office, he was excused from troubling about theremaining part of the work, as Truinet was quite free and couldkeep in daily touch with me. I now saw that Truinet's law degreewas merely ornamental, and that he never had any thought ofconducting a case. His chief interests lay in the administrationof the Grand Opera, to which he was attached as keeper of thearchives. First with one collaborator and then with another hehad also worked at little plays for the vaudeville and theatresof a lower order, and even for the Bouffes Parisiens; but he wasashamed of these productions and always knew how to evade talkingabout this sphere of activity. I was greatly obliged to him forthe final arrangement of a text to my Tannhauser which could besung and which was regarded on all sides as 'acceptable. ' But Icannot remember ever having been attracted by anything poetic oreven aesthetic in his nature. His value, however, as anexperienced, warm-hearted, staunchly devoted friend at all times, especially in periods of the greatest distress, made itself moreand more clearly felt. I can hardly remember ever meeting a manof such sound judgment on the most difficult points, or one soactively ready when occasion arose to uphold the view Iadvocated. 

We had first of all to join forces in promoting an entirely newpiece of work. In obedience to a need I had always felt, I hadseized the occasion of this carefully prepared production ofTannhauser to expand and considerably fill out the first Venusscene. For this purpose I wrote the text in loosely constructedGerman verses, so as to leave the translator quite free to workthem out in a suitable French form: people told me that Truinet'sverses were not at all bad; and with these as a basis I composedthe extra music for the scene, and only fitted a German text toit afterwards. My annoying discussions with the management on thesubject of a big ballet had determined me to make extensiveadditions to the scene of the 'Venusberg. ' I thought that thiswould give the staff of the ballet a choreographic task of somagnificent a character that there would no longer be anyoccasion to grumble at me for my obstinacy in this matter. Themusical composition of the two scenes occupied most of my timeduring the month of September, and at the same time I began thepianoforte rehearsals of Tannhauser in the foyer of the GrandOpera. 

The company, part of which had been freshly engaged for thispurpose, were now assembled, and I was interested in learning theway in which a new work is studied at the French Opera. 

The characteristic features of the system in Paris may bedescribed simply as extreme frigidity and extraordinary accuracy. M. Vauthrot, the chorus-master, excelled in both these qualities. He was a man whom I could not help regarding as hostile to me, because I had never been able to win from him a single expressionof enthusiasm. On the other hand, he proved to me by the mostpunctilious solicitude how conscientious he really was about hiswork. He insisted on considerable alterations in the text, so asto obtain a favourable medium for singing. My knowledge of thescores of Auber and Boieldieu had misled me into assuming thatthe French people were entirely indifferent as to whether themute syllables in poetry and singing were to be sounded or not. Vauthrot maintained that this was only the case with composers, but not with good singers. He was always feeling misgivings aboutthe length of my work, which I met with the observation that Icould not understand how he could be afraid of boring the publicwith any opera after they had been accustomed to find pleasure inRossini's Semiramis, which was often produced. Upon this hepaused to reflect, and agreed with me so far as the monotony ofaction and of music in that work was concerned. He told me not toforget, however, that the public neither cared for action normusic, but that their whole attention was directed to thebrilliancy of the singers. Tannhauser gave little scope forbrilliancy, and, as a matter of fact, I had none of that qualityat my disposal. The only singer in my company who had any claimto such a distinction was Mme. Tedesco, a rather grotesque butvoluptuous type of Jewess who had returned from Portugal andSpain after having had great triumphs in Italian operas. She didnot conceal her satisfaction at having secured an engagement atthe Paris Opera through my unwilling choice of her for the partof Venus. She gave herself no end of trouble to solve the problemto the best of her ability--a problem which was entirely beyondher and which was suited only to a genuine tragedy actress. For acertain time her efforts appeared to be crowned with success, andseveral special rehearsals with Niemann led to a lively affinitybetween Tannhauser and Venus. As Niemann mastered the Frenchpronunciation with considerable skill, these rehearsals, in whichFraulein Sax also proved delightful, made genuine and encouragingprogress. Up to this point these rehearsals were undisturbed, asmy acquaintance with M. Dietzsch was as yet very slight. According to the rules of the Opera House, Dietzsch had hithertoonly been present at the pianoforte rehearsals as chefd'orchestre and future conductor of the opera, so as to makehimself accurately acquainted with the intentions of the singers. Still less was I disturbed by M. Cormon, the stage manager, whowas also present at the rehearsals, and with a lively skill, characteristic of the French people, conducted the numerous so-called 'property' rehearsals, at which the way each scene was tobe played was determined. Even when M. Cormon or others did notunderstand me, they were always ready to subordinate themselvesto my decisions; for I continued to be regarded as all-powerful, and everybody thought that I could enforce what I wanted throughPrincess Metternich, a belief which, indeed, was not withoutfoundation. For instance, I had learned that Prince Poniatowskywas threatening to place a serious obstacle in the way ofcontinuing our rehearsals by reviving one of his own operas, theproduction of which had fallen through. The undaunted Princessmet my complaints on this subject by obtaining an immediate orderthat the Prince's opera should be laid aside. Naturally this didnot tend to ingratiate me with the Prince, and he did not fail tomake me feel his displeasure when I called upon him. In the midstof all this work I was afforded some recreation by a visit frommy sister Louise with part of her family. To entertain her in myown home presented the greatest difficulties owing to the strangefact that it was now becoming absolutely dangerous to approach myhouse. When I first took it, the proprietor gave me a fairly longlease, but would not undertake any repairs. I now discovered thereason of this was that it had just been decided by the ParisCommittee of Reconstruction to clear the Rue Newton with all itsside streets to facilitate the opening up of a broad boulevardfrom one of the bridges to the Barriere de l'Etoile. But up tothe last moment this plan was officially denied, so as to avoidfor as long as possible the liability of paying compensation forthe land that was to be expropriated. To my astonishment Inoticed that excavations were being made close to my front door;these increased in width, so that at first no carriages couldpass my door, and finally my house was unapproachable even onfoot. Under these circumstances the proprietor had no objectionto make to my leaving the house. His sole stipulation was that Ishould sue him for damages, as that was the only way by which hein his turn could sue the government. About this time my friendOllivier was debarred for three months on account of aparliamentary misdemeanour; he therefore recommended me for theconduct of my case to his friend Picard, who, as I saw later onfrom the legal proceedings, acquitted himself of his task withmuch humour. Nevertheless, there was no chance of damages for me(whether the proprietor obtained any, I cannot say); but, at allevents, I had to content myself with being released from myagreement. I also obtained leave to look about for another house, and instituted my search in a neighbourhood less remote from theOpera. I found a poor cheerless spot in the Rue d'Aumale. Late inthe autumn in stormy weather we completed the arduous task ofmoving, in which Louisa's daughter, my niece Ottilie, proved acapable and willing child. Unfortunately I caught a violent coldin the course of moving and took few precautions to check it. Iagain exposed myself to the growing excitement of the rehearsals, and eventually I was struck down by typhoid fever. 

We had reached the month of November. My relations had to gohome, leaving me behind in a state of unconsciousness, in which Iwas consigned to the care of my friend Gasperini. In my fits offever I insisted on their calling in all imaginable medical aid, and, as a matter of fact, Count Hatzfeld did bring in the doctorattached to the Prussian embassy. The injustice thus done to myfriend, who took the greatest care of me, was due to no mistrustof him, but to feverish hallucinations which filled my brain withthe most outrageous and luxuriant fancies. In this condition, notonly did I imagine that Princess Metternich and Mme. Kalergiswere arranging a complete court for me, to which I invited theEmperor Napoleon, but I actually requested that Emil Erlangershould place a villa near Paris at my disposal, and that I shouldbe removed to it, as it was impossible for me to recover in thedark hole where I was. At last I insisted on being taken toNaples, where I promised myself a speedy recovery in freeintercourse with Garibaldi. Gasperini held bravely out againstall this madness, and he and Minna had to use force in order toapply the necessary mustard-plasters to the soles of my feet. During bad nights later on in life similar vain and extravagantfancies used to return to me, and on waking I have realised withhorror that they were the offspring of that period of fever. After five days we mastered the fever; but I seemed to bethreatened with blindness, and my weakness was extreme. At lastthe injury to my sight passed away, and after a few weeks I againtrusted myself to steal along the few streets between my houseand the Opera, to satisfy my anxiety for the continuation of therehearsals. 

People here had indulged in the oddest ideas, and seemed to haveassumed that I was as good as dead. I learned that the rehearsalshad been needlessly suspended, and moreover gathered from oneindication after another that the affair had practicallycollapsed, although in my intense desire for recovery I tried myutmost to conceal this from myself. But I was much elated andpleased to see that the translation of the four operaticlibrettos which had so far appeared had been published. I hadwritten a very exhaustive preface to them addressed to M. Frederic Villot. The translation of all this had been arrangedfor me by M. Challemel Lacour, a man with whom I had becomeacquainted at Herwegh's house in days gone by when he was apolitical refugee. He was a highly intelligent translator, andhad now done me such admirable service that every one recognisedthe value of his work. I had given J. J. Weber, the bookseller inLeipzig, the German original of the preface to publish under thetitle of Zukunftsmusik. This pamphlet also reached me now, andpleased me, as it probably represented the only result of mywhole Paris undertaking, which looked so brilliant on thesurface. 

At the same time I was now in a position to complete the newcomposition for Tannhauser, of which the great dance scene in theVenusberg was still incomplete. I finished it at three o'clockone morning after staying up all night, just as Minna returnedhome from a great ball at the Hotel de Ville to which she hadbeen with a friend. I had given her some handsome presents forChristmas, but as far as I myself was concerned I continued, onthe advice of my doctor, to assist the slow process of recoveryby a beefsteak in the morning and a glass of Bavarian beer beforegoing to bed. We did not watch the old year out; on the contrary, I retired to bed and slept calmly into 1861. 

1861. --The slackness with which the rehearsals of Tannhauser werebeing conducted when I fell ill changed at the beginning of thenew year into a more decided handling of all the detailsconnected with the intended performance. But I could not fail tonotice at the same time that the attitude of all those who tookpart was substantially altered. The rehearsals, which were morenumerous than might be expected, gave me the impression that themanagement was adhering to the strict execution of a command, butwere not fired by any hope of successful results. Certainly I nowobtained a clearer insight into the actual state of affairs. Fromthe press, which was entirely in the hands of Meyerbeer, I knewlong ago what I had to expect. The management of the Opera, probably after repeated efforts to make the chief leaders in thepress tractable, were now likewise convinced that my Tannhauserventure would only meet with a hostile reception from thatquarter. This view was shared even in the highest circles, and itseemed as if an attempt was being made to discover some meanswhereby to win over to my side that part of the operatic publicwhich could turn the scales. Prince Metternich sent me aninvitation one day to meet the new cabinet minister, CountWalewsky. An air of ceremony pervaded the introduction, and madeit particularly significant when the Count in a persuasive speechendeavoured to convince me that they entertained every wish formy good fortune and desired to help me to a brilliant success. Headded in conclusion that the power to effect this was in my ownhands, if I would only consent to introduce a ballet into thesecond act of my opera; the most celebrated ballet-dancers fromSt. Petersburg and London had been proposed to me, and I had onlyto make my selection; their engagement would be concluded as soonas I had entrusted the success of my work to their co-operation. In declining these proposals I think I was no less eloquent thanhe in making them. My complete failure, however, was due to thefact that I did not appear to understand the worthy minister whenhe informed me that the ballet in the first act counted fornothing, because those devotees of the theatre who only cared forthe ballet on an opera night were accustomed, according to thenew fashion, not to dine until eight o'clock, and so did notreach the theatre until ten o'clock, when about half theperformance was over. I replied that I could not undertake myselfto oblige these gentlemen, but might well hope duly to impressanother part of the public. But with his imperturbable air ofceremony he met me with the objection that these gentlemen'ssupport could alone be counted upon to produce a successfulresult, inasmuch as they were powerful enough even to defy thehostile attitude of the press. This precaution awakened noresponse in me, and I offered to withdraw my work altogether, whereupon I was assured with the greatest earnestness that, according to the Emperor's command, which had to be universallyrespected, I was master of the situation, and my wishes would befollowed in everything. The Count had only thought it his duty togive me a friendly piece of advice. 

The consequences of this conversation soon became evident in manyways. I threw myself enthusiastically into the work of carryingout the great dance scenes of the first act, and tried to winPetitpas, the ballet-master, to my side. I asked for unheard-ofcombinations quite different from those generally employed in theballet. I drew attention to the dances of the Maenads andBacchantes, and astounded Petitpas with the mere proposition thathe would be able to accomplish something of the kind with hisgraceful pupils, as it was well within his powers. He explainedto me that by placing my ballet at the beginning of the first actI had myself renounced all claim to the step-dancers attached tothe Opera, and all he could do was to offer to engage threeHungarian dancers, who had formerly danced in the fairy scenes atthe Porte St. Martin, to fill the parts of the three graces. As Iwas quite content to dispense with the distinguished dancersbelonging to the Opera, I insisted all the more that the rank andfile of the ballet should be actively coached. I wanted to knowthat the male staff was present in full force, but I learned thatit was impossible to bring it up to my requirements, unless sometailors were engaged who, for a monthly salary of fifty francs, figured in a vague way in the wings during the performances ofthe solo dancers. Finally I tried to produce my effects by meansof the costumes, and asked for considerable funds for thatpurpose, only to learn, after I had been wearied by onesubterfuge after another, that the management was determined notto expend a halfpenny on my ballet, which they regarded ascompletely wasted. Such was the substance of what my trustyfriend Truinet conveyed to me. This was the first sign out ofmany which soon revealed to me the fact, that even in the circlesof the operatic administration itself Tannhauser was alreadyregarded as labour lost and sheer waste of trouble. 

The atmosphere created by this conviction now weighed withincreasing pressure upon everything which was undertaken for thepreparation of a performance which was postponed time after time. With the beginning of the year the rehearsals had readied thestage at which the scenes were arranged and the orchestralpractices begun. Everything was conducted with a care whichimpressed me very agreeably at the beginning, until finally I wasbored by it, because I saw that the powers of the performers werebeing relaxed by eternal repetition, and it was now evident thatI must trust to my own ability to pull the matter quickly throughas I thought best. But it was not the fatigue due to this systemthat finally made Niemann, the main prop in my work, recoil fromthe task which at the start he had undertaken with an energy fullof promise. He had been informed that there was a conspiracy toruin my work. From this time forward he was a victim to adespondency to which, in his relations with me, he sought to lenda sort of diabolical character. He maintained that so far hecould only see the matter in a black light, and he broughtforward some arguments that sounded very sensible; he criticisedthe whole Opera as an institution and the public attached to it, and also our staff of singers, of whom he maintained that not asingle one understood his part as I intended it; and he exposedall the disadvantages of the undertaking, which I myself couldnot fail to see as soon as I came to deal with the chef du chant, the regisseur, the ballet-master, the conductor of the chorus, but, particularly, with the chef d'orchestre. Above all, Niemann(who at the beginning, with a full knowledge of what it involved, had imposed upon himself the task of playing his part withoutcurtailments of any sort) insisted upon cutting down the score. He met my expression of astonishment with the remark, that I mustnot suppose that the sacrifice of this or that passage mattered, but that we were in the throes of an undertaking which could notbe got through too quickly. 

Under circumstances from which so little encouragement could bederived, the study of Tannhauser dragged itself along to thebrink of the so-called 'dress' rehearsals. From all sides thefriends of my past life gathered together in Paris to be presentat the apotheosis of the first performance. Among these were OttoWesendonck, Ferdinand Prager, the unfortunate Kietz, for whom Ihad to pay the costs of his journey and of his stay in Paris;luckily M. Chandon from Epernay came, too, with a hamper of'Fleur du Jardin, ' the finest of all his champagne brands. Thiswas to be drunk to the success of Tannhauser. Bulow also came, depressed and saddened by the burdens of his own life, and hopingto be able to gather courage and renewed vitality from thesuccess of my undertaking. I did not dare to tell him in so manywords of the miserable state of affairs; on the contrary, seeinghim so depressed, I made the best of a bad matter. At the firstrehearsal, however, at which Bulow was present, he did not failto grasp how matters stood. I no longer concealed anything fromhim; and we continued to indulge in sorrowful intercourse tillthe night of the performance, which was again and againpostponed, and it was only his untiring efforts to be of use tome that gave some life to our companionship. From whatever sidewe regarded our grotesque undertaking, we encounteredunsuitability and incompetence. For instance, it was impossiblein the whole of Paris to find the twelve French horns which inDresden had so bravely sounded the hunting call in the first act. In connection with this matter I had to deal with the terribleman Sax, the celebrated instrument-maker. He had to help me outwith all kinds of substitutes in the shape of saxophones andsaxhorns; moreover, he was officially appointed to conduct themusic behind the scenes. It was an impossibility ever to get thismusic properly played. 

The main grievance, however, lay in the incompetence of M. Dietzsch, the conductor, which had now reached a pitch hithertounsuspected. In the numerous orchestral rehearsals which had beenheld hitherto, I had accustomed myself to use this man like amachine. From my habitual position on the stage near his desk Ihad conducted both conductor and orchestra. In this way I hadmaintained my tempi in such a way that I felt no doubt that on myremoval all my points would remain firmly established. I found, on the contrary, that no sooner was Dietzsch left to his ownresources than everything began to waver; not one tempo, not onenuance was conscientiously and strictly preserved. I thenrealised the extreme danger in which we were placed. Granted thatno one singer was suited to his task, or qualified to achieve itso as to produce a genuine effect; granted that the ballet, andeven the sumptuous mounting and vitality of the Parisianperformances of the day, could contribute nothing on thisoccasion, or at most but little; granted that the whole spirit ofthe libretto, and that indefinable SOMETHING which even in theworst performances of Tannhauser in Germany roused a feeling ofhome, was likely here to strike an alien or at best an unfamiliarnote; yet in spite of all this the character of the orchestralmusic, which if rendered with emphasis was full of suggestiveexpression, led one to hope that it would make an impression evenupon a Parisian audience. But it was precisely in this particularthat I saw everything submerged in a colourless chaos, with everyline of the drawing obliterated; moreover, the singers becamemore and more uncertain in their work; even the poor ballet-girlswere no longer able to keep time in their trivial steps; so thatat last I thought myself obliged to interpose with thedeclaration that the opera required a different conductor, andthat in case of necessity I myself was ready to take his place. This declaration brought to a climax the confusion that had grownup around me. Even the members of the orchestra, who had longrecognised and openly ridiculed their conductor's incompetence, took sides against me now that the matter concerned theirnotorious chief. The press lashed itself into fury over my'arrogance, ' and in the face of all the agitation caused by theaffair, Napoleon III. Could send me no better advice than toforgo my requests, as in adhering to them I should only beexposing the chances of my work to the greatest risks. On theother hand, I was allowed to start fresh rehearsals and have themrepeated until I was satisfied. 

This way out of the difficulty could lead to nothing but anincrease of fatigue for me and for the whole staff activelyengaged in the undertaking, and the fact still remained that M. Dietzsch could not be depended upon for the tempo. Finally, bysheer force of will rather than of conviction, I tried to imagineI was doing a service by holding out for the correctinterpretation of a performance which, after all, had to be gotthrough; whereupon for the first time the impetuous musiciansbroke out into rebellion against the excessive rehearsals. Atthis stage I noticed that the guarantee of my practical controlgiven by the general management was not altogether made in goodfaith, and in the face of the growing complaint on all sidesagainst being overfatigued I decided 'to demand the return of myscore' as they called it; that is to say, to dispense with theproduction of the opera. I addressed an express request to thiseffect to the cabinet minister Walewsky, but received the answerthat it was impossible to comply with my wishes, moreparticularly on account of the heavy expenses which had alreadybeen incurred in its preparation. I refused to abide by hisdecision, and called a conference of those friends of mine whowere more closely interested in me, among whom were CountHatzfeld and Emil Erlanger. I took counsel with them as to themeans at my disposal for forbidding Tannhauser to be performed atthe Opera House. It happened that Otto Wesendonck was present atthis conference; he was still waiting in Paris hoping to have thepleasure of attending the first performance, but he was nowthoroughly convinced that the situation was hopeless, andpromptly fled back to Zurich. Prager had already done likewise. Kietz alone held out faithfully, and he busied himself in tryingto make some money in Paris to provide for his future, in whichattempt he was hampered by many difficulties that stood in theway of his desire. This conference resulted in freshrepresentations being made to the Emperor Napoleon, which, however, met with the same gracious reply as before, and I wasauthorised to institute a fresh course of rehearsals. At last, weary to the depths of my soul, completely disillusioned, andabsolutely decided in my pessimistic view of the matter, Idetermined to abandon it to its fate. 

Having at last, in this frame of mind, given my consent to fixthe date of the first performance of my opera, I was now plaguedin another direction in the most astonishing way. Every one of myfriends and partisans demanded a good seat for the first night;but the management pointed out that the occupation of the houseon such occasions was entirely in the hands of the court andthose dependent on it, and I was soon to realise clearly enoughto whom these seats were to be allotted. At present I had tosuffer the annoyance of being unable to serve many of my friendsas I should have liked. Some of them were very quick to resentwhat they supposed to be my neglect of them. Champfleury in aletter complained of this flagrant breach of friendship;Gasperini started an open quarrel because I had not reserved oneof the best boxes for his patron and my creditor Lucy, theReceiver-General of Marseilles. Even Blandine, who had beenfilled with the most generous enthusiasm for my work at therehearsals she had attended, could not suppress a suspicion thatI was guilty of neglecting my best friends when I was unable tooffer her and her husband Ollivier anything better than a coupleof stalls. It needed all Emil's sang-froid to obtain from thisdeeply offended friend a just appreciation of the honestassurance that I was in an impossible position, in which I wasexposed to betrayal on all sides. Poor Bulow alone understoodeverything; he suffered with me, and shirked no trouble to be ofuse to me in all these difficulties. The first performance on the13th of March put an end to all these complications; my friendsnow understood that it was to no celebration of my triumphs, asthey supposed, to which they should have been invited. 

I have already said enough elsewhere of the way in which thisevening passed off. I was justified in flattering myself that inthe end a favourable view of my opera prevailed, inasmuch as theintention of my opponents had been to break up this performancecompletely, and this they had found it impossible to do. But Iwas grieved the next day to receive nothing but reproaches frommy friends, with Gasperini at the head of them, because I hadallowed the occupation of the house at the first performance tobe completely wrested out of my hands. Meyerbeer, they urged, knew how to work such things differently; had he not, ever sincehe first appeared in Paris, refused to allow the production of asingle one of his operas to take place without a guarantee thathe himself should fill the auditorium, to the remotest corner? AsI had not looked after my best friends, such as M. Lucy, was notthe ill-success of that evening to be ascribed to my own conduct?Confronted with these and similar arguments, I had to spend thewhole day in writing letters and in devoting myself to the mosturgent efforts at propitiation. Above all, I was besieged withadvice as to how I might recover the lost ground at thesubsequent performances. As the management placed a very smallnumber of free seats at my disposal, money had to be found forthe purchase of tickets. In the pursuit of this object, which myfriends were so warmly advocating and which involved much thatwas disagreeable, I shrank from approaching Emil Erlanger oranybody else. Giacomelli, however, had found out that Aufmordt, the merchant, a business friend of Wesendonck, had offered tohelp to the extent of five hundred francs. I now allowed thesechampions of my welfare to act according to their own ideas, andwas curious to see what assistance I should derive from theseresources which I had previously neglected and now utilised. 

The second performance took place on the 18th of March, and, indeed, the first act promised well. The overture was loudlyapplauded without a note of opposition. Mme. Tedesco, who hadeventually been completely won over to her part of Venus by a wigpowdered with gold dust, called out triumphantly to me in themanager's box, when the 'septuor' of the finale of the first actwas again vigorously applauded, that everything was now all rightand that we had won the victory. But when shrill whistling wassuddenly heard in the second act, Royer the manager turned to mewith an air of complete resignation and said, 'Ce sont lesJockeys; nous sommes perdus. ' Apparently at the bidding of theEmperor, extensive negotiations had been entered into with thesemembers of the Jockey Club as to the fate of my opera. They hadbeen requested to allow three performances to take place, afterwhich they had been promised that it should be so curtailed as toadmit of its presentation only as a curtain-raiser to introduce aballet which was to follow. But these gentlemen had not agreed tothe terms. In the first place, my attitude during the firstperformance (which had been such a bone of contention) had beenobserved to be utterly unlike that of a man who would consent tothe proposed line of conduct; this being so, it was to be fearedthat if two more performances were allowed to take place withoutinterruption, we might hope to win so many adherents that thefriends of the ballet would be treated to repetitions of thiswork thirty times running. To guard against this they determinedto protest in time. The fact that these gentlemen meant businesswas now realised by the excellent M. Royer; and from that time hegave up all attempt to resist them, in spite of the supportgranted to our party by the Emperor and his Consort, whostoically kept their seats through the uproars of their owncourtiers. 

The impression made by this scene had a disastrous effect upon myfriends. After the performance Bulow broke out into sobs as heembraced Minna, who had not been spared the insults of those nextto her when they recognised her as the wife of the composer. Ourtrusty servant Therese, a Swabian girl, had been sneered at by acrazy hooligan, but when she realised that he understood German, she succeeded in quieting him for a time by calling himSchweinhund at the top of her voice. Poor Kietz was struck dumbwith disappointment, and Chandon's 'Fleur du Jardin' was growingsour in the storeroom. 

Hearing that in spite of everything a third performance wasfixed, I was confronted with only two possible solutions of thedifficulty. One was, to try once more to withdraw my score; theother, to demand that my opera should be given on a Sunday, thatis to say, on a non-subscriber's day. I assumed that such aperformance could not be regarded by the usual ticket-holders asa provocation, for they were quite accustomed on such days tosurrender their boxes to any of the general public who chanced tocome and buy them. My strategical proposal seemed to please themanagement and the Tuileries, and was accepted. Only they refusedto conform to my wish to announce this as the third and LASTperformance. Both Minna and I stayed away from this, as it wasjust as embarrassing for me to know that my wife was insulted asto see the singers on the stage subjected to such behaviour. Iwas really sorry for Morelli and Mlle. Sax, who had proved theirgenuine devotion to me. As soon as the first performance wasover, I met Mlle. Sax in the corridor on her way home, andchaffed her about being whistled off the stage. With prouddignity she replied, 'Je le supporterai cent fois comme aujourd'hui. Ah, les miserables!' Morelli found himself strangelyperplexed when he had to weather the onslaught of the hooligans. I had explained to him in the minutest detail how to act his partfrom the time when Elizabeth disappears in the third act, untilthe beginning of his song to the evening star. He was not to movean inch from his rocky ledge, and from this position, halfturning to the audience, he was to address his farewell to thedeparting lady. It had been a difficult task for him to obey myinstructions, as he maintained that it was against all operaticcustom for the singer not to address such an important passagestraight to the public from the footlights. When in the course ofthe performance he seized his harp to begin the song, there was acry from the audience, 'Ah! il prend encore sa harpe, ' upon whichthere was a universal outburst of laughter followed by freshwhistling, so prolonged, that at last Morelli decided boldly tolay aside his harp and step forward to the proscenium in theusual way. Here he resolutely sang his evening carol entirelyunaccompanied, as Dietzsch only found his place at the tenth bar. Peace was then restored, and at last the public listenedbreathlessly to the song, and at its close covered the singerwith applause. 

As the vocalists showed a courageous determination to encounterfresh onslaughts, I could not protest. At the same time I couldnot endure to be in the position of a passive spectator sufferingat the infliction of such unworthy methods, and as the thirdperformance was also likely to be attended with doubtfulconsequences, I stayed at home. After the various acts messagesreached us informing us that after the first act Truinet at oncecame round to my opinion that the score should be withdrawn; itwas found that the 'Jockeys' had not stayed away, as was theircustom, from this Sunday performance; on the contrary, they hadpurposely taken their seats from the beginning, so as not toallow a single scene to pass without a row. I was assured that inthe first act the performance had been twice suspended by fightslasting a quarter of an hour each. By far the greater part of thepublic obstinately took my part against the childish conduct ofthe rowdies, without intending by their action to express anyopinion of my work. But in opposing their assailants they were ata great disadvantage. When everybody on my side was utterlywearied out with clapping and shouting applause and calling'Order, ' and it looked as if peace were about to reign once more, the 'Jockeys' returned afresh to their task and began cheerfullywhistling their hunting-tunes and playing their flageolets, sothat they were always bound to have the last word. In an intervalbetween the acts one of these gentlemen entered the box of acertain great lady, who in the excess of her anger introduced himto one of her friends with the words, 'C'est un de cesmiserables, mon cousin. ' The young man, completely unabashed, answered, 'Que voulez-vous? I am beginning to like the musicmyself. But, you see, a man must keep his word. If you willexcuse me, I will return to my work again. ' He thereupon took hisleave. The next day I met Herr von Seebach, the friendly SaxonAmbassador, who was as hoarse as he could be, as he and all hisfriends had completely lost their voices through the uproar ofthe previous night. Princess Metternich had remained at home, asshe had already had to endure the coarse insults and ridicule ofour opponents at the first two performances. 

She indicated the height to which this fury had risen bymentioning some of her best friends, with whom she had engaged inso virulent a controversy that she had ended by saying: 'Awaywith your free France! In Vienna, where at least there is agenuine aristocracy, it would be unthinkable for a PrinceLiechtenstein or Schwarzenberg to scream from his box for aballet in Fidelio. ' I believe she also spoke to the Emperor inthe same strain, so that he seriously debated whether by policeintervention some check could not be put upon the unmannerlyconduct of these gentlemen, most of whom, unfortunately, belongedto the Imperial Household. Some rumour of this got abroad, sothat my friends believed they had really gained the day when, atthe third performance, they found the corridors of the theatreoccupied by a strong body of police. But it turned out later onthat these precautions had only been taken to ensure the safetyof the 'Jockeys, ' as it was feared they might be attacked fromthe pit as a punishment for their insolence. It seems that theperformance, which was again carried through to the end, wasaccompanied from start to finish by an endless tumult. After thesecond act the wife of von Szemere, the Hungarian revolutionaryminister, joined us in a state of complete collapse, declaringthat the row in the theatre was more than she could bear. No oneseemed able to tell me exactly how the third act had been gotthrough. As far as I could make out, it resembled the turmoil ofa battle thick with the smoke of gunpowder. I invited my friendTruinet to visit me the next morning, so that with his help Imight compose a letter to the management withdrawing my work and, as author, forbidding any further performance of the same, as Idid not wish to see my singers abused instead of myself by asection of the public from whom the Imperial administrationseemed unable to protect them. The astonishing thing about thewhole matter was that in thus interfering I was guilty of nobravado, for a fourth and fifth performance of the opera had beenalready arranged, and the management protested that they wereunder obligations to the public, who still continued to crowd tothis opera. But through Truinet I contrived to have my letterpublished the next day in the Journal des Debats, so that atlast, though with great reluctance, the management gave theirconsent to my withdrawal of the piece. 

