To-day they presented to me Siegfried,--familiarly called "Fidi." He
is a splendid baby, who weighs down the arms of his nurse. He does not
talk yet, but he understands what is said to him. They ask him:
"Fidi, wie gross bist du?"
("Fidi, how big are you?")
He holds up his arms and shows, with a laugh full of dimples, that he
is as high as the ceiling.
"Here," said I, "is a little being who has a very exceptional origin:
descendant of Wagner and Liszt! What plans of future glory have they
already formed for him?"
"That is all very vague," said the mother, laughing. "I have the
ambition, first of all, to assure him a modest income, so he may always
be sheltered from those terrible material worries, those shameful
'little miseries' from which I have suffered so cruelly. Then I should
like to have him know something of surgery, so he could give help to
anyone who was wounded, make a first dressing. I have so often been
grieved by my own helplessness, when an accident has happened near me,
that I wish to spare him that pain. Otherwise I shall leave him quite
free. I should be glad, however, if he were to develop a taste for
architecture."
"While we are waiting," added Cosima to me, "for the future architect
to declare himself, do you feel yourself worthy, dear friend, of
fulfilling a mission of confidence on his behalf? The nurse is just
going to her dinner, which is served before ours; as for me, I have a
bath ready which the sun has warmed; water heated in that way is very
hygienic; I should like to take my plunge right away, in order not to
be late for dinner. Now, this is the hour when Fidi is in the-habit of
sucking a biscuit soaked in madeira; and there is no one to give it to
him but you."
"Madeira at his age?" I am very much surprised, but I make no
objection, being also very conscious of my own incompetence.
So here I am installed in the garden, near a little iron table, on
the other side of the curtain of shrubbery which conceals Cosima's
bath. Fidi is on my knees. Penetrated by the importance of my task, I
soak the biscuit in the madeira, neither too much nor too little, and
I am very careful not to soil the pretty embroideries of the robe. The
baby eagerly sucks the golden wine and swallows the biscuit, without
coughing or choking. I am not able to see, but behind the leaves I
hear the splashing of the water and Cosima's voice encouraging me. All
goes well, as long as the madeira and the biscuit last. But when there
is nothing more, Fidi gives manifest signs of impatience. He twists
himself about, in order to escape and slide to the ground. Shall I let
him go? Never! I am not authorised. I do not even know if he can walk
by himself. But he is quite determined to get down, kicks vigorously,
and looks at me with frowning brows, as though he were astonished that
I do not understand.
"Do hurry, Cosima, Fidi detests me and wishes to get away."
"No indeed, he loves you very much," cried the bather, "hold him tight."
So I hold him tight, but he has incredible strength and a persevering
will. The struggle is painful and long ... finally, when they come to
my aid, it becomes evident, too late, that the baby had serious reasons
for his determination to get down.