Act 1, scene ii.] Our good-humour might have failed us in the end,

however, had we not been refreshed and uplifted by the happy effect

which the prelude to the Meistersinger (which had at last been

successfully rehearsed) and Bulow's glorious rendering of Liszt's new

work produced. The actual concert itself gave a final ghostly touch to

an adventure to which we had looked forward so contentedly till then.

To Weisheimer's horror the Leipzig public stayed away en masse, in

response apparently to a sign from the leaders of the regular

subscription concerts. I have never seen any place so empty on an

occasion of this sort; besides the members of my family--among whom my

sister Ottilie was conspicuous in a very eccentric cap--there was no

one to be seen but a few visitors, who had come into town for the

occasion, occupying one or two benches. I noticed in particular my

Weimar friends, Conductor Lassen, Councillor Franz Muller, the

never-failing Richard Pohl, and Justizrath Gille, who had all nobly put

in an appearance. I also recognised with a shock of surprise old

Councillor Kustner, the former manager of the Court Theatre in Berlin,

and I had to respond amiably to his greeting and his astonishment at

the incomprehensible emptiness of the hall. The people of Leipzig were

represented solely by special friends of my family, who never went to a

concert in the ordinary way, among them being my devoted friend, Dr.

Lothar Muller, the son of Dr. Moritz Muller, an allopath whom I had

known very well in my earliest youth. In the middle of the hall there

were only the concert-giver's fiancee and her mother. At a little

distance away, and facing this lady, I took a seat next to Cosima while

the concert was in progress. My family, observing us from a distance,

were offended by the almost incessant laughter which possessed us, as

they themselves were in the depths of depression.

As regards the prelude to the Meistersinger, its successful performance

affected the few friends who formed the audience so favourably that we

had to repeat it there and then--to the satisfaction even of the

orchestra. Indeed, their artificially nurtured distrust of me, which

had been like a coating of ice, now seemed to have melted, for when I

brought the concert to a close with the Tannhauser Overture the

orchestra celebrated my recall with a tremendous flourish of

instruments. This delighted my sister Ottilie beyond measure, as she

maintained that such an honour had never been accorded before except to

Jenny Lind. My friend Weisheimer, who had really tired every one's

patience in the most inconsiderate way, afterwards developed a feeling

of dissatisfaction towards me which dated from this period. He felt

bound to confess to himself that he would have done much better without

my brilliant orchestral pieces, in which case he might have offered the

public a concert at a cheaper rate, consisting exclusively of his own

works. As it was, he had to bear the costs--to his father's great

disappointment--and also to overcome the unnecessary humiliation of

being unable to give me any profits.

My brother-in-law was not to be deterred by these painful impressions

from carrying out the household festivities, which had been arranged

beforehand in celebration of my expected triumphs. The Bulows were also

invited to one of the banquets, and there was an evening party at which

I read the Meistersinger to an imposing array of professors, and met

with much appreciation. I renewed my acquaintance with Professor Weiss,

too, who interested me very much, for I remembered him from my young

days as a friend of my uncle's. He expressed himself as particularly

surprised by my skill in reading aloud.

The Bulows had now unfortunately returned to Berlin. We had met once

more on a very cold day in the street (under unpleasant conditions, for

they were paying duty calls), but the general depression which had

settled on us seemed more noticeable, during our short leave-taking,

than the fleeting good-humour of the last few days. My friends were

well aware of the terrible and utterly forlorn condition in which I

found myself. I had been idiotic enough to count on the proceeds from

the Leipzig concert to provide at least the needs of the moment, and I

was, in the first place, put into the awkward position of being unable

to pay my landlord punctually (the house rent at Biebrich being now

due). But I was ready to stake everything on keeping this asylum for

another year, and I had to deal with an obstinate, bad-tempered

creature whom I thought it necessary to pay in advance for the sake of

securing the place. As I had just then to supply Minna with her

quarterly allowance also, the money which Regierungsrath Muller

forwarded to me from the Grand Duke seemed, indeed, a heaven-sent

windfall. For after giving up Schott entirely I had, in my distress,

turned to this old acquaintance and begged him to explain my situation

to the Grand Duke and induce him to send me some help--to be regarded

possibly as payment in advance for my new operas. In response to this I

received the startling and unexpected sum of fifteen hundred marks

through Muller's instrumentality. It was not until some time after that

I accounted for this generosity by the supposition that the Grand

Duke's amiable behaviour towards me had been a deliberate attempt to

make an impression upon his friend Liszt, whom he wished to entice back

to Weimar at all costs. He was certainly not mistaken in counting on

the excellent effect his binding generosity to me would have on our

common friend.

I was therefore in a position to go to Dresden for a few days at once,

to renew my provision for Minna, and at the same time to honour her

with one of the visits deemed necessary to support her in her difficult

situation. Minna conducted me from the station to the flat which she

had taken and furnished in Walpurgisstrasse, a street which had not

been built at the time I left Dresden. She had as usual arranged her

home very tastefully, and with the aim evidently of making me

comfortable. I was greeted on the threshold by a little mat embroidered

with the word Salve, and I recognised our Paris drawing-room at once in

the red silk curtains and the furniture. I was to have a majestic

bedroom, an exceedingly comfortable study on the other side, as well as

the drawing-room at my entire disposal, while she installed herself in

one little room with recesses looking on to the yard. The study was

adorned by the magnificent mahogany bureau which had originally been

made for my house when I was conductor 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 the option of buying it back for one hundred and eighty

marks. As I showed no desire to do so her mood became gloomier.

Oppressed by the fearful embarrassment which she experienced on being

alone with me, she had invited my sister Clara to come on a visit from

Chemnitz, and was now sharing the small room at her disposal with Her.

Clara proved herself extraordinarily wise and sympathetic on this as on

former occasions. She pitied Minna of course, and was anxious to help

her at this difficult period, though always with a view to

strengthening her in the conviction that our parting was unavoidable.

An exact knowledge of my extremely awkward position now seemed called

for. My financial difficulties were so crushing that the only excuse

for telling Minna was to silence her uneasy suspicions about me. I did,

however, succeed in avoiding all explanations with her--the more easily

as my meetings with Fritz Brockhaus and his family (including the

married daughter Clara Kessinger), the Pusinellis, old Heine, and

lastly the two Schnorrs, provided a pretext for our spending most of

the time in the society of others.

I filled the mornings by making calls, and it was when I set out to pay

my respects and thanks to Minister Bar for my amnesty that I trod the

familiar streets of Dresden again. My first impression was one of

extraordinary boredom and emptiness, for I had last seen them filled

with barricades, in which fantastic condition they had looked so

unusually interesting. I did not see a single familiar face on the way.

Even the glover, whom I had always patronised and whose shop I now had

occasion to revisit, did not seem to know me, until an oldish man

rushed across the street to me and greeted me with great excitement and

tears in his eyes. It turned out to be Karl Kummer of the court

orchestra (looking much older), the most inspired oboist I ever met. I

had taken him almost tenderly to my heart on account of his playing,

and we embraced joyfully. I asked whether he still played his

instrument as beautifully as before, whereupon he assured me that since

I had left his oboe had failed to give real satisfaction, and it was

now a long time since he had had himself pensioned off. He told me in

response to my inquiries that all my old military bandsmen--including

Dietz, the tall double-bass player--were either dead or pensioned off.

Our manager Luttichau and Conductor Reissiger were among those who had

died, Lipinsky had returned to Poland long before, Schubert, the

leader, was unfit for work, and everything seemed to me sad and

strange. Minister Bar expressed to me the grave qualms he still felt

about the amnesty granted me. True, he had ventured to sign it himself,

but was still troubled to think that my great popularity as a composer

of opera would make it easy for me to raise annoying demonstrations. I

comforted him at once by promising only to remain a few days and to

refrain from visiting the theatre, upon which he dismissed me with a

deep sigh and an exceedingly grave face.

Very different was my reception from Herr von Beust, who with smiling

elegance of manner implied by his conversation that I was perhaps not

so innocent after all as I now seemed to think myself. He drew my

attention to a letter of mine which had been found in Rockel's pocket,

at the time. This was new to me, and I willingly gave him to understand

that I felt myself bound to look on the amnesty accorded me as a pardon

for my incautious behaviour in the past, and we parted with the

liveliest manifestations of friendship.