Thereupon the legal action taken on my behalf by Ollivier againstLindau also came to an end. The latter had put in a claim on myauthor's rights in the libretto, in which he said he was entitledto a share as one of the three collaborators. His counsel, MaitreMarie, based his plea on a principle which I was said to haveestablished myself, namely that the point of chief importance wasnot the melody, but the correct declamation of the words of thelibretto, which obviously neither Roche nor Truinet could haveensured, seeing that neither of them understood German. Ollivier's argument for the defence was so energetic that he wasalmost on the point of proving the purely musical essence of mymelody by singing the 'Abendstern. ' Completely carried away bythis, the judges rejected the plaintiff's claim, but requested meto pay him a small sum by way of compensation, as he seemedreally to have taken some part in the work at the beginning. Inany case, however, I could not have paid this out of the proceedsof the Paris performances of Tannhauser, as I had decided withTruinet, on withdrawing the opera, to hand over the whole of theproceeds from my author's rights, both for libretto and music, topoor Roche, to whom the failure of my work meant the ruin of allhis hopes for the amelioration of his position. 

Various other connections were also dissolved by this outcome ofaffairs. During the past few months I had busied myself with anartistic club which had been founded, chiefly through theinfluence of the German embassies, among an aristocraticconnection for the production of good music apart from thetheatres, and to stimulate interest in this branch of art amongthe upper classes. Unfortunately, in the circular it hadpublished it had illustrated its endeavours to produce good musicby comparing them to those of the Jockey Club to improve thebreed of horses. Their object was to enrol all who had won a namein the musical world, and I was obliged to become a member at ayearly subscription of two hundred francs. Together with M. Gounod and other Parisian celebrities, I was nominated one of anartistic committee, of which Auber was elected president. Thesociety often held its meetings at the house of a certain CountOsmond, a lively young man, who had lost an arm in a duel, andposed as a musical dilettante. In this way I also learned to knowa young Prince Polignac, who interested me particularly onaccount of his brother, to whom we were indebted for a completetranslation of Faust. I went to lunch with him one morning, whenhe revealed to me the fact that he composed musical fantasies. Hewas very anxious to convince me of the correctness of hisinterpretation of Beethoven's Symphony in A major, in the lastmovement of which he declared he could clearly demonstrate allthe phases of a shipwreck. Our earlier general meetings werechiefly occupied with arrangements and preparations for a greatclassical concert, for which I also was to compose something. These meetings were enlivened solely by Gounod's pedantic zeal, who with unflagging and nauseating garrulity executed his dutiesas secretary, while Auber continually interrupted, rather thanassisted the proceedings, with trifling and not always verydelicate anecdotes and puns, all evidently intended to urge us toend the discussions. Even after the decisive failure ofTannhauser I received summonses to the meetings of thiscommittee, but never attended it any more, and sent in myresignation to the president of the society, stating that Ishould probably soon be returning to Germany. 

With Gounod alone did I still continue on friendly terms, and Iheard that he energetically championed my cause in society. He issaid on one occasion to have exclaimed: 'Que Dieu me donne unepareille chute!' As an acknowledgment of this advocacy Ipresented him with the score of Tristan und Isolde, being all themore gratified by his behaviour because no feeling of friendshiphad ever been able to induce me to hear his Faust. 

I now came into touch with energetic protagonists of my cause atevery turn. I was particularly honoured in the columns of thosesmaller journals of which Meyerbeer had as yet taken no account, and several good criticisms now appeared. In one of these I readthat my Tannhauser was la symphonie chantee. Baudelairedistinguished himself by an exceedingly witty and aptly turnedpamphlet on this topic; and finally Jules Janin himselfastonished me by an article in the Journal des Debats, in which, with burning indignation, he gave a somewhat exaggerated report, in his own peculiar style, of the whole episode. Even parodies ofTannhauser were given in the theatres for the delectation of thepublic; and Musard could find no better means of attractingaudiences to his concerts than the daily announcement, inenormous letters, of the Overture to Tannhauser. Pasdeloup alsofrequently produced some of my pieces by way of showing hissentiments. And lastly, Countess Lowenthal, the wife of theAustrian military plenipotentiary, gave a great matinee, at whichMme. Viardot sang various items from Tannhauser, for which shereceived five hundred francs. 

By some singular coincidence people managed to confound my fatewith that of a certain M. De la Vaquerie, who had also made adismal failure with a drama, Les Funerailles de l'Honeur. Hisfriends gave a banquet, to which I was invited, and we were bothenthusiastically acclaimed. Fiery speeches were made about theencanaillemenl of the public, containing references to politics, which were easily explained by the fact that my partner in thefestivity was related to Victor Hugo. Unfortunately particularsupporters had provided a small piano, on which I was literallycompelled to play favourite passages from Tannhauser. Whereuponthe evening became a festival in my honour alone. 

But a much more important result than these was that people beganto recognise the reality of my popularity, and began to plan yetgreater undertakings. The manager of the Theatre Lyrique soughteverywhere for a tenor suitable for Tannhauser, and only hisinability to find one compelled him to renounce his intention ofproducing my opera at once. M. De Beaumont, the manager of theOpera Comique, who was on the verge of bankruptcy, hoped to savehimself with Tannhauser, with which intention he approached mewith the most urgent proposals. True, he hoped at the same timeto enlist Princess Metternich's intervention on his behalf withthe Emperor, who was to help him out of his embarrassments. Hereproached me with coldness when I failed to fall in with hisglowing dreams, in which I could find no pleasure. But I wasinterested to learn that Roger, who now had a post at the OperaComique, had included part of the last act of Tannhauser in theprogramme of a performance given for his own benefit, whereby hedrew down upon his head the fury of the more influential press, but won a good reception from the public. Schemes now began tomultiply. A. M. Chabrol, whose journalistic name was Lorbach, visited me on behalf of a company, whose director was anenormously wealthy man, with a plan for founding a TheatreWagner, of which I refused to hear anything until it could securean experienced man of first-class reputation as manager. Eventually M. Perrin was selected for the post. This man hadlived for years in the firm conviction that he would be some dayappointed manager of the Grand Opera, and thought, therefore, that he ought not to compromise himself. It is true, he ascribedthe failure of Tannhauser entirely to Royer's incapacity, whoought to have made it his business to win over the press to hisside. Nevertheless he was strongly tempted to share in theattempt because of the opportunity it afforded him of provingthat, if he took the matter in hand, everything would at oncewear a different aspect, and Tannhauser become a great success. But as he was an exceedingly cold and cautious man, he thought hehad discovered serious flaws in M. Lorbach's proposals, and whenthe latter began to stipulate for certain commissions, Perrinimmediately fancied that he detected a not quite blameless savourof speculation in the whole business, and declared that if hewanted to found a Wagner Theatre, he would manage to procure thenecessary funds in his own way. As a matter of fact, he didactually entertain the notion of securing a large cafe, the'Alcazar, ' and after that the 'Bazar de la Bonne Nouvelle, ' forthe purposes of such a theatre. It also seemed possible that therequisite capitalists would be found for his enterprise. M. Erlanger believed he could succeed in getting ten bankers toguarantee fifty thousand francs, thus placing a sum of fivehundred thousand francs at M. Perrin's disposal. But the lattersoon lost courage when he found that the gentlemen thusapproached were willing to risk their money on a theatre fortheir own amusement, but not for the serious purpose ofacclimatising my music in Paris. 

With this disappointing experience M. Erlanger now withdrew fromall further participation in my fate. From a business point ofview he regarded the arrangement made with me as a sort of deal, in which he had not succeeded. The settlement of my financialposition seemed likely now to be undertaken by other friends, andwith this object in view the German embassies approached me withgreat delicacy, commissioning Count Hatzfeld to inquire into mynecessities. My own view of the situation was simply that, inobedience to the Emperor's command for the production of myopera, I had wasted my time over an enterprise the failure ofwhich had not been my fault. With perfect justice my friendspointed out how careless I had been not to secure from the firstcertain stipulations about compensations, a demand which theFrenchman's practical mind would at once have recognised asreasonable and obvious. As matters stood, I had demanded noreturn for my time and labour beyond certain author's rights incase of success. Feeling how impossible it was for me to approacheither the management or the Emperor to retrieve this omission, Iwas content to leave Princess Metternich to intercede on mybehalf. Count Pourtales had stayed on in Berlin to try andpersuade the Prince Regent to order a performance of Tannhauserfor my benefit. Unfortunately, the latter had been unable tosecure the execution of his order owing to the opposition of hismanager, Herr von Hulsen, who was hostile to me. As I had noother prospect for a long time to come but one of completehelplessness, I had no option but to leave the representation ofmy claim for compensation to the kindly care of my royalpatroness. All these events had taken place within the shortspace of a month after the production of Tannhauser, and now, onthe 15th April, I went for a short trip to Germany, to try andfind some solid ground for my future in that country. 

The only person who really understood my deepest needs hadalready set out on the same road, away from the chaos of Parisiantheatrical life. Bulow had just sent me news from Karlsruhe thatthe grand-ducal family were favourably disposed towards me, and Ipromptly formed the plan of immediately setting to work seriouslyon the production there of my Tristan, which had been so fatallydeferred. Accordingly I went to Karlsruhe, and if anything couldhave decided me to execute my hastily formed plan, it wouldcertainly have been the exceptionally cordial welcome I nowreceived at the hands of the Grand Duke of Baden. This exaltedpersonage seemed really desirous of awakening my sincerestconfidence in himself. During an exceedingly intimate interview, at which his young wife was also present, the Grand Duke tookpains to convince me that his profound sympathy for me was lessas a composer of operas, whose excellence he neither wished norwas able to appreciate, than as the man who had suffered so muchfor his patriotic and independent opinions. As I naturally couldnot attach much value to the political importance of my pastcareer, he imagined this arose from suspicious reticence, andencouraged me by the assurance that, although great mistakes andeven offences might have been committed in this respect, theseonly affected those who, while they had remained in Germany, hadnot been made happy, and had thereby certainly atoned for theirmisdeeds by inward suffering. On the other hand, it was now theduty of all these guilty ones to repair the wrongs they had doneto those who had been driven into exile. He gladly placed histheatre at my disposal, and gave the necessary orders to themanager. This was my old 'friend' Eduard Devrient, and thepainful embarrassment he betrayed on my arrival fully justifiedall that Bulow had said about the complete worthlessness of thosesentiments of sincere sympathy for me which he had hithertoaffected. But in the happy atmosphere created by the Grand Duke'sgracious reception I was soon able to bring Devrient--inappearance at least--to do as I wished, and he was compelled toassent to the proposed production of Tristan. As he was unable todeny that, especially since Schnorr's departure for Dresden, hedid not possess the requisite singers for my work, he referred meto Vienna, expressing at the same time his astonishment that Idid not try to have my operas produced there, where everythingrequired was ready to hand. It cost me some trouble to make himunderstand why I preferred a few exceptionally fine performancesof my works in Karlsruhe to the mere chance of having theminscribed on the repertoire of the Vienna Opera House. I obtainedpermission to secure Schnorr, who of course would be engaged onlyfor the special performances at Karlsruhe, and was also allowedto choose in Vienna the other singers for our intended 'modelperformance. '

I was thus left to rely on Vienna, and had meanwhile to return toParis, so as to settle my affairs there in such a way as to suitthe execution of my latest project. I arrived here, after anabsence of only six days, and my sole occupation was to providemoney for the needs of the moment. Under these circumstances Icould only feel indifferent to the many sympathetic advances andassurances which reached me with ever-growing cordiality, although at the same time they filled me with apprehension. 

In the meantime, the operations undertaken on a larger scale byPrincess Metternich to secure me some compensation dragged alongwith mysterious slowness, and it was to a merchant named Sturmer, whom I had previously known in Zurich, that I owed my deliverancefrom my present troubles. He had constantly interested himself inmy welfare while in Paris, and now by his help I was enabled, first to set my household affairs in order, and then to set offfor Vienna. 

Liszt had announced that he was coming to Paris some time before, and during the recent disastrous time I had longed for hispresence, as I thought that, with his recognised position in thehigher circles of Parisian society, he would have been able toexert a very helpful influence upon my hopelessly involvedsituation. A mysterious epistolary 'shrug of the shoulders' hadbeen the only answer I had received to my various inquiries as tothe cause of his delay. It seemed like irony on the part of Fatethat, just as I had arranged everything for my journey to Vienna, news should come that Liszt would reach Paris in a few days. ButI could only yield to the pressure of my necessities whichsternly demanded that I should pick up new threads for my plan oflife, and I quitted Paris about the middle of May, withoutawaiting my old friend's arrival. 

I stopped first of all at Karlsruhe for another interview withthe Grand Duke, who received me as kindly as ever, and granted mepermission to engage in Vienna any singers I liked for a reallyfine performance of Tristan in his theatre. Armed with thiscommand I went on to Vienna, where I stayed at the 'ErzherzogKarl, ' and there waited for Conductor Esser to fulfil thepromises he had made by letter to allow me to see a fewperformances of my operas. It was here that for the first time Isaw my own Lohengrin. Although the opera had already been playedvery frequently, the entire company was present at the fullrehearsal, as I desired. The orchestra played the prelude withsuch delightful warmth, the voices of the singers and many oftheir good qualities were so conspicuously and surprisinglypleasing, that I was too much overcome by the sensation createdby them to have any desire to criticise the general performance. My profound emotion seemed to attract attention, and Dr. Hanslickprobably thought this was a suitable moment for being introducedto me in a friendly way as I sat listening on the stage. Igreeted him shortly, like a perfectly unknown person; whereuponthe tenor, Ander, presented him a second time with the remarkthat Dr. Hanslick was an old acquaintance. I answered brieflythat I remembered Dr. Hanslick very well, and once more turned myattention to the stage. It seems that exactly the same nowhappened with my Vienna friends as once before in the case of myLondon acquaintances, when the latter found me disinclined torespond to their efforts to make me conciliate the dreadedcritics. This man, who as a budding young student had beenpresent at the earliest performances of Tannhauser in Dresden, and had written glowing reports on my work, had since become oneof my most vicious antagonists, as was proved on the productionof my operas in Vienna. The members of the opera company, whowere all well disposed towards me, seemed to have devoted theirwhole attention to reconciling me, as best they could, with thiscritic. As they failed to do so, those who ascribe, to the enmitythus aroused, the subsequent failure of every attempt to launchmy enterprise in Vienna, may be right in their opinion. 

But for the present it seemed as though the flood of enthusiasmwould bear down all opposition. The performance of Lohengrin, which I attended, was made the occasion of a frantic ovation, such as I have only experienced from the Viennese public. I wasurged to have both my other operas presented also, but felt asort of shyness at the thought of a repetition of that evening'soccurrences. As I had now fully realised the serious weaknessesin the performance of Tannhauser, I only agreed to a revival ofthe Fliegender Hollander, for the reason that I wished to hearthe singer Beck, who excelled in that opera. On this occasionalso the public indulged in similar manifestations of delight, sothat, backed up by universal favour, I could begin to considerthe main business on which I had come. The students of theUniversity offered me the honour of a torchlight procession, which I declined, thereby winning the hearty approval of Esser, who, together with the chief officials of the Opera, asked me howthese triumphs could be turned to account. I then presentedmyself to Count Lanckoronski, the Controller of the Emperor'shousehold, who had been described to me as a peculiar person, totally ignorant of art and all its requirements. When I unfoldedto him my request that he would graciously grant leave of absencefor a fairly long period to the chief singers of his Opera, namely, Frau Dustmann (nee Luise Meyer), Herr Beck, and probablyalso Herr Ander, for the proposed performance of Tristan inKarlsruhe, the old gentleman dryly answered that it was quiteimpossible. He thought it much more reasonable, seeing I wassatisfied with his company, that I should produce my new work inVienna, and the courage necessary to refuse this propositionmelted completely away. 

As I descended the steps of the Hofburg, lost in meditation overthis new turn of affairs, a stately gentleman of unusuallysympathetic mien came to meet me at the door, and offered toaccompany me in the carriage to my hotel. This was JosephStandhartner, a famous physician, who was exceedingly popular inhigh circles, an earnest devotee of music, thenceforth destinedto be a faithful friend to me all my life. 

Karl Tausig had also sought me out, and was now devoting hisenergies to Vienna, with the express determination of conqueringthis field for Liszt's compositions, and had opened his campaignthere during the previous winter with a series of orchestralconcerts, started and conducted by himself. He introduced me toPeter Cornelius, who had also been drawn to Vienna, and whom Ionly knew from our meeting in Bale in 1853. They both raved aboutthe recently published pianoforte arrangement of Tristan, whichBulow had prepared. In my room at the hotel, whither Tausig hadtransported a Bosendorff grand-piano, a musical orgy was soon infull swing. They would have liked me to have started rehearsingTristan at once; and, in any case, I was now so bent on securingthe acceptance of the proposal that my work should first beperformed here, that I finally quitted Vienna with a promise toreturn in a few months, in order to start the preliminary studyat once. 

I felt no little embarrassment at the prospect of communicatingmy change of plan to the Grand Duke, and therefore readilyyielded to the impulse of only visiting Karlsruhe after a longdetour. As my birthday fell just at the time of this returnjourney, I resolved to celebrate it at Zurich. I reachedWinterthur, via Munich, without delay, and hoped to meet myfriend Sulzer there. Unfortunately he was away, and I only sawhis wife, who had a pathetic interest for me, and also theirlittle son, a lively and attractive boy. Sulzer himself, Ilearned, was expected back the next day, the 22nd of the month, and I accordingly spent most of the day in a small room at theinn. I had brought Goethe's Wilhelm Meister's Wanderjahre withme, and now for the first time was enraptured by fullercomprehension of this wonderful production. The spirit of thepoet attracted me most profoundly to his work by the impressionleft on my mind by his lively description of the breaking-up ofthe players' company, in which the action almost becomes afurious lyric. Next morning at early dawn I returned to Zurich. The wonderfully clear air decided me to try the long andcircuitous path through the familiar haunts of the Sihlthal toWesendonck's estate. Here I arrived quite unannounced; and when Iinquired what the habits of the household were, I learned thatabout this time Wesendonck usually came down to his dining-roomto breakfast alone. There I accordingly seated myself in acorner, where I awaited the tall, good-tempered man, who, onentering quietly for his morning coffee, broke out into joyousastonishment on beholding me. The day passed most sociably;Sulzer, Semper, Herwegh, and Gottfried Keller were all sent for, and I thoroughly enjoyed the satisfaction of a well-contrivedsurprise, under such strange circumstances, as my recent fate hadonly just been forming the daily topic of animated discussionamong these friends. 

The next day I hurried back to Karlsruhe, where my announcementwas received by the Grand Duke with kindly acquiescence. I couldtruly state that my request for leave of absence for the singershad been refused, and the projected performance in Karlsruhethereby rendered impossible. Without any grief, but, on thecontrary, with undisguised satisfaction, Eduard Devrient yieldedto this fresh turn of affairs, and prophesied a splendid futurefor me in Vienna. Here Tausig overtook me, having already decidedin Vienna to pay a visit to Paris, where he wished to see Liszt;and we accordingly continued our journey from Karlsruhe togetherby way of Strasburg. 

When I reached Paris, I found my household on the point ofbreaking up. My only anxiety with regard to this was to procuremeans for getting away from the city, and for the promptsettlement of a future which seemed hopeless. Meanwhile Minnafound an opportunity for exhibiting her talents as a housewife. Liszt had already fallen back into his old current of life, andeven his own daughter, Blandine, could only manage to get a wordwith him in his carriage, as he drove from one visit to another. Nevertheless, impelled by his goodness of heart, he found timeonce to accept an invitation to 'beef-steaks' at my house. Heeven managed to spare me a whole evening, for which he kindlyplaced himself at my disposal for the settlement of my smallobligations. In the presence of a few friends, who had remainedtrue after the recent days of trouble, he played the piano to uson this occasion, during which a curious coincidence occurred. The day before poor Tausig had filled up a spare hour by playingLiszt's 'Fantaisie' on the name of Bach, [Footnote: The notes B, A, C, H, are equivalent to our English B flat, A, C, B. --Editor. ]and now when Liszt chanced to play us the same piece, heliterally collapsed with amazement before this wonderful prodigyof a man. 

Another day we met for lunch at Gounod's, when we had a very dulltime, which was only enlivened by poor Baudelaire, who indulgedin the most outrageous witticisms. This man, crible de dettes, ashe told me, and daily compelled to adopt the most extravagantmethods for a bare subsistence, had repeatedly approached me withadventurous schemes for the exploitation of my notorious fiasco. I could not on any account consent to adopt any of these, and wasglad to find this really capable man safe under the eagle-wing ofLiszt's 'ascendency. ' Liszt took him everywhere where there was apossibility of a fortune being found. Whether this helped himinto anything or not, I never knew. I only heard that he died ashort time afterwards, certainly not from an excess of goodfortune. 

In addition to this festive morning, I met Liszt again at adinner at the Austrian embassy, on which occasion he once moreshowed his kindly sympathy by playing several passages from myLohengrin on the piano to Princess Metternich. He was alsosummoned to a dinner at the Tuileries, to which, however, it wasnot thought necessary to invite me to accompany him. With regardto this he related a conversation, which was very much to thepoint, with the Emperor Napoleon about the episode of myTannhauser performances in Paris, the upshot of which appears tohave been that I was not in my right place at the Grand OperaHouse. Whether Liszt ever discussed these matters with LamartineI do not know, I only heard that my old friend several timesaddressed him, to try and arrange a meeting with him, for which Iwas very anxious. Tausig, who at first had taken refuge chieflywith me, fell back later into his natural dependence upon hismaster, so that in the end he quite vanished from my sight, whenhe went with Liszt to visit Mme. Street in Brussels. 

I was now longing to leave Paris. I had fortunately managed toget rid of my house in the Rue d'Aumale by sub-letting it, atransaction in which I was helped by a present of a hundredfrancs to the concierge, and was now merely waiting for news frommy protectors. As I did not wish to press them, my situationbecame most painfully prolonged, though it was not altogetherdevoid of pleasant but tantalising incidents. For instance, I hadwon the special favour of Mlle. Eberty, Meyerbeer's elderlyniece. She had been an almost rabid partisan of my cause duringthe painful episode of the Tannhauser performances, and nowseemed earnestly desirous of doing something to brighten mycheerless situation. With this object she arranged a reallycharming dinner in a first-class restaurant in the Bois deBoulogne, to which we and Kietz, of whom we were not yet rid, were invited, and which took place in lovely spring weather. TheFlaxland family also, with whom I had had some differences overthe publication of Tannhauser, now exerted themselves in everypossible way to show me kindness, but I could only wish that theyhad had no reason for doing so. 

It was now settled that we must at all costs leave Paris soon. Itwas proposed that Minna should resume her treatment at the Sodenbaths and also revisit her old friends in Dresden, while I was towait until it was time for me to return to Vienna for thepreliminary study of my Tristan. We decided to deposit all ourhousehold belongings, well packed, with a forwarding-agent inParis. While thus occupied with thoughts of our painfully delayeddeparture, we also discussed the difficulty of transporting ourlittle dog Fips by rail. One day, the 22nd of June, my wifereturned from a walk, bringing the animal back with her, in somemysterious way dangerously ill. According to Minna's account, wecould only think that the dog had swallowed some virulent poisonspread in the street. His condition was pitiable. Though heshowed no marks of outward injury, yet his breathing was soconvulsive that we thought his lungs must be seriously damaged. In his first frantic pangs he had bitten Minna violently in themouth, so that I had sent for a doctor immediately, who, however, soon relieved our fears that she had been bitten by a mad dog. 

But we could get no relief for the poor animal. He lay quietlycurled up, and his breathing grew steadily shorter and moreviolent. Towards eleven o'clock at night he seemed to have fallenasleep under Minna's bed, but when I drew him out he was dead. The effect of this melancholy event upon Minna and myself wasnever expressed in words. In our childless life together theinfluence of domestic pets had been very important. The suddendeath of this lively and lovable animal acted as the final riftin a union which had long become impossible. For the moment I hadno more urgent care than to rescue the body from the usual fateof dead dogs in Paris, that of being flung out into the streetfor the scavengers to carry off in the morning. My friend Sturmerhad a small garden behind his house in the Rue de la Tour desDames, where I wished to bury Fips the next day. But it cost me arare expenditure of persuasion to induce the absent owner'shousekeeper to give me permission to do so. At last, however, with the help of the concierge of our house, I dug a small grave, as deep as possible, among the bushes of the garden, for thereception of our poor little pet. When the sad ceremony wascompleted, I covered up the grave with the utmost care and triedto make the spot as indistinguishable as possible, as I had asuspicion that Herr Sturmer might object to harbouring the dog'sbody, and have it removed, a misfortune which I strove toprevent. 

At last Count Hatzfeld announced in the kindliest possible mannerthat some friends of my art, who wished to remain unknown, sympathising with my unmerited condition, had united to offer methe means of relieving my burdensome position. I considered itfitting to express my thanks for this happy consummation only tomy patroness, Princess Metternich, and now set about makingarrangements for the final dissolution of my Paris establishment. My first care, after concluding all these necessary labours, wasto see that Minna set out at once for Germany to begin hertreatment; while, as for myself, I had no better object there forthe present than to pay a visit to Liszt in Weimar, where inAugust a German-music festival was to be celebrated with farewellperformances of Liszt's compositions. Moreover Flaxland, who hadnow taken courage to issue my other operas in French, wished toretain me in Paris until, in collaboration with Truinet, I hadcompleted the translation of the Fliegender Hollander. For thiswork I needed several weeks, which it was impossible for me tospend in our apartments, now entirely stripped of furniture. Count Pourtales, hearing of this, invited me to take up my abodefor this period in the Prussian embassy, a remarkable and indeedin its way unprecedented act of kindness which I accepted with agratitude full of foreboding. On the 12th of July I saw Minna offto Soden, and the same day went to reside at the embassy, wherethey assigned me a pleasant little room looking out upon thegarden, with a view of the Tuileries in the distance. In a poolin the garden there were two black swans, to which, in a dreamysort of way, I felt strangely attracted. When young Hatzfeldlooked me up in my room, to make inquiries about my needs in thename of my well-wishers, a strong emotion overwhelmed me for thefirst time in many years, and I felt a profound sense of well-being in the midst of a condition of complete impecuniosity anddetachment from everything usually considered as necessary forpermanent existence. 

I asked permission to have my Erard brought to my room for theperiod of my stay, as it had not been packed away with the restof my furniture, whereupon a handsome room was given up to me onthe first floor. Here I worked every morning at the translationof my Fliegender Hollander, and also composed two musical albumpieces, one of which, intended for Princess Metternich, containeda pretty theme which had long floated in my mind, and wasafterwards published, while a similar one, for Frau Pourtales, got somehow mislaid. 

My intercourse with the family of my friend and host had not onlya soothing influence upon my spirit, but also filled me with calmcontent. We dined together daily, and the midday meal oftendeveloped into the well-known 'diplomatic dinner. ' I here madeacquaintance with the former Prussian minister, Bethmann-Hollweg, the father of Countess Pourtales, with whom I discussed in detailmy ideas respecting the relations between art and the state. Whenat last I had succeeded in making them clear to the minister, ourconversation closed with the fatal assertion that such anunderstanding with the supreme head of the state would alwaysremain an impossibility, seeing that in his eyes art belongedmerely to the realm of amusement. 

In addition to Count Hatzfeld, the two other attaches, PrinceReuss and Count Donhoff, often shared these domestic gatherings. The former seemed to be the politician of the company, and wasparticularly commended to me on account of the great and ableefforts he had made on my behalf at the Imperial Court, while thelatter simply appealed to me by his looks and by his attractiveand open-hearted friendliness. Here, too, I was again frequentlybrought into social contact with Prince and Princess Metternich, but I could not help noticing that a certain embarrassment markedour demeanour. Owing to her energetic complicity in the fate ofTannhauser, Princess Pauline had not only been subjected to thecoarsest handling by the press, but had also suffered the mostungallant and ill-natured treatment at the hands of so-calledhigher society. Her husband seems to have borne all this verywell, though doubtless he experienced many a bitter moment. Itwas difficult for me now to understand what compensation thePrincess could have found in a genuine sympathy for my art forall she had been obliged to endure. 

Thus I frequently spent the evenings in familiar intercourse withmy amiable hosts, and was even seduced into trying to instructthem about Schopenhauer. On one occasion a larger eveningassembly led to almost intoxicating excitement. Selections fromseveral of my works were vivaciously played in a circle offriends all very much prepossessed in my favour. Saint-Saens tookthe piano, and I had the unusual experience of hearing the finalscene of Isolde rendered by the Neapolitan Princess Campo-Reale, who, to that excellent musician's accompaniment, sang it with abeautiful German accent and an astounding faithfulness ofintonation. 

I thus passed three weeks in peace and quiet. Meanwhile, CountPourtales had procured me a superior Prussian ministerialpassport for my projected visit to Germany, his attempt to get mea Saxon passport having failed, owing to the nervousness of Herrvon Seebach. 

This time, before taking leave of Paris--for ever, as I supposed--I felt impelled to bid an intimate farewell to the few Frenchfriends who had stood by me loyally in the difficulties I hadovercome. We met at a cafe in Rue Lafitte--Gasperini, Champfleury, Truinet and I--and talked until late in the night. When I was about to start on my homeward way to the Faubourg St. Germain, Champfleury, who lived on the heights of Montmartre, declared that he must take me home, because we did not knowwhether we should ever see each other again. I enjoyed theexquisite effect of the bright moonlight on the deserted Parisstreets; only the huge business firms, whose premises extend tothe uppermost floors, seemed to have turned night into day in apicturesque fashion, particularly those houses which have beenpressed into the service of trade in the Rue Richelieu. Champfleury smoked his short pipe and discussed with me theprospects of French politics. His father was, he told me, an oldBonapartist of the first water, but had been moved to exclaim, ashort time before, after reading the papers day after day, 'Pourtant, avant de mourir je voudrais voir autre chose. ' Weparted very affectionately at the door of the embassy. 

I took leave in equally friendly fashion of a young Parisianfriend, who has not yet been mentioned--Gustave Dore--who hadbeen sent to me by Ollivier at the very outset of my Parisventure. He had proposed to make a fantastic drawing of me in theact of conducting, without, it is true, ever realising hisintention. I do not know why, except, perhaps, that I did notshow any particular inclination for it. Dore remained loyal tome, however, and was one of those who made a point ofdemonstrating their friendship just now in their extremeindignation at the outrage inflicted on me. This extraordinarilyprolific artist proposed to include the Nibelungen among his manysubjects for illustration, and I wished first to make himacquainted with my interpretation of this cycle of legends. Thiswas undoubtedly difficult, but as he assured me he had a friendwell versed in the German language and German literature, I gavemyself the pleasure of presenting him with the recently publishedpianoforte score of Rheingold, the text of which would give himthe clearest idea of the plan on which I had moulded thematerial. I thus returned the compliment of his having sent me acopy of his illustrations to Dante, which had just appeared. 

Full of pleasant and agreeable impressions, which formed the onlyactual gain of real worth that I reaped from my Paris enterprise, I left the generous asylum offered by my Prussian friends thefirst week in August to go, first, to Soden by way of Cologne. Here I found Minna in the society of Mathilde Schiffner, whoseemed to have become indispensable to her as an easy victim forher tyranny. I spent two extremely painful days there in tryingto make the poor woman understand that she was to establishherself at Dresden (where I was not at present allowed to stay), while I looked about me in Germany--in Vienna first--for a newcentre of operations. She glanced at her friend with peculiarsatisfaction on hearing my proposal and my promise to remember, under any circumstances, to provide her with three thousand marksa year. This bargain set the standard of my relation to her forthe rest of her life. She went with me as far as Frankfort, whereI parted from her to go, for the time being, to Weimar--the townwhere Schopenhauer had died a short time before. 