We invited some friends one evening in Minna's drawing-room, where I

read out the Meistersinger once more to the people who did not know it.

After Minna had been provided with enough money to last some time, she

accompanied me back to the station on the fourth day; but she was

filled with such fearful presentiments of never seeing me again that

her farewell was made in positive anguish.

At Leipzig I put up at an inn for one day. There I met Alexander

Ritter, and we spent a pleasant evening together over our punch. The

reason that had induced me to make this short stay was the assurance

given me that if I gave a concert of my own it would not be one of the

regular series. I had weighed this information with reference to the

much-needed money it might bring in, but I now realised that the

undertaking rested on no security. I returned in haste to Biebrich,

where I had to get my household affairs into order. To my great

annoyance I found my landlord in a more impossible temper than ever. He

seemed unable to forget my having blamed him for his treatment of the

dog, and also of my servant, whom I had been obliged to protect against

him when she had had a love-affair with a tailor. In spite of receiving

payment and promises he remained peevish, and insisted that he would

have to move into my part of the house on account of his health in the

coming spring. So while I forced him, by paying advance, to leave my

household goods untouched until Easter at least, I went about trying to

find a suitable house for the following year, visiting various places

in the Rheingau under the guidance of Dr. Schuler and Mathilde Maier. I

had no success, however, the time being so short, but my friends

promised to search untiringly for what I wanted.

At Mayence I met Friederike Meyer again. Her situation in Frankfort

seemed to have grown more and more difficult. When she heard that I had

turned away Herr von Guaita's manager, who had been sent to Biebrich

with instructions to pay me fifteen louis d'or for conducting

Lohengrin, she upheld my action strongly. As for herself, she had

broken with that gentleman entirely, insisting on being released from

her contract, and was now about to enter upon a special engagement at

the Burgtheater. She won my sympathy once more by her conduct and

determination, which I had to consider as a powerful refutation of the

calumnies brought up against her. As I too was in the act of starting

for Vienna, she was 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

her up for the next stage of the journey. This we did and arrived in

Vienna together, where my friend went to Hotel Munsch, while I chose

the Kaiserin Elizabeth, where I now felt at home. This was on the 15th

of November. I went to see Conductor Esser at once, and heard from him

that Tristan was really being studied vigorously. With Frau Dustmann,

on the other hand, I became immediately involved in very unpleasant

disagreements through my relation to her sister Friederike, which it

was easy to misunderstand. It was impossible to make her see how things

really stood. In her eyes her sister was involved in a liaison, and had

been cast off by her family, so that her arrival in Vienna was

compromising to them. In addition to this Friederike's own condition

soon caused me the greatest anxiety. She had made an engagement to

appear three times at the Burgtheater without considering that just

then she was not likely to make a good appearance on the stage,

particularly before the Viennese public. Her serious illness, the

recovery from which had been attended by the most exciting

circumstances, had disfigured her and made her very thin. She had also

gone almost entirely bald, but nevertheless persisted in her great

objection to wearing a wig. Her sister's hostility had estranged her

colleagues at the theatre, and as a result of all this, and also on

account of her unfortunate choice of a role, her appearance was a

failure. There could be no question of her being taken on at that

theatre. Although her weakness increased, and she suffered from

constant insomnia, she still tried, in her magnanimity and her shame,

to hide from me the awkwardness of her situation. She went to a cheaper

inn, the 'Stadt Frankfurt,' where she intended to wait and see the

result of sparing her nerves as far as possible. She seemed to be in no

embarrassment as far as money was concerned, but at my request

consulted Standhartner, who did not seem to know how to help her much.

As open-air exercise had been strongly recommended, and as the weather

was at present bitterly cold (from the end of November to the beginning

of December), I hit on the idea of advising her to go to Venice for a

prolonged stay. Once again there seemed no lack of means, and she

followed my advice. One icy morning I accompanied her to the station,

and there 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 satisfaction of

receiving reassuring accounts--of her health especially--from Venice.

While my relations with her had brought me troublesome complications, I

still kept up my old Viennese acquaintances. A curious incident

occurred at the very beginning of my visit. I had to read the

Meistersinger aloud to the Standhartner family, as I had done

everywhere else. As Dr. Hanslick was now supposed to be well disposed

towards me, it was considered the right thing to invite him too. We

noticed that as the reading proceeded the dangerous critic became more

and more pale and depressed, and it was remarked by everyone that it

was impossible to persuade him to stay on at the close, but that he

took his leave there and then in an unmistakably vexed manner. My

friends all agreed in thinking that Hanslick looked on the whole

libretto as a lampoon aimed at himself, and had felt an invitation to

the reading to be an insult. And undoubtedly the critic's attitude

towards me underwent a very remarkable change from that evening. He

became uncompromisingly hostile, with results that were obvious to us

at once.

Cornelius and Tausig had again been to see me, but I had to work off my

resentment against them both for the fit of real ill-humour their

behaviour had caused me in the previous summer. This had happened when

I expected the Bulows and the Schnorrs to stay with me together at

Biebrich, and my warm interest in these two young friends, Cornelius

and Tausig, led me to invite them too. I received Cornelius's

acceptance immediately, and was the more surprised to get a letter from

Geneva, whither Tausig (who appeared to have funds at his disposal all

of a sudden) had carried him off on a summer excursion--no doubt of a

more important and pleasanter nature. Without the least mention of any

regret at not being able to meet me that summer, they simply announced

to me that 'a glorious cigar had just been smoked to my health.' And

now, when I met them again in Vienna, I found it impossible to refrain

from pointing out to them the insulting nature of their behaviour; but

they seemed unable to understand how I could object to their preferring

the beautiful tour into French Switzerland to paying me a visit at

Biebrich. I was obviously a tyrant to them. Besides this, I thought

Tausig's curious conduct at my hotel suspicious. I was told that he

took his meals in the downstairs restaurant, after which he climbed up

past my floor to the fourth storey, to pay long visits to Countess

Krockow. When I asked him about it, and learned that the lady in

question was also a friend of Cosima's, I expressed my surprise at his

not introducing me. He continued to evade this suggestion with

singularly vague phrases, and when I ventured to tease him by the

supposition of a love-affair, he said there could be no question of

such a thing, as the lady was old. So I let him alone, but the

amazement which his peculiar behaviour then caused me was intensified

some years later when I at last learned to know Countess Krockow very

well, and was assured of her deep interest in me. It seemed that she

had desired nothing more than to make my acquaintance also at that

time, but that Tausig had always refused to find an opportunity, and

had made the excuse that I did not care about women's society.

But we eventually resumed our lively and sociable habits when I began

seriously to carry out my project of giving concerts in Vienna.

Although the piano rehearsals for the principal solo parts of Tristan

had been put in hand diligently--I had left them to Conductor Esser,

who took them zealously in hand--my mistrust as to the real success of

these studies was unshaken, and the point which I doubted most was not

so much the capabilities of the singers as their goodwill. Moreover,

Frau Dustmann's absurd behaviour disgusted me on my frequent attendance

at the rehearsals. On the other hand, I now set my hopes on making a

good impression, on the score of novelty alone, by performing

selections from my own works still unknown to the Viennese public. In

this way I could show my secret enemies that there were other means

open to me of bringing my more recent compositions before the public

than by the medium of the stage, where they could so easily stop me.

For all the practical details of the performance Tausig now proved

himself particularly useful. We agreed to hire the Theatre on the Wien

for three evenings, the idea being to give one concert at the end of

December and to repeat the experiment twice after a week's interval.

The first thing was to copy out the orchestral parts from the sections

which I cut out from my scores for the concert. There were two

selections from Rheingold and two from the Walkure and the

Meistersinger, but I kept back the prelude to Tristan for the present,

so as not to clash with the performance of the whole work at the Opera

which was still being advertised. Cornelius and Tausig, with some

assistant copyists, now started on the work, which could only be

carried out by experienced score-readers if it was to be done

correctly. They were joined by Weisheimer, who had arrived in Vienna,

having in the end decided to come to the concert. Tausig also mentioned

Brahms to me, recommending him as a 'very good fellow,' who, although

he was so famous himself, would willingly take over a part of their

work, and a selection from 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 our gatherings. I also came across Friedrich Uhl again, an

old acquaintance who was now editing a political paper called Der

Botschafter with Julius Frobel under Schmerling's auspices. He placed

his journal at my disposal, and made me give him the first act of the

libretto of Meistersinger for his feuilleton. Whereupon my friends

chose to think that Hanslick grew more and more venomous.

While I and my companions were overwhelmed by the preparations for 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 Bulow drove me in the end to show

him the door with great emphasis, for I too was carried away by

Tausig's lively annoyance at this very officious intruder. He reported

on this to Cosima in a manner so insulting to Bulow that she in return

found it necessary to express to me in writing her intense indignation

at my inconsiderate behaviour towards my best friends. I was really so

surprised and dumbfounded by this strange and inexplicable event that I

handed Cosima's letter to Tausig without comment, merely asking him.

what could be done in the face of such nonsense. He at once undertook

to show Cosima the incident in a correct light and clear up the

misunderstanding, and I soon had the pleasure of hearing that he had

met with success.

We had now come to the point of rehearsing for the concert. The Royal

Opera had supplied me with the singers needed for the selections from

Rheingold, the Walkure, and Siegfried ('Schmiede-Lieder'), and also for

Pogner's Anrede from the Meistersinger. I had only to fall back on

amateurs for the three Rhine maidens. The concert director

Hellmesberger was a great help to me in this matter as in every other

way, and his fine playing and enthusiastic demonstrations when leading

the orchestra never failed in any circumstances. After the deafening

preliminary rehearsals in a small music-room in the opera house, which

had perplexed Cornelius by the great noise they made, we arrived at the

stage itself. In addition to the expense of hiring the place, I had to

bear the cost of the requisite extension of the orchestra. The room,

which was lined all round with theatrical scenery, was still

extraordinarily unfavourable for sound. I hardly felt like running the

risk of providing an acoustic wall and ceiling on my own account,

however. Although the first performance on 26th December drew a large

audience, it brought me in nothing but outrageously heavy expenses and

great distress at the dismal effect of the orchestra owing to the bad

acoustics. In spite of the dark outlook I decided to bear the cost of

building a sound-screen, in order to enhance the effect of the two

following concerts, when I flattered myself I might count on the

success of the efforts that were being made to arouse interest in the

highest circles.

My friend Prince Liechtenstein thought this was by no means impossible,

and believed he might manage to interest the Imperial Court through

Countess Zamoiska, one of the ladies-in-waiting, and he one day

accompanied me through the interminable corridors of the Imperial

Castle on a visit to this lady. I afterwards learned that Mme. Kalergis

had also been at work here on my behalf, but she had apparently only

succeeded in winning over the young Empress, for she alone was present

at the performance, and without any retinue. But at the second concert

I had to endure all kinds of disillusionment. In spite of all warnings

to the contrary, I had fixed it for the New Year's Day of 1863. The

hall was exceedingly badly filled, and my sole satisfaction was to know

that by improving the acoustic properties of the place the orchestra

sounded extremely well. In consequence of this the reception of the

various pieces was so favourable that at the third concert, on 8th

January, I was able to perform before an overflowing house, and thus

obtained very gratifying testimony to the fine musical taste of the

Viennese public. The by no means startling prelude to Pogner's Anrede

from the Meistersinger was enthusiastically encored, in spite of the

fact that the singer had already risen to his feet for the next part.

At this moment I chanced to see in one of the boxes a most comforting

omen for my present position; for I recognised Mme. Kalergis, who had

just arrived for a prolonged stay in Vienna, to which I fondly imagined

she was prompted by some idea of helping me here also. As she too was

on friendly terms with Standhartner, she at once entered into

consultation with him as to how I could be helped out of the critical

situation in which I was once more placed by the expenses of my

concerts. She confessed to our mutual friend that she had no means at

her disposal, and would only be able to meet our extraordinary

expenditure by contracting fresh debts. It was therefore necessary to

secure wealthier patrons, among whom she mentioned Baroness von

Stockhausen, the wife of the Hanoverian ambassador. This lady, who was

a great friend of Standhartner's, was most kind to me, and won me the

sympathy of Lady Bloomfield and her husband, the English ambassador. A

soiree was given in the house of the latter, and at Frau von

Stockhausen's there were also several evening assemblies. One day

Standhartner brought me a thousand marks as an instalment towards my

expenses, saying that they came from an anonymous donor. Meanwhile Mme.

Kalergis had managed to procure two thousand marks, which were also

placed at my disposal, through Standhartner, for further needs. But all

her efforts to interest the court on my behalf remained entirely

fruitless, in spite of her intimacy with Countess Zamoiska; for

unfortunately a member of that Konneritz family from Saxony, which was

everywhere turning up for my discomfiture, had now appeared as

ambassador here also. He succeeded in suppressing any inclination the

all-powerful Archduchess Sophie might have had towards me, by

pretending that during his time I had burnt down the King of Saxony's

castle.

But my patroness, undaunted still, endeavoured to helpme in every

conceivable way demanded by my necessities. In order to gratify my most

earnest longing for a peaceful home where I could stay for a while, she

managed to secure the house of the English attache, a son of the famous

Bulwer Lytton, who had been called away, but was keeping up his

establishment for some time longer. Thus through her I was introduced

to this exceedingly amiable young man. I dined with him one evening,

together with Cornelius and Mme. Kalergis, and after dinner began to

read them my Gotterdammerung. I did not seem to have secured a very

attentive audience, however, and when I noticed this I stopped and

withdrew with Cornelius. We found it very cold as we went home, and

Bulwer's rooms seem also to have been insufficiently heated, so that we

took refuge in a restaurant to drink a glass of hot punch. The incident

has remained fixed in my memory because here for the first time I saw

Cornelius in an ungovernably eccentric humour. While we thus took our

pleasure, Mine. Kalergis used her influence--so I was afterwards

informed--as an exceedingly powerful and irresistible female advocate

to inspire Bulwer with a definite interest in my fate. In this she so

far succeeded, that he unconditionally placed his house at my disposal

for nine mouths. On considering the matter more deeply, however, I did

not see what advantage this would be to me, seeing that I had no

further prospect of earning any income in Vienna for my sustenance.

On the other hand, my plans were decided for me by an offer which

reached me from St. Petersburg to conduct two concerts there in the

month of March for the Philharmonic Society for a fee of two thousand

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 my receipts by giving an

additional concert on my own account, from which very important

material results might be expected. The only thing which could have

induced me to decline this invitation would have been an assurance that

my Tristan would be staged in Vienna during the next few months; but a

fresh indisposition on the part of the tenor Ander had once more

brought our preparations to a standstill, and moreover I had completely

lost all faith in those promises which had lured me again to Vienna. To

this the effect of my visit to the minister Schmerling immediately on

my return to Vienna had certainly contributed. This man had been much

astonished at my referring to a recommendation by Prince Metternich,

for the latter, so the minister declared, had never spoken a word to

him about me. Nevertheless, he very politely assured me that it needed

no such recommendation to interest him in a man of my merit. When,

therefore, I mentioned the idea suggested by Prince Metternich's

kindness that the Emperor might assign me some special position in

Vienna, he hastened at once to inform me that he was completely

powerless to influence any of the Emperor's decisions. This admission

on the part of Herr von Schmerling certainly helped to explain Prince

Metternich's behaviour, and I concluded that the latter had preferred

an attempt to win the Chief Chamberlain for a serious revival of

Tristan to a fruitless effort with the minister.

As these prospects were therefore thrust into the uncertain future, I

now agreed to the St. Petersburg proposal, but first of all sought

about for means to provide the necessary funds. For these I relied on a

concert which Heinrich Porges had already arranged for me in Prague.

Consequently early in February I set out for that city, and had every

reason to be satisfied with my reception there. Young Forges, an

out-and-out partisan of Liszt and myself, pleased me greatly, not only

personally, but by his obvious enthusiasm. The concert took place at

the hall on the Sophia Island, and was crowned with great success.