PART IV

1861-1864

AND so I again crossed Thuringia, passing the Wartburg which, whether I visited it or merely saw it in the distance, seemed sostrangely bound up with my departures from Germany or my returnthither. I reached Weimar at two in the morning, and wasconducted later in the day to the rooms which Liszt had arrangedfor my use at the Altenburg. They were, as he took good care toinform me, Princess Marie's rooms. This time, however, there wereno women to entertain us. Princess Caroline was already in Rome, and her daughter had married Prince Constantin Hohenlohe and goneto Vienna. There was only Miss Anderson, Princess Marie'sgoverness, left to help Liszt entertain his guests. Indeed, Ifound the Altenburg was about to be closed, and that Liszt'syouthful uncle Eduard had come from Vienna for this purpose, andalso to make an inventory of all its contents. But at the sametime there reigned an unusual stir of conviviality in connectionwith the Society of Musical Artists, as Liszt was putting up aconsiderable number of musicians himself, first and foremostamong his guests being Bulow and Cornelius. Every one, includingLiszt himself, was wearing a travelling cap, and this strangechoice of head-dress seemed to me typical of the lack of ceremonyattending this rural festival at Weimar. On the top floor of thehouse Franz Brendel and his wife were installed with somesplendour, and a swarm of musicians soon filled the place, amongthem my old acquaintance Drasecke and a certain young man calledWeisheimer, whom Liszt had once sent to see me at Zurich. Tausigput in an appearance too, but excluded himself from most of ourfree and easy gatherings to carry on a love-affair with a younglady. Liszt gave me Emilie Genast as a companion on one or twoshort excursions, an arrangement with which I found no fault, asshe was witty and very intelligent. I made the acquaintance ofDamrosch too, a violinist and a musician. It was a great pleasureto see my old friend Alwine Frommann, who had come in spite ofher somewhat strained relations with Liszt; and when Blandine andOllivier arrived from Paris and became my neighbours on theAltenburg, the days which were lively before to begin with, nowbecame boisterously merry. Bulow, who had been chosen to conductLiszt's Faust Symphony, seemed to me the wildest of all. Hisactivity was extraordinary. He had learned the entire score byheart, and gave us an unusually precise, intelligent, andspirited performance with an orchestra composed of anything butthe pick of German players. After this symphony the Prometheusmusic had the greatest success, while I was particularly affectedby Emilie Genast's singing of a song-cycle, composed by Bulow, called Die Entsagende. There was little else that was enjoyableat the festival concert with the exception of a cantata, Das Grabim Busento by Weisheimer, and a regular scandal arose inconnection with Drasecke's 'German March. ' For some obscurereason Liszt adopted a challenging and protecting attitudetowards this strange composition, written apparently in mockeryby a man of great talent in other directions. Liszt insisted onBulow's conducting the march, and ultimately Hans made a successof it, even doing it by heart; but the whole thing ended in thefollowing incredible scene. The jubilant reception of Liszt's ownworks had not once induced him to show himself to the audience, but when Drasecke's march, which concluded the programme, was atlast rejected by the audience in an irresistible wave of ill-humour, Liszt came into the stage-box and, stretching out hishands, clapped vigorously and shouted 'Bravos. ' A real battle setin between Liszt, whose face was red with anger, and theaudience. Blandine, who was sitting next to me, was, like me, beside herself at this outrageously provocative behaviour on thepart of her father, and it was a long time before we couldcompose ourselves after the incident. There was little in the wayof explanation to be got out of Liszt. We only heard him refer afew times, in terms of furious contempt, to the audience, 'forwhom the march was far and away too good. ' I heard from anotherquarter that this was a form of revenge on the regular Weimarpublic, but it was a strange way of wreaking it, as they were notrepresented on this occasion. Liszt thought it was a goodopportunity to avenge Cornelius, whose opera The Barber of Bagdadhad been hissed by the Weimar public when Liszt had conducted itin person some time previously. Besides this, I could of coursesee that Liszt had much to bear in other directions. He admittedto me that he had been trying to induce the Grand Duke of Weimarto show me some particular mark of distinction. He first wantedhim to invite me, with himself, to dine at court, but as the Dukehad qualms about entertaining a person who was still exiled fromthe kingdom of Saxony as a political refugee, Liszt thought hecould at least get me the Order of the White Falcon. This too wasrefused him, and as his exertions at court had been so fruitless, he was bent on making the townsmen of the Residency do their partin celebrating my presence. A torchlight procession wasaccordingly arranged, but when I heard of it I took all possiblepains to thwart the plan--and succeeded. But I was not to get offwithout any ovation at all. One afternoon Justizrath Gille ofJena and six students grouped themselves under my window, andsang a nice little choral society song, for which attention Ithanked them most warmly. A contrast to this was presented by thegreat banquet attended by all the musical artists. I sat betweenBlandine and Ollivier, and the feast developed into a reallyhearty ovation for the composer of Tannhauser and Lohengrin, whomthey now 'welcomed back to Germany after he had won their loveand esteem during his banishment. ' Liszt's speech was short butvigorous, and I had to respond in greater detail to anotherspeaker. Very pleasant were the select gatherings which onseveral occasions met round Liszt's own dinner-table, and Ithought of the absent hostess of Altenburg at one of them. Oncewe had our meal in the garden, and I had the pleasure of seeingmy good friend Alwine Frommann there conversing intelligentlywith Ollivier, as a reconciliation with Liszt had taken place. 

The day for parting was drawing near for us all, after a week ofvery varied and exciting experiences. A happy chance enabled meto make the greater part of my prearranged journey to Vienna inthe company of Blandine and Ollivier, who had decided to visitCosima at Reichenhall, where she was staying for a 'cure. ' As wewere all saying good-bye to Liszt on the railway platform, wethought of Bulow, who had distinguished himself so remarkably inthe past few days. He had started a day in advance, and weexhausted ourselves in singing his praises, though I added withjesting familiarity, 'There was no necessity for him to marryCosima. ' And Liszt added, bowing slightly, 'That was a luxury. '

We travellers--Blandine and I, that is--soon fell into afrivolous mood which was much intensified by Ollivier's query, repeated after each burst of laughter, 'Qu'est-ce qu'il dit?' Hehad to submit good-humouredly to our continuous joking in German, though we always responded in French to his frequent demands fortonique or jambon cru, which seemed to form the staple of hisdiet. It was long after midnight when we reached Nuremberg, wherewe were obliged to halt for the night. We got ourselves conveyedto an inn by dint of much effort, and were kept waiting theresome time before the door opened. A fat and elderly innkeeperacceded to our entreaties to give us rooms, late as it was, butto accomplish this he found it necessary--after much anxiousreflection--to leave us in the hall for a good long time while hevanished down a back passage. There he stood outside a bedroomdoor, and we heard him calling 'Margarethe' in bashful andfriendly tones. He repeated the name several times with theinformation that visitors had arrived, and a woman answered himwith oaths. After much pressing entreaty on the innkeeper's partMargarethe at last appeared, in neglige, and showed us, aftervarious mysterious confabulations with the host, the roomsselected for us. The odd part of the incident was that theimmoderate laughter in which we all three indulged seemed to benoticed neither by the innkeeper nor by his chambermaid. The nextday we went to see some of the sights of the town, last of allthe Germanisches Museum, which was in such a wretched conditionat that time as to earn the contempt of my French companionparticularly. The large collection of instruments of torture, which included a box studded with nails, filled Blandine withsympathetic horror. 

We reached Munich that evening, and inspected it the next day(after tonique and ham had again been obtained) with greatsatisfaction, particularly on the part of Ollivier, who thoughtthat the 'antique' style in which King Ludwig I. Had had themuseums built contrasted most favourably with the buildings withwhich, much to his indignation, it had pleased Louis Napoleon tofill Paris. I here ran across an old acquaintance, youngHornstein, whom I introduced to my friends as 'the baron. ' Hiscomical figure and clumsy behaviour gave them food for mirth, which degenerated into a positive orgy of merriment when 'thebaron' thought it necessary, before we started on our nightjourney to Reichenhall, to take us to a Bier-Brauerei somedistance away, so that we should see thatside of Munich life. It was pitch dark and there was no lightprovided, except a stump of a candle to light 'the baron, ' whohad to go down himself to fetch the beer from the cellar. Thebeer certainly tasted particularly good, and Hornstein repeatedhis descent into the cellar several times. When, being obliged tohurry, we set off on our perilous journey across fields andditches to the station, we found that the unwonted refreshmenthad somewhat dazed us. Blandine fell fast asleep as soon as shegot into the carriage, only waking at daybreak when we arrived atReichenhall. Here Cosima met us, and took us to the rooms thathad been prepared for us. 

We were first of all rejoiced to find Cosima's state of healthmuch less alarming than we--I in particular--had known it to bebefore. She had been ordered a sour-milk cure, and we went tolook on the next morning when she took her walk to theinstitution. Cosima appeared to lay less stress on the actualmilk-drinking, however, than on the walks and the sojourn in thesplendid, bracing, mountain air. Ollivier and I were generallyexcluded from the merriment which here too immediately set in, asthe two sisters, to secure more privacy for their talks--theylaughed so incessantly that they could be heard a long way off--usually shut themselves away from us in their bedrooms, andalmost my only resource was to converse in French with mypolitical friend. I succeeded in gaining admission to the sistersonce or twice, to announce to them amongst other things myintention of adopting them, as their father took no more noticeof them--a proposition received with more mirth than confidence. I once deplored Cosima's wild ways to Blandine, who seemed unableto understand me, until she had persuaded herself that I meanttimidite d'un sauvage by my expression. After a few days I hadreally to think of continuing my journey, which had been sopleasantly interrupted. I said good-bye in the hall, and caught aglimpse of almost timid inquiry from Cosima. 

I first drove down the valley to Salzburg in a one-horsecarriage. On the Austrian frontier I had an adventure with thecustom-house. Liszt had given me at Weimar a box of the mostcostly cigars--a present to him from Baron Sina. As I knew frommy visit to Venice what incredible formalities make itexceedingly difficult to introduce these articles into Austria, Ihit upon the plan of hiding the cigars singly among my dirtylinen and in the pockets of my clothes. The officer, who was anold soldier, seemed to be prepared for precautionary measures ofthis sort, and drew forth the corpora delicta skilfully from allthe folds of my little trunk. I tried to bribe him with a tip, which he actually accepted, and I was all the more indignantwhen, in spite of this, he denounced me to the authorities. I wasmade to pay a heavy fine, but received permission to buy back thecigars. This I furiously declined to do. With the receipt of thefine I had paid, however, I was also given back the Prussianthaler which the old soldier had quietly tucked away before, andwhen I got into my carriage to continue the journey I saw thesame officer sitting placidly before his beer and bread andcheese. He bowed very politely, and I offered to give him histhaler back, but this time he refused it. I have often been angrywith myself since for not asking the man's name, as I clung tothe notion that he must be a particularly faithful servant, inwhich capacity I should like to have engaged him myself later on. 

I touched at Salzburg, arriving soaked through by floods of rain, and spent the night there, and on the following day at lastreached my place of destination--Vienna. I proposed to accept thehospitality of Kolatschek, with whom I had been friendly inSwitzerland. He had long since been granted an amnesty byAustria, and had, on my last visit to Vienna, called on me andoffered me the use of his house, to avoid the unpleasantness ofan inn, in the event of my returning for a longer stay. Forreasons of economy alone--and these at the time were very urgent--I had willingly accepted this offer, and now drove direct withmy hand luggage to the house described. To my surprise I at oncediscovered that I was in an exceedingly remote suburb, practically cut off from Vienna itself. The house was quitedeserted, Kolatschek and his family having gone to a summerresort at Hutteldorf. With some difficulty I unearthed an oldservant, who seemed to think she had been warned of my arrival byher master. She showed me a small room in which I could sleep ifI liked, but was apparently unable to provide either linen orservice of any kind. Greatly discomfited by this disappointment, I first drove back into town to wait for Kolatschek at a certaincafe in Stephan's Platz, which, according to the servant, he waslikely to visit at a particular time. I had been sitting there agood while, making repeated inquiries for the man I expected tosee, when suddenly I saw Standhartner come in. His extremesurprise at finding me there was intensified, as he told me, bythe fact that he had never in his life entered this cafe. It hadbeen quite a special coincidence that had brought him there onthat day and at that time. On being made aware of my situation heat once became furious at the idea of my living in the mostdeserted part of Vienna when I had such pressing business in thecity, and promptly offered me his own house for temporaryquarters, as he and all his family would be away for six weeks. Apretty niece, who, with her mother and sister, lived in the samehouse, was to see to all my wants, including breakfast, etc. , andI should be able to make use of the whole place with the greatestfreedom. He took me triumphantly home with him at once to adeserted dwelling, as the family had already gone to their summerresort at Salzburg. I let Kolatschek know, had my luggage broughtin, and for a few days had the pleasure of Standhartner's societyand easy hospitality. I realised, however, from information givenme by my friend, that my path was beset with new difficulties. The rehearsals for Tristan und Isolde, which had been planned inthe spring to take place about this time (I had arrived in Viennaon 14th August), had been postponed indefinitely as Ander, thetenor, had sent word that he had injured his voice. On hearingthis I at once concluded that my stay in Vienna would be useless;but I knew that no one would be able to suggest any other placewhere I could employ myself profitably. 

My situation was, as I now saw plainly, quite hopeless, for everyone seemed to have deserted me. A few years back I might, in asimilar case, have flattered myself that Liszt would be pleasedto have me at Weimar during the period of waiting, but if Ireturned to Germany just now I should only have to look on at thedismantling of the house--to which I have already alluded. Mychief concern, then, was to find a friendly shelter somewhere. Itwas with this sole end in view that I turned to the Grand Duke ofBaden, who had shortly before greeted me with such kindness andsympathy. I wrote him a beseeching letter, urging him to considermy necessitous condition. I pointed out that what I wanted, aboveall, was an asylum, however modest, and implored him to provideme with one in or near Karlsruhe, by securing me a pension of twothousand four hundred marks. Judge of my surprise on receiving areply, not in the Grand Duke's own hand, but only signed by him, to the effect that if my request were granted, it would probablymean that I would interfere with the management of the theatre, and, as a very natural result, discussions would ensue with thedirector (my old friend E. Devrient, who was now doingsplendidly). As the Grand Duke would in any such case feelobliged to act in the interests of justice, 'possibly to mydisadvantage, ' as he put it, he must, after mature consideration, regretfully decline to accede to my request. 

Princess Meternich, who had suspected my embarrassment on thatscore also when I left Paris, had given me a warm recommendationto Count Nako and his family in Vienna, referring me withparticular emphasis to his wife. Now I had made the acquaintancethrough Standhartner, during the short time before he left me, ofyoung Prince Rudolph Liechtenstein--known to his friends as Rudi. His doctor, with whom he was very intimate, had spoken of him tome in the most flattering way as being a passionate admirer of mymusic. I often met him at meal times at the 'Erzherzog Karl, 'after Standhartner had joined his family, and we planned a visitto Count Nako on his estate at Schwarzau, some distance away. Thejourney was made in the most comfortable fashion, partly by rail, in the company of the Prince's young wife. They introduced me tothe Nakos at Schwarzau. The Count proved to be a particularlyhandsome man, while his wife was more of a cultured gipsy, whosetalent for painting was evidenced in striking fashion by thegigantic copies of Van Dyck resplendent on the walls. It was morepainful to hear her amuse herself at the piano, where she gavefaithful renderings of gipsy music, which, she said, Liszt failedto do. The music to Lohengrin seemed to have prepossessed themall very much in my favour, and this appreciation was confirmedby other magnates who were visiting there, among them being CountEdmund Zichy, whom I had known in Venice. I was thus able toobserve the character of unconstrained Hungarian hospitality, without being much edified by the subjects of conversation, and Ihad soon, alas! to face the question as to what I was to get fromthese people. I was given a decent room for the night, and on thefollowing day took an early opportunity of looking round thebeautifully kept precincts of the majestic castle, wondering inwhich part of the building there might be found room for me incase of a longer visit. But my remarks in praise of the size ofthe building were met at breakfast with the assurance that itreally was hardly big enough for the family, as the youngCountess in particular lived in great style with her suite. Itwas a cold morning in September, and we spent it out of doors. Myfriend Rudi seemed to be out of humour. I felt cold, and verysoon took leave of the great man's board with the consciousnessof having rarely found myself in the company of such nice peoplewithout discovering the smallest subject in common. Thisconsciousness grew into a positive feeling of disgust when I wasdriving with several of the cavalieri to the station at Modling, for I was reduced to absolute silence during the hour's drive, asthey had literally only the one topic of conversation, by thattime so terribly familiar to me!--namely horses. 

I got out at Modling to call on Ander the tenor, having invitedmyself for that day with the intention of going through Tristan. It was still very early on a bright morning, and the day wasgradually growing warmer. I decided to take a walk in the lovelyBruhl before looking up Ander. There I ordered a lunch in thegarden of the beautifully situated inn, and enjoyed an extremelyrefreshing hour of complete solitude. The wild birds had alreadyceased singing, but I shared my meal with an army of sparrows, which assumed alarming proportions. As I fed them with bread-crumbs, they finally became so tame that they settled in swarmson the table in front of me to seize their booty. I was remindedof the morning in the tavern with the landlord Homo inMontmorency. Here again, after shedding many a tear, I laughedaloud, and set off to Ander's summer residence. Unfortunately hiscondition confirmed the statement that the injury to his voicewas not merely an excuse; but in any case I soon saw that thishelpless person could never under any circumstances be equal tothe task of playing Tristan, demi-god as he was, in Vienna. Allthe same I did my best, as I was there, to show him the whole ofTristan in my own interpretation of the part (which alwaysexcited me very much), after which he declared that it might havebeen written for him. I had arranged for Tausig and Cornelius, whom I had again met in Vienna, to come out to Ander's house thatday, and I returned with them in the evening. 

I spent a good deal of time with these two, who were sincerelyconcerned about me and did their best to cheer me. Tausig, it istrue, was rather more reserved, as he had aspirations in highquarters at that time. But he, too, accepted Frau Dustmann'sinvitations to the three of us. She was then at Hietzing for thesummer, and there dinners were given more than once, and also afew vocal rehearsals for Isolde, for which part her voice seemedto possess some of the spiritual susceptibility required. There, too, I read through the poem of Tristan again, still thinking theprospect of its performance possible with the exercise ofpatience and enthusiasm. For the present patience was the qualitymost needed; certainly nothing was to be obtained by enthusiasm. Ander's voice still failed him and did not improve, and no doctorwas prepared to fix a limit to his malady. I got through the timeas best I could, and hit upon the idea of translating back intoGerman the new scene to Tannhauser, written to a French text forthe performance in Paris. Cornelius had first to copy it from theoriginal score for me, as this was in a very defective condition. I accepted his copy without inquiring further about the originalleft in his hands, and we shall see the result of this later on. 

A musician named Winterberger also joined our party. He was anold acquaintance, and I found him in a position I much envied. Countess Banfy, an old friend of Liszt's, had taken him into hervery pleasant house at Hietzing, and he was thus in excellentquarters, living at ease, and with nothing to trouble about, asthe kind lady thought it her duty to keep this fellow--in otherrespects so undeserving--supplied with everything. Through him Iagain had news of Karl Ritter, and was told that he was now atNaples, where he lived in the house of a piano-maker, whosechildren he had to teach in return for board and lodging. Itseems that Winterberger, after running through everything, had onthe strength of some of Liszt's introductions started off to seekhis fortune in Hungary. But things did not fall out to hissatisfaction, and he was now enjoying compensation in the houseof the worthy Countess. I met an excellent harpist there--alsoone of the family--Fraulein Mossner. By the Countess's orders shewas made to betake herself and her harp to the garden, where, either at or with her harp, she had a most pert air and lookedquite delightful, so that I gained an impression which lingeredpleasantly in my mind. Unfortunately I became involved in aquarrel with the young lady because I would not compose a solofor her instrument. From the time when I definitely refused tohumour her ambitions she took no more notice of me. 

The poet Hebbel must be mentioned among the special acquaintancesI made in Vienna during this difficult epoch. As it seemed notunlikely that I should have to make Vienna the scene of mylabours for some time, I thought it desirable to become betteracquainted with the literary celebrities living there. I preparedmyself for meeting Hebbel by taking considerable trouble to readhis dramatic pieces beforehand, doing my best to think that theywere good and that a closer acquaintance with the author wasdesirable. I was not to be deterred from my purpose by myconsciousness of the great weakness of his poems, although Irealised the unnaturalness of his conceptions and the invariablyaffected and frequently vulgar form of expression. I only visitedhim once, and did not have a particularly long talk with him eventhen. I did not find any expression in the poet's personality ofthe eccentric force which threatens to explode in the figures ofhis dramas. When I heard, some years later, that Hebbel had diedof softening of the bones, I understood why he had affected me sounpleasantly. He talked about the theatrical world in Vienna withthe air of an amateur who feels himself neglected but continuesto work in a businesslike fashion. I felt no particular desire torepeat my visit, especially after his return call in my absence, when he left a card announcing himself as 'Hebbel, chevalier deplusieurs ordres!'

My old friend Heinrich Laube had now long been established asdirector of the Royal and Imperial Court Theatre. He had felt ithis duty on my previous visit to Vienna to introduce me to theliterary celebrities, among whom, being of a practical turn, hecounted chiefly journalists and critics. He invited Dr. Hanslickto a big dinner-party, thinking I should be particularlyinterested in meeting him, and was surprised that I had not aword to say to him. The conclusions Laube drew from this led himto prophesy that I should find it hard to get on in Vienna if Ireally hoped to make it the sphere of my artistic labours. On myreturn this time he welcomed me simply as an old friend, andbegged me to dine with him as often as I cared to come. He was apassionate sportsman, and was able to provide the luxury of freshgame for his table. I did not avail myself very often of thisinvitation, however, as the conversation, which was inspiredsolely by the dull business routine of the stage, did not attractme. After dinner a few actors and literary men would come in forcoffee and cigars, sitting at a large table where Laube's wifegenerally held her court, while Laube himself enjoyed his restand his cigar in silence. Frau Laube had consented to becomeTheatre Directrice solely to please her husband, and now thoughtherself obliged to make long and careful speeches about things ofwhich she had no understanding whatever. The only pleasure I hadwas in renewed glimpses of the good-nature which I had admired inher of old; for instance, when none of the company dared tooppose her, and I intervened with some frank criticism, sheusually accepted it with unreserved merriment. To her and herhusband I probably seemed a good-natured sort of fool and nothingmore, for my conversation was generally in a joking strain, as Iwas utterly indifferent to their earnestness. In fact, when Igave my concerts in Vienna later on, Frau Laube remarked with themost friendly air of surprise that I was quite a good conductor, contrary to what she had expected after reading some newspaperreport or other. 

For one thing, Laube's practical knowledge was not withoutimportance, as he could tell me all about the character of thechief inspectors of the Royal and Imperial Court Theatre. It nowtranspired that the Imperial Councillor, von Raymond, was a mostimportant personage, and the aged Count Lanckoronski, the LordHigh Marshall, who in other respects was extremely tenacious ofhis authority, could not trust himself to come to any decision inmatters of finance without consulting this exceedingly competentman. 

Raymond himself, whom I soon got to know and regard as a model ofignorance, took fright and felt bound to withhold his consent tomy performance of Tristan, mainly on account of the Viennapapers, which always ran me down and scoffed at my proposal. Officially I was referred to the actual manager of the Opera, Herr Salvi, who had formerly been the singing-master of a lady-in-waiting to the Grand Duchess Sophia. He was an absolutelyincapable and ignorant man, who was obliged to pretend in frontof me that, according to the command of the supreme authorities, nothing lay so near his heart as the furtherance of theperformance of Tristan. Accordingly he tried by perpetualexpressions of zeal and goodwill to conceal the increasing spiritof doubt and hesitation with which even the staff was imbued. 

I found out the state of affairs one day when a company of oursingers was invited with me to the country house of a certainHerr Dumba, who was introduced to me as a most enthusiastic well-wisher. Herr Ander had taken the score of Tristan with him, as ifto show that he could not part with it for a single day. FrauDustmann grew very angry about it, and accused Ander of trying toimpose upon me by playing the hypocrite; for he knew as well asany one else that he would never sing that part, and that themanagement was only awaiting a chance of preventing theperformance of Tristan in some way or other, and then laying theblame on her shoulders. Salvi tried most zealously to interferein these extremely awkward revelations. He recommended me tochoose the tenor Walter, and as I objected on the ground of myantipathy to the man, he next referred me to certain foreignsingers whom he was quite ready to approach. 

As a matter of fact, we tried a few outside players of whom themost promising was a certain Signor Morini, and I really felt sodepressed and so desirous of furthering my work at any price thatI attended a performance of Luzia by Donizetti with my friendCornelius to see if I could extract from him a favourablejudgment of the singer. Cornelius, who was apparently absorbed inlistening, whilst I attentively watched him, suddenly started upin a passion and exclaimed, 'Horrible! horrible!' which made usboth laugh so heartily that we soon left the theatre in quite acheerful frame of mind. 

At last I carried on my negotiations with the conductor HeinrichEsser alone, as he was apparently the only honest man in themanagement. Although he found Tristan very difficult, yet heworked at it with great earnestness, and never really gave up thehope of making a performance possible, if only I would acceptWalter as the tenor; but, in spite of my persistent refusal tomake use of such help, we always remained good friends. As he, like myself, was a keen walker, we often explored theneighbourhood of Vienna, and our conversations during theseexpeditions were enthusiastic on my part and thoroughly honestand serious on his. 

Whilst these Tristan matters were running their weary course likea chronic disease, whose outcome it is impossible to foresee, Standhartner returned at the end of September with his family. Consequently the next thing I had to do was to look out for aresidence, which I chose in the Hotel Kaiserin Elizabeth. Throughmy cordial intercourse with the family of this friend I becamequite intimate not only with his wife, but also with her threesons and a daughter by her first marriage, and a younger daughterby the second marriage with Standhartner. On looking back upon myformer residence in my friend's house, I greatly missed thepresence and kindly care bestowed upon me by his niece Seraphine, whom I have already mentioned, as well as her untiringthoughtfulness and pleasant, amusing companionship. On account ofher natty figure and hair carefully curled a I'enfant, I hadgiven her the name of 'The Doll. ' Now I had to look after myselfin the dull room of the hotel, and the expense of my livingincreased considerably. I remember at that time that I had onlyreceived twenty-five or thirty louis d'or for Tannhauser fromBrunswick. On the other hand, Minna sent me from Dresden a fewleaves of the silver-spangled wreath presented by some of herfriends as a souvenir of her silver wedding-day, which she hadcelebrated on the 24th of November. I could hardly wonder thatthere was no lack of bitter reproach on her part when sending methis gift; however, I tried to inspire her with the hope ofhaving a golden wedding. For the present, seeing that I wasstaying without any object in an expensive Viennese hotel, I didmy utmost to secure a chance of performing Tristan. First Iturned to Tichatschek in Dresden, but obtained no promise fromhim. I then had recourse to Schnorr, with a similar result, and Iwas at last obliged to acknowledge that my affairs were in a badway. Of this I made no secret in my occasional communications tothe Wesendoncks, who, apparently to cheer me up, invited me tomeet them in Venice, where they were just going for a pleasuretrip. Heaven knows what my intention was as I started off in acasual sort of way by train, first to Trieste and then by steamer(which did not agree with me at all) to Venice, where I again putup in my little room at the Hotel Danieli. 

My friends, whom I found in very flourishing circumstances, seemed to be revelling in the pictures, and fully expected that aparticipation in their enjoyment would drive away my 'blues. 'They seemed to have no desire to realise my position in Vienna. Indeed, after the ill-success of my Paris under-taking, enteredupon with such glorious anticipations, I had learned to recogniseamong most of my friends a tacitly submissive abandonment of allhope for my future success. 

Wesendonck, who always went about armed with huge field-glasses, and was ever ready for sight-seeing, only once took me with himto see the Academy of Arts, a building which on my former visitto Venice I had only known from the outside. In spite of all myindifference, I must confess that the 'Assumption of the Virgin'by Titian exercised a most sublime influence over me, so that, assoon as I realised its conception, my old powers revived withinme, as though by a sudden flash of inspiration. 

I determined at once on the composition of the Meistersinger. 

After a frugal dinner with my old acquaintances Tessarin and theWesendoncks, whom I invited to the Albergo San Alarco, and oncemore exchanging friendly greetings with Luigia, my formerattendant at the Palazzo Giustiniani, to the astonishment of myfriends I suddenly left Venice. I had spent four dreary daysthere, and now started by train on my dull journey to Vienna, following the roundabout overland route. It was during thisjourney that the music of the Meistersinger first dawned on mymind, in which I still retained the libretto as I had originallyconceived it. With the utmost distinctness I at once composed theprincipal part of the Overture in C major. 

Under the influence of these last impressions I arrived in Viennain a very cheerful frame of mind. I at once announced my returnto Cornelius by sending him a small Venetian gondola, which I hadbought for him in Venice, and to which I added a canzona writtenwith nonsensical Italian words. The communication of my plan forthe immediate composition of the Meistersinger made him almostfrantic with delight, and until my departure from Vienna heremained in a state of delirious excitement. 

I urged my friend to procure me material for mastering thesubject of the Meistersinger. My first idea was to make athorough study of Grimm's controversy on the Song of theMeistersinger; and the next question was how to get hold of oldWagenseil's Nuremberg Chronicle. Cornelius accompanied me to theImperial Library, but in order to obtain a loan of this book, which we were fortunate enough to find, my friend was obliged tovisit Baron Munch-Bellinghausen (Halm), a visit which hedescribed to me as very disagreeable. I remained at my hotel, eagerly making extracts of portions of the Chronicle, which tothe astonishment of the ignorant I appropriated for my libretto. 

But my most urgent task was to secure some means of livelihoodduring the composition of my work. I applied first to the musicpublisher Schott at Mayence, to whom I offered the Meistersingerif he would make me the necessary advance. Being animated by thedesire to provide myself with money for as long a time aspossible, I offered him not only the literary rights, but alsothe rights of performance for my work, for the sum of twentythousand francs. A telegram from Schott containing an absoluterefusal at once destroyed all hope. As I was now obliged to thinkof other means, I decided to turn to Berlin. Bulow, who wasalways kindly exerting himself on my behalf, had hinted at thepossibility of being able to raise a considerable sum of moneythere by means of a concert, which I should conduct; and as I wasat the same time longing to find a home amongst friends, Berlinseemed to beckon me as a last refuge. At noon, just before theevening of my intended departure, a letter came from Schott, following on his telegram of refusal, which certainly held outsome more consoling prospect. He offered to undertake thepublication of the pianoforte edition of the Walkure at once andto advance me three thousand marks to be deducted from a futureaccount. The joy of Cornelius at what he called the salvation ofthe Meistersinger knew no bounds. From Berlin Bulow, in greatindignation and evident low spirits, wrote to me of his dreadfulexperiences in attempting to organise my concert. Herr von Hulsendeclared that he would not countenance my visit to Berlin, whileas to giving a concert at the great Kroll Restaurant, Bulow foundafter much deliberation that it would be quite impracticable. 

Whilst I was busily engaged on a detailed scenic sketch of theMeistersinger, the arrival of Prince and Princess Metternich inVienna seemed to create a favourable diversion on my behalf. 

The concern expressed by my Paris patrons about me and myposition was undoubtedly real; therefore, in order to show myselfgratefully disposed towards them, I induced the management of theOpera to allow me to invite their splendid orchestra for a fewhours one morning to play some selections from Tristan in thetheatre by way of rehearsal. Both the orchestra and Frau Dustmannwere quite ready to grant my request in the most friendly manner, and Princess Metternich, with some of her acquaintances, wasinvited to this rehearsal. With the orchestra we played throughtwo of the principal selections, namely, the prelude to the firstact, and the beginning of the second act, as far as the middle, while the singing part was sustained by Frau Dustmann, the wholebeing so brilliantly executed that I felt fully justified inbelieving I had created a most excellent impression. Herr Ander, too, had appeared on the scene, but without knowing a single noteof the music or attempting to sing it. Both my princely friends, as well as Fraulein Couqui, the premiere danseuse, who singularlyenough had attended the rehearsal on the sly, overwhelmed me withenthusiastic marks of admiration. Hearing of my ardent desire forretirement in order to go on with the composition of a new work, the Metternichs one day suggested that they were in a position tooffer me just such a quiet retreat in Paris. The Prince, who hadnow completely arranged his spacious embassy, could place at mydisposal a pleasant suite of rooms looking on to a quiet garden, just like the one I had found in the Prussian embassy. My Erardwas still in Paris, and if I could arrange to go there at the endof the year, I should find everything ready for me to begin mywork. With unconcealed joy I most gratefully accepted this kindinvitation, and my only care now was so to arrange my affairsthat I could take my departure from Vienna and effect my removalto Paris in a proper manner. The arrangement that had been madethrough Standhartner's mediation, that the management should payme a part of the stipulated fee for Tristan, would be a greathelp in this. But as I was only to get one thousand marks, andeven this was to be subject to so many clauses and conditions asto suggest a desire to renounce the whole transaction, I at oncerejected the offer. This fact, however, did not prevent thepress, which was always in touch with the theatrical management, from publishing that I had accepted an indemnity for the non-performance of Tristan. Fortunately I was able to protest againstthis calumny by producing proof of what I had actually done inthe matter. Meanwhile, the negotiations with Schott dragged outto some length, because I would not agree at present to hissuggestions about the Walkure. I adhered to my first offer of anew opera, the Meistersinger, and at last received three thousandmarks as an instalment on this work. As soon as I had receivedthe cheque, I packed up my things, when a telegram from PrincessMetternich reached me, in which she begged of me to put off mydeparture until the 1st of January. I decided not give up myplan, being anxious to get away from Vienna, so I determined togo straight to Mayence to pursue further negotiations withSchott. My leavetaking at the station was made particularly gayby Cornelius, who whispered to me with mysterious enthusiasm astanza of 'Sachs' which I had communicated to him. This was theverse:

'Der Vogel der heut' sang, Dem war der Schnabel hold gewachsen;Ward auch den Meistern dabei bang, Gar wohl gefiel er doch HansSachsen. ' [Footnote: 'The bird who sang this morn From Nature'sself had learned his singing; Masters that song may scorn, Foraye Hans Sachs will hear it singing. ' (Translation of theMeistersinger, by Frederick Jameson. )--Editor. ]

In Mayence I got to know the Schott family, with whom I had onlyhad a casual acquaintance in Paris, more intimately. The youngmusician Weisheimer, who was just then beginning his career asmusical director at the local theatre, was a daily visitor attheir house. At one of our dinners another young man, Stadl, alawyer, proposed a remarkable toast in my honour in a mosteloquent and astonishing speech. Notwithstanding all this I hadto recognise that in Franz Schott I was dealing with a verysingular man, and our negotiations proceeded with extraordinarydifficulty. I insisted emphatically on carrying out my firstproposal, namely, that he should provide me for two successiveyears with funds necessary for the undisturbed execution of mywork. He excused his unwillingness to do this by pretending itwas painful to his feelings to drive a bargain with a man likemyself by purchasing my work for a certain sum of money, including also the profits of my author's rights in thetheatrical performances; that, in a word, he was a musicpublisher, and did not want to be anything else. I represented tohim that he need only advance me the necessary amount in properform, and that I would guarantee him the repayment of thatproportion of it which might be considered due payment for theliterary property, out of my future theatrical takings, whichwould thus be his security. 

After a long time he agreed to make advances on 'musicalcompositions still to be delivered, ' and to this suggestion Igladly acceded, insisting, however, that I must be able to dependon a total gradual payment of twenty thousand francs. As, aftersettling my Vienna hotel bill, I was in immediate want of money, Schott gave me a draft on Paris. From that city I now received aletter from Princess Metternich, which mystified me, inasmuch asit merely announced the sudden death of her mother, CountessSandor, and the consequent change in her family circumstances. Once more I deliberated whether it would not be better, afterall, to take at random a modest lodging in or near Karlsruhe, which in time might develop into a peaceful and permanentdwelling. Owing to my difficulty in providing Minna's allowance, which according to our agreement was three thousand marks a year, it struck me as more reasonable and certainly more economical toask my wife to share my home. But a letter which just thenreached me from her, and the main contents of which were nothingless than an attempt to incite me against my own friends, scaredme away from any thought of reunion with her, and determined meto adhere to my Paris plans and keep as far away from her aspossible. 

So towards the middle of December I started for Paris, where Ialighted at the dingy-looking Hotel Voltaire, situated on thequay of the same name, and took a very modest room with apleasant outlook. Here I wished to remain unrecognised (preparingmyself meanwhile for my work) until I could present myself toPrincess Metternich at the beginning of the new year, accordingto her wish. In order not to embarrass the Metternich's friends, Pourtales and Hatzfeld, I pretended that I was not in Paris, andlooked up only those of my old acquaintances who did not knowthese gentlemen, such as Truinet, Gasperini, Flaxland, and thepainter Czermak. I met Truinet and his father regularly at suppertime in the Taverne Anglaise, to which I used to make my wayunobserved through the streets at dusk. One day, on opening oneof the papers there I read the news of the death of CountPourtales. My grief was great, and I felt particularly sorrythat, out of my singular regard for the Metternichs, I hadneglected to visit this man who had been a real friend to me. Iat once called on Count Hatzfeld, who confirmed the sad news andtold me the circumstances of the sudden death, which was theresult of heart disease, the existence of which the doctor hadnot discovered till the very last moment. At the same time Ilearned the true significance of the events which had taken placeat the Hotel Metternich. The death of Countess Sandor, of whichPrincess Pauline had informed me, had produced the followingdevelopments: the Count, who was the famous Hungarian madman, hadup to that time, in the general interest of the family, beenstrictly guarded by his wife as an invalid. At her death thefamily lived in fear of the most terrible disturbances from herhusband, now no longer under control, and the Metternichstherefore thought it necessary to take him at once to Paris, andkeep him there under proper supervision. For that purpose thePrincess found that the only suitable suite of apartments at hercommand was the one previously offered to me. I at once saw itwas useless to think any more of taking up my residence at theAustrian embassy, and I was left to reflect on the strange freakof fortune that had again cast me adrift in this ill-omenedParis. 

At first the only course open to me was to stay in my inexpensivelodging in the Hotel Voltaire until I had finished the librettoof the Meistersinger, and meanwhile set to work to find therefuge so earnestly sought for the completion of my new work. Itwas not an easy matter; my name and person, which everybodyinvoluntarily regarded in the doubtful light of my Paris failure, seemed surrounded by a cloud of mist, which made meunrecognisable even to my old friends. The Olliviers alsoappeared to receive me with an air of distrust; at any rate, theythought it very strange to see me again so soon in Paris. I wasobliged to explain the extraordinary circumstances that hadbrought me back, and told them that I did not contemplate a longstay. Apart from this probably deceptive impression, I soonnoticed the great change that had taken place in the home life ofthe family. The grandmother was laid up with a broken leg, whichat her age was incurable. Ollivier had taken her into his verysmall flat for more efficient nursing and care, and we all metfor dinner at her bedside in the tiny room. Blandine had greatlychanged since the previous summer, and wore a sad and seriousexpression, and I fancied that she was enceinte. Emile, althoughdry and superficial, was the only one who gave me any soundadvice. When the fellow Lindau sent me a letter through hislawyer demanding the compensation awarded him by the law for hisimaginary co-operation in the translation of Tannhauser, all thatEmile said on reading the letter was, 'Ne repondez pas, ' and hisadvice proved as useful as it was easy to follow, for I neverheard anything more of the matter. I sorrowfully made up my mindnot to trouble Ollivier any more, and it was with aninexpressibly sad look that Blandine and I parted. 

With Czermak, on the other hand, I entered into almost dailyintercourse. I used to join him and the Truinet family of anevening at the Taverne Angiaise, or some other equally cheaprestaurants which we hunted out. Afterwards we generally went toone of the smaller theatres, which, owing to pressure of work, Ihad not troubled about on my former visits. The best of them allwas the Gymnase, where all the pieces were good and played by anexcellent company. Of these pieces a particularly tender andtouching one-act play called Je dine chez ma Mere remains in mymemory. In the Theatre du Palais Royal, where things were not nowso refined as formerly, and also in the Theatre Dejazet, Irecognised the prototypes of all the jokes with which, in spiteof poor elaboration and unsuitable localisation, the Germanpublic is being entertained all the year round. Besides this Ioccasionally dined with the Flaxland family, who still refused todespair of my eventual success with the Parisians. For thepresent my Paris publisher continued to issue the FliegenderHollander as well as Rienzi, for which he paid me tifleen hundredfrancs as a small fee, which I had not bargained for on the firstedition. 

The cause of the almost cheerful complacency with which I managedto regard my adverse situation in Paris, and which enabled meafterwards to look back on it as a pleasant memory, was that mylibretto of the Meistersinger daily increased its swelling volumeof rhyme. How could I help being filled with facetious thoughts, when on raising my eyes from the paper, after meditating upon thequaint verses and sayings of my Nuremberg Meistersinger, I gazedfrom the third-floor window of my hotel on the tremendous crowdspassing along the quays and over the numerous bridges, andenjoyed a prospect embracing the Tuileries, the Louvre, and eventhe Hotel de Ville!

I had already got far on into the first act when the momentousNew Year's Day of 1862 arrived, and I paid my long-delayed visitto Princess Metternich. I found her very naturally embarrassed, but I quite cheerfully accepted her assurances of regret at beingobliged to withdraw her invitation owing to circumstances withwhich I was already acquainted, and I did my utmost to reassureher. I also begged Count Hatzfeld to inform me when CountessPourtales would feel equal to receiving me. 

Thus through the whole month of January I continued working onthe Meistersinger libretto, and completed it in exactly thirtydays. The melody for the fragment of Sachs's poem on theReformation, with which I make my characters in the last actgreet their beloved master, occurred to me on the way to theTaverne Anglaise, whilst strolling through the galleries of thePalais Royal. There I found Truinet already waiting for me, andasked him to give me a scrap of paper and a pencil to jot down mymelody, which I quietly hummed over to him at the time. I usuallyaccompanied him and his father along the boulevards to his flatin the Faubourg St. Honore, and on that evening he could donothing but exclaim, 'Mais, quelle gaite d'esprit, cher maitre!'

The nearer my work approached its termination, the more earnestlyhad I to think about a place of abode. I still imagined thatsomething similar to what I had lost by Liszt's abandonment ofthe Altenburg was in store for me. I now remembered that in theprevious year I had received a most pressing invitation from Mme. Street, to pay her and her father a long visit in Brussels; onthe strength of which I wrote to the lady and asked if she couldput me up for a time without any ceremony. She was en desolationat being obliged to deny my wish. I next turned to Cosima, whowas in Berlin, with a similar request, at which she seemed to bequite alarmed, but I quite understood the reason of this when, onvisiting Berlin later on, I saw the style of Bulow's quarters. Itstruck me as very strange, on the other hand, that my brother-in-law Avenarius, who, I heard, was very comfortably settled inBerlin, begged me most earnestly to go to him, and judge formyself whether I could not pay him a long visit. My sisterCecilia, however, forbade me to take Minna there, although shethought she could find her a lodging in the immediateneighbourhood if she wanted to visit Berlin. Unfortunately forherself, poor Minna could find nothing better to do than to writeme a furious letter about my sister's cruel behaviour to her, sothe possibility of a renewal of our old squabbles deterred me atonce from accepting my brother-in-law's proposal. At last Ibethought me of looking out for a quiet retreat in theneighbourhood of Mayence, under the financial protection ofSchott. He had spoken to me about a pretty estate there belongingto the young Baron von Hornstein. I thought I was conferring anhonour upon the latter when I wrote to him at Munich askingpermission to take up my abode for a time at his place in theRhine district, and was therefore greatly perplexed when Ireceived an answer expressing terror at my suggestion. I nowdetermined to go at once to Mayence, and ordered all ourfurniture and household goods, which had been stored in Paris fornearly a year, to be sent there. Before leaving Paris, aftercoming to this decision, I had the consolation of receiving asublime exhortation to face everything with resignation. I hadpreviously informed Frau Wesendonck of my situation and the chiefsource of my trouble, though of course only as one writes to asympathetic friend; she answered by sending me a small letter-weight of cast-iron which she had bought for me in Venice. Itrepresented the lion of San Marco with his paw on the book, andwas intended to admonish me to imitate this lion in all things. On the other hand, Countess Pourtales granted me the privilege ofanother visit to her house. In spite of her mourning, this ladydid not wish to leave her sincere interest in me unexpressed onaccount of her sad bereavement; and when I told her what I wasthen doing, she asked to see my libretto. On my assuring her thatin her present frame of mind she could not enter into the livelycharacter of my Meistersinger, she kindly expressed a great wishto hear me read it, and invited me to spend an evening with her. She was the first person to whom I had the opportunity of readingmy now completed work, and it made such a lively impression uponus both, that we were many times compelled to burst out into fitsof hearty laughter. 

On the evening of my departure on the first of February, Iinvited my friends Gasperini, Czermak, and the Truinets to afarewell meal in my hotel. All were in capital spirits, and mygood-humour enhanced the general cheerfulness, although no onequite understood what connection it could have with the subjecton which I had just completed a libretto, and from theperformance of which I anticipated so much. 

In my anxiety to choose a suitable residence, which was now sonecessary to me, I directed my steps once more to Karlsruhe. Iwas again received in the kindest manner by the Grand Duke andDuchess, who inquired about my future plans. It turned out, however, that the residence I so earnestly desired could not beprovided for me in Karlsruhe. I was much struck by thesympathetic concern of the Grand Duke as to how I could meet thecost of my arduous life, or even my travelling expenses. Icheerfully endeavoured to set his mind at rest by telling him ofthe contract I had made with Schott, who had bound himself toprovide me with the necessary funds in the form of advances on myMeistersinger. This seemed to reassure him. Later on I heard fromAlwine Frommann that the Grand Duke had once said that I had beensomewhat cold towards him, considering that he had been kindenough to place his purse at my disposal. But I was certainly notconscious of his having done so. The only point raised in ourdiscussion had been whether I should go to Karlsruhe again torehearse one of my operas there, possibly Lohengrin, and conductit in person. 

At any rate I started for Mayence, which I reached on the 4thFebruary, and found the whole place flooded. Owing to the earlybreaking up of the ice, the Rhine had overflowed its banks to anunusual extent, and I only reached Schott's house at someconsiderable risk. Nevertheless, I had already arranged to readthe Meistersinger on the evening of the 5th of that month, andhad even made Cornelius promise to come from Vienna, and had senthim a hundred francs from Paris for that purpose. I had notreceived any answer from him, and as I now learned that thefloods had spread to all the river districts of Germany, andimpeded the railway traffic, I had already ceased to count uponhim. I waited until the last moment and--in fact, just as theclock struck seven--Cornelius appeared. He had met with all sortsof adventures, had even lost his overcoat on the way, and reachedhis sister's house in a half-frozen condition only a few hoursbefore. The reading of my libretto put us all into excellenthumour, but I was very sorry I could not shake Cornelius'sdetermination to start on his return journey the next day. Hewished me to understand that his sole object in coming to Mayencewas for this one reading of the Meistersinger, and as a matter offact, in spite of floods and floating ice, he left for Vienna onthe following day. 

As we had already arranged, I began in company with Schott tosearch for a residence on the opposite bank of the Rhine. We hadhad Biebrich in our mind's eye; but as nothing suitable seemed topresent itself there, we thought of Wiesbaden. At last I decidedto stay at the 'Europaischer Hof' at Biebrich, and continue mysearch from there. As I had always been most particular to keepaloof as far as possible from the noise of music, I decided torent a small but very suitable flat in a large summer residencenewly built by the architect Frickhofer, and situated close tothe Rhine. I was obliged to await the arrival of my furniture andhousehold effects from Paris before I could get it in order. Atlast they came, and at endless trouble and expense were dulyunloaded at the Biebrich custom-house, where I took possessiononly of those things which I required most. 

I kept only what was absolutely necessary in Biebrich, intendingto send the greater part to my wife in Dresden. I had alreadyinformed Minna of this, whereupon she immediately assumed thatwith my clumsy unpacking I should lose half the things or ruinthem all. About a week after I had fairly settled down with mynewly arrived Erard grand, Minna suddenly appeared in Biebrich. At first I felt nothing but sincere pleasure at her healthyappearance and untiring energy in the practical management ofaffairs, and even thought the best thing I could do was to lether remain with me. Unfortunately my good resolutions did notlast long, as the old scenes were soon renewed. When we went tothe custom-house, intending to separate her things from mine, shecould not contain her anger that I had not waited for her arrivalbefore removing on my own account the articles I required formyself. Nevertheless, she thought it only proper that I should beprovided with certain household effects, and gave me four sets ofknives, forks and spoons, a few cups and saucers, with plates tomatch. She then superintended the packing of the remainder, whichwas not inconsiderable, and, after arranging everything to hersatisfaction, took her departure to Dresden a week later. 

She now flattered herself that her establishment there would besufficiently furnished to receive me, as she hoped, very shortly. With this idea she had taken the necessary steps with regard tothe superior government officials, and these latter had beensuccessful in obtaining a declaration from the minister that Imight now send in a formal petition to the King to grant me anamnesty, and that nothing would then stand in the way of myreturn to Dresden. 

I deliberated with considerable hesitation as to what I should doin this matter. Minna's presence had greatly increased the mentaldiscord arising from my recent anxieties. Rough weather, defective stoves, my badly managed household, and my unexpectedlyheavy expenses, particularly for Minna's establishment, allcombined to mar the pleasure I had taken in pursuing the work Ihad started at the Hotel Voltaire. Presumably to distract mythoughts, the Schott family invited me to witness a performanceof Rienzi at Darmstadt, with Niemann in the title-role. The ex-minister, Herr von Dalwigk, fearing that a demonstration at thetheatre in my favour in the presence of the Grand Duke, mightwound the latter's susceptibilities, introduced himself to me atthe station and accompanied me to his own box, where he cleverlythought he could play the part of presenting me to the public onbehalf of the Grand Duke. Thus everything went off pleasantly. The performance itself, in which Niemann played one of his bestparts, interested me greatly; I also noticed that they cut out asmuch of the opera as they could, presumably in deference to thetastes of the Grand Duke, so as to extend the ballet as much aspossible by repeating the lighter parts of it. 

From this excursion I had again to return home through thefloating ice on the Rhine. As I was still in very low spirits, Itried to introduce a few comforts into my home, and for thispurpose engaged a maid-servant to prepare my breakfast; my othermeals I took at the 'Europaischer Hof. '

When I found, however, that I could not recover my working mood, and feeling somewhat restless, I offered to redeem my promise andpay another visit to the Grand Duke of Baden, suggesting that Ishould give him a reading of the Meistersinger. The Grand Dukereplied by a very kind telegram signed by himself, in response towhich I went to Karlsruhe on the 7th March and read my manuscriptto him and his wife. A drawing-room had been specially selectedfor this reading, in which hung a great historical picture by myold friend Pecht, portraying Goethe as a young man reading thefirst fragments of his Faust before the Grand Duke's ancestors. My work received very kind attention, and at the conclusion ofthe reading I was exceedingly pleased to hear the Grand Duchessrecommend me particularly to find a suitable musical setting forthe excellent part of Pogner, which was a friendly admission ofregret that a citizen should be more zealous in the interests ofart than many a prince. A performance of Lohengrin, under myconductorship, was once more discussed, and I was advised to makefresh terms with Eduard Devrient. Unfortunately the latter made aterrible impression on me by his production of Tannhauser at thetheatre. I was obliged to witness this performance seated by hisside, and was astonished to realise that this 'Dramaturge, ' whomI had hitherto so highly recommended, had now sunk to the mostvulgar practices of the theatrical profession. To my amazement atthe monstrous mistakes made in the performance, he replied, withgreat surprise and a certain haughty indignation, that he couldnot understand why I made so much fuss about such trifles, as Imust know very well that in theatres it was impossible to dootherwise. Nevertheless, a model performance of Lohengrin wasarranged for the following summer, with the co-operation of HerrSchnorr and his wife. 

A much pleasanter impression was made upon me by a play I saw atthe Frankfort theatre, where, in passing through that town, I sawa pretty comedy, in which the delicate and tender acting ofFriederike Meyer, the sister of my Vienna singer, Mme. Dustmann, impressed me more than any German acting had ever done. I nowbegan to calculate on the possibility of making suitable friendsin the neighbourhood of Biebrich, so as not to be entirelydependent on the Schott family or on my hotel-keeper for society. I had already looked up the Raff family in Wiesbaden, where FrauRaff had an engagement at the court theatre. She was a sister ofEmilie Genast, with whom I had been on friendly terms during mystay in Weimar. One excellent piece of information I heard abouther was that by extraordinary thrift and good management she hadsucceeded in raising her husband's position of carelesswastefulness to a flourishing and prosperous one. Raff himself, who by his own accounts of his dissipated life under Liszt'spatronage, had led me to regard him as an eccentric genius, atonce disabused me of this idea when, on a closer acquaintance, Ifound him an uncommonly uninteresting and insipid man, full ofself-conceit, but without any power of taking a wide outlook onthe world. 

Taking advantage of the prosperous condition to which he hadattained, thanks to his wife, he considered he was entitled topatronise me by giving me some friendly advice in regard to myposition at the time. He thought it advisable to tell me that Iought in my dramatic compositions to pay more attention to thereality of things, and to illustrate his meaning he pointed to myscore of Tristan as an abortion of idealistic extravagances. 

In the course of my rambles on foot to Wiesbaden I sometimesliked to call on Raff's wife, a rather insignificant woman, butRaff himself was a person to whom I soon became perfectlyindifferent. Still, when he came to know me a little better, helowered the tone of his sagelike maxims, and even appeared to berather afraid of my chaffing humour, against the shafts of whichhe knew he was defenceless. 

Wendelin Weisheimer, whom I had known slightly before, oftencalled on me in Biebrich. He was the son of a rich peasant ofOsthofen, and to the astonishment of his father refused to giveup the musical profession. He was particularly anxious tointroduce me to his parent, that I might influence the old man'smind in favour of his son's choice of an artistic career. Thisinvolved me in excursions into their district, and I had anopportunity of witnessing young Weisheimer's talent as anorchestral conductor at a performance of Offenbach's Orpheus inthe theatre at Mayence, where he had hitherto occupied asubordinate position. I was horrified that my sympathy for thisyoung man should make me descend so low as to be present at suchan abomination, and for a long time I could not refrain fromletting Weisheimer see the annoyance I felt. 

In my search for a more dignified entertainment I wrote toFriedericke Meyer in Frankfort and asked her to let me know whenthe performance of Calderon's comedy, Das offentliche Geheimniss, would be repeated, as the last time I had seen an announcement ofit, I had been too late. She was much pleased at my sympatheticinquiry, and informed me that the comedy was not likely to berevived in the immediate future, but that there was a prospect ofCalderon's Don Gutierre being produced. I again paid a visit toFrankfort to see this play, and made the personal acquaintance ofthis interesting actress for thefirst time. I had every reason to be highly satisfied with theperformance of Calderon's tragedy, although the talented actresswho played the leading part was thoroughly successful only in thetenderer passages, her resources being insufficient to depict themore passionate scenes. She told me she very often visited somefriends of hers in Mayence, and I followed up this communicationby expressing a wish that when doing so she would look me up atBiebrich, to which she replied that I might hope on some futureoccasion for the fulfilment of my wish. 

A grand soiree given by the Schotts to their Mayenceacquaintances was the occasion of my making friends with MathildeMaier, whom Frau Schott, at least so she informed me, hadspecially selected for her 'cleverness' to be my companion at thesupper table; her highly intelligent, sincere manner and herpeculiar Mayence dialect distinguished her favourably from therest of the company; nor was this distinction accompanied byanything outre. I promised to visit her, and thus becameacquainted with an idyllic home such as I had never met before. This Mathilde, who was the daughter of a lawyer who had diedleaving only a small fortune behind, lived with her mother, twoaunts and a sister in a neat little house, while her brother, whowas learning business in Paris, was a continual source of troubleto her. Mathilde, with her practical common-sense, attended tothe affairs of the whole family, apparently to every one'scomplete satisfaction. I was received among them with remarkablewarmth whenever, in the pursuit of my business, I chanced to cometo Mayence. This happened about once a week, and on each occasionI was made to accept their hospitality. But as Mathilde had alarge circle of acquaintances, among others an old gentleman inMayence who had been Schopenhauer's only friend, I frequently mether in other people's houses, as for instance at the Raffs inWiesbaden. From there she and her old friend Luise Wagner wouldoften accompany me on my way home, and I would sometimes go withthem further on the way to Mayence. 

These meetings were full of agreeable impressions, to whichfrequent walks in the beautiful park of Biebrich Castlecontributed. The fair season of the year was now approaching, andI was once more seized with a desire for work. As from thebalcony of my flat, in a sunset of great splendour, I gazed uponthe magnificent spectacle of 'Golden' Mayence, with the majesticRhine pouring along its outskirts in a glory of light, theprelude to my Meistersinger again suddenly made its presenceclosely and distinctly felt in my soul. Once before had I seen itrise before me out of a lake of sorrow, like some distant mirage. I proceeded to write down the prelude exactly as it appears to-day in the score, that is, containing the clear outlines of theleading themes of the whole drama. I proceeded at once tocontinue the composition, intending to allow the remaining scenesto follow in due succession. As I was feeling in a good temper Ithought I would like to pay a visit to the Duke of Nassau. He wasmy neighbour, and I had so often met him on my lonely walks inthe park, that I considered it polite to call on him. Unfortunately there was not much to be got out of the interviewwhich took place. He was a very narrow-minded but amiable man, who excused himself for continuing to smoke his cigar in mypresence because he could not get on without it, and he thereuponproceeded to describe to me his preference for Italian opera, which I was quite content he should retain. But I had an ulteriormotive in trying to prepossess him in my favour. At the back ofhis park stood a tiny castle of ancient appearance on the bordersof a lake. It had grown into a sort of picturesque ruin, and atthe time served as a studio for a sculptor. I was filled with abold desire to acquire this small, half-tumbledown building forthe rest of my life; for I had already become a prey to alarminganxiety as to whether I should be able to hold out in thequarters I had so far tenanted, as the greater part of thestorey, on which I occupied only two small rooms, had been let toa family for the approaching summer, and I heard that they wouldenter into possession, armed with a piano. I was soon dissuaded, however, from further attempts to induce the Duke of Nassau tofavour my views, for he told me that this little castle, onaccount of its damp situation, would be thoroughly unhealthy. 

Nevertheless, I did not allow myself to be deterred from settingto work to find some lonely little house with a garden, for whichI still longed. In the excursions I repeatedly undertook for thispurpose I was frequently accompanied not only by Weisheimer butalso by Dr. Stadl, the young lawyer who at Schott's house hadproposed the charming toast which I have already mentioned. Hewas an extraordinary man, and I could only explain his veryexcitable nature by the fact that he was a passionate gambler atthe roulette tables in Wiesbaden. He it was who had introduced meto another friend, a practised musician, Dr. Schuler fromWiesbaden. With both these gentlemen I now weighed all thepossibilities of acquiring, or at least of discovering, my littlecastle for the future. On one occasion we visited Bingen withthis object, and ascended the celebrated old tower there in whichthe Emperor Henry IV. Was imprisoned long ago. After going forsome distance up the rock on which the tower was built, wereached a room on the fourth storey occupying the entire squareof the building, with a single projecting window looking out uponthe Rhine. 

I recognised this room as the ideal of everything I had imaginedin the way of a residence for myself. I thought I could arrangefor the necessary smaller apartments in the flat by means ofcurtains, and thus prepare for myself a splendid place of refugefor ever. Stadl and Schuler thought it possible they might helpme in the fulfilment of my wishes, as they were both acquaintedwith the proprietor of this ruin. Shortly afterwards, in fact, they informed me that the owner had no objection to letting methis large room at a low rent, but at the same time they pointedout the utter impracticability of carrying out my plan; nobody, they said, would be either able or willing to act as my servantthere, for, amongst other things, there was no well, and the onlywater obtainable was from a cistern lying at a frightful depthdown in the keep, and even this was not good. Under suchcircumstances it did not require more than one such obstacle todeter me from the pursuit of such an extravagant scheme. I had asimilar experience with a property in Rheingau belonging to CountSchonborn. My attention had been drawn to it, because it wasunoccupied by the proprietor. Here I certainly found a number ofempty rooms, out of which I should have been able to arrangesomething suitable for my purpose. After obtaining furtherdetails from the land agent, who wrote on my behalf to CountSchonborn, I had to content myself with a refusal. 

A strange incident that occurred about this time seriouslythreatened to interrupt me to some extent in the work I hadbegun. Friederike Meyer kept her promise and called on me oneafternoon on her return from her usual excursion to Mayence. Shewas accompanied by a lady friend. Shortly after her arrival shewas suddenly overwhelmed with fear, and to the terror of allpresent declared she was afraid she had caught scarlet fever. Hercondition soon became alarming, and she had to find accommodationimmediately in the 'Europaischer Hof' hotel and send for adoctor. The certainty with which she had immediately recognisedthe symptoms of a disease, which in most cases can only be caughtfrom children, could not fail to impress me strangely. But myamazement was increased when on the following morning, at a veryearly hour, Herr von Guaita, the manager of the Frankforttheatre, who had heard of her illness, paid a visit to thepatient and expressed for her an anxiety, the intensity of whichit was impossible to ascribe entirely to his interest as atheatrical manager. He took Friederike at once under hisprotection, and treated her with the greatest care, thusrelieving me from the pangs of anxiety aroused by this strangecase. I spent some time with Herr von Guaita, talking with himabout the possibility of producing one of my operas in Frankfort. On the second day I was present when the sick lady was conveyedto the railway station by Guaita, who evinced towards her whatappeared to me the most tender paternal solicitude. Soon afterthis, Herr Burde (the husband of Madame Ney, a famous singer), who was at that time an actor at the Frankfort theatre, paid me acall. This gentleman, with whom amongst other things I discussedFriederike Meyer's talents, informed me that she was supposed tobe the mistress of Herr von Guaita, a man who was held in greatrespect in the town on account of his noble rank, and that he hadpresented her with a house in which she was now living. As Herrvon Guaita had not made an agreeable impression upon me, but onthe contrary had struck me as a strange creature, this newsfilled me with a certain uneasiness. My other acquaintances wholived near my place of refuge in Biebrich were kind and friendlywhen, on the evening of my birthday on the 22nd of May, Ientertained this little company in my flat. Mathilde Maier withher sister and her lady friend were very clever in utilising mysmall stock of crockery, and in a certain sense she did thehonours as mistress of the house. 