Besides one of Beethoven's symphonies, several selections from my newer

works were given, and when next day Porges paid me about two thousand

marks, with the reservation of a few smaller supplementary payments, I

laughingly assured him that this was the first money I had ever earned

by my own exertions. He also gave me some very pleasant introductions

to several exceedingly devoted and intelligent young people, belonging

both to the German and Czech parties, and among them to a teacher of

mathematics called Lieblein, and an author whose name was Musiol. It

was with a certain pathetic interest that, after so many years, I here

discovered a friend of my earliest youth, named Marie Lowe, who had

given up singing and taken to the harp instead, and was now engaged to

play this instrument in the orchestra, in which capacity she assisted

at my concert. On the occasion of the first performance of Tannhauser

in Prague, she had sent me a most enthusiastic report about it. Her

admiration was now intensified, and for many years afterwards she

remained tenderly attached to me. Well satisfied then, and filled with

newly awakened hope. I hurried back to Vienna again in order to put the

arrangement for Tristan on as firm a basis as possible. It was found

feasible to arrange another pianoforte rehearsal in my presence of the

two first acts, and I was astonished at the really passable performance

of the tenor, while from Frau Dustmann I could not withhold my

sincerest congratulations on her admirable execution of her difficult

part. It was therefore decided that my work should be produced a little

after Easter, which would fit in very well with the expected date of my

return from Russia.

The hope of being now able to count on earning a large income decided

me to revive my former idea of settling for good in the peace and quiet

of Biebrich. As there was still time before I had to start for Russia,

I returned to the Rhine to arrange matters there as rapidly as

possible. Once more I lodged in Frickhofer's house, and in the company

of Mathilde Maier and her friend Luise Wagner once more hunted through

the Rheingau in search of a suitable house. Not finding what I wanted,

I finally entered into treaty with Frickhofer for the erection of a

small cottage on a plot of land I proposed to buy near his villa. Dr.

Schuler, the man who had been introduced to me by young Stadl, was to

take the matter in hand, as he had both legal and business experience.

Estimates were prepared, and it now depended entirely on the amount of

my Russian receipts as to whether the undertaking could be begun in the

following spring or not. As in any case I had to give up my rooms in

Frickhofer's house at Easter, I removed all my furniture and sent it

packed to the furniture-dealer in Wiesbaden, to whom I was still

indebted for the greater part of it.

Thus in the best of spirits I went first to Berlin, where I called at

once on Bulow. Cosima, who was expecting an early confinement, seemed

delighted to see me again, and insisted on accompanying me at once to

the music-school, where we should find Hans. I entered a long room, at

one end of which Bulow was giving a music-lesson. As I stood for some

time in silence in the doorway, he gave an exclamation of anger at

being disturbed, only to burst out into joyful laughter on recognising

who it was. Our midday meal together was lively, and in excellent

humour I set out with Cosima alone for a drive in a fine carriage

(belonging to the Hotel de Russie), whose grey satin lining and

cushions provided us with endless fun. Bulow seemed troubled that I

should see his wife in a condition of advanced pregnancy, as I had once

expressed my aversion from such a sight when speaking of another woman

of our acquaintance. It put us into a good-humour to be able to set his

mind at rest in this case, for nothing could possibly put me out of

sympathy with Cosima. So, sharing my hopes and heartily rejoicing in

the turn of my fortune, these two friends accompanied me to the

Konigsburg railway station and saw me off on my long night journey.

In Konigsburg I had to wait half a day and a night. As I had no desire

to revisit my haunts in a place which had once been so fatal 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 the morning continued my journey

towards the Russian frontier. With certain uneasy memories of my former

illegal passage of this frontier, I carefully scanned the faces of my

fellow-passengers during the long hours of travel. Among these I was

especially struck by one, a Livland nobleman of German descent, who, in

the haughtiest German Tory tone, proclaimed his disgust at the Tsar's

emancipation of the serfs. He wished me clearly to understand that any

efforts on the part of the Russians to obtain their freedom would

receive but scant support from the German nobles settled in their

midst. But as we approached St. Petersburg I was genuinely frightened

to find our train suddenly stopped and examined by the police. They

were apparently searching for various persons suspected of complicity

in the latest Polish insurrection, which had just broken out. Not far

from the capital itself the empty seats in our carriage were filled by

several people, whose high Russian fur caps aroused my suspicions,

which were not allayed by the attention which their wearers bestowed

upon me in particular. But suddenly the face of one of them brightened

up, and he impulsively turned towards me and saluted me as the man whom

he and several other musicians of the Imperial orchestra had come out

on purpose to meet. They were all Germans, and on our arrival at the

St. Petersburg railway station they joyfully introduced me to a further

large contingent from the orchestra, headed by the committee of the

Philharmonic Society. I had been recommended to a German boarding-house

on the Newsky Prospect as a suitable residence. There I was very

graciously and flatteringly received by Frau Kunst, the wife of a

German merchant, in a drawing-room whose windows commanded a view of

the wide and busy street, and where I was very well served. I dined in

common with the other boarders and visitors, and often invited

Alexander Seroff, whom I had formerly known in Lucerne, to be my guest

at table. He had called on me immediately on my arrival, and I learned

that he held a very poor appointment as censor of German 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 and truthfulness of his opinions,

whereby, combined with an excellent understanding, I soon learned that

he had won himself a reputation as a most influential and much-dreaded

critic. I appreciated this better later on when advances were made to

me from high quarters to use my influence with Seroff to assuage the

bitterness of his persecution of Anton Rubinstein, who just at that

time was being somewhat offensively patronised. On my mentioning the

matter to him, he explained his reasons for believing Rubinstein's

influence in Russia to be pernicious, whereupon I begged him, for my

sake at least, to hold his hand a little, as I did not wish, during my

brief stay in St. Petersburg, to pose as Rubinstein's rival. To this he

replied with all the violence of a sickly man, 'I hate him, and cannot

make any concessions.' With me, on the contrary, he entered into the

most intimate understanding, as he had so perfect an appreciation of me

and my art that our intercourse became almost one of mere pleasantry,

for on all serious points we were in entire agreement. Nothing could

equal the care with which he sought to help me at every opportunity. He

provided the necessary translation into Russian, both of the songs

contained in the selections taken from my operas and of my explanatory

programme for the concerts. He also displayed the utmost judgment in

choosing the most suitable singers for me, and for this he appeared to

find abundant recompense in attending the rehearsals and performances.

His radiant face beamed everywhere upon me with encouragement and fresh

inspiration. I was eminently satisfied with the orchestra which I

managed to gather around me in the large and handsome hall of the

Society of Nobles. It contained one hundred and twenty picked players

from the Imperial orchestras, who were for the most part excellent

musicians, usually employed in accompanying Italian opera and ballets.

They now seemed delighted to be allowed to breathe more freely in thus

occupying themselves with nobler music under a method of conducting

which I had made peculiarly my own.

After the great success of my first concert advances were made to me

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 had prepared the way for my

presentation to the Grand Duchess Helene. I was instructed, in the

first place, to make use of a recommendation from Standhartner to Dr.

Arneth, the Grand Duchess's private physician, whom he had known in

Vienna, in order through him to be introduced to Fraulein von Rhaden,

her most confidential lady-in-waiting. I should have been well content

with the acquaintance of this lady alone, for in her I learned to know

a woman of wide culture, great intelligence, and noble bearing, whose

ever-growing interest in me I perceived to be mingled with a certain

timidity, apparently concerned chiefly with the Grand Duchess. She gave

me the impression that she felt something more important ought to

happen for me than, from the spirit and character of her mistress, she

could expect. I was, however, not taken to pay my respects to the Grand

Duchess at once, but received first of all an invitation to an evening

party in the apartments of the lady-in-waiting, at which, among others,

the Grand Duchess herself was to be present. Here Anton Rubinstein did

the musical honours, and after the hostess had introduced me to him,

she ventured to present me to the Grand Duchess herself. The ceremony

went off fairly well, and, as a result, I shortly afterwards received a

direct invitation to a friendly evening tea-party at the Grand

Duchess's house. Here, in addition to Fraulein von Rhaden, I met the

lady next to her in rank, Fraulein von Stahl, as well as a genial old

gentleman, who was introduced to me as General von Brebern, for many

years one of the Grand Duchess's closest friends. Fraulein von Rhaden

appeared to have made extraordinary efforts on my behalf, which for the

present resulted in the Grand Duchess expressing a wish that I should

make her better acquainted with the text of my Nibelungen Ring. As I

had no copy of the work with me, although Weber of Leipzig ought by

this time to have finished printing it, they insisted that I should at

once telegraph to him in Leipzig to send the finished sheets with the

utmost despatch to the Grand Duchess's address. Meanwhile my patrons

had to be content with hearing me read the Meistersinger. To this

reading the Grand Duchess Marie was also induced to come--a very

stately and still beautiful daughter of the Tsar Nicholas, who was

notorious for the passion she had shown throughout her life. As to the

impression made upon this lady by my poem, Fraulein von Rhaden only

told me that she had been seriously alarmed lest Hans Sachs might end

by marrying Eva.