But my peace of mind was soon disturbed by an interchange ofletters with Minna, which grew more and more unsatisfactory. Ihad settled her in Dresden, but wanted to spare her thehumiliation of a permanent separation from me. In pursuance ofthis idea I had at last found myself compelled to adopt the planshe had initiated, by communicating with the Saxon Minister ofJustice; and I finally petitioned for a complete amnesty from thegovernment, and received permission to settle in Dresden. Minnanow thought herself authorised to take a large flat, in which itwould be easy to arrange the furniture allotted to her, assumingthat after a little while I would share the abode with her, atleast periodically. I had to try to meet cheerfully her demandsfor the wherewithal to carry out her wishes, and especially toprocure the two thousand seven hundred marks she required for thepurpose. The more calmly I acted in this matter, the more deeplyshe seemed to be offended by the quiet frigidity of my letters. Reproaches for supposed injuries in the past and recriminationsof every kind now poured in from her faster than ever. At last Iturned to my old friend Pusinelli. Out of affection for me he hadalways been a loyal helper of my intractable spouse. Through hismediation I now prescribed the strong medicine which my sisterClara a short while ago had recommended as the best remedy forthe patient, and asked him to impress upon Minna the necessityfor a legal separation. It seemed to be no easy task for my poorfriend to carry out this proposal in earnest, but he had beenasked to do it, and obeyed. He informed me that she was very muchalarmed, but that she definitely refused to discuss an amicableseparation, and, as my sister had foreseen, Minna's conduct nowchanged in a very striking manner; she ceased to annoy me andseemed to realise her position and abide by it. To relieve herheart trouble, Pusinelli had prescribed for her a cure atReichenhall. I obtained the money for this, and apparently shespent the summer in tolerable spirits in the very place in whicha year ago I had met Cosima undergoing a cure. 

Once more I turned to my work, to which I always had recourse asthe best means of raising my spirits so soon as interruptionswere removed. One night I was disturbed by a strange event. Theevening had been pleasant, and I had sketched out the prettytheme for Pogner's Anrede, 'Das schone Fest Johannistag, ' etc. , when, while I was dozing off and still had this tune floating inmy mind, I was suddenly awakened to full consciousness by anunrestrained outburst of a woman's laughter above my room. Thislaughter, growing madder and madder, at last turned into ahorrible whimpering and frightful howling. I sprang out of bed ina terrified condition, to discover that the sound proceeded frommy servant Lieschen, who had been attacked with hystericalconvulsions as she lay in bed in the room overhead. My host'smaid went to help her, and a doctor was summoned. While I washorrified at the thought that the girl would soon die, I couldnot help wondering at the curious tranquillity of the others whowere present. I was told that such fits were of common occurrencein young girls, especially after dances. Without heeding this, Iwas riveted to the spot for a long time by the spectacle, withthe horrible symptoms it presented. Several times I saw whatresembled a childish fit of merriment pass, like the ebb and flowof the tide, through all the different stages, up to the mostimpudent laughter, and then to what seemed like the screams ofthe damned in torture. When the disturbance had somewhatsubsided, I went to bed again, and once more Pogner's'Johannistag' rose to my memory, and gradually banished thefearful impressions that I had undergone. 

One day, when I was watching young Stadl at the gambling-table inWiesbaden, I thought he was rather like the poor servant-girl. Ihad taken coffee with him and Weisheimer in the Kur garden, andwe had enjoyed one another's company, when Stadl disappeared fora time. Weisheimer led me to the gambling-table to find him. Seldom have I witnessed a more horrible change of expression thanthat now stamped on the man who was a prey to the gambling mania. As a demon had possessed poor Lieschen, so now a demon possessedthis man. As folk say, the devils 'pursued their evil lusts inhim. ' No appeal, no humiliating admonitions could prevail uponthe man tortured by his losses in the game to summon up his moralpowers. As I remembered my own experiences of the gamblingpassion, to which I had succumbed for a time when I was a youth, I spoke to young Weisheimer on the subject, and offered to showhim how I was not afraid to make a stake on pure chance, but thatI had no belief in my luck. When a new round of roulette began, Isaid to him in a voice of quiet certainty, 'Number 11 will win';and it did. I added fuel to the fire of his astonishment at thisstroke of good luck by predicting Number 27 for the next round. Certainly I remember being overcome by a spell as I spoke, and mynumber was in fact again victorious. My young friend was now in astate of such astonishment, that he vehemently urged me to stakesomething on the numbers which I foretold. Again I cannot butcall to mind the curious, quiet feeling of being spellbound whichpossessed me as I said, 'As soon as I introduce my own personalinterests into the game, my gift of prophecy will disappear atonce. ' I then drew him away from the gambling-table, and we tookour way back to Biebrich in a fine sunset. 

I now came into very painful relations with poor FriederikeMeyer. She wrote and told me of her recovery and requested me tovisit her, because she felt it her duty to apologise to me forthe trouble in which she had involved me. As the short drive toFrankfort often helped to entertain me and distract my thoughts, I gladly fulfilled her wishes, and found her in a state ofconvalescence but still weak, and obviously preoccupied with theeffort to fortify my mind against all disagreeable surmises aboutherself. She said that Herr von Guaita was like an anxious, almost hypersensitive father to her. She told me that she wasvery young when she left her family, and that with her sisterLuise in particular she had severed all connection. She had thuscome quite friendless to Frankfort, where the chance protectionof Herr von Guaita, a man of mature age, had been very welcome toher. Unfortunately she had to suffer much that was painful underthis arrangement, for she was most bitterly persecuted, chieflyon the score of her reputation, by her patron's family, whofeared he might want to marry her. As she told me this, I couldnot refrain from drawing her attention to some of theconsequences of the antagonism I had noticed, and I went so faras to speak of the house which people said had been given her asa present. This seemed to produce an extraordinary effect uponFriederike, who was still an invalid. She expressed the greatestannoyance at these rumours, although, as she admitted, she hadlong been obliged to suspect that slander of this kind would bedisseminated about her; more than once she had considered theadvisability of giving up the Frankfort stage, and now she wasmore determined than ever to do so. I saw nothing in herdemeanour to shake my confidence in the truth of her story;moreover, as Herr von Guaita became more and more unintelligibleto me both as a man and in the light of his incredible conduct onthe occasion of Friederike's illness, my attitude towards thishighly gifted girl was henceforth unconditionally on the side ofher interests, which were being prejudiced by an obviousinjustice. To facilitate her recovery I advised her, withoutdelay, to take a long holiday for a tour on the Rhine. 

In accordance with the instructions conveyed to him by the GrandDuke, Eduard Devrient now addressed me in reference to theappointed performance of Lohengrin in Karlsruhe under mysuperintendence. The angry and arrogant disgust expressed in hisletter at my desire to see that Lohengrin was produced without'cuts, ' served admirably to expose to me the profound antipathyof this man whom I had once so blindly overestimated. He wrotethat one of the first things he had done was to have a copy ofthe score made for the orchestra with the 'cuts' introduced byConductor Rietz for the Leipzig performance, and that it wouldconsequently be a tiresome business to put back all the passageswhich I wished to have restored. He regarded my request in thisparticular as merely malicious. I now remembered that the onlyperformance of Lohengrin, which had been taken off almostimmediately on account of its complete failure, was the one inLeipzig produced by Conductor Rietz. Devrient, regarding Rietz asMendelssohn's successor and the most solid musician of 'moderntimes, ' had concluded that this mutilation of my work was asuitable one for production in Karlsruhe. But I shuddered at themisguided light in which I had so long persisted in regardingthis man. I informed him briefly of my indignation and of mydecision to have nothing to do with Lohengrin in Karlsruhe. Ialso expressed my intention to make my excuses to the Grand Dukeat a suitable time. Soon after this I heard that Lohengrin was, after all, to be produced in Karlsruhe in the usual way, and thatthe newly wedded Schnorrs had been specially engaged for it. Agreat longing at last filled me to make the acquaintance ofSchnorr and his achievements. Without announcing my intentions, Itravelled to Karlsruhe, obtained a ticket through Kaliwoda, andheedless of all else went to the performance. In my publishedMemoirs I have described more accurately the impressions Ireceived on this occasion, more particularly of Schnorr. I fellin love with him at once, and after the performance I sent him amessage to come and see me in my room at the hotel and have alittle chat. I had heard so much of his delicate state of healththat I was genuinely delighted to see him enter the room with alively step and a look of joy in his eyes. Although it was lateat night, and he had undergone a considerable strain, he met myanxiety to avoid all dissipation out of regard to his welfare, bywillingly accepting my offer to celebrate our new acquaintancewith a bottle of champagne. We spent the greater part of thenight in the best of spirits, and among our discussions those onDevrient's character were especially instructive to me. Iundertook to stay another day, so as to avail myself of aninvitation to lunch with Schnorr and his wife. As by this lengthystay in Karlsruhe I knew my presence would become known to theGrand Duke, I took advantage on the following day to inform himof my arrival, and he made an appointment to meet me in theafternoon. After talking at lunch to Frau Schnorr, in whom I hadrecognised a great and well-developed theatrical talent, andafter making the most astonishing discoveries about Devrient'sbehaviour in the Tristan affair, I had my interview at the ducalpalace. It was marked by uneasiness on both sides. I openlystated my reasons for withdrawing my promise with regard to theLohengrin performance, and also my unalterable conviction that aconspiracy to interfere with the production of Tristan originallyproposed had been the work of Devrient. As Devrient, by hisingenious attitude, had led the Grand Duke to believe in hisprofound and genuinely solicitous friendship for me, mycommunications obviously pained the Grand Duke a great deal. Still, he seemed eager to assume that the matter turned onartistic differences of opinion between me and his theatricalmanager, and in bidding me good-bye he expressed the hope ofseeing these apparent misunderstandings give way to asatisfactory explanation. I replied with indifference that I didnot think it likely I should ever come to an agreement withDevrient. The Grand Duke now gave vent to genuine indignation; hehad not thought, he said, that I could so easily treat an oldfriend with such ingratitude. To meet the keenness of thisreproach I could at first only tender my apologies for not havingexpressed my decision with the emphasis he had a right to expect, but as the Grand Duke had taken this matter so seriously and hadthereby seemed to justify me in expressing my real opinion ofthis supposed friend with equal seriousness, I was bound, withall the earnestness at my command, to assure him that I did notwish to have anything more to do with Devrient. At this the GrandDuke told me, with renewed gentleness, that he declined to regardmy assurance as irrevocable, for it lay in his power topropitiate me by other means. I took my departure with anexpression of serious regret that I could not help regarding asfruitless any effort made in the direction contemplated by mypatron. Later on I ascertained that Devrient, who, of course, wasinformed by the Grand Duke of what had taken place, looked uponmy behaviour as an attempt on my part to ruin and supplant him. The Grand Duke had not abandoned his desire to arrange for theperformance of a concert consisting of selections from my mostrecent works. Devrient had afterwards to write to me again in hisofficial capacity on this subject. In his letter he took occasionto make it clear that he regarded himself as victorious over theintrigues I had practised against him, assuring me at the sametime that his distinguished patron nevertheless wished to carryout the concert in question, as from his lofty point of view heknew very well how to distinguish 'the art from the artist. ' Myanswer was a simple refusal. 

I had many a conversation with the Schnorrs over the episode, andI made an arrangement with them to visit me soon in Biebrich. Ireturned there now, to be in time for Bulow's visit, of which Ihad already been informed. He arrived at the beginning of July tolook for lodgings for himself and Cosima, who followed two dayslater. We were immensely pleased to meet again, and utilised theoccasion to make excursions of all sorts for the benefit of ourhealth in the pleasant Rheingau country. We took our mealstogether regularly in the public dining-room of the EuropaischerHof (where the Schnorrs also came to stay), and we were generallyas merry as possible. In the evening we had music in my rooms. Alwine Frommann, on her way through Biebrich, also came to thereading of the Meistersinger. All present seemed to be struckwith surprise on hearing my latest libretto, and especially bythe vernacular gaiety of the style, of which until now I had notavailed myself. Frau Dustmann also, who had a special engagementfor a performance at Wiesbaden, paid me a visit. Unfortunately Inoticed in her a lively antipathy to her sister Friederike, afact which, among others, strengthened my conviction that it washigh time for Friederike to dissociate herself from all ties inFrankfort. After I had been enabled, with Bulow's support, toplay my friends the completed parts of the composition of theMeistersinger, I went through most of Tristan, and in thisprocess the Schnorrs had an opportunity of showing the extent towhich they had already made themselves acquainted with theirtask. I found that both were a good deal lacking in clearness ofenunciation. 

The summer now brought more visitors into our neighbourhood, andamongst them several of my acquaintances. David, the Leipzigconcert director, called on me with his young pupil, AugustWilhelmj, the son of a Wiesbaden lawyer. We now had music in thetrue sense of the word, and Conductor Alois Schmitt from Schwerincontributed an odd share by performing what he called a worthlessold composition of his. One evening we had a crowded party, theSchotts joining the rest of my friends, and both the Schnorrsdelighted us keenly with a performance of the so-called love-scene in the third act of Lohengrin. We were all deeply moved bythe sudden apparition of Rockel in our common dining-room at thehotel. He had been released from Waldheimer prison after thirteenyears. I was astounded to find absolutely no radical change inthe appearance of my old acquaintance, except for the fadedcolour of his hair. He himself explained this to me by observingthat he had stepped out of something like a shell in which he hadbeen ensconced for his own preservation. As we were deliberatingabout the field of activity on which he ought now to enter, Iadvised him to seek some useful employment in the service of abenevolent and liberal-minded man like the Grand Duke of Baden. He did not think he would succeed in any ministerial capacity, owing to his want of legal knowledge; on the other hand, he waseminently qualified to undertake the supervision of a house ofcorrection, as he had obtained not only the most accurateinformation on this subject, but at the same time had noted whatreforms were necessary. He went off to the German shootingcompetition taking place at Frankfort. There, in recognition ofhis martyrdom and his unwavering conduct, he was accorded aflattering ovation, and he stayed in Frankfort and itsneighbourhood for some time. 

Casar Willig, a painter who had received a commission from OttoWesendonck to paint my portrait at his expense, worried me and myintimate friends at this time. Unfortunately the painter wasutterly unsuccessful in his attempt to make a good likeness ofme. Although Cosima was present at nearly all the sittings, andtried her utmost to put the artist on the right track, the end ofit was that I had to sit for a sharp profile, to enable him toproduce anything that could be in the least recognisable as alikeness. After he had performed this task to his satisfaction, he painted another copy for me out of gratitude. I sent this atonce to Minna in Dresden, through whom it ultimately went to mysister Louisa. It was a horrible picture, and I was confrontedwith it once afterwards when it was exhibited by the artist inFrankfort. 

I made a pleasant excursion with the Bulows and the Schnorrs toBingen one evening, and availed myself of the opportunity tocross over to Rudesheim to bring back Friederike Meyer, who hadbeen enjoying her holiday there. I introduced her to my friends, and Cosima especially took a friendly interest in this uncommonlygifted woman. Our gaiety as we sat over a glass of wine in theopen air was heightened by our being unexpectedly accosted by atraveller who approached us respectfully from a distant table; heheld his glass filled, and at once greeted me politely and withthe utmost warmth. He was a native of Berlin and a greatenthusiast of my work. He spoke not only for himself, but also onbehalf of two of his friends, who joined us at our table; and ourgood-humour led us ultimately to champagne. A splendid eveningwith a wonderful moon-rise shed its influence over the gladnessof our spirits as we returned home late in the evening after thisdelightful excursion. When we visited Schlangenbad (where AlwineFrommann was staying) in equally high spirits, our recklesshumour beguiled us into making an even longer excursion toRolandseck. We made our first halt at Remagen, where we visitedthe handsome church, in which a young monk was preaching to animmense crowd, and we afterwards lunched in a garden on the bankof the Rhine. We remained that night in Rolandseck, and nextmorning we went up the Drachenfels. In connection with thisascent, an adventure happened which had a merry sequel. On thereturn journey, after getting out of the train at the railwaystation and crossing the Rhine, I missed my letter-casecontaining a note for two hundred marks; it had slipped out of myovercoat pocket. Two gentlemen who had joined us on the way fromthe Drachenfels immediately offered to retrace their steps, asomewhat arduous undertaking, to hunt for the lost object. Aftera few hours they returned, and handed me the letter-case with itscontents intact. Two stone-cutters at work on the summit of themountain had found it. They restored it at once, and the honestfellows were presented with a handsome reward. The happy issue tothis adventure had, of course, to be celebrated by a good dinnerwith the best wine. The story was not completed for me until along time afterwards. In 1873, on my entering a restaurant inCologne, the host introduced himself to me as the man who, elevenyears previously, had catered for us at the inn on the Rhine, andhad changed that very two-hundred-mark note for me. He then toldme what had happened to that note. An Englishman, to whom he hadrelated the adventure of the note on the same day, offered to buyit from him for double its value. The host declined any suchtransaction, but allowed the Englishman to have the note on thepromise of the latter to stand champagne to all those present atthe time. The promise was fulfilled to the letter. 

An invitation to Osthofen from the Weisheimer family was theorigin of a less satisfactory excursion than the one describedabove. We put up there for one night after being compelled on theprevious day to take part at all hours in the frolics of apeasant wedding-feast which was simply interminable. Cosima wasthe only one who managed to keep in a good temper throughout theproceedings. I supported her to the best of my abilities. ButBulow's depression, which had increased during the precedingdays, grew deeper and deeper, was aggravated by every possibleincident, until at last it developed into an outbreak of fury. Wetried to console ourselves with the reflection that a similarinfliction could never again fall to our lot. The following day, while I was preparing for my departure, and brooding over othersources of dissatisfaction at my position, Cosima induced Hans tocontinue the journey as far as Worms in the hope of findingsomething refreshing and cheering in a visit to the ancientcathedral there, and from that place they followed me later toBiebrich. 

One little adventure we had at the gaming-table at Wiesbadenstill lingers in my memory. Within the last few days I hadreceived a royalty of twenty louis d'or from the theatre for anopera. Not knowing what to do with so small a sum (as mysituation, on the whole, was growing worse and worse), I venturedto ask Cosima to risk half the sum at roulette in our jointinterest. I observed with astonishment how, without even thesmallest knowledge of the game, she staked one gold piece afteranother on the table, throwing it down so that it neverdefinitely covered any particular number or colour. In this wayit gradually disappeared behind the croupier's rake. I grewalarmed, and hurriedly went to another table in the hope ofcounteracting the effect of Cosima's unguided and misguidedefforts. In this very economical pursuit luck befriended me sosubstantially, that I at once recovered the ten louis d'or whichmy fair friend had lost at the other table. This soon put us intoa very merry mood. Less cheering than this adventure was ourvisit to a performance of Lohengrin in Wiesbaden. After we hadbeen pretty well satisfied and put into a fairly good humour bythe first act, the representation turned, as it proceeded, into acurrent of maddening misrepresentation such as I should neverhave believed possible. In a fury I left the theatre before theend, while Hans, urged by Cosima's reminder of the proprieties(though they were both as much infuriated as I was), endured themartyrdom of witnessing the performance to a close. 

On another occasion I heard that the Metternichs had arrived attheir Castle Johannisberg. Still preoccupied with my main anxietyto obtain a peaceful domicile in which to conclude theMeistersinger, I kept an eye on this castle, which was generallyunoccupied, and announced my intention of calling on the Prince. An invitation soon followed, and the Bulows accompanied me to therailway station. I could not fail to be satisfied with thefriendly reception accorded to me by my patrons. They, too, hadbeen considering the question of finding a temporary resting-place for me in the Johannisberg Castle, and found they couldgive me a small flat in the house of the keeper of the castle formy sole use, only they drew my attention to the difficulty ofobtaining my board. The Prince, however, had busied himself moreactively with another matter, that of creating a permanentposition for me in Vienna. He said that on his next stay inVienna he would have a discussion about my affairs withSchmerling the minister, whom he thought it was most suitable toconsult on such a matter. He was a man who would understand me, and perhaps be able to discover a proper position for me in thehigher sense of the word, and arouse the Emperor's interest inme. If I went to Vienna again, I was simply to call onSchmerling, and he would receive me as a matter of course onaccount of the Prince's introduction. As the result of aninvitation to the ducal court, the Metternichs had repairedwithout loss of time to Wiesbaden, to which city I accompaniedthem, and again fell in with the Bulows. 

Schnorr had left us after a fortnight's stay, and now the timehad also come for the Bulows to depart. I accompanied them as faras Frankfort, where we spent two more days together to see aperformance of Goethe's Tasso. Liszt's symphonic poem Tasso wasto precede the play. It was with odd feelings that we witnessedthis performance. Friederike Meyer as the Princess and HerrSchneider as Tasso appealed to us greatly, but Hans could not getover the shameful execution of Liszt's work by the conductor, Ignaz Lachner. Before going to the theatre Friedrike gave us aluncheon at the restaurant in the Botanical Gardens. In the endthe mysterious Herr von Guaita also joined us there. We nownoticed with astonishment that all further conversation wascarried on between them as a duologue which was quiteunintelligible to us. All that we could make out was the furiousjealousy of Herr von Guaita and Friederike's witty, scornfuldefence. But the excited man became more composed when hesuggested I should arrange for a performance of Lohengrin inFrankfort under my own direction. I was favourably disposed tothe suggestion, as I saw in it an opportunity for another meetingwith the Bulows and the Schnorrs. The Bulows promised to come, and I invited the Schnorrs to be in the cast. This time we couldtake leave of one another cheerfully, although the increasing andoften excessive ill-humour of poor Hans had drawn many aninvoluntary sigh from me. He seemed to be in perpetual torment. On the other hand, Cosima appeared to have lost the shyness shehad evinced towards me when I visited Reichenhall in the previousyear, and a very friendly manner had taken its place. While I wassinging 'Wotan's Abschied' to my friends I noticed the sameexpression on Cosima's face as I had seen on it, to myastonishment, in Zurich on a similar occasion, only the ecstasyof it was transfigured into something higher. Everythingconnected with this was shrouded in silence and mystery, but thebelief that she belonged to me grew to such certainty in my mind, that when I was under the influence of more than ordinaryexcitement my conduct betrayed the most reckless gaiety. As I wasaccompanying Cosima to the hotel across a public square, Isuddenly suggested she should sit in an empty wheelbarrow whichstood in the street, so that I might wheel her to the hotel. Sheassented in an instant. My astonishment was so great that I feltall my courage desert me, and was unable to carry out my madproject. 

On returning to Biebrich I was at once confronted with gravedifficulties, for Schott, after keeping me some time in suspense, now definitely refused to pay me any further subsidies. Theadvances I had already received from my publisher had, it istrue, until quite recently, served to defray all my expensessince leaving Vienna, including my wife's removal to Dresden andmy own migration to Biebrich by way of Paris, where I had tosatisfy more than one lurking creditor. But in spite of theseinitial difficulties, which, I suppose, took about half the moneyI was to have for the Meistersinger by agreement, I had countedupon finishing my work in peace with the remainder of the sumstipulated. But since then Schott had put me off with vainpromises about a fixed date for balancing accounts with thebookseller. I had already been put to great straits, and noweverything seemed to depend on my being able to hand over acomplete act of the Meistersinger to Schott quickly. I had got asfar as the scene where Pogner is about to introduce Walther vonStolzing to the meistersingers, when--about the middle of August, while Bulow was still there--an accident occurred which, thoughslight in itself, made me incapable of writing for two wholemonths. 

My surly host kept a bulldog named Leo chained up, and neglectedhim so cruelly that it excited my constant sympathy. I thereforetried one day to have him freed from vermin, and held his headmyself, so that the servant who was doing it should not befrightened. Although the dog had learned to trust me thoroughly, he snapped at me once involuntarily and bit me--apparently veryslightly--in the upper joint of my right-hand thumb. There was nowound visible, but it was soon evident that the periosteum hadbecome inflamed from the contusion. As the pain increased moreand more with the use of the thumb, I was ordered to do nowriting until my hand was quite healed. If my plight was notquite so terrible as the newspapers--which announced that I hadbeen bitten by a mad dog--made out, it was still conducive toserious reflection on human frailty. To complete my task, therefore, I needed, not only a sound mind and good ideas, irrespective of any required skill, but also a healthy thumb towrite with, as my work was not a libretto I could dictate, butmusic which no one but myself could write down. 

On the advice of Raff, who considered a volume of my songs to beworth one thousand francs, I decided to offer my publisher, byway of temporary compensation, five poems by my friend FrauWesendonck which I had set to music (consisting chiefly ofstudies for Tristan with which I was occupied at the time), sothat he should at least have something on the market. The songswere accepted and published, but they seemed to have produced nosoftening effect on Schott's mood. I was obliged to conclude thathe was acting on some one else's instigation, and I betook myselfto Kissingen (where he was staying for his 'cure') in order toget to the bottom of it and shape my next moves accordingly. Aninterview with him was obstinately denied me, and Frau Schott, who was posted outside his door in the role of guardian angel, informed me that a bad liver attack prevented him from seeing me. I now realised my position with regard to him. For the moment Idrew on young Weisheimer for some money, which he gave me mostwillingly, supported as he was by a wealthy father, and then setto work to consider what I could do next. I could no longer counton Schott, and had in consequence lost all prospect of anunopposed performance of the Meistersinger. 

At this juncture I was much surprised to receive a renewedofficial invitation to Vienna for the performance of Tristan atthe Opera, where I was informed all obstacles had been removed, as Ander had completely recovered his voice. I was genuinelyastonished to hear this, and on further inquiry arrived at thefollowing elucidation of the transactions that had been takingplace on my behalf in Vienna during the interval. Before I leftthere the last time Frau Luise Dustmann, who seemed to take areal pleasure in the part of Isolde, had tried to clear away thereal impediment to my undertaking by persuading me to go to anevening party, where she intended to introduce me again to Dr. Hanslick. She knew that unless this gentleman could be broughtround to my side nothing could be accomplished in Vienna. As Iwas in a good temper that evening I found it easy to treatHanslick as a superficial acquaintance, until he drew me asidefor an intimate talk, and with sobs and tears assured me he couldnot bear to be misunderstood by me any longer. The blame foranything that might have been extraordinary in his judgment of mewas to be laid, not on any malicious intention, but solely on thenarrow-mindedness of an individual who desired nothing moreardently than to learn from me how to widen the boundaries of hisknowledge. All this was said in such a burst of emotion that Icould do nothing but soothe his grief and promise him myunreserved sympathy with his work in future. Just before leavingVienna I actually heard that Hanslick had launched forth intounmeasured praise of myself and my amiability. This change had soaffected both the singers at the Opera and also CouncillorRaymond (the Lord High Steward's adviser) that at last, workingfrom high circles downwards, it came to be regarded as a point ofhonour with the Viennese to have Tristan performed in their city. Hence my summons!

I heard at the same time from young Weisheimer, who had betakenhimself to Leipzig, that he was sure he could arrange a goodconcert there if I could assist him by conducting my new preludeto the Meistersinger as well as the Tannhauser Overture. Hebelieved it would make so great a sensation that the probablesale of all the tickets would enable him to place a notinconsiderable sum at my disposal after the bare expenses hadbeen deducted. In addition to this, I could hardly go back on mypromise to Herr von Guaita with respect to a performance ofLohengrin at Frankfort, although the Schnorrs had been obliged todecline to take part in it. After weighing all these offers Idecided to put the Meistersinger aside, and try to earn enough byenterprises abroad to enable me in the following spring to takeup and finish my interrupted work on the spot, unaffected bySchott's humours. I therefore decided at all costs to keep on thehouse at Biebrich, which I really liked. Minna, on the otherhand, had been pressing me to send some of the furniture which Ihad kept, to complete her own establishment at Dresden, namely, my bed and a few other things to which I was accustomed, 'so thatwhen I went to see her, ' she said, 'I should find everything inproper order. ' I did not want to act contrary to the establishedfiction which was to make the parting from me easier for her; Itherefore sent her what she wanted, and bought new furniture formy home on the Rhine with the assistance of a Wiesbadenmanufacturer, who allowed me fairly long credit. 

At the end of September I went to Frankfort for a week to takeover the rehearsals of Lohengrin. Here again I went through thesame experience as I had so often done before. I no sooner cameinto contact with the members of the opera company than I felt adesire to throw up the undertaking on the spot; then the generalconsternation and the entreaties that I would persevere caused areaction, under the influence of which I held out until I at lastbecame interested in certain things for their own sake, and quiteapart from any consideration of the wretched singers. The thingsthat pleased me were the effect of an uncurtailed performance, and the employment of correct tempi and correct staging. Yet Isuppose Friederike Meyer was the only one who completely realisedthese effects. The usual 'animation' of the audience was notlacking, but I was told later on that the subsequent performancesfell off, so that the opera had to be curtailed in the old way tokeep it going. (They were conducted by Herr Ignaz Lachner ofFrankfort, a smart, sleek man, but a wretchedly bad, muddle-headed conductor. )

I was the more prostrated by the effect of all this because eventhe Bulows had failed to pay me their expected visit. Cosima, asI was now informed, had passed me by in haste on her way to Paristo offer her support for a short time to her grandmother, who wassuffering from a tedious illness, and had now received a mostpainful blow by the news of the death of Blandine after herconfinement, which had taken place at St. Tropez. 

I now shut myself up for some time in my house at Biebrich, theweather having suddenly turned cold, and prevailed on my thumb toprove itself capable of writing down the instrumentation of someextracts for immediate concert purposes from the Meistersinger, which was now complete. I sent the prelude to Weisheimer at onceto be copied at Leipzig, and also set the Versammlung dorMeistersinger and Pogner's Anrede for orchestra. 

By the end of October I was at last ready to start on my journeyto Leipzig, in the course of which I was induced in a strange wayto enter the Wartburg once more. I had alighted for a few minutesat Eisenach, and the train had just begun to move as I washurriedly trying to catch it. I ran after the vanishing traininvoluntarily with a sharp cry to the guard, but naturallywithout being able to stop it. A considerable crowd, which hadgathered on the station to watch the departure of a prince, thereupon broke into loud outbursts of laughter, and when I saidto them, 'I suppose you are glad that this happened to me?' theyreplied, 'Yes, it was very funny. ' On this incident I based myaxiom that you can please the German public by your misfortunesif by nothing else. As there was no other train to Leipzig forfive hours I telegraphed to my brother-in-law, Hermann Brockhaus(whom I had asked to put me up), telling him of my delay, andallowed a man who introduced himself as a guide to persuade me tovisit the Wartburg. There I saw the partial restoration made bythe Grand Duke, and also the hall containing Schwind's pictures, to all of which I was quite indifferent. I then turned into therestaurant of this show-place of Eisenach, and found severalwomen there engaged in knitting stockings. The Grand Duke ofWeimar assured me some time afterwards that Tannhauser enjoyedgreat popularity throughout the whole of Thuringia down to thelowest peasant boy, but neither the host nor my guide seemed toknow anything about it. However, I signed the visitors' book withmy full name, and described in it the pleasant greeting I hadreceived at the station, though I have never heard that any onenoticed it. 

Hermann Brockhaus, who had aged rather and grown stout, gave me amost cheerful reception when I arrived, late at night, atLeipzig. He took me to his house, where I found Ottilie and herfamily, and was installed in comfort. We had much to talk about, and my brother-in-law's remarkably good-natured way of enteringinto our conversation often kept us up fascinated until all hoursof the morning. My connection with Weisheimer, a young and quiteunknown composer, aroused some misgivings. His concert programmewas in fact filled with a great number of his own compositions, including a symphonic poem, just completed, entitled Der RitterToggenburg. I should probably have raised a protest againstcarrying out this programme in its entirety had I attended therehearsals in an undisturbed frame of mind, but it so happenedthat the hours I spent in the concert-room proved to be among themost intimate and pleasant recollections of my life, for there Imet the Bulows again. Hans seemed to have felt it his duty tojoin me in celebrating Weisheimer's debut, his contribution beinga new pianoforte concerto by Liszt. To enter the old familiarhall of the Gewandhaus at Leipzig was enough in itself to causeme an uneasy feeling of depression, which was increased by myreception by the members of the orchestra--of whose estrangementI was keenly conscious--and to whom I had to introduce myself asan entire stranger. But I felt myself suddenly transported when Idiscovered Cosima sitting in a corner of the hall, in deepmourning and very pale, but smiling cheerfully at me. She hadreturned shortly before from Paris--where her grandmother now layhopelessly bedridden--filled with grief at the inexplicablysudden death of her sister, and she now seemed, even to my eyes, to be leaving another world to approach me. Our emotions were sogenuinely deep and sincere that only an unconditional surrenderto the enjoyment of meeting again could bridge the chasm. All theincidents of the rehearsal affected us like a magic-lantern showof peculiarly enlivening character, at which we looked on likemerry children. Hans, who was in an equally happy mood--for weall seemed to each other to be embarked on some Quixoticadventure--called my attention to Brendel, who was sitting notfar from us, and seemed to be expecting me to recognise him. Ifound it entertaining to prolong this suspense thus occasioned, by pretending not to know him, whereat, as it appears, the poorman was much offended. Recalling my unjust behaviour on thisoccasion, I therefore made a point of alluding specially toBrendel's services when speaking in public some time afterwardson Judaism in Music, by way of atonement, as it were, to thisman, who had died in the meantime. The arrival of AlexanderRitter with my niece Franziska helped to enliven us. My niece, indeed, found constant entertainment and excitement in theenormity of Weisheimer's compositions, while Ritter, who wasacquainted with the text of my Meistersinger, described a highlyunintelligible melody given to the basses in Ritter Toggenburg as'the lonely gormandiser mode. ' [Footnote: Meistersinger (Englishversion), Act 1, scene ii. ] Our good-humour might have failed usin the end, however, had we not been refreshed and uplifted bythe happy effect which the prelude to the Meistersinger (whichhad at last been successfully rehearsed) and Bulow's gloriousrendering of Liszt's new work produced. The actual concert itselfgave a final ghostly touch to an adventure to which we had lookedforward so contentedly till then. To Weisheimer's horror theLeipzig public stayed away en masse, in response apparently to asign from the leaders of the regular subscription concerts. Ihave never seen any place so empty on an occasion of this sort;besides the members of my family--among whom my sister Ottiliewas conspicuous in a very eccentric cap--there was no one to beseen but a few visitors, who had come into town for the occasion, occupying one or two benches. I noticed in particular my Weimarfriends, Conductor Lassen, Councillor Franz Muller, the never-failing Richard Pohl, and Justizrath Gille, who had all nobly putin an appearance. I also recognised with a shock of surprise oldCouncillor Kustner, the former manager of the Court Theatre inBerlin, and I had to respond amiably to his greeting and hisastonishment at the incomprehensible emptiness of the hall. Thepeople of Leipzig were represented solely by special friends ofmy family, who never went to a concert in the ordinary way, amongthem being my devoted friend, Dr. Lothar Muller, the son of Dr. Moritz Muller, an allopath whom I had known very well in myearliest youth. In the middle of the hall there were only theconcert-giver's fiancee and her mother. At a little distanceaway, and facing this lady, I took a seat next to Cosima whilethe concert was in progress. My family, observing us from adistance, were offended by the almost incessant laughter whichpossessed us, as they themselves were in the depths ofdepression. 

As regards the prelude to the Meistersinger, its successfulperformance affected the few friends who formed the audience sofavourably that we had to repeat it there and then--to thesatisfaction even of the orchestra. Indeed, their artificiallynurtured distrust of me, which had been like a coating of ice, now seemed to have melted, for when I brought the concert to aclose with the Tannhauser Overture the orchestra celebrated myrecall with a tremendous flourish of instruments. This delightedmy sister Ottilie beyond measure, as she maintained that such anhonour had never been accorded before except to Jenny Lind. Myfriend Weisheimer, who had really tired every one's patience inthe most inconsiderate way, afterwards developed a feeling ofdissatisfaction towards me which dated from this period. He feltbound to confess to himself that he would have done much betterwithout my brilliant orchestral pieces, in which case he mighthave offered the public a concert at a cheaper rate, consistingexclusively of his own works. As it was, he had to bear thecosts--to his father's great disappointment--and also to overcomethe unnecessary humiliation of being unable to give me anyprofits. 

My brother-in-law was not to be deterred by these painfulimpressions from carrying out the household festivities, whichhad been arranged beforehand in celebration of my expectedtriumphs. The Bulows were also invited to one of the banquets, and there was an evening party at which I read the Meistersingerto an imposing array of professors, and met with muchappreciation. I renewed my acquaintance with Professor Weiss, too, who interested me very much, for I remembered him from myyoung days as a friend of my uncle's. He expressed himself asparticularly surprised by my skill in reading aloud. 

The Bulows had now unfortunately returned to Berlin. We had metonce more on a very cold day in the street (under unpleasantconditions, for they were paying duty calls), but the generaldepression which had settled on us seemed more noticeable, duringour short leave-taking, than the fleeting good-humour of the lastfew days. My friends were well aware of the terrible and utterlyforlorn condition in which I found myself. I had been idioticenough to count on the proceeds from the Leipzig concert toprovide at least the needs of the moment, and I was, in the firstplace, put into the awkward position of being unable to pay mylandlord punctually (the house rent at Biebrich being now due). But I was ready to stake everything on keeping this asylum foranother year, and I had to deal with an obstinate, bad-temperedcreature whom I thought it necessary to pay in advance for thesake of securing the place. As I had just then to supply Minnawith her quarterly allowance also, the money which RegierungsrathMuller forwarded to me from the Grand Duke seemed, indeed, aheaven-sent windfall. For after giving up Schott entirely I had, in my distress, turned to this old acquaintance and begged him toexplain my situation to the Grand Duke and induce him to send mesome help--to be regarded possibly as payment in advance for mynew operas. In response to this I received the startling andunexpected sum of fifteen hundred marks through Muller'sinstrumentality. It was not until some time after that Iaccounted for this generosity by the supposition that the GrandDuke's amiable behaviour towards me had been a deliberate attemptto make an impression upon his friend Liszt, whom he wished toentice back to Weimar at all costs. He was certainly not mistakenin counting on the excellent effect his binding generosity to mewould have on our common friend. 

I was therefore in a position to go to Dresden for a few days atonce, to renew my provision for Minna, and at the same time tohonour her with one of the visits deemed necessary to support herin her difficult situation. Minna conducted me from the stationto the flat which she had taken and furnished inWalpurgisstrasse, a street which had not been built at the time Ileft Dresden. She had as usual arranged her home very tastefully, and with the aim evidently of making me comfortable. I wasgreeted on the threshold by a little mat embroidered with theword Salve, and I recognised our Paris drawing-room at once inthe red silk curtains and the furniture. I was to have a majesticbedroom, an exceedingly comfortable study on the other side, aswell as the drawing-room at my entire disposal, while sheinstalled herself in one little room with recesses looking on tothe yard. The study was adorned by the magnificent mahoganybureau which had originally been made for my house when I wasconductor at Dresden. It had been bought in by the Ritter family, after my flight from that city, and presented to Kummer, the son-in-law, from whom Minna had hired it temporarily, leaving me theoption of buying it back for one hundred and eighty marks. As Ishowed no desire to do so her mood became gloomier. Oppressed bythe fearful embarrassment which she experienced on being alonewith me, she had invited my sister Clara to come on a visit fromChemnitz, and was now sharing the small room at her disposal withHer. Clara proved herself extraordinarily wise and sympathetic onthis as on former occasions. She pitied Minna of course, and wasanxious to help her at this difficult period, though always witha view to strengthening her in the conviction that our partingwas unavoidable. An exact knowledge of my extremely awkwardposition now seemed called for. My financial difficulties were socrushing that the only excuse for telling Minna was to silenceher uneasy suspicions about me. I did, however, succeed inavoiding all explanations with her--the more easily as mymeetings with Fritz Brockhaus and his family (including themarried daughter Clara Kessinger), the Pusinellis, old Heine, andlastly the two Schnorrs, provided a pretext for our spending mostof the time in the society of others. 

I filled the mornings by making calls, and it was when I set outto pay my respects and thanks to Minister Bar for my amnesty thatI trod the familiar streets of Dresden again. My first impressionwas one of extraordinary boredom and emptiness, for I had lastseen them filled with barricades, in which fantastic conditionthey had looked so unusually interesting. I did not see a singlefamiliar face on the way. Even the glover, whom I had alwayspatronised and whose shop I now had occasion to revisit, did notseem to know me, until an oldish man rushed across the street tome and greeted me with great excitement and tears in his eyes. Itturned out to be Karl Kummer of the court orchestra (looking mucholder), the most inspired oboist I ever met. I had taken himalmost tenderly to my heart on account of his playing, and weembraced joyfully. I asked whether he still played his instrumentas beautifully as before, whereupon he assured me that since Ihad left his oboe had failed to give real satisfaction, and itwas now a long time since he had had himself pensioned off. Hetold me in response to my inquiries that all my old militarybandsmen--including Dietz, the tall double-bass player--wereeither dead or pensioned off. Our manager Luttichau and ConductorReissiger were among those who had died, Lipinsky had returned toPoland long before, Schubert, the leader, was unfit for work, andeverything seemed to me sad and strange. Minister Bar expressedto me the grave qualms he still felt about the amnesty grantedme. True, he had ventured to sign it himself, but was stilltroubled to think that my great popularity as a composer of operawould make it easy for me to raise annoying demonstrations. Icomforted him at once by promising only to remain a few days andto refrain from visiting the theatre, upon which he dismissed mewith a deep sigh and an exceedingly grave face. 

Very different was my reception from Herr von Beust, who withsmiling elegance of manner implied by his conversation that I wasperhaps not so innocent after all as I now seemed to thinkmyself. He drew my attention to a letter of mine which had beenfound in Rockel's pocket, at the time. This was new to me, and Iwillingly gave him to understand that I felt myself bound to lookon the amnesty accorded me as a pardon for my incautiousbehaviour in the past, and we parted with the liveliestmanifestations of friendship. 

We invited some friends one evening in Minna's drawing-room, where I read out the Meistersinger once more to the people whodid not know it. After Minna had been provided with enough moneyto last some time, she accompanied me back to the station on thefourth day; but she was filled with such fearful presentiments ofnever seeing me again that her farewell was made in positiveanguish. 

At Leipzig I put up at an inn for one day. There I met AlexanderRitter, and we spent a pleasant evening together over our punch. The reason that had induced me to make this short stay was theassurance given me that if I gave a concert of my own it wouldnot be one of the regular series. I had weighed this informationwith reference to the much-needed money it might bring in, but Inow realised that the undertaking rested on no security. Ireturned in haste to Biebrich, where I had to get my householdaffairs into order. To my great annoyance I found my landlord ina more impossible temper than ever. He seemed unable to forget myhaving blamed him for his treatment of the dog, and also of myservant, whom I had been obliged to protect against him when shehad had a love-affair with a tailor. In spite of receivingpayment and promises he remained peevish, and insisted that hewould have to move into my part of the house on account of hishealth in the coming spring. So while I forced him, by payingadvance, to leave my household goods untouched until Easter atleast, I went about trying to find a suitable house for thefollowing year, visiting various places in the Rheingau under theguidance of Dr. Schuler and Mathilde Maier. I had no success, however, the time being so short, but my friends promised tosearch untiringly for what I wanted. 

At Mayence I met Friederike Meyer again. Her situation inFrankfort seemed to have grown more and more difficult. When sheheard that I had turned away Herr von Guaita's manager, who hadbeen sent to Biebrich with instructions to pay me fifteen louisd'or for conducting Lohengrin, she upheld my action strongly. Asfor herself, she had broken with that gentleman entirely, insisting on being released from her contract, and was now aboutto enter upon a special engagement at the Burgtheater. She won mysympathy once more by her conduct and determination, which I hadto consider as a powerful refutation of the calumnies brought upagainst her. As I too was in the act of starting for Vienna, shewas glad to be able to make part of the journey in my company. She proposed to stop a day at Nuremberg, where I could pick herup for the next stage of the journey. This we did and arrived inVienna together, where my friend went to Hotel Munsch, while Ichose the Kaiserin Elizabeth, where I now felt at home. This wason the 15th of November. I went to see Conductor Esser at once, and heard from him that Tristan was really being studiedvigorously. With Frau Dustmann, on the other hand, I becameimmediately involved in very unpleasant disagreements through myrelation to her sister Friederike, which it was easy tomisunderstand. It was impossible to make her see how thingsreally stood. In her eyes her sister was involved in a liaison, and had been cast off by her family, so that her arrival inVienna was compromising to them. In addition to this Friederike'sown condition soon caused me the greatest anxiety. She had madean engagement to appear three times at the Burgtheater withoutconsidering that just then she was not likely to make a goodappearance on the stage, particularly before the Viennese public. Her serious illness, the recovery from which had been attended bythe most exciting circumstances, had disfigured her and made hervery thin. She had also gone almost entirely bald, butnevertheless persisted in her great objection to wearing a wig. Her sister's hostility had estranged her colleagues at thetheatre, and as a result of all this, and also on account of herunfortunate choice of a role, her appearance was a failure. Therecould be no question of her being taken on at that theatre. Although her weakness increased, and she suffered from constantinsomnia, she still tried, in her magnanimity and her shame, tohide from me the awkwardness of her situation. She went to acheaper inn, the 'Stadt Frankfurt, ' where she intended to waitand see the result of sparing her nerves as far as possible. Sheseemed to be in no embarrassment as far as money was concerned, but at my request consulted Standhartner, who did not seem toknow how to help her much. As open-air exercise had been stronglyrecommended, and as the weather was at present bitterly cold(from the end of November to the beginning of December), I hit onthe idea of advising her to go to Venice for a prolonged stay. Once again there seemed no lack of means, and she followed myadvice. One icy morning I accompanied her to the station, andthere for the present I left her, as I hoped, to a kinder fate. She had a faithful maid with her, and I soon had the satisfactionof receiving reassuring accounts--of her health especially--fromVenice. 

While my relations with her had brought me troublesomecomplications, I still kept up my old Viennese acquaintances. Acurious incident occurred at the very beginning of my visit. Ihad to read the Meistersinger aloud to the Standhartner family, as I had done everywhere else. As Dr. Hanslick was now supposedto be well disposed towards me, it was considered the right thingto invite him too. We noticed that as the reading proceeded thedangerous critic became more and more pale and depressed, and itwas remarked by everyone that it was impossible to persuade himto stay on at the close, but that he took his leave there andthen in an unmistakably vexed manner. My friends all agreed inthinking that Hanslick looked on the whole libretto as a lampoonaimed at himself, and had felt an invitation to the reading to bean insult. And undoubtedly the critic's attitude towards meunderwent a very remarkable change from that evening. He becameuncompromisingly hostile, with results that were obvious to us atonce. 

Cornelius and Tausig had again been to see me, but I had to workoff my resentment against them both for the fit of real ill-humour their behaviour had caused me in the previous summer. Thishad happened when I expected the Bulows and the Schnorrs to staywith me together at Biebrich, and my warm interest in these twoyoung friends, Cornelius and Tausig, led me to invite them too. Ireceived Cornelius's acceptance immediately, and was the moresurprised to get a letter from Geneva, whither Tausig (whoappeared to have funds at his disposal all of a sudden) hadcarried him off on a summer excursion--no doubt of a moreimportant and pleasanter nature. Without the least mention of anyregret at not being able to meet me that summer, they simplyannounced to me that 'a glorious cigar had just been smoked to myhealth. ' And now, when I met them again in Vienna, I found itimpossible to refrain from pointing out to them the insultingnature of their behaviour; but they seemed unable to understandhow I could object to their preferring the beautiful tour intoFrench Switzerland to paying me a visit at Biebrich. I wasobviously a tyrant to them. Besides this, I thought Tausig'scurious conduct at my hotel suspicious. I was told that he tookhis meals in the downstairs restaurant, after which he climbed uppast my floor to the fourth storey, to pay long visits toCountess Krockow. When I asked him about it, and learned that thelady in question was also a friend of Cosima's, I expressed mysurprise at his not introducing me. He continued to evade thissuggestion with singularly vague phrases, and when I ventured totease him by the supposition of a love-affair, he said therecould be no question of such a thing, as the lady was old. So Ilet him alone, but the amazement which his peculiar behaviourthen caused me was intensified some years later when I at lastlearned to know Countess Krockow very well, and was assured ofher deep interest in me. It seemed that she had desired nothingmore than to make my acquaintance also at that time, but thatTausig had always refused to find an opportunity, and had madethe excuse that I did not care about women's society. 

But we eventually resumed our lively and sociable habits when Ibegan seriously to carry out my project of giving concerts inVienna. Although the piano rehearsals for the principal soloparts of Tristan had been put in hand diligently--I had left themto Conductor Esser, who took them zealously in hand--my mistrustas to the real success of these studies was unshaken, and thepoint which I doubted most was not so much the capabilities ofthe singers as their goodwill. Moreover, Frau Dustmann's absurdbehaviour disgusted me on my frequent attendance at therehearsals. On the other hand, I now set my hopes on making agood impression, on the score of novelty alone, by performingselections from my own works still unknown to the Viennesepublic. In this way I could show my secret enemies that therewere other means open to me of bringing my more recentcompositions before the public than by the medium of the stage, where they could so easily stop me. For all the practical detailsof the performance Tausig now proved himself particularly useful. We agreed to hire the Theatre on the Wien for three evenings, theidea being to give one concert at the end of December and torepeat the experiment twice after a week's interval. The firstthing was to copy out the orchestral parts from the sectionswhich I cut out from my scores for the concert. There were twoselections from Rheingold and two from the Walkure and theMeistersinger, but I kept back the prelude to Tristan for thepresent, so as not to clash with the performance of the wholework at the Opera which was still being advertised. Cornelius andTausig, with some assistant copyists, now started on the work, which could only be carried out by experienced score-readers ifit was to be done correctly. They were joined by Weisheimer, whohad arrived in Vienna, having in the end decided to come to theconcert. Tausig also mentioned Brahms to me, recommending him asa 'very good fellow, ' who, although he was so famous himself, would willingly take over a part of their work, and a selectionfrom the Meistersinger was accordingly allotted to him. And, indeed, Brahms's behaviour proved unassuming and good-natured, but he showed little vivacity and was often hardly noticed at ourgatherings. I also came across Friedrich Uhl again, an oldacquaintance who was now editing a political paper called DerBotschafter with Julius Frobel under Schmerling's auspices. Heplaced his journal at my disposal, and made me give him the firstact of the libretto of Meistersinger for his feuilleton. Whereupon my friends chose to think that Hanslick grew more andmore venomous. 

While I and my companions were overwhelmed by the preparationsfor the concert, there came in one day a certain Herr Moritz, whom Bulow had introduced to me in Paris as a ridiculous person. His clumsy and importunate behaviour and the idiotic messages--evidently of his own invention--which he brought me from Bulowdrove me in the end to show him the door with great emphasis, forI too was carried away by Tausig's lively annoyance at this veryofficious intruder. He reported on this to Cosima in a manner soinsulting to Bulow that she in return found it necessary toexpress to me in writing her intense indignation at myinconsiderate behaviour towards my best friends. I was really sosurprised and dumbfounded by this strange and inexplicable eventthat I handed Cosima's letter to Tausig without comment, merelyasking him. What could be done in the face of such nonsense. Heat once undertook to show Cosima the incident in a correct lightand clear up the misunderstanding, and I soon had the pleasure ofhearing that he had met with success. 

We had now come to the point of rehearsing for the concert. TheRoyal Opera had supplied me with the singers needed for theselections from Rheingold, the Walkure, and Siegfried ('Schmiede-Lieder'), and also for Pogner's Anrede from the Meistersinger. Ihad only to fall back on amateurs for the three Rhine maidens. The concert director Hellmesberger was a great help to me in thismatter as in every other way, and his fine playing andenthusiastic demonstrations when leading the orchestra neverfailed in any circumstances. After the deafening preliminaryrehearsals in a small music-room in the opera house, which hadperplexed Cornelius by the great noise they made, we arrived atthe stage itself. In addition to the expense of hiring the place, I had to bear the cost of the requisite extension of theorchestra. The room, which was lined all round with theatricalscenery, was still extraordinarily unfavourable for sound. Ihardly felt like running the risk of providing an acoustic walland ceiling on my own account, however. Although the firstperformance on 26th December drew a large audience, it brought mein nothing but outrageously heavy expenses and great distress atthe dismal effect of the orchestra owing to the bad acoustics. Inspite of the dark outlook I decided to bear the cost of buildinga sound-screen, in order to enhance the effect of the twofollowing concerts, when I flattered myself I might count on thesuccess of the efforts that were being made to arouse interest inthe highest circles. 

My friend Prince Liechtenstein thought this was by no meansimpossible, and believed he might manage to interest the ImperialCourt through Countess Zamoiska, one of the ladies-in-waiting, and he one day accompanied me through the interminable corridorsof the Imperial Castle on a visit to this lady. I afterwardslearned that Mme. Kalergis had also been at work here on mybehalf, but she had apparently only succeeded in winning over theyoung Empress, for she alone was present at the performance, andwithout any retinue. But at the second concert I had to endureall kinds of disillusionment. In spite of all warnings to thecontrary, I had fixed it for the New Year's Day of 1863. The hallwas exceedingly badly filled, and my sole satisfaction was toknow that by improving the acoustic properties of the place theorchestra sounded extremely well. In consequence of this thereception of the various pieces was so favourable that at thethird concert, on 8th January, I was able to perform before anoverflowing house, and thus obtained very gratifying testimony tothe fine musical taste of the Viennese public. The by no meansstartling prelude to Pogner's Anrede from the Meistersinger wasenthusiastically encored, in spite of the fact that the singerhad already risen to his feet for the next part. At this moment Ichanced to see in one of the boxes a most comforting omen for mypresent position; for I recognised Mme. Kalergis, who had justarrived for a prolonged stay in Vienna, to which I fondlyimagined she was prompted by some idea of helping me here also. As she too was on friendly terms with Standhartner, she at onceentered into consultation with him as to how I could be helpedout of the critical situation in which I was once more placed bythe expenses of my concerts. She confessed to our mutual friendthat she had no means at her disposal, and would only be able tomeet our extraordinary expenditure by contracting fresh debts. Itwas therefore necessary to secure wealthier patrons, among whomshe mentioned Baroness von Stockhausen, the wife of theHanoverian ambassador. This lady, who was a great friend ofStandhartner's, was most kind to me, and won me the sympathy ofLady Bloomfield and her husband, the English ambassador. A soireewas given in the house of the latter, and at Frau vonStockhausen's there were also several evening assemblies. One dayStandhartner brought me a thousand marks as an instalment towardsmy expenses, saying that they came from an anonymous donor. Meanwhile Mme. Kalergis had managed to procure two thousandmarks, which were also placed at my disposal, throughStandhartner, for further needs. But all her efforts to interestthe court on my behalf remained entirely fruitless, in spite ofher intimacy with Countess Zamoiska; for unfortunately a memberof that Konneritz family from Saxony, which was everywhereturning up for my discomfiture, had now appeared as ambassadorhere also. He succeeded in suppressing any inclination the all-powerful Archduchess Sophie might have had towards me, bypretending that during his time I had burnt down the King ofSaxony's castle. 

But my patroness, undaunted still, endeavoured to helpme in everyconceivable way demanded by my necessities. In order to gratifymy most earnest longing for a peaceful home where I could stayfor a while, she managed to secure the house of the Englishattache, a son of the famous Bulwer Lytton, who had been calledaway, but was keeping up his establishment for some time longer. Thus through her I was introduced to this exceedingly amiableyoung man. I dined with him one evening, together with Corneliusand Mme. Kalergis, and after dinner began to read them myGotterdammerung. I did not seem to have secured a very attentiveaudience, however, and when I noticed this I stopped and withdrewwith Cornelius. We found it very cold as we went home, andBulwer's rooms seem also to have been insufficiently heated, sothat we took refuge in a restaurant to drink a glass of hotpunch. The incident has remained fixed in my memory because herefor the first time I saw Cornelius in an ungovernably eccentrichumour. While we thus took our pleasure, Mine. Kalergis used herinfluence--so I was afterwards informed--as an exceedinglypowerful and irresistible female advocate to inspire Bulwer witha definite interest in my fate. In this she so far succeeded, that he unconditionally placed his house at my disposal for ninemouths. On considering the matter more deeply, however, I did notsee what advantage this would be to me, seeing that I had nofurther prospect of earning any income in Vienna for mysustenance. 

On the other hand, my plans were decided for me by an offer whichreached me from St. Petersburg to conduct two concerts there inthe month of March for the Philharmonic Society for a fee of twothousand silver roubles. For this also I had to thank Mme. Kalergis, who urgently counselled me to accept the invitation, holding out at the same time a prospect of further increasing myreceipts by giving an additional concert on my own account, fromwhich very important material results might be expected. The onlything which could have induced me to decline this invitationwould have been an assurance that my Tristan would be staged inVienna during the next few months; but a fresh indisposition onthe part of the tenor Ander had once more brought ourpreparations to a standstill, and moreover I had completely lostall faith in those promises which had lured me again to Vienna. To this the effect of my visit to the minister Schmerlingimmediately on my return to Vienna had certainly contributed. This man had been much astonished at my referring to arecommendation by Prince Metternich, for the latter, so theminister declared, had never spoken a word to him about me. Nevertheless, he very politely assured me that it needed no suchrecommendation to interest him in a man of my merit. When, therefore, I mentioned the idea suggested by Prince Metternich'skindness that the Emperor might assign me some special positionin Vienna, he hastened at once to inform me that he wascompletely powerless to influence any of the Emperor's decisions. This admission on the part of Herr von Schmerling certainlyhelped to explain Prince Metternich's behaviour, and I concludedthat the latter had preferred an attempt to win the ChiefChamberlain for a serious revival of Tristan to a fruitlesseffort with the minister. 

As these prospects were therefore thrust into the uncertainfuture, I now agreed to the St. Petersburg proposal, but first ofall sought about for means to provide the necessary funds. Forthese I relied on a concert which Heinrich Porges had alreadyarranged for me in Prague. Consequently early in February I setout for that city, and had every reason to be satisfied with myreception there. Young Forges, an out-and-out partisan of Lisztand myself, pleased me greatly, not only personally, but by hisobvious enthusiasm. The concert took place at the hall on theSophia Island, and was crowned with great success. Besides one ofBeethoven's symphonies, several selections from my newer workswere given, and when next day Porges paid me about two thousandmarks, with the reservation of a few smaller supplementarypayments, I laughingly assured him that this was the first moneyI had ever earned by my own exertions. He also gave me some verypleasant introductions to several exceedingly devoted andintelligent young people, belonging both to the German and Czechparties, and among them to a teacher of mathematics calledLieblein, and an author whose name was Musiol. It was with acertain pathetic interest that, after so many years, I herediscovered a friend of my earliest youth, named Marie Lowe, whohad given up singing and taken to the harp instead, and was nowengaged to play this instrument in the orchestra, in whichcapacity she assisted at my concert. On the occasion of the firstperformance of Tannhauser in Prague, she had sent me a mostenthusiastic report about it. Her admiration was now intensified, and for many years afterwards she remained tenderly attached tome. Well satisfied then, and filled with newly awakened hope. Ihurried back to Vienna again in order to put the arrangement forTristan on as firm a basis as possible. It was found feasible toarrange another pianoforte rehearsal in my presence of the twofirst acts, and I was astonished at the really passableperformance of the tenor, while from Frau Dustmann I could notwithhold my sincerest congratulations on her admirable executionof her difficult part. It was therefore decided that my workshould be produced a little after Easter, which would fit in verywell with the expected date of my return from Russia. 

The hope of being now able to count on earning a large incomedecided me to revive my former idea of settling for good in thepeace and quiet of Biebrich. As there was still time before I hadto start for Russia, I returned to the Rhine to arrange mattersthere as rapidly as possible. Once more I lodged in Frickhofer'shouse, and in the company of Mathilde Maier and her friend LuiseWagner once more hunted through the Rheingau in search of asuitable house. Not finding what I wanted, I finally entered intotreaty with Frickhofer for the erection of a small cottage on aplot of land I proposed to buy near his villa. Dr. Schuler, theman who had been introduced to me by young Stadl, was to take thematter in hand, as he had both legal and business experience. Estimates were prepared, and it now depended entirely on theamount of my Russian receipts as to whether the undertaking couldbe begun in the following spring or not. As in any case I had togive up my rooms in Frickhofer's house at Easter, I removed allmy furniture and sent it packed to the furniture-dealer inWiesbaden, to whom I was still indebted for the greater part ofit. 

Thus in the best of spirits I went first to Berlin, where Icalled at once on Bulow. Cosima, who was expecting an earlyconfinement, seemed delighted to see me again, and insisted onaccompanying me at once to the music-school, where we should findHans. I entered a long room, at one end of which Bulow was givinga music-lesson. As I stood for some time in silence in thedoorway, he gave an exclamation of anger at being disturbed, onlyto burst out into joyful laughter on recognising who it was. Ourmidday meal together was lively, and in excellent humour I setout with Cosima alone for a drive in a fine carriage (belongingto the Hotel de Russie), whose grey satin lining and cushionsprovided us with endless fun. Bulow seemed troubled that I shouldsee his wife in a condition of advanced pregnancy, as I had onceexpressed my aversion from such a sight when speaking of anotherwoman of our acquaintance. It put us into a good-humour to beable to set his mind at rest in this case, for nothing couldpossibly put me out of sympathy with Cosima. So, sharing my hopesand heartily rejoicing in the turn of my fortune, these twofriends accompanied me to the Konigsburg railway station and sawme off on my long night journey. 