In the course of a few days the loose proof-sheets of my Nibelungen

work duly arrived, and the Grand Duchess's intimates met at four

tea-parties to hear me read it, and listened with sympathetic

attention. General von Brebern was present at them all, but only, as

Fraulein von Rhaden said, 'to blush like the rose' in profoundest

slumber, a habit which always afforded a subject for merriment to

Fraulein von Stahl, a very lively and beautiful woman, when each night

I accompanied the two court ladies from the spacious salons along

endless corridors and staircases to their distant apartments.

The only other person in the great world whom I learned to know here

was Count Wilohorsky, who occupied a high position of trust at the

Imperial court, and was chiefly esteemed as a patron of music, and

considered himself a distinguished violoncello-player. The old

gentleman appeared well disposed towards me, and altogether satisfied

with my musical performances. Indeed, he assured me that he had first

learned to understand Beethoven's Eighth Symphony (in F major) through

my interpretation. He also considered that he had fully grasped my

overture to the Meistersinger, and said the Grand Duchess Marie was

affected because she had found this piece incomprehensible, but had

expressed herself enraptured by the overture to Tristan, which he

himself only managed to understand by the exertion of all his musical

knowledge. When I told Seroff of this, he exclaimed enthusiastically,

'Ah, that beast of a Count! That woman knows what love is!'

The Count arranged a splendid dinner in my honour, at which both Anton

Rubinstein and Mme. Abaza were present. As I begged Rubinstein to play

something after dinner, Mme. Abaza insisted on singing his Persian

songs, which seemed greatly to annoy the composer, as he knew very well

that he had produced much finer work. Nevertheless both the composition

and its execution gave me a very favourable opinion of the talents of

both artists. Through this singer, who had originally had a

professional engagement in the Grand Duchess's household, and was now

married to a wealthy and cultured Russian gentleman of rank, I obtained

an entry into the house of M. Abaza, who received me with great

ceremony. About the same time a certain Baron Vittinghof had also made

himself known to me as an enthusiastic lover of music, and honoured me

with an invitation to his house, where I met once more with Ingeborg

Stark, the beautiful Swedish pianist and composer of sonatas, whom I

had formerly known in Paris. She amazed me by the impertinent outburst

of laughter with which she accompanied the performance of one of the

Baron's compositions. On the other hand, she assumed a more serious air

when she informed me that she was engaged to Hans von Bronsart.

Rubinstein, with whom I exchanged friendly visits, behaved very

creditably, although, as I had expected, he felt himself somewhat

injured by me. He told me that he was thinking of resigning his

position in St. Petersburg, as it had been made difficult by Seroff's

antagonism. It was also thought advisable to introduce me to the

commercial circles of St. Petersburg, with a view to my coming benefit

concert, and a visit was consequently arranged to a concert in the hall

of the Merchants' Guild. Here I was met on the staircase by a drunken

Russian, who announced himself as the conductor. With a small selection

of Imperial musicians and others, he conducted the overtures of

Rossini's Tell and Weber's Oberon, in which the kettledrums were

replaced by a small military drum, which produced a wonderful effect,

especially in the lovely transfiguration part of the Oberon Overture.

Although I was admirably equipped for my own concerts as far as the

orchestra was concerned, yet I had much trouble in procuring the

requisite singers. The soprano was very passably represented by Mlle.

Bianchi; but for the tenor parts I had to make shift with a M. Setoff,

who, although possessing plenty of courage, had very little voice. But

he managed to help me through the 'Schmiede-Lieder' in Siegfried, for

his presence at least gave an appearance of song, while the orchestra

alone undertookthe effective reality. On the conclusion of my two

concerts for the Philharmonic Society, I set seriously to work on my

own concert, which was to be held in the Imperial Opera House, in the

material arrangements for which I was helped by a retired musician.

This man often spent hours with Seroff in my well-heated rooms without

laying aside his enormous fur coat, and as his incapacity gave us a

great deal of trouble, we agreed that he was like 'the sheep in wolf's

clothing.' The concert, however, succeeded beyond all my expectations,

and I do not think I was ever so enthusiastically received by any

audience as on this occasion. Indeed, their greeting when I first

appeared was so loudly prolonged that I felt quite touched, a rare

occurrence with me. To this wild abandonment on the part of the

audience the ardent devotion of my orchestra naturally contributed, as

my one hundred and twenty musicians renewed the frantic acclamations

again and again, a procedure which appeared to be quite novel in St.

Petersburg. From some of them I heard such exclamations as, 'We must

admit we have 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 this favourable

turn of affairs to ask for my co-operation at a concert to be given

shortly for his own benefit. Although I was fully aware that by this

means he reckoned on conjuring a handsome profit out of my pocket into

his own, yet on the advice of my friends I thought it best to comply

with his request, albeit much against the grain. So a week later I

repeated the most popular items of my programme before an equally

numerous audience and with the same success, but this time the handsome

receipts of three thousand roubles were destined for an invalid man,

who as a retribution for this encroachment on my rights was suddenly

summoned to another world in the same year.

To balance this, I now had a prospect of further artistic and material

successes from a contract concluded with General Lwoff, the manager of

the Moscow theatre. I was to give three concerts in the Grand Theatre,

of which I was to have half the receipts, guaranteed in each case at a

minimum of one thousand roubles. I arrived there suffering from a cold,

miserable and ill at ease, in weather which was a mixture of frost and

thaw, and put up at a badly situated German boarding-house. My

preliminary arrangements were made with the manager, who, in spite of

the orders hanging from his neck, looked a very insignificant person,

and the difficult selection of the vocal items had to be arranged with

a Russian tenor and a superannuated Italian lady-singer. Having settled

these, I entered upon the task of orchestral rehearsals. It was here

that I first met the younger Rubinstein, Anton's brother Nicholas, who,

as director of the Russian Musical Society, was the leading authority

in his profession in Moscow; his demeanour towards me was characterised

throughout by modesty and consideration. The orchestra consisted of the

hundred musicians who provided the Imperial household with Italian

opera and ballet. It was, on the whole, far inferior to that of St.

Petersburg, yet among them I found a small number of excellent

quartette players, all devotedly attached to me. Among these was one of

my old Riga acquaintances, the 'cellist von Lutzau, who in those days

had a great reputation as a wag. But I was particularly pleased with a

certain Herr Albrecht, a violinist, a brother of the Albrecht who was

one of the party whose Russian fur caps had so scared me on my way to

St. Petersburg. But even these men could not dispel my feeling that in

dealing with this Moscow orchestra I had descended in the artistic

scale. I gave myself a great deal of trouble without deriving any

compensating satisfaction, and my bile was not a little stirred by the

Russian tenor, who came to rehearsal in a red shirt, to show his

patriotic aversion from my music, and sang the 'Schmiede-Lieder' of

Siegfried in the insipid style acquired from the Italians. On the very

morning of the first concert I was obliged, to cancel it, and declare

myself on the sick-list, with a bad, feverish cold. In the slush and

snow which inundated the streets of Moscow it seems to have been

impossible to announce this fact to the public, and I heard that angry

disturbances resulted when many splendid equipages arrived on a

fruitless errand and had to be turned away. After three days' rest I

insisted on giving the three concerts I had contracted for within six

days, an exertion to which I was spurred by a desire to have done with

an undertaking I felt was not worthy of me. Although the Grand Theatre

was filled on each occasion with a brilliant audience such as I had

never before seen, yet, according to the calculations of the Imperial

manager, the receipts did not exceed the amount of the guarantee. With

this, however, I was content, considering the magnificent reception

accorded to my efforts, and above all the fervid enthusiasm of the

orchestra, which was expressed here as it had been in St. Petersburg. A

deputation of members of the orchestra begged me to give a fourth

concert, and on my refusal, they tried to persuade me to remain for

another 'rehearsal,' but this too I was compelled to decline with a

smile. However, the orchestra honoured me with a banquet, at which,

after N. Rubinstein had made a very enthusiastic and appropriate

speech, which was greeted with hearty and tumultuous applause, one of

the company hoisted me on to his shoulders and carried me round the

hall; whereupon there was a great outcry, and every one wanted to

render me the same kindly service. I was presented on this occasion

with a gold snuff-box from the members of the orchestra, on which was

engraved the words 'Doch Einer kam,' from Siegmund's song in the

Walkure. I returned the compliment by presenting to the orchestra a

large photograph of myself, on which I wrote the words 'Keiner ging,'

from the same song.