In Konigsburg I had to wait half a day and a night. As I had nodesire to revisit my haunts in a place which had once been sofatal to me, I spent the time quietly in the room of an hotel, the position of which I did not even try to fix, and early in themorning continued my journey towards the Russian frontier. Withcertain uneasy memories of my former illegal passage of thisfrontier, I carefully scanned the faces of my fellow-passengersduring the long hours of travel. Among these I was especiallystruck by one, a Livland nobleman of German descent, who, in thehaughtiest German Tory tone, proclaimed his disgust at the Tsar'semancipation of the serfs. He wished me clearly to understandthat any efforts on the part of the Russians to obtain theirfreedom would receive but scant support from the German noblessettled in their midst. But as we approached St. Petersburg I wasgenuinely frightened to find our train suddenly stopped andexamined by the police. They were apparently searching forvarious persons suspected of complicity in the latest Polishinsurrection, which had just broken out. Not far from the capitalitself the empty seats in our carriage were filled by severalpeople, whose high Russian fur caps aroused my suspicions, whichwere not allayed by the attention which their wearers bestowedupon me in particular. But suddenly the face of one of thembrightened up, and he impulsively turned towards me and salutedme as the man whom he and several other musicians of the Imperialorchestra had come out on purpose to meet. They were all Germans, and on our arrival at the St. Petersburg railway station theyjoyfully introduced me to a further large contingent from theorchestra, headed by the committee of the Philharmonic Society. Ihad been recommended to a German boarding-house on the NewskyProspect as a suitable residence. There I was very graciously andflatteringly received by Frau Kunst, the wife of a Germanmerchant, in a drawing-room whose windows commanded a view of thewide and busy street, and where I was very well served. I dinedin common with the other boarders and visitors, and often invitedAlexander Seroff, whom I had formerly known in Lucerne, to be myguest at table. He had called on me immediately on my arrival, and I learned that he held a very poor appointment as censor ofGerman newspapers. His person bore signs of much neglect and ill-health, and proved that he had had a hard struggle for existence;but he speedily won my respect by the great independence andtruthfulness of his opinions, whereby, combined with an excellentunderstanding, I soon learned that he had won himself areputation as a most influential and much-dreaded critic. Iappreciated this better later on when advances were made to mefrom high quarters to use my influence with Seroff to assuage thebitterness of his persecution of Anton Rubinstein, who just atthat time was being somewhat offensively patronised. On mymentioning the matter to him, he explained his reasons forbelieving Rubinstein's influence in Russia to be pernicious, whereupon I begged him, for my sake at least, to hold his hand alittle, as I did not wish, during my brief stay in St. Petersburg, to pose as Rubinstein's rival. To this he repliedwith all the violence of a sickly man, 'I hate him, and cannotmake any concessions. ' With me, on the contrary, he entered intothe most intimate understanding, as he had so perfect anappreciation of me and my art that our intercourse became almostone of mere pleasantry, for on all serious points we were inentire agreement. Nothing could equal the care with which hesought to help me at every opportunity. He provided the necessarytranslation into Russian, both of the songs contained in theselections taken from my operas and of my explanatory programmefor the concerts. He also displayed the utmost judgment inchoosing the most suitable singers for me, and for this heappeared to find abundant recompense in attending the rehearsalsand performances. His radiant face beamed everywhere upon me withencouragement and fresh inspiration. I was eminently satisfiedwith the orchestra which I managed to gather around me in thelarge and handsome hall of the Society of Nobles. It containedone hundred and twenty picked players from the Imperialorchestras, who were for the most part excellent musicians, usually employed in accompanying Italian opera and ballets. Theynow seemed delighted to be allowed to breathe more freely in thusoccupying themselves with nobler music under a method ofconducting which I had made peculiarly my own. 

After the great success of my first concert advances were made tome from those circles to which, as I could very well understand, I had been secretly but influentially recommended by Mme. Kalergis. With great circumspection my unseen protectress hadprepared the way for my presentation to the Grand Duchess Helene. I was instructed, in the first place, to make use of arecommendation from Standhartner to Dr. Arneth, the GrandDuchess's private physician, whom he had known in Vienna, inorder through him to be introduced to Fraulein von Rhaden, hermost confidential lady-in-waiting. I should have been wellcontent with the acquaintance of this lady alone, for in her Ilearned to know a woman of wide culture, great intelligence, andnoble bearing, whose ever-growing interest in me I perceived tobe mingled with a certain timidity, apparently concerned chieflywith the Grand Duchess. She gave me the impression that she feltsomething more important ought to happen for me than, from thespirit and character of her mistress, she could expect. I was, however, not taken to pay my respects to the Grand Duchess atonce, but received first of all an invitation to an evening partyin the apartments of the lady-in-waiting, at which, among others, the Grand Duchess herself was to be present. Here AntonRubinstein did the musical honours, and after the hostess hadintroduced me to him, she ventured to present me to the GrandDuchess herself. The ceremony went off fairly well, and, as aresult, I shortly afterwards received a direct invitation to afriendly evening tea-party at the Grand Duchess's house. Here, inaddition to Fraulein von Rhaden, I met the lady next to her inrank, Fraulein von Stahl, as well as a genial old gentleman, whowas introduced to me as General von Brebern, for many years oneof the Grand Duchess's closest friends. Fraulein von Rhadenappeared to have made extraordinary efforts on my behalf, whichfor the present resulted in the Grand Duchess expressing a wishthat I should make her better acquainted with the text of myNibelungen Ring. As I had no copy of the work with me, althoughWeber of Leipzig ought by this time to have finished printing it, they insisted that I should at once telegraph to him in Leipzigto send the finished sheets with the utmost despatch to the GrandDuchess's address. Meanwhile my patrons had to be content withhearing me read the Meistersinger. To this reading the GrandDuchess Marie was also induced to come--a very stately and stillbeautiful daughter of the Tsar Nicholas, who was notorious forthe passion she had shown throughout her life. As to theimpression made upon this lady by my poem, Fraulein von Rhadenonly told me that she had been seriously alarmed lest Hans Sachsmight end by marrying Eva. 

In the course of a few days the loose proof-sheets of myNibelungen work duly arrived, and the Grand Duchess's intimatesmet at four tea-parties to hear me read it, and listened withsympathetic attention. General von Brebern was present at themall, but only, as Fraulein von Rhaden said, 'to blush like therose' in profoundest slumber, a habit which always afforded asubject for merriment to Fraulein von Stahl, a very lively andbeautiful woman, when each night I accompanied the two courtladies from the spacious salons along endless corridors andstaircases to their distant apartments. 

The only other person in the great world whom I learned to knowhere was Count Wilohorsky, who occupied a high position of trustat the Imperial court, and was chiefly esteemed as a patron ofmusic, and considered himself a distinguished violoncello-player. The old gentleman appeared well disposed towards me, andaltogether satisfied with my musical performances. Indeed, heassured me that he had first learned to understand Beethoven'sEighth Symphony (in F major) through my interpretation. He alsoconsidered that he had fully grasped my overture to theMeistersinger, and said the Grand Duchess Marie was affectedbecause she had found this piece incomprehensible, but hadexpressed herself enraptured by the overture to Tristan, which hehimself only managed to understand by the exertion of all hismusical knowledge. When I told Seroff of this, he exclaimedenthusiastically, 'Ah, that beast of a Count! That woman knowswhat love is!'

The Count arranged a splendid dinner in my honour, at which bothAnton Rubinstein and Mme. Abaza were present. As I beggedRubinstein to play something after dinner, Mme. Abaza insisted onsinging his Persian songs, which seemed greatly to annoy thecomposer, as he knew very well that he had produced much finerwork. Nevertheless both the composition and its execution gave mea very favourable opinion of the talents of both artists. Throughthis singer, who had originally had a professional engagement inthe Grand Duchess's household, and was now married to a wealthyand cultured Russian gentleman of rank, I obtained an entry intothe house of M. Abaza, who received me with great ceremony. Aboutthe same time a certain Baron Vittinghof had also made himselfknown to me as an enthusiastic lover of music, and honoured mewith an invitation to his house, where I met once more withIngeborg Stark, the beautiful Swedish pianist and composer ofsonatas, whom I had formerly known in Paris. She amazed me by theimpertinent outburst of laughter with which she accompanied theperformance of one of the Baron's compositions. On the otherhand, she assumed a more serious air when she informed me thatshe was engaged to Hans von Bronsart. 

Rubinstein, with whom I exchanged friendly visits, behaved verycreditably, although, as I had expected, he felt himself somewhatinjured by me. He told me that he was thinking of resigning hisposition in St. Petersburg, as it had been made difficult bySeroff's antagonism. It was also thought advisable to introduceme to the commercial circles of St. Petersburg, with a view to mycoming benefit concert, and a visit was consequently arranged toa concert in the hall of the Merchants' Guild. Here I was met onthe staircase by a drunken Russian, who announced himself as theconductor. With a small selection of Imperial musicians andothers, he conducted the overtures of Rossini's Tell and Weber'sOberon, in which the kettledrums were replaced by a smallmilitary drum, which produced a wonderful effect, especially inthe lovely transfiguration part of the Oberon Overture. 

Although I was admirably equipped for my own concerts as far asthe orchestra was concerned, yet I had much trouble in procuringthe requisite singers. The soprano was very passably representedby Mlle. Bianchi; but for the tenor parts I had to make shiftwith a M. Setoff, who, although possessing plenty of courage, hadvery little voice. But he managed to help me through the'Schmiede-Lieder' in Siegfried, for his presence at least gave anappearance of song, while the orchestra alone undertooktheeffective reality. On the conclusion of my two concerts for thePhilharmonic Society, I set seriously to work on my own concert, which was to be held in the Imperial Opera House, in the materialarrangements for which I was helped by a retired musician. Thisman often spent hours with Seroff in my well-heated rooms withoutlaying aside his enormous fur coat, and as his incapacity gave usa great deal of trouble, we agreed that he was like 'the sheep inwolf's clothing. ' The concert, however, succeeded beyond all myexpectations, and I do not think I was ever so enthusiasticallyreceived by any audience as on this occasion. Indeed, theirgreeting when I first appeared was so loudly prolonged that Ifelt quite touched, a rare occurrence with me. To this wildabandonment on the part of the audience the ardent devotion of myorchestra naturally contributed, as my one hundred and twentymusicians renewed the frantic acclamations again and again, aprocedure which appeared to be quite novel in St. Petersburg. From some of them I heard such exclamations as, 'We must admit wehave never known what music is till now. '

Conductor Schuberth, who, with a certain amount of condescension, had helped me with advice on business matters, now utilised thisfavourable turn of affairs to ask for my co-operation at aconcert to be given shortly for his own benefit. Although I wasfully aware that by this means he reckoned on conjuring ahandsome profit out of my pocket into his own, yet on the adviceof my friends I thought it best to comply with his request, albeit much against the grain. So a week later I repeated themost popular items of my programme before an equally numerousaudience and with the same success, but this time the handsomereceipts of three thousand roubles were destined for an invalidman, who as a retribution for this encroachment on my rights wassuddenly summoned to another world in the same year. 

To balance this, I now had a prospect of further artistic andmaterial successes from a contract concluded with General Lwoff, the manager of the Moscow theatre. I was to give three concertsin the Grand Theatre, of which I was to have half the receipts, guaranteed in each case at a minimum of one thousand roubles. Iarrived there suffering from a cold, miserable and ill at ease, in weather which was a mixture of frost and thaw, and put up at abadly situated German boarding-house. My preliminary arrangementswere made with the manager, who, in spite of the orders hangingfrom his neck, looked a very insignificant person, and thedifficult selection of the vocal items had to be arranged with aRussian tenor and a superannuated Italian lady-singer. Havingsettled these, I entered upon the task of orchestral rehearsals. It was here that I first met the younger Rubinstein, Anton'sbrother Nicholas, who, as director of the Russian MusicalSociety, was the leading authority in his profession in Moscow;his demeanour towards me was characterised throughout by modestyand consideration. The orchestra consisted of the hundredmusicians who provided the Imperial household with Italian operaand ballet. It was, on the whole, far inferior to that of St. Petersburg, yet among them I found a small number of excellentquartette players, all devotedly attached to me. Among these wasone of my old Riga acquaintances, the 'cellist von Lutzau, who inthose days had a great reputation as a wag. But I wasparticularly pleased with a certain Herr Albrecht, a violinist, abrother of the Albrecht who was one of the party whose Russianfur caps had so scared me on my way to St. Petersburg. But eventhese men could not dispel my feeling that in dealing with thisMoscow orchestra I had descended in the artistic scale. I gavemyself a great deal of trouble without deriving any compensatingsatisfaction, and my bile was not a little stirred by the Russiantenor, who came to rehearsal in a red shirt, to show hispatriotic aversion from my music, and sang the 'Schmiede-Lieder'of Siegfried in the insipid style acquired from the Italians. Onthe very morning of the first concert I was obliged, to cancelit, and declare myself on the sick-list, with a bad, feverishcold. In the slush and snow which inundated the streets of Moscowit seems to have been impossible to announce this fact to thepublic, and I heard that angry disturbances resulted when manysplendid equipages arrived on a fruitless errand and had to beturned away. After three days' rest I insisted on giving thethree concerts I had contracted for within six days, an exertionto which I was spurred by a desire to have done with anundertaking I felt was not worthy of me. Although the GrandTheatre was filled on each occasion with a brilliant audiencesuch as I had never before seen, yet, according to thecalculations of the Imperial manager, the receipts did not exceedthe amount of the guarantee. With this, however, I was content, considering the magnificent reception accorded to my efforts, andabove all the fervid enthusiasm of the orchestra, which wasexpressed here as it had been in St. Petersburg. A deputation ofmembers of the orchestra begged me to give a fourth concert, andon my refusal, they tried to persuade me to remain for another'rehearsal, ' but this too I was compelled to decline with asmile. However, the orchestra honoured me with a banquet, atwhich, after N. Rubinstein had made a very enthusiastic andappropriate speech, which was greeted with hearty and tumultuousapplause, one of the company hoisted me on to his shoulders andcarried me round the hall; whereupon there was a great outcry, and every one wanted to render me the same kindly service. I waspresented on this occasion with a gold snuff-box from the membersof the orchestra, on which was engraved the words 'Doch Einerkam, ' from Siegmund's song in the Walkure. I returned thecompliment by presenting to the orchestra a large photograph ofmyself, on which I wrote the words 'Keiner ging, ' from the samesong. 

In addition to these musical circles I also became acquaintedwith Prince Odoiewsky, as the result of an introduction andstrong recommendation by Mme. Kalergis. She had told me that inthe Prince I should meet one of the noblest of men, who wouldfully understand me. After a most arduous drive of many hours, Ireached his modest dwelling, and was received with patriarchalsimplicity at his family mid-day dinner, but I found itexceedingly difficult to convey to him any particulars as tomyself and my plans. With regard to any impressions I might beexpected to gather respecting himself, he seemed to rely on theeffect produced by the contemplation of a large instrumentresembling an organ, which he had had designed and erected in oneof his principal rooms. Unluckily there was no one there whocould play it; but I could not help thinking it must have beenintended for some specially devised form of divine worship, whichhe held there on Sundays for the benefit of his household, relatives and acquaintances. Ever mindful of my kindly patroness, I attempted to give the genial Prince some idea of my positionand my aspirations. With apparent emotion he exclaimed, 'J'ai cequ'il vous faut; parlez a Wolffsohn. ' On further inquiry Ilearned that the guardian spirit thus commended to me was not abanker, but a Russian Jew who wrote romances. 

All these events seemed to justify the conclusion that myreceipts, especially if I included what I might still derive fromSt. Petersburg, would amply suffice to carry out my project ofbuilding a house at Biebrich. I therefore sent a telegram aboutit to my authorised agent in Wiesbaden from Moscow, and leftthere after a stay of only ten days. I also forwarded onethousand roubles to Minna, who was complaining that her expensesfor settling down in Dresden were very heavy. 

But, unfortunately, on reaching St. Petersburg I met with seriousdisappointments. Every one advised me to relinquish the idea ofgiving my second concert on Easter Monday, the date I had fixed, as it was the general custom in Russian society to reserve thatday for private gatherings. On the other hand, I could not wellrefuse to give a concert, on the third day after the dateannounced for my own, on behalf of those imprisoned for debt inSt. Petersburg, seeing that this was to be given at the urgentrequest of the Grand Duchess Helene herself. In this latterfunction all St. Petersburg was already interested for the sakeof their own credit, as it was under the most distinguishedpatronage; so that, while every seat was sold in advance for thisfunction, I had to be content with a very empty house at theNobles' Casino, and with proceeds which luckily did at leastcover expenses. By way of contrast, the debtors' concert went offwith the greatest success, and General Suwarof, the governor ofthe city, a strikingly handsome man, handed me a very beautifullywrought silver drinking-horn as a thank-offering from theimprisoned debtors. 

I now set about paying my farewell calls, one of which was onFraulein von Rhaden, who distinguished herself by the warmth ofher sympathy and interest. By way of compensating me for the lossof the receipts I had reckoned upon, the Grand Duchess sent methrough this lady the sum of one thousand roubles, coupled with apromise that, until my circumstances improved, she would repeatthe gift annually. On discovering this friendly interest, I couldnot help regretting that the connection thus formed was notlikely to have more stable and profitable results. I addressed apetition through Fraulein von Rhaden to the Grand Duchess, praying that she would permit me to come to St. Petersburg for afew months every year, to place my talents at her disposal, bothfor concerts and theatrical performances, in return for which shewould only have to pay me a suitable yearly salary. To this Ireceived an evasive reply. On the day before my departure Iinformed my amiable guardian of my plan for settling at Biebrich, and in doing so I made no secret of my fear that after spendingthe money I had earned here in carrying out my building plan, mycondition might be very much the same as of yore, a fear whichmade me wonder whether it would not be better to abandon italtogether. Whereupon I received the spirited reply: 'Build andhope!' At the last moment before starting I gratefully answeredher in the same manner, and said that I now knew what to do. Thusat the end of April I departed, carrying with me the hearty goodwishes of Seroff and the enthusiastic members of the orchestra, and steamed away across the Russian wilderness without calling atRiga, where I had been invited to give a concert. The long andweary road brought me at last to the frontier station ofWirballen, where I received a telegram from Fraulein von Rhaden:'Not too rash. ' This was in reference to a few lines I had leftbehind for her, and it conveyed quite enough to revive my doubtsas to the wisdom of carrying out my house-building plans. 

I reached Berlin without further delay, and at once made forBulow's house. During the last few months I had heard no news ofCosima's condition, and it was, therefore, with some trepidationthat I stood at the door, through which the maid did not seemdisposed to let me pass, saying that 'her mistress was not well. ''Is she seriously ill?' I asked, and receiving a smilinglyevasive reply, at once realised to my joy the true situation, andhastened in to greet Cosima. She had been some time delivered ofher daughter Blandine, and was now on the highroad to completerecovery. It was only from casual callers that she remainedsecluded. Everything seemed well, and Hans was quite gay, themore so that he now thought me freed from all care for some timeto come, owing to the success of my Russian trip. But I could notregard this assumption as justified, unless my wish to be invitedfor some months every year to St. Petersburg for renewed activitythere met with a ready response. On this point I was enlightenedin a more detailed letter from Fraulein von Rhaden following theabove telegram, in which she told me on no account to rely uponthis invitation. This distinct statement compelled me to reckonup the balance of my Russian receipts very seriously, and afterdeducting hotel and travelling expenses, the money sent to Minna, and certain payments to the furniture dealer at Wiesbaden, Ifound I had very little more than twelve thousand marks left. Sothe scheme of buying land and building a house had to berelinquished. But Cosima's excellent health and high spiritsdispelled all anxious thought for the present. We drove out againin a splendid carriage, and in the most extravagant of goodhumours, through the avenues of the Tiergarten, dined to ourhearts' content at the Hotel de Russie, and made up our mindsthat bad times had fled for ever. 

For the immediate present my plans were directed towards Vienna. I had recently heard that Tristan had once more been abandoned, this time owing to the indisposition of Frau Dustmann. In orderto have this important matter more directly under my ownsupervision, and also because I had formed no such intimateartistic ties with any other German city as with Vienna, I clungto this as the most suitable place in which to settle. Tausig, whom I now met there in excellent health and spirits, entirelyconfirmed me in this opinion, and still further strengthened itby undertaking to find me precisely the pleasant and quietdwelling in the neighbourhood of Vienna that I had set my mindupon, and through his own landlord he succeeded in gettingsomething exactly to my taste. In what had been the pleasantabode of old Baron von Rackowitz at Penzing, I was offered themost delightful accommodation for a yearly rent of two thousandfour hundred marks. I could have the entire upper part of thehouse and the exclusive use of a shady and fairly large garden. In the housekeeper, Franz Mrazek, I found a very obliging man, whom I at once took into my service, together with his wife Anna, an exceedingly gifted and obliging woman. For many years, amidever-changing fortunes, this couple remained faithful to me. Inow had to begin spending money in order to make my long-desiredasylum fit and cosy both for rest and work. The remnant of myhousehold belongings, including iny Erard grand, was sent on fromBiebrich, as well as the new furniture I had found it necessaryto buy. On the 12th of May, in lovely spring weather, I tookpossession of my pleasant home, and for a while wasted much timeover the exciting cares connected with the fitting up of mycomfortable apartments. It was at this period that my connectionwith Phillip Haas and Sons was first established, which wasdestined with the lapse of time to give me some cause foranxiety. For the moment every exertion expended on a domicileassociated with so many hopes only helped to put me into the bestof spirits. The grand-piano arrived in due course, and with theaddition of various engravings after Raphael, which had fallen tomy lot in the Biebrich division, my music-room was completelyfurnished in readiness for the 22nd of May, when celebrated myfiftieth birthday. In honour of the occasion the Merchants'Choral Society gave me an evening serenade with Chinese-lanternilluminations, in which a deputation of students also joined andgreeted me with an enthusiastic oration. I had laid in a supplyof wine, and everything passed off excellently. The Mrazekalooked after my housekeeping fairly well, and thanks to theculinary arts of Anna, I was able to invite Tausig and Corneliusto dine with me pretty frequently. 

But I was soon in great trouble again, on account of Minna, whobitterly reproached me for everything I did. Having made up mymind never to answer her again, I wrote this time to her daughterNathalie--who was still in ignorance of the relationship betweenthem--referring her to my decision of the previous year. On theother hand, the fact that I sadly stood in need just now of somewomanly attentions and care in the management of the householdbecame abundantly clear to me when I expressed to Mathilde Maierof Mayence the ingenuous wish that she would come and supply thedeficiency. 

I had certainly thought that my good friend was sensible enoughto interpret my meaning correctly without feeling put to theblush, and I was very likely right, but I had not made sufficientallowance for her mother and her bourgeois surroundingsgenerally. She appears to have been thrown into the greatestexcitement by my proposal, while her friend Louise Wagner was inthe end so powerfully influenced that she frankly advised me, with homely shrewdness and precision, to obtain a legalseparation from my wife first of all, after which everything elsewould be easily arranged. Grievously shocked, I at once withdrewmy offer, as having been made without due deliberation, andstrove as far as possible to allay the excitement thus produced. On the other hand, Friederike Meyer's inexplicable fate stillcaused me much involuntary anxiety. After she had spent severalmonths of the previous winter in Venice, apparently to herbenefit, I had written to her from St. Petersburg suggesting thatshe should meet me at the Bulows' in Berlin. I had taken intomature consideration the kindly interest which Cosima hadconceived for her, with a view to discussing what steps we couldtake to bring order into our friend's flagrantly disorganisedcircumstances. She did not appear, however, but wrote instead toinform me that she had taken up her abode with a lady friend atCoburg, as her very delicate state of health seriously interferedwith her theatrical career, and was endeavouring to maintainherself by occasional appearances at the small theatre there. Itwas obvious that for many reasons I could not send her aninvitation such as that sent to Mathilde Maier, though sheexpressed a violent desire to see me once more for a short time, assuring me that afterwards she would for ever leave me in peace. I could only regard it as purposeless and risky to accede to thiswish just then, though I kept the idea in reserve for the future. During the course of the summer she repeated the same requestfrom several places, until, as I was engaged late in the autumnfor a concert at Karlsruhe, I at last appointed that time andplace for the desired meeting. From that time forth I neverreceived the slightest communication from this most singular andattractive friend of mine, and as, moreover, I did not know whereshe was, I looked upon our connection as severed. Not until manyyears later was the secret of her position--certainly a verydifficult one--revealed to me, and from the facts then stated Icould only conclude that she shrank from telling me the truthconcerning her connection with Herr von Guaita. It appeared thatthis man had much more serious claims upon her than I hadsuspected, and she had apparently been compelled by thenecessities of her situation to accept his protection, as he wasthe only friend left to her, while his devotion was undeniablygenuine. I heard that she was then living in complete retirementboth from the stage and from society on a tiny estate on theRhine with her two children, being, it was believed, secretlymarried to Herr von Guaita. 

But my careful and elaborate preparations for a quiet spell ofwork had not yet been successful. A burglary in the house, whichrobbed me of the golden snuff-box presented by the Moscowmusicians, renewed my old longing to have a dog. My kind oldlandlord consequently handed over to me an old and somewhatneglected hound named Pohl, one of the most affectionate andexcellent animals that ever attached itself to me. In his companyI daily undertook long excursions on foot, for which the verypleasant neighbourhood afforded admirable opportunities. Nevertheless I was still rather lonely, as Tausig was confined tobed for a long time by severe illness, while Cornelius wassuffering from an injured foot, the result of a careless descentfrom an omnibus when visiting Penzing. Meanwhile I was inconstant friendly intercourse with Standhartner and his family. Fritz, the younger brother of Heinrich Porges, had also begun tovisit me. He was a doctor who had just set up practice, a reallynice fellow, whose acquaintance with me dated from the serenadeof the Merchants' Glee Club, of which he had been the originator. 

I was now convinced that there was no longer any chance of havingTristan produced at the Opera, as I had found out that FrauDustmann's indisposition was merely a feint, Herr Ander'scomplete loss of voice having been the real cause of the lastinterruption. Good old Conductor Esser tried hard to persuade meto assign the part of Tristan to another tenor of the theatrenamed Walter, but the very idea of him was so odious to me that Icould not even bring myself to hear him in Lohengrin. I thereforelet the matter sink into oblivion, and concentrated myselfexclusively on getting into touch with the Meistersinger again. Ifirst set to work on the instrumentation of the completed portionof the first act, of which I had only arranged detached fragmentsas yet. But as summer approached, the old anxiety as to my futuresubsistence began to pervade all my thoughts and sensations inthe present. It was clear that, if I were to fulfil all myresponsibilities, particularly with regard to Minna, I shouldsoon have to think of undertaking some lucrative enterpriseagain. 

It was therefore most opportune when a quite unexpectedinvitation from the management of the National Theatre in Buda-Pesth reached me to give two concerts there, in compliance withwhich I went at the end of July to the Hungarian capital, and wasreceived by the manager Radnodfay. There I met a really verytalented violinist named Remenyi, who at one time had been aprotege of Liszt, and showed boundless admiration for me, evendeclaring that the invitation to me had been given entirely onhis initiative. Although there was no prospect of large earningshere, as I had professed myself content to accept a thousandmarks for each of the two concerts, I had reason to be pleasedboth with their success and with the great interest manifested bythe audience. In this city, where the Magyar opposition toAustria was still at its strongest, I made the acquaintance ofsome exceedingly gifted and distinguished-looking young men, among them Herr Rosti, of whom I have a pleasant recollection. They organised a truly idyllic festivity for me, in the form of afeast, held by a few intimates on an island in the Danube, wherewe gathered under an ancient oak tree, as though for apatriarchal ceremony. A young lawyer, whose name I haveunfortunately forgotten, had undertaken to propose the toast ofthe evening, and filled me with amazement and deep emotion, notonly by the fire of his delivery, but also by the truly nobleearnestness of his ideas, which he based upon a perfect knowledgeof all my works and undertakings. We returned home down theDanube in the small boats of the Rowing Club, of which my hostswere members, and on our way had to face a hurricane, whichlashed the mighty stream into the wildest tumult. There was onlyone lady in our party, Countess Bethlen-Gabor, who was seatedwith me in a narrow boat. Rosti and a friend of his who had theoars were concerned solely with the fear that our boat would beshivered against one of the timber-rafts, towards which the floodwas carrying us, and therefore exerted themselves to the utmostto avoid them; whereas I could see no other way of escape, especially for the lady sitting beside me, than by boarding oneof these very rafts. In order to effect this (against the wish ofour two oarsmen) I seized with one hand a projecting peg on araft we were passing and held our little vessel fast, and, whilethe two rowers screamed that the Ellida would be lost, quicklyhoisted the lady out of the skiff on to the raft, across which wewalked to the shore, calmly leaving our friends to save theEllida as best they could. We two then continued our way alongthe bank through a terrific storm of rain, but yet on safe andsure ground, towards the city. My conduct in presence of thisdanger did not fail to increase the respect in which my friendsheld me, as was proved by a banquet given in a public garden atwhich a great number of my admirers were present. Here theytreated me quite in Hungarian style. An enormous band of gipsymusicians was drawn up, and greeted me with the Rakoczy March asI approached, while the assembled guests joined in with impetuousshouts of 'Eljen!' There were also fiery orations withappreciative allusions to myself and my influence which extendedfar and wide throughout Germany. The introductory parts of thesespeeches were always in Hungarian, and were meant to excuse thefact that the main oration would be delivered in German for thesake of their guest. Here I noticed that they never spoke of meas 'Richard Wagner, ' but as 'Wagner Richard. '

Even the highest military officials were not behindhand inoffering me their homage, through the medium of Field-MarshalCoronini. The Count invited me to a performance by the militarybands in the castle at Ofen, where I was graciously received byhim and his family, treated to ices, and then conducted to abalcony whence I listened to a concert given by the massed bands. The effect of all these demonstrations was exceedinglyrefreshing, and I almost regretted having to leave therejuvenating atmosphere of Buda-Pesth, and return to my dull andmusty Viennese asylum. 

On the homeward journey, in the beginning of August, I travelledpart of the way with Herr von Seebach, the amiable SaxonAmbassador, whom I had known in Paris. He complained of theenormous losses he had incurred through the difficulty ofadministering the South Russian estates he had acquired bymarriage, and from which he was just returning. On the otherhand, I was able to reassure him as to my own position, whichseemed to give him genuine pleasure. 

The small receipts from my Buda-Pesth concerts, of which, moreover, I had only been able to carry away half, were notcalculated to afford me any effectual relief as to the future. Having now staked my all on what I trusted might be a permanentestablishment, the first question was how best to secure asalary, which should at least be certain though not necessarilyover-large. Meanwhile I did not consider myself bound to abandonmy St. Petersburg connection, nor the plans I had founded uponit. Nor did I entirely disbelieve the assurances of Remenyi, whoboasted that he had great influence with the Magyar magnates, andassured me it would be no great matter to obtain a pension inBuda-Pesth, such as I had thought of securing in St. Petersburgand involving similar obligations. He did, in fact, visit me soonafter my return to Penzing, accompanied by his adopted son, youngPlotenyi, whose extraordinary good looks and amiability made avery favourable impression on me. As for the father himself, although he won my warm approbation by his brilliant performanceof the Rakoczy March on the violin, yet I quickly perceived thathis glowing promises had been meant rather to create an immediateimpression on me than to ensure any permanent result. Inaccordance with his own desire, I very soon afterwards lost sightof him altogether. 

While still obliged to busy myself with plans for concert tours, I was able meantime to enjoy the pleasant shade of my gardenduring the intense heat, and I used to go for long rambles everyevening with my faithful dog Pohl, the most refreshing of thesebeing by way of the dairy-farm at St. Veit, where delicious milkwas available. My small social circle was still restricted toCornelius and Tausig, who was at last restored to health, although he disappeared from my sight for some time owing to hisintercourse with wealthy Austrian officers. But I was frequentlyjoined on my excursions by the younger Porges, and for a time bythe elder also. My niece Ottilie Brockhaus too, who was livingwith the family of her mother's friend Heinrich Laube, occasionally delighted me with a visit. 