In addition to these musical circles I also became acquainted with

Prince Odoiewsky, as the result of an introduction and strong

recommendation by Mme. Kalergis. She had told me that in the Prince I

should meet one of the noblest of men, who would fully understand me.

After a most arduous drive of many hours, I reached his modest

dwelling, and was received with patriarchal simplicity at his family

mid-day dinner, but I found it exceedingly difficult to convey to him

any particulars as to myself and my plans. With regard to any

impressions I might be expected to gather respecting himself, he seemed

to rely on the effect produced by the contemplation of a large

instrument resembling an organ, which he had had designed and erected

in one of his principal rooms. Unluckily there was no one there who

could play it; but I could not help thinking it must have been intended

for some specially devised form of divine worship, which he 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 position and my aspirations. With

apparent emotion he exclaimed, 'J'ai ce qu'il vous faut; parlez a

Wolffsohn.' On further inquiry I learned that the guardian spirit thus

commended to me was not a banker, but a Russian Jew who wrote romances.

All these events seemed to justify the conclusion that my receipts,

especially if I included what I might still derive from St. Petersburg,

would amply suffice to carry out my project of building a house at

Biebrich. I therefore sent a telegram about it to my authorised agent

in Wiesbaden from Moscow, and left there after a stay of only ten days.

I also forwarded one thousand roubles to Minna, who was complaining

that her expenses for settling down in Dresden were very heavy.

But, unfortunately, on reaching St. Petersburg I met with serious

disappointments. Every one advised me to relinquish the idea of giving

my second concert on Easter Monday, the date I had fixed, as it was the

general custom in Russian society to reserve that day for private

gatherings. On the other hand, I could not well refuse to give a

concert, on the third day after the date announced for my own, on

behalf of those imprisoned for debt in St. Petersburg, seeing that this

was to be given at the urgent request of the Grand Duchess Helene

herself. In this latter function all St. Petersburg was already

interested for the sake of their own credit, as it was under the most

distinguished patronage; so that, while every seat was sold in advance

for this function, I had to be content with a very empty house at the

Nobles' Casino, and with proceeds which luckily did at least cover

expenses. By way of contrast, the debtors' concert went off with the

greatest success, and General Suwarof, the governor of the city, a

strikingly handsome man, handed me a very beautifully wrought silver

drinking-horn as a thank-offering from the imprisoned debtors.

I now set about paying my farewell calls, one of which was on Fraulein

von Rhaden, who distinguished herself by the warmth of her sympathy and

interest. By way of compensating me for the loss of the receipts I had

reckoned upon, the Grand Duchess sent me through this lady the sum of

one thousand roubles, coupled with a promise that, until my

circumstances improved, she would repeat the gift annually. On

discovering this friendly interest, I could not help regretting that

the connection thus formed was not likely to have more stable and

profitable results. I addressed a petition through Fraulein von Rhaden

to the Grand Duchess, praying that she would permit me to come to St.

Petersburg for a few months every year, to place my talents at her

disposal, both for concerts and theatrical performances, in return for

which she would only have to pay me a suitable yearly salary. To this I

received an evasive reply. On the day before my departure I informed my

amiable guardian of my plan for settling at Biebrich, and in doing so I

made no secret of my fear that after spending the money I had earned

here in carrying out my building plan, my condition might be very much

the same as of yore, a fear which made me wonder whether it would not

be better to abandon it altogether. Whereupon I received the spirited

reply: 'Build and hope!' At the last moment before starting I

gratefully answered her in the same manner, and said that I now knew

what to do. Thus at the end of April I departed, carrying with me the

hearty good wishes of Seroff and the enthusiastic members of the

orchestra, and steamed away across the Russian wilderness without

calling at Riga, where I had been invited to give a concert. The long

and weary road brought me at last to the frontier station of Wirballen,

where I received a telegram from Fraulein von Rhaden: 'Not too rash.'

This was in reference to a few lines I had left behind for her, and it

conveyed quite enough to revive my doubts as to the wisdom of carrying

out my house-building plans.

I reached Berlin without further delay, and at once made for Bulow's

house. During the last few months I had heard no news of Cosima's

condition, and it was, therefore, with some trepidation that I stood at

the door, through which the maid did not seem disposed to let me pass,

saying that 'her mistress was not well.' 'Is she seriously ill?' I

asked, and receiving a smilingly evasive reply, at once realised to my

joy the true situation, and hastened in to greet Cosima. She had been

some time delivered of her daughter Blandine, and was now on the

highroad to complete recovery. It was only from casual callers that she

remained secluded. Everything seemed well, and Hans was quite gay, the

more so that he now thought me freed from all care for some time to

come, owing to the success of my Russian trip. But I could not regard

this assumption as justified, unless my wish to be invited for some

months every year to St. Petersburg for renewed activity there met with

a ready response. On this point I was enlightened in a more detailed

letter from Fraulein von Rhaden following the above telegram, in which

she told me on no account to rely upon this invitation. This distinct

statement compelled me to reckon up the balance of my Russian receipts

very seriously, and after deducting hotel and travelling expenses, the

money sent to Minna, and certain payments to the furniture dealer at

Wiesbaden, I found I had very little more than twelve thousand marks

left. So the scheme of buying land and building a house had to be

relinquished. But Cosima's excellent health and high spirits dispelled

all anxious thought for the present. We drove out again in a splendid

carriage, and in the most extravagant of good humours, through the

avenues of the Tiergarten, dined to our hearts' content at the Hotel de

Russie, and made up our minds that 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 order to have this

important matter more directly under my own supervision, and also

because I had formed no such intimate artistic ties with any other

German city as with Vienna, I clung to this as the most suitable place

in which to settle. Tausig, whom I now met there in excellent health

and spirits, entirely confirmed me in this opinion, and still further

strengthened it by undertaking to find me precisely the pleasant and

quiet dwelling in the neighbourhood of Vienna that I had set my mind

upon, and through his own landlord he succeeded in getting something

exactly to my taste. In what had been the pleasant abode of old Baron

von Rackowitz at Penzing, I was offered the most delightful

accommodation for a yearly rent of two thousand four hundred marks. I

could have the entire upper part of the house 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, amid ever-changing fortunes, this couple remained

faithful to me. I now had to begin spending money in order to make my

long-desired asylum fit and cosy both for rest and work. The remnant of

my household belongings, including iny Erard grand, was sent on from

Biebrich, as well as the new furniture I had found it necessary to buy.

On the 12th of May, in lovely spring weather, I took possession of my

pleasant home, and for a while wasted much time over the exciting cares

connected with the fitting up of my comfortable apartments. It was at

this period that my connection with Phillip Haas and Sons was first

established, which was destined with the lapse of time to give me some

cause for anxiety. For the moment every exertion expended on a domicile

associated with so many hopes only helped to put me into the best of

spirits. The grand-piano arrived in due course, and with the addition

of various engravings after Raphael, which had fallen to my lot in the

Biebrich division, my music-room was completely furnished in readiness

for the 22nd of May, when celebrated my fiftieth birthday. In honour of

the occasion the Merchants' Choral Society gave me an evening serenade

with Chinese-lantern illuminations, in which a deputation of students

also joined and greeted me with an enthusiastic oration. I had laid in

a supply of wine, and everything passed off excellently. The Mrazeka

looked after my housekeeping fairly well, and thanks to the culinary

arts of Anna, I was able to invite Tausig and Cornelius to dine with me

pretty frequently.

But I was soon in great trouble again, on account of Minna, who

bitterly reproached me for everything I did. Having made up my mind

never to answer her again, I wrote this time to her daughter

Nathalie--who was still in ignorance of the relationship between

them--referring her to my decision of the previous year. On the other

hand, the fact that I sadly stood in need just now of some womanly

attentions and care in the management of the household became

abundantly clear to me when I expressed to Mathilde Maier of Mayence

the ingenuous wish that she would come and supply the deficiency.

I had certainly thought that my good friend was sensible enough to

interpret my meaning correctly without feeling put to the blush, and I

was very likely right, but I had not made sufficient allowance for her

mother and her bourgeois surroundings generally. She appears to have

been thrown into the greatest excitement by my proposal, while her

friend Louise Wagner was in the end so powerfully influenced that she

frankly advised me, with homely shrewdness and precision, to obtain a

legal separation from my wife first of all, after which everything else

would be easily arranged. Grievously shocked, I at once withdrew my

offer, as having been made without due deliberation, and strove as far

as possible to allay the excitement thus produced. On the other hand,

Friederike Meyer's inexplicable fate still caused me much involuntary

anxiety. After she had spent several months of the previous winter in

Venice, apparently to her benefit, I had written to her from St.

Petersburg suggesting that she should meet me at the Bulows' in Berlin.

I had taken into mature consideration the kindly interest which Cosima

had conceived for her, with a view to discussing what steps we could

take to bring order into our friend's flagrantly disorganised

circumstances. She did not appear, however, but wrote instead to inform

me that she had taken up her abode with a lady friend at Coburg, as her

very delicate state of health seriously interfered with her theatrical

career, and was endeavouring to maintain herself by occasional

appearances at the small theatre there. It was obvious that for many

reasons I could not send her an invitation such as that sent to

Mathilde Maier, though she expressed 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 this wish just then, though I kept the idea in reserve for

the future. During the course of the summer she repeated the same

request from several places, until, as I was engaged late in the autumn

for a concert at Karlsruhe, I at last appointed that time and place for

the desired meeting. From that time forth I never received the

slightest communication from this most singular and attractive friend

of mine, and as, moreover, I did not know where she was, I looked upon

our connection as severed. Not until many years later was the secret of

her position--certainly a very difficult one--revealed to me, and from

the facts then stated I could only conclude that she shrank from

telling me the truth concerning her connection with Herr von Guaita. It

appeared that this man had much more serious claims upon her than I had

suspected, and she had apparently been compelled by the necessities of

her situation to accept his protection, as he was the only friend left

to her, while his devotion was undeniably genuine. I heard that she was

then living in complete retirement both from the stage and from society

on a tiny estate on the Rhine with her two children, being, it was

believed, secretly married to Herr von Guaita.

But my careful and elaborate preparations for a quiet spell of work had

not yet been successful. A burglary in the house, which robbed me of

the golden snuff-box presented by the Moscow musicians, renewed my old

longing to have a dog. My kind old landlord consequently handed over to

me an old and somewhat neglected hound named Pohl, one of the most

affectionate and excellent animals that ever attached itself to me. In

his company I daily undertook long excursions on foot, for which the

very pleasant neighbourhood afforded admirable opportunities.

Nevertheless I was still rather lonely, as Tausig was confined to bed

for a long time by severe illness, while Cornelius was suffering from

an injured foot, the result of a careless descent from an omnibus when

visiting Penzing. Meanwhile I was in constant friendly intercourse with

Standhartner and his family. Fritz, the younger brother of Heinrich

Porges, had also begun to visit me. He was a doctor who had just set up

practice, a really nice fellow, whose acquaintance with me dated from

the serenade of the Merchants' Glee Club, of which he had been the

originator.

I was now convinced that there was no longer any chance of having

Tristan produced at the Opera, as I had found out that Frau Dustmann's

indisposition was merely a feint, Herr Ander's complete loss of voice

having been the real cause of the last interruption. Good old Conductor

Esser tried hard to persuade me to assign the part of Tristan to

another tenor of the theatre named Walter, but the very idea of him was

so odious to me that I could not even bring myself to hear him in

Lohengrin. I therefore let the matter sink into oblivion, and

concentrated myself exclusively on getting into touch with the

Meistersinger again. I first set to work on the instrumentation of the

completed portion of the first act, of which I had only arranged

detached fragments as yet. But as summer approached, the old anxiety as

to my future subsistence began to pervade all my thoughts and

sensations in the present. It was clear that, if I were to fulfil all

my responsibilities, particularly with regard to Minna, I should soon

have to think of undertaking some lucrative enterprise again.

It was therefore most opportune when a quite unexpected invitation from

the management of the National Theatre in Buda-Pesth reached me to give

two concerts there, in compliance with which I went at the end of July

to the Hungarian capital, and was received by the manager Radnodfay.

There I met a really very talented violinist named Remenyi, who at one

time had been a protege of Liszt, and showed boundless admiration for

me, even declaring that the invitation to me had been given entirely on

his initiative. Although there was no prospect of large earnings here,

as I had professed myself content to accept a thousand marks for each

of the two concerts, I had reason to be pleased both with their success

and with the great interest manifested by the audience. In this city,

where the Magyar opposition to Austria was still at its strongest, I

made the acquaintance of some 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 a feast, held by a few intimates on an island in the

Danube, where we gathered under an ancient oak tree, as though for a

patriarchal ceremony. A young lawyer, whose name I have unfortunately

forgotten, had undertaken to propose the toast of the evening, and

filled me with amazement and deep emotion, not only by the fire of his

delivery, but also by the truly noble earnestness of his ideas, which

he based upon a perfect knowledge of all my works and undertakings. We

returned home down the Danube in the small boats of the Rowing Club, of

which my hosts were members, and on our way had to face a hurricane,

which lashed the mighty stream into the wildest tumult. There was only

one lady in our party, Countess Bethlen-Gabor, who was seated with me

in a narrow boat. Rosti and a friend of his who had the oars were

concerned solely with the fear that our boat would be shivered against

one of the timber-rafts, towards which the flood was carrying us, and

therefore exerted themselves to the utmost to avoid them; whereas I

could see no other way of escape, especially for the lady sitting

beside me, than by boarding one of these very rafts. In order to effect

this (against the wish of our two oarsmen) I seized with one hand a

projecting peg on a raft we were passing and held our little vessel

fast, and, while the two rowers screamed that the Ellida would be lost,

quickly hoisted the lady out of the skiff on to the raft, across which

we walked to the shore, calmly leaving our friends to save the Ellida

as best they could. We two then continued our way along the bank

through a terrific storm of rain, but yet on safe and sure ground,

towards the city. My conduct in presence of this danger did not fail to

increase the respect in which my friends held me, as was proved by a

banquet given in a public garden at which a great number of my admirers

were present. Here they treated me quite in Hungarian style. An

enormous band of gipsy musicians was drawn up, and greeted me with the

Rakoczy March as I approached, while the assembled guests joined in

with impetuous shouts of 'Eljen!' There were also fiery orations with

appreciative allusions to myself and my influence which extended far

and wide throughout Germany. The introductory parts of these speeches

were always in Hungarian, and were meant to excuse the fact that the

main oration would be delivered in German for the sake of their guest.

Here I noticed that they never spoke of me as 'Richard Wagner,' but as

'Wagner Richard.'

Even the highest military officials were not behindhand in offering me

their homage, through the medium of Field-Marshal Coronini. The Count

invited me to a performance by the military bands in the castle at

Ofen, where I was graciously received by him and his family, treated to

ices, and then conducted to a balcony whence I listened to a concert

given by the massed bands. The effect of all these demonstrations was

exceedingly refreshing, and I almost regretted having to leave the

rejuvenating atmosphere of Buda-Pesth, and return to my dull and musty

Viennese asylum.

On the homeward journey, in the beginning of August, I travelled part

of the way with Herr von Seebach, the amiable Saxon Ambassador, whom I

had known in Paris. He complained of the enormous losses he had

incurred through the difficulty of administering the South Russian

estates he had acquired by marriage, and from which he was just

returning. On the other hand, I was able to reassure him as to my own

position, which seemed 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 not calculated to afford me

any effectual relief as to the future. Having now staked my all on what

I trusted might be a permanent establishment, the first question was

how best to secure a salary, which should at least be certain though

not necessarily over-large. Meanwhile I did not consider myself bound

to abandon my St. Petersburg connection, nor the plans I had founded

upon it. Nor did I entirely disbelieve the assurances of Remenyi, who

boasted that he had great influence with the Magyar magnates, and

assured me it would be no great matter to obtain a pension in

Buda-Pesth, such as I had thought of securing in St. Petersburg and

involving similar obligations. He did, in fact, visit me soon after my

return to Penzing, accompanied by his adopted son, young Plotenyi,

whose extraordinary good looks and amiability made a very favourable

impression on me. As for the father himself, although he won my warm

approbation by his brilliant performance of the Rakoczy March on the

violin, yet I quickly perceived that his glowing promises had been

meant rather to create an immediate impression on me than to ensure any

permanent result. In accordance with his own desire, I very soon

afterwards lost sight of him altogether.

While still obliged to busy myself with plans for concert tours, I was

able meantime to enjoy the pleasant shade of my garden during the

intense heat, and I used to go for long rambles every evening with my

faithful dog Pohl, the most refreshing of these being by way of the

dairy-farm at St. Veit, where delicious milk was available. My small

social circle was still restricted to Cornelius and Tausig, who was at

last restored to health, although he disappeared from my sight for some

time owing to his intercourse with wealthy Austrian officers. But I was

frequently joined on my excursions by the younger Porges, and for a

time by the elder also. My niece Ottilie Brockhaus too, who was living

with 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 goaded afresh by

an uneasy apprehension as to the means of subsistence. As another

journey to Russia was out of the question until the following Easter,

only German towns could serve my purpose for the present. From many

quarters, as for instance from Darmstadt, I received unfavourable

replies; and from Karlsruhe, where I had applied direct to the Grand

Duke, the answer was indefinite. But the severest blow to my confidence

was a direct refusal which came in response to the application I had at

last made to St. Petersburg, the acceptance of which would have ensured

a regular salary. This time the excuse made was that the Polish

revolution of that summer had paralysed the spirit of artistic

enterprise.

Pleasanter news, however, came from Moscow, where they held out

prospects of some good concerts for the coming year. I next bethought

me of a very sound suggestion about Kieff made to me by Setoff the

singer, who thought there was a prospect of a highly profitable

engagement there. I entered into correspondence on the matter, and was

again put off until the following Easter, when all the smaller Russian

nobility congregated at Kieff. These were all plans for the future

which, if I then had considered them in detail at that time, would have

been enough to rob me of all peace of mind for my work. In any case

there was a long interval during which I must provide, not only for

myself, but also for Minna. Any prospect of a position in Vienna had to

be handled most warily, so that, with the approach of autumn, there was

nothing left me but to raise money on loan, a business in which Tausig

was able to help me, as he possessed extraordinary experience in such

matters.

I could not help wondering whether I should have to give up my Penzing

establishment, but, on the other hand, what alternative was open to me?

Every time I was seized with the desire to compose, these cares

obtruded themselves on my mind, until, seeing that it was only a

question of putting things off from day to day, I was driven to take up

the study of Dunker's Geschichte des Alterthums. In the end my

correspondence about concerts swallowed up the whole of my time. I

first asked Heinrich Porges to see what he could arrange in Prague. He

also held out a reasonable prospect of a concert at Lowenberg, relying

upon the favourable disposition of the Prince of Hohenzollern, who

lived there. I was also advised to apply to Hans von Bronsart, who at

this time was conductor to a private orchestral society in Dresden. He

responded loyally to my proposition, and between us we settled the date

and programme of a concert to be conducted by me in Dresden. As the

Grand Duke of Baden had also placed his theatre at Karlsruhe at my

disposal for a concert to be given in November, I thought I had now

done enough in this direction to be entitled to take up something

different. I therefore wrote a fairly long article for Uhl-Frobel's

paper Der Botschafter on the Imperial Grand Opera House in Vienna, in

which I made suggestions for a thorough reform of this very badly

managed institution. The excellence of this article was at once

acknowledged on all sides, even by the press; and I appear to have made

some impression in the highest administrative circles, for I shortly

afterwards heard from my friend Rudolf Liechtenstein, that tentative

advances had been made to him with a view to his accepting the position

of manager, associated with which there was certainly an idea of asking

me to become conductor of the Grand Opera. Among the reasons which

caused this proposal to fall through was the fear, Liechtenstein

informed me, that under his direction people would hear nothing but

'Wagner operas.'

In the end it was a relief to escape from the anxieties of my position

by starting on my concert tour. First I went to Prague, in the

beginning of November, to try my luck again in the matter of big

receipts. Unfortunately Heinrich Porges had not been able to take the

arrangements in hand this time, and his deputies, who were very busy

schoolmasters, were not at all his equals for the task. Expenses were

increased, while receipts diminished, for they had not ventured to ask

such high prices as before. I wished to repair this deficiency by a

second concert a few days later, and insisted on the point, although my

friends urgently dissuaded me, and, as the event proved, they were

quite right. This time the receipts hardly covered the costs, and as I

had been obliged to send away the proceeds of the first concert to

redeem an old bill in Vienna, I had no other means of paying my hotel

expenses and my fare home than by accepting the offer of a banker, who

posed as a patron, to help me out of my embarrassment.

In the chastened mood induced by these occurrences I pursued my journey

to Karlsruhe, via Nuremberg and Stuttgart, under wretched conditions of

severe cold and constant delays. At Karlsruhe I was at once surrounded

by various friends, who had come there on hearing of my project.

Richard Pohl from Baden, who never failed me, Mathilde Maier, Frau

Betty Schott, the wife of my publisher; even Raff from Wiesbaden and

Emilie Genast were there, as well as Karl Eckert, who had recently been

appointed conductor at Stuttgart. Trouble began at once with the

vocalists for my first concert, fixed for 14th November, as the

baritone, Hauser, who was to sing 'Wotan's Farewell' and Hans Sachs's

'Cobbler Song,' was ill and had to be replaced by a voiceless though

well-drilled vaudeville singer. In Eduard Devrient's opinion this made

no difference. My relations with him were strictly official, but he

certainly carried out my instructions for the arrangement of the

orchestra very correctly. From an orchestral point of view the concert

went off so well that the Grand Duke, who received me very graciously

in his box, desired a repetition in a week's time. To this proposal I

raised serious objections, having learned by experience that the large

attendances at such concerts, particularly at special prices, were

mainly accounted for by the curiosity of the hearers, who often came

from long distances; whereas the number of genuine students of art,

whose interest was chiefly in the music, was but small. But the Grand

Duke insisted, as he wished to give his mother-in-law, Queen Augusta,

whose arrival was expected within a few days, the pleasure of hearing

my production. I should have found it dreadfully wearisome to have to

spend the intervening time in the solitude of my Karlsruhe hotel, but I

received a kind invitation to 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

on the station to meet me when I arrived. I felt I ought to decline her

proffered escort into the town, not considering myself sufficiently

smart in my 'brigand-hat,' but with the assurance, 'We all wear these

brigand-hats here,' she took my arm, and thus we reached Pauline

Viardot's villa, where we were to dine, as my friend's own house was

not yet quite ready. Seated by my old acquaintance, I was now

introduced to the Russian poet Turgenieff. Mme. Moukhanoff presented me

to her husband with some hesitation, wondering what I should think of

her marriage. Supported by her companions, who were all society people,

she exerted herself to maintain a fairly lively conversation during the

time we were together. Well satisfied by the admirable intention of my

friend and benefactress, I again left Baden to fill up my time by a

little trip to Zurich, where I again tried to get a few days' rest in

the house of the Wesendonck family. The idea of assisting me did not

seem even to dawn on these friends of mine, although I frankly informed

them of my position. I therefore returned to Karlsruhe, where, on the

22nd of November, as I had foreseen, I gave my second concert to a

poorly filled house. But, in the opinion of the Grand Duke and his

wife, Queen Augusta's appreciation should have dispelled any unpleasant

impressions I might have received. I was again summoned to the royal

box, where I found all the court gathered round the Queen, who wore a

blue rose on her forehead as an ornament. The few complimentary

observations she had to offer were listened to by the members of the

court with breathless attention; but when the royal lady had made a few

general remarks, and was about to enter into details, she left all

further demonstration to her daughter, who, as she said, knew more

about it. The next day I received my share of the takings, half the net

profits, which amounted to two hundred 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 I explained that my receipts had only been two

hundred marks, I managed to get the extra twenty knocked off the price.

There was still the Grand Duke's private gift, consisting