But whenever I settled down seriously to work, I was goadedafresh by an uneasy apprehension as to the means of subsistence. As another journey to Russia was out of the question until thefollowing Easter, only German towns could serve my purpose forthe present. From many quarters, as for instance from Darmstadt, I received unfavourable replies; and from Karlsruhe, where I hadapplied direct to the Grand Duke, the answer was indefinite. Butthe severest blow to my confidence was a direct refusal whichcame in response to the application I had at last made to St. Petersburg, the acceptance of which would have ensured a regularsalary. This time the excuse made was that the Polish revolutionof that summer had paralysed the spirit of artistic enterprise. 

Pleasanter news, however, came from Moscow, where they held outprospects of some good concerts for the coming year. I nextbethought me of a very sound suggestion about Kieff made to me bySetoff the singer, who thought there was a prospect of a highlyprofitable engagement there. I entered into correspondence on thematter, and was again put off until the following Easter, whenall the smaller Russian nobility congregated at Kieff. These wereall plans for the future which, if I then had considered them indetail at that time, would have been enough to rob me of allpeace of mind for my work. In any case there was a long intervalduring which I must provide, not only for myself, but also forMinna. Any prospect of a position in Vienna had to be handledmost warily, so that, with the approach of autumn, there wasnothing left me but to raise money on loan, a business in whichTausig was able to help me, as he possessed extraordinaryexperience in such matters. 

I could not help wondering whether I should have to give up myPenzing establishment, but, on the other hand, what alternativewas open to me? Every time I was seized with the desire tocompose, these cares obtruded themselves on my mind, until, seeing that it was only a question of putting things off from dayto day, I was driven to take up the study of Dunker's Geschichtedes Alterthums. In the end my correspondence about concertsswallowed up the whole of my time. I first asked Heinrich Porgesto see what he could arrange in Prague. He also held out areasonable prospect of a concert at Lowenberg, relying upon thefavourable disposition of the Prince of Hohenzollern, who livedthere. I was also advised to apply to Hans von Bronsart, who atthis time was conductor to a private orchestral society inDresden. He responded loyally to my proposition, and between uswe settled the date and programme of a concert to be conducted byme in Dresden. As the Grand Duke of Baden had also placed histheatre at Karlsruhe at my disposal for a concert to be given inNovember, I thought I had now done enough in this direction to beentitled to take up something different. I therefore wrote afairly long article for Uhl-Frobel's paper Der Botschafter on theImperial Grand Opera House in Vienna, in which I made suggestionsfor a thorough reform of this very badly managed institution. Theexcellence of this article was at once acknowledged on all sides, even by the press; and I appear to have made some impression inthe highest administrative circles, for I shortly afterwardsheard from my friend Rudolf Liechtenstein, that tentativeadvances had been made to him with a view to his accepting theposition of manager, associated with which there was certainly anidea of asking me to become conductor of the Grand Opera. Amongthe reasons which caused this proposal to fall through was thefear, Liechtenstein informed me, that under his direction peoplewould hear nothing but 'Wagner operas. '

In the end it was a relief to escape from the anxieties of myposition by starting on my concert tour. First I went to Prague, in the beginning of November, to try my luck again in the matterof big receipts. Unfortunately Heinrich Porges had not been ableto take the arrangements in hand this time, and his deputies, whowere very busy schoolmasters, were not at all his equals for thetask. Expenses were increased, while receipts diminished, forthey had not ventured to ask such high prices as before. I wishedto repair this deficiency by a second concert a few days later, and insisted on the point, although my friends urgently dissuadedme, and, as the event proved, they were quite right. This timethe receipts hardly covered the costs, and as I had been obligedto send away the proceeds of the first concert to redeem an oldbill in Vienna, I had no other means of paying my hotel expensesand my fare home than by accepting the offer of a banker, whoposed as a patron, to help me out of my embarrassment. 

In the chastened mood induced by these occurrences I pursued myjourney to Karlsruhe, via Nuremberg and Stuttgart, under wretchedconditions of severe cold and constant delays. At Karlsruhe I wasat once surrounded by various friends, who had come there onhearing of my project. Richard Pohl from Baden, who never failedme, Mathilde Maier, Frau Betty Schott, the wife of my publisher;even Raff from Wiesbaden and Emilie Genast were there, as well asKarl Eckert, who had recently been appointed conductor atStuttgart. Trouble began at once with the vocalists for my firstconcert, fixed for 14th November, as the baritone, Hauser, whowas to sing 'Wotan's Farewell' and Hans Sachs's 'Cobbler Song, 'was ill and had to be replaced by a voiceless though well-drilledvaudeville singer. In Eduard Devrient's opinion this made nodifference. My relations with him were strictly official, but hecertainly carried out my instructions for the arrangement of theorchestra very correctly. From an orchestral point of view theconcert went off so well that the Grand Duke, who received mevery graciously in his box, desired a repetition in a week'stime. To this proposal I raised serious objections, havinglearned by experience that the large attendances at suchconcerts, particularly at special prices, were mainly accountedfor by the curiosity of the hearers, who often came from longdistances; whereas the number of genuine students of art, whoseinterest was chiefly in the music, was but small. But the GrandDuke insisted, as he wished to give his mother-in-law, QueenAugusta, whose arrival was expected within a few days, thepleasure of hearing my production. I should have found itdreadfully wearisome to have to spend the intervening time in thesolitude of my Karlsruhe hotel, but I received a kind invitationto Baden-Baden from Mme. Kalergis, who had just become Mme. Moukhanoff, and had gone to live there. She had, to my delight, been one of. Those who came over for the concert, and was now onthe station to meet me when I arrived. I felt I ought to declineher proffered escort into the town, not considering myselfsufficiently smart in my 'brigand-hat, ' but with the assurance, 'We all wear these brigand-hats here, ' she took my arm, and thuswe reached Pauline Viardot's villa, where we were to dine, as myfriend's own house was not yet quite ready. Seated by my oldacquaintance, I was now introduced to the Russian poetTurgenieff. Mme. Moukhanoff presented me to her husband with somehesitation, wondering what I should think of her marriage. Supported by her companions, who were all society people, sheexerted herself to maintain a fairly lively conversation duringthe time we were together. Well satisfied by the admirableintention of my friend and benefactress, I again left Baden tofill up my time by a little trip to Zurich, where I again triedto get a few days' rest in the house of the Wesendonck family. The idea of assisting me did not seem even to dawn on thesefriends of mine, although I frankly informed them of my position. I therefore returned to Karlsruhe, where, on the 22nd ofNovember, as I had foreseen, I gave my second concert to a poorlyfilled house. But, in the opinion of the Grand Duke and his wife, Queen Augusta's appreciation should have dispelled any unpleasantimpressions I might have received. I was again summoned to theroyal box, where I found all the court gathered round the Queen, who wore a blue rose on her forehead as an ornament. The fewcomplimentary observations she had to offer were listened to bythe members of the court with breathless attention; but when theroyal lady had made a few general remarks, and was about to enterinto details, she left all further demonstration to her daughter, who, as she said, knew more about it. The next day I received myshare of the takings, half the net profits, which amounted to twohundred marks, and with this I at once bought myself a fur coat. The sum asked for it was two hundred and twenty marks, but when Iexplained that my receipts had only been two hundred marks, Imanaged to get the extra twenty knocked off the price. There wasstill the Grand Duke's private gift, consisting of a gold snuff-box with fifteen louis d'or, for which I, of course, returned mythanks in writing. I next had to face the question whether, afterthe toilsome fatigue of the past weeks, I would add to mydisappointments by attempting to give the proposed concert inDresden. Many considerations, practically everything indeed thatI had to weigh in connection with a visit to Dresden, moved me tohave the courage to write and tell Hans von Bronsart at the lastmoment to cancel all arrangements and not expect me there, adecision which, although it must have caused him muchinconvenience after all the preparations he had kindly made, heaccepted with a very good grace. 

I still wanted to see what I could do with the firm of Schott, and travelled by night to Mayence, where Mathilde Maier's familyinsisted on my spending the day at their little house, where Iwas entertained in a simple and friendly fashion. During the dayand night I spent here in the narrow Karthausergasse, I waswaited upon with the greatest care, and from this outpost Iassaulted the publishing house of Schott, though without securingmuch booty. This was because I refused my consent to a separateissue of the various selections from my new works which had beenpicked out and prepared for concert use. 

As my only remaining source of profit now seemed to be theconcert at Lowenberg, I turned my face thither; but, in order toavoid passing Dresden, I made a short detour by way of Berlin, where, after travelling all night, I arrived, very tired, earlyon the 28th of November. In compliance with my request the Bulowstook me in, and at once began urging me to break my intendedjourney to Silesia by giving them a day in Berlin. Hans wasparticularly anxious for me to be present at a concert to begiven that evening under his direction, a factwhich finallydecided me to remain. In defiance of the cold, raw and gloomyweather, we discussed as cheerfully as we could my unfortunateposition. By way of increasing my capital, it was resolved tohand over the Grand Duke of Baden's gold snuff-box to our goodold friend Weitzmann for sale. The sum of two hundred and seventymarks realised by this was brought to me at the HotelBrandenburg, where I was dining with the Bulows, and was anaddition to my reserves that furnished us with many a jest. AsBulow had to complete the preparations for his concert, I droveout alone with Cosima on the promenade, as before, in a finecarriage. This time all our jocularity died away into silence. Wegazed speechless into each other's eyes; an intense longing foran avowal of the truth mastered us and led to a confession--whichneeded no words--of the boundless unhappiness which oppressed us. The experience brought relief to us both, and the profoundtranquillity which ensued enabled us to attend the concert in acheerful, unembarrassed mood. I was actually able to fix myattention clearly on an exquisitely refined and elevatedperformance of Beethoven's smaller Concert Overture (in C major), and likewise on Hans's very clever arrangement of Gluck'soverture to Paris and Helen. We noticed Alwine Frommann in theaudience, and during the interval met her on the grand staircaseof the concert-hall. After the second part had begun and thestairs were empty, we sat for some time on one of the stepschatting gaily with our old friend. After the concert we were dueat my friend Weitzmann's for supper, the length and abundance ofwhich reduced us, whose hearts yearned for profound peace, toalmost frantic despair. But the day came to an end at last, andafter a night spent under Bulow's roof, I continued my journey. Our farewell reminded me so vividly of that first exquisitelypathetic parting from Cosima at Zurich, that all the interveningyears vanished like a dream of desolation separating two days oflifelong moment and decision. If on the first occasion ourpresentiment of something mysterious and inexplicable hadcompelled silence, it was now no less impossible to give words tothat which we silently acknowledged. 

I was met at one of the stations in Silesia by Conductor Seifriz, who accompanied me in one of the Prince's carriages to Lowenberg. The old Prince of Hohenzollern-Hechingen was already very welldisposed towards me on account of his great friendship for Liszt, and had, moreover, been fully informed of my position by HeinrichPorges, who had been engaged by him for a short time. He hadinvited me to give a concert in his small castle to an audiencecomposed exclusively of invited guests. I was very comfortablyaccommodated in apartments on the ground floor of his house, whither he frequently came on his wheeled chair from his ownrooms directly opposite. Here I could not only feel at ease, butbe to some extent hopeful. I at once began rehearsing the piecesI had chosen from my operas with the Prince's by no means ill-equipped private orchestra, during which my host was invariablypresent and seemed well satisfied. Meals were all taken verysociably in common; but on the day of the concert there was akind of gala-dinner, at which I was astonished to meet Henriettevon Bissing, the sister of Mme. Wille of Marienbad, with whom Ihad been intimate at Zurich. As she had an estate near Lowenberg, she had also been invited by the Prince, and now gave me proof ofher faithful and enthusiastic devotion. Being both intelligentand witty, she at once became my favourite companion. After theconcert had passed off with reasonable success, I had to fulfilanother wish of the Prince's next day, by privately playing tohim Beethoven's Symphony in C minor, when Frau von Bissing wasalso present. She had now been for some time a widow. Shepromised to come to Breslau, when I gave my concert there. Beforemy departure Conductor Seifriz brought me a fee of four thousandtwo hundred marks from the Prince, with an expression of regretthat for the present it was impossible for him to be moreliberal. After all my previous experiences I was truly astonishedand contented, and it was with pleasure I returned the gallantPrince my heartfelt thanks with all the eloquence at my command. 

Thence I travelled to Breslau, where the concert director, Damrosch, had arranged a concert for me. I had made hisacquaintance on my last visit to Weimar, and had also heard ofhim through Liszt. Unfortunately the conditions here struck me asextraordinarily dismal and desperate. The whole affair had beenplanned on the meanest scale, as indeed I might have expected. Aperfectly horrible concert-room, which usually served as a beer-restaurant, had been engaged. At the rear of this, and separatedfrom it by a dreadfully vulgar curtain, was a small 'Tivoli'theatre, for which I was obliged to procure an elevated plank-floor for the orchestra, and the whole concern so disgusted methat my first impulse was to dismiss the seedy-looking musicianson the spot. My friend Damrosch, who was very much upset, had topromise me that at least he would have the horrible reek oftobacco in the place neutralised. As he could offer no guaranteeas to the amount of the receipts, I was only induced in the endto go on with the enterprise by my desire not to compromise himtoo severely. To my amazement I found almost the entire room, atall events the front seats, filled with Jews, and in fact I owedsuch success as I obtained to the interest excited in thissection of the population, as I learned the next day, when Iattended a mid-day dinner arranged in my honour by Damrosch, atwhich again only Jews were present. 

It was like a ray of light from a better world when, on leavingthe concert-hall, I perceived Fraulein Marie von Buch, who hadhurried hither with her grandmother from the Hatzfeld estate tobe present at my concert, and was waiting in a boardedcompartment dignified by the name of box, for me to come outafter the audience had left; the young lady came up to me oncemore in travelling costume after Damrosch's dinner and attemptedby kindly and sympathetic assurances somewhat to assuage myevident anxiety respecting the future. I thanked her once more byletter for her sympathy after my return to Vienna, to which shereplied by a request for a contribution to her album. In memoryof the emotions which had convulsed me on leaving Berlin, andalso as an indication of my mental mood to one worthy of theconfidence, I added Calderon's words, 'Things impossible toconceal, yet impossible of utterance. ' By this I felt I hadconveyed to a kindly disposed person, though with a happyvagueness, some idea of the secret knowledge which was my soleinspiration. 

But the results of my meeting with Henriette von Bissing inBreslau were very different. She had followed me thither, and putup at the same hotel. Influenced, no doubt, by my sicklyappearance, she seemed to give her sympathy for myself and mysituation full play. I placed the latter before her withoutreserve, telling her how, ever since the upset following on mydeparture from Zurich in 1858, I had been unable to secure theregular income necessary for the steady pursuit of my calling;and also of my invariably vain attempts to bring my affairs intoany settled and definite order. My friend did not shrink fromattributing some blame to the relationship between FrauWesendonck and my wife, and declared that she felt it her missionto conciliate them. She approved my settling down at Penzing, andonly hoped that I might not spoil its beneficial effect upon meby distant enterprises. She would not listen to my plan oftouring in Russia, in the coming winter, in order to earn moneyfor my absolute necessities, and herself undertook to providefrom her own very considerable fortune the not unimportant sumrequisite to maintain me in independence for some time to come. But she explained to me that for a short while longer I was totry and get along through thick and thin, as she would have somedifficulty--possibly a good deal--in placing the promised moneyat my disposal. 

Greatly cheered by the impressions of this meeting I returned toVienna on the 9th December. At Lowenberg I had been obliged toremit to Vienna the greater portion of the Prince's gift, part ofit for Minna, and part for the payment of debts. Though I had butlittle cash I felt thoroughly sanguine; I could now greet my fewfriends with tolerable good-humour, and among them PeterCornelius, who looked in on me every evening. As Heinrich Porgesand Gustav Schonaich sometimes joined us, we founded an intimatelittle circle and met regularly. On Christmas Eve I invited themall to my house, where I had the Christmas tree lighted up, andgave each one an appropriate trifle. Some work also came my wayagain, for Tausig asked me to help him with a concert which hewas to give in the great Redouten-Saal. In addition to a fewselections from my new operas, I also conducted the FreischutzOverture, for my own particular satisfaction and entirelyaccording to my own interpretation. Its effect, even upon theorchestra, was truly startling. 

But there did not seem the slightest prospect of any officialrecognition of my abilities; I was, and continued to be, ignoredby the great. Frau von Biasing's communications revealed bydegrees the difficulties which she had encountered in thefulfilment of her promise; but as they were still hopeful intone, I was able to spend New Year's Eve at the Standhartner's ingood spirits, and to enjoy a poem specially written by Corneliusfor the occasion, which was as humorous as it was solemnlyappropriate. 

The new year 1864 assumed for me an aspect of gravity which soonbecame intensified. I fell ill with a painful and increasingmalady due to a chill, which often made demands on Standhartner'scare. But I was yet more seriously threatened by the turn of Frauvon Bissing's communications. It seemed she could only raise thepromised money with the help of her family, the Slomans, who wereshipowners in Hamburg, and from them she was meeting with violentopposition, mingled, as it seemed, with slanderous chargesagainst me. These circumstances upset me so much that I wished Icould renounce all help from this friend, and I began once moreto turn my serious attention to Russia. Fraulein von Rhaden, towhom I again applied, felt she must vigorously dissuade me fromany attempt to visit St. Petersburg, in the first place because, owing to the military disturbances in the Polish provinces, Ishould find the route blocked, and secondly because, roughlyspeaking, I should attract no notice in the Russian capital. Onthe other hand, a visit to Kieff, with a chance of five thousandroubles profit, was represented as undoubtedly feasible. Keepingmy thoughts fixed on this, I arranged with Cornelius, who was toaccompany me, a plan for crossing the Black Sea to Odessa, andgoing from there to Kieff, with a view to which we both resolvedto procure the indispensable fur coats at once. Meanwhile, theonly course open to me was to see about raising money by freshbills at short dates, wherewith to pay all my other bills, whichwere also short-dated. Thus I became launched upon a businesssystem which, leading, as it did, to obvious and inevitable ruin, could only be finally resolved by the acceptance of prompt andeffectual help. In these straits I was at last compelled torequest a clear declaration from my friend, not as to whether sheCOULD help me at once, but whether she really WISHED to help meat all, as I could no longer stave off ruin. She must have beenin the highest degree wounded by some notion or other, of which Iwas ignorant, before bringing herself to reply in the followingtone: 'You wish to know finally whether I WILL or not? Well, then, in God's name, NO!' Not long after this I received from hersister, Mme. Wille, a very surprising explanation of her conduct, which seemed at the time perfectly inexplicable, and only to beaccounted for by the weakness of her not very reliable character. 

Amid all these vacillations the month of February had run to anend, and while Cornelius and I were busy on our Russian plans, Ireceived news from Kieff and Odessa that it would be unwise toattempt any artistic enterprises there during the present year. By this time it had become clear that, under the conditions thusdeveloped, I could no longer reckon on maintaining my position inVienna, or my establishment at Penzing. Not only did there seemno prospect of even a temporary nature of earning money, but mydebts had mounted up, in the usual style of such usury, to sogreat a sum, and assumed so threatening an aspect, that, failingsome extraordinary relief, my very person was in danger. In thisperplexity I addressed myself with perfect frankness--at firstonly for advice--to the judge of the Imperial Provincial Court, Eduard Liszt, the youthful uncle of my old friend Franz. Duringmy first stay in Vienna this man had shown himself a warmlydevoted friend, always ready to help me. For the discharge of mybill-debts he could naturally suggest no other method than theintervention of some wealthy patron, who should settle with mycreditors. For some time he believed that a certain Mme. Scholler, the wife of a rich merchant and one of my admirers, notonly possessed the means, but was willing to use them on mybehalf. Standhartner also, with whom I made no pretence ofsecrecy, thought he could do something for me in this way. Thusmy position was for some weeks again most uncertain, until atlast it became clear that all my friends could procure me was themeans for flight to Switzerland--which was now deemed absolutelynecessary--where, having saved my skin so far, I should have toraise money for my bills. To the lawyer, Eduard Liszt, this wayof escape seemed specially desirable, because he would then be ina position to punish the outrageous usury practised against me. 

During the anxious time of the last few months, through which, nevertheless, there had run an undercurrent of indefinite hope, Ihad kept up a lively intercourse with my few friends. Corneliusturned up regularly every evening, and was joined by O. Bach, little Count Laurencin, and, on one occasion, by RudolphLiechtenstein. With Cornelius alone I began reading the Iliad. When we reached the catalogue of ships I wished to skip it; butPeter protested, and offered to read it out himself; but whetherwe ever came to the end of it I forget. My reading by myselfconsisted of Chateaubriand's La Vie de Rance, which Tausig hadbrought me. Meanwhile, he himself vanished without leaving anytrace, until after some time he reappeared engaged to a Hungarianpianist. During the whole of this time I was very ill andsuffered exceedingly from a violent catarrh. The thought of deathtook such hold on me that I at last lost all desire to shake itoff, and even set about bequeathing my books and manuscripts, ofwhich a portion fell to the lot of Cornelius. 

I had taken the precaution some time before of commending intoStandhartner's keeping my remaining--and now, alas! exceedinglydoubtful--assets which were in the house at Penzing. As myfriends were most positive in recommending preparation forimmediate flight, I had written to Otto Wesendonck requesting tobe taken into his house, as Switzerland was to be my destination. He refused point-blank, and I could not resist sending him areply to prove the injustice of this. The next thing was to makemy absence from home a short one and to count upon a speedyreturn. Standhartner made me go and dine at his house in hisgreat anxiety to cover up my departure, and my servant FranzMrazek brought my trunk there too. My farewell to Standhartner, his wife Anna, and the good dog Pohl was very depressing. Standhartner's stepson Karl Schonaich and Cornelius accompaniedme to the station, the one in grief and tears, the otherinclining to a frivolous mood. It was on the afternoon of 23rdMarch that I left for Munich, my first stopping-place, where Ihoped to rest for two days after the terrible disturbances I hadgone through, without attracting any notice. I stayed at the'Bayerischer Hof' and took a few walks through the city at myleisure. It was Good Friday and the weather was bitterly cold. The mood proper to the day seemed to possess the wholepopulation, whom I saw going from one church to another dressedin deepest mourning. King Maximilian II. --of whom the Bavarianshad become so fond--had died a few days before, leaving as heirto the throne a son aged eighteen and a half, whose extreme youthwas no bar to his accession. I saw a portrait of the young king, Ludwig II. In a shop window, and experienced the peculiar emotionwhich is aroused by the sight of youth and beauty placed in aposition presumed to be unusually trying. After writing ahumorous epitaph for myself, I crossed Lake Constance unmolestedand reached Zurich--once more a refugee in need of an asylum--where I at once betook myself to Dr. Wille's estate at Mariafeld. 

I had already written to my friend's wife to ask her to put me upfor a few days, which she very kindly agreed to do. I had got toknow her very well during my last stay at Zurich, while myfriendship with him had somewhat cooled. I wanted to have time tofind what seemed suitable quarters in one of the places borderingon Lake Zurich. Dr. Wille himself was not there, as he had goneto Constantinople on a pleasure trip. I had no difficulty inmaking my friend understand my situation, which I found her mostwilling to relieve. First of all she cleared one or two livingrooms in Frau von Bissing's old house next door, from which, however, the fairly comfortable furniture had been removed. Iwanted to cater for myself, but had to yield to her request totake over that responsibility. Only furniture was lacking, andfor this she ventured to apply to Frau Wesendonck, whoimmediately sent all she could spare of her household goods, aswell as a cottage piano. The good woman was also anxious that Ishould visit my old friends at Zurich to avoid any appearance ofunpleasantness, but I was prevented from doing so by seriousindisposition, which was increased by the badly heated rooms, andfinally Otto and Mathilde Wesendonck came over to us atMariafeld. The very uncertain and strained attitude apparent inthese two was not entirely incomprehensible to me, but I behavedas if I did not notice it. My cold, which rendered me incapableof looking about for a house in the neighbouring districts, wascontinually aggravated by the bad weather and my own deepdepression. I spent these dreadful days sitting huddled in myKarlsruhe fur coat from morning till night, and addled my brainwith reading one after another of the volumes which Mme. Willesent me in my seclusion. I read Jean Paul's Siebenkas, Frederickthe Great's Tagebuch, Tauser, George Sand's novels and WalterScott's, and finally Felicitas, a work from my sympathetichostess's own pen. Nothing reached me from the outside worldexcept a passionate lament from Mathilde Maier, and a mostpleasant surprise in the shape of royalties (seventy-fivefrancs), which Truinet sent from Paris. This led to aconversation with Mme. Wille, half in anger and half withcondemned-cell cynicism, as to what I could do to obtain completerelease from my wretched situation. Among other things we touchedupon the necessity of obtaining a divorce from my wife in orderto contract a rich marriage. As everything seemed right andnothing inexpedient in my eyes, I actually wrote and asked mysister Luise Brockhaus whether she could not, by talking sensiblyto Minna, persuade her to depend on her settled yearly allowancewithout making any claims on my person in future. In reply Ireceived a deeply pathetic letter advising me first to think ofestablishing my reputation and to create for myself anunassailable position by some new work. In this way I might veryprobably reap some benefit without taking any foolish step; andin any case I should do well to apply for the post of conductorwhich was now vacant in Darmstadt. 

I had very bad news from Vienna. Standhartncr, to make sure ofthe furniture I had left in the house, sold it to a Vienneseagent, with the option of re-purchase. I wrote back in greatindignation, particularly as I realised the prejudicial effect ofthis on my landlord, to whom I had to pay rent within the nextfew days. Through Mme. Wille I succeeded in getting placed at mydisposal the money required for the rent, which I forwarded atonce to Baron Raokowitz. Unfortunately, however, I found thatStandhartner had already cleared up everything with Eduard Liszt, paying the rent with the proceeds from the furniture, and therebycutting off my return to Vienna, which they both considered wouldbe positive ruin to me. But when I heard at the same time fromCornelius that Tausig, who was then in Hungary and who had addedhis signature to one of the bills of exchange, felt himselfprevented by me from returning to Vienna as he desired, I was sosensibly wounded that I decided to go back on the spot, howevergreat the danger might be. I announced my intention to my friendsthere immediately, but decided first to try and provide myselfwith enough money to be in a position to suggest a compositionwith my creditors. To this end I had written most urgently toSchott at Mayence, and did not refrain from reproaching himbitterly for his behaviour to me. I now decided to leaveMariafeld for Stuttgart to await the result of these efforts, andto prosecute them from a nearer vantage-ground. But I was also, as will be seen, moved to carry out this change by other motives. 

Dr. Wille had returned, and I could see at once that my stay atMariafeld alarmed him. He probably feared I might rely on hishelp also. In some confusion, occasioned by the attitude I hadadopted in consequence, he made this confession to me in a momentof agitation. He was, he said, overpowered by a sentiment withregard to me which amounted to this--that a man wanted, afterall, to be something more than a cipher in his own house, where, if anywhere, it is not pleasant to serve as a mere foil to someone else. This sentiment was merely excusable, he thought, in aman who, though he might reasonably suppose himself of someaccount among his fellows, had been brought into close contactwith another to whom he felt himself in the strangest mannersubordinate. Mme. Wille, foreseeing her husband's frame of mind, had come to an agreement, with the Wesendonck family by whichthey were to provide me with one hundred francs a month during mystay at Mariafeld. When this came to my knowledge, I could donothing but announce to Frau Wesendonck my immediate departurefrom Switzerland, and request her in the kindest possible way toconsider herself relieved of all anxiety about me, as I hadarranged my affairs quite in accordance with my wishes. I heardlater that she had returned this letter--which, possibly, sheconsidered compromising--to Mme. Wille unopened. 

My next move was to go to Stuttgart on 30th April. I knew thatKarl Eckert had been settled there some time as conductor at theRoyal Court Theatre, and I had reason to believe the good-naturedfellow to be unprejudiced and well disposed towards me, judgingby his admirable behaviour when he had been director of the operain Vienna, and also by the enthusiasm he exhibited in coming tomy concert at Karlsruhe the year before. I expected nothingfurther of him than a little assistance in looking for a quietlodging for the coming summer at Cannstadt or some such placenear Stuttgart. I wanted, above all, to finish the first act ofthe Meistersinger with all possible despatch, so as to sendSchott part of the manuscript at last. I had told him that I wasgoing to send it to him almost immediately when I attacked himabout the advances which had so long been withheld from me. Ithen intended to collect the means wherewith to meet myobligations in Vienna, while living in complete retirement and, as I hoped, in concealment. Eckert welcomed me most kindly. Hiswife--one of the greatest beauties in Vienna--had, in herfantastic desire to marry an artist, given up a very profitablepost, but was still rich enough for the conductor to livecomfortably and show hospitality, and the impression I nowreceived was very pleasant. Eckert felt himself absolutely boundto take me to see Baron von Gall, the manager of the courttheatre, who alluded sensibly and kindly to my difficult positionin Germany, where everything was likely to remain closed to me aslong as the Saxon ambassadors and agents--who were scatteredeverywhere--were allowed to attempt to injure me by all kinds ofsuspicions. After getting to know me better, he consideredhimself authorised to act on my behalf through the medium of thecourt of Wurtemberg. As I was talking over these matters ratherlate on the evening of 3rd May at the Eckerts', a gentleman'scard with the inscription 'Secretary to the King of Bavaria' washanded to me. I was disagreeably surprised that my presence inStuttgart should be known to passing travellers, and sent wordthat I was not there, after which I retired to my hotel, only tobe again informed by the landlord that a gentleman from Munichdesired to see me on urgent business. I made an appointment forthe morning at ten o'clock, and passed a disturbed night in myconstant anticipation of misfortune. I received HerrPfistermeister, the private secretary of H. M. The King ofBavaria, in my room. He first expressed great pleasure at havingfound me at last, thanks to receiving some happy directions, after vainly seeking me in Vienna and even at Mariafeld on LakeZurich. He was charged with a note for me from the young King ofBavaria, together with a portrait and a ring as a present. Inwords which, though few, penetrated to the very core of my being, the youthful monarch confessed his great partiality for my work, and announced his firm resolve to keep me near him as his friend, so that I might escape any malignant stroke of fate. HerrPfistermeister informed me at the same time that he wasinstructed to conduct me to Munich at once to see the King, andbegged my permission to inform his master by telegram that Iwould come on the following day. I was invited to dine with theEckerts, but Herr Pfistermeister was obliged to decline toaccompany me. My friends, who had been joined by young Weisheimerfrom Osthofen, were very naturally amazed and delighted at thenews I brought them. While we were at table Eckert was informedby telegram of Meyerbeer's death in Paris, and Weisheimer burstout in boorish laughter to think that the master of opera, whohad done me so much harm, had by a strange coincidence not livedto see this day. Herr von Gall also made his appearance, and hadto admit in friendly surprise that I certainly did not need hisgood services any more. He had already given the order forLohengrin, and now paid me the stipulated sum on the spot. Atfive o'clock that afternoon I met Herr Pfistermeister at thestation to travel with him to Munich, where my visit to the Kingwas announced for the following morning. 

On the same day I had received the most urgent warnings againstreturning to Vienna. But my life was to have no more of thesealarms; the dangerous road along which fate beckoned me to suchgreat ends was not destined to be clear of troubles and anxietiesof a kind unknown to me heretofore, but I was never again to feelthe weight of the everyday hardships of existence under theprotection of my exalted friend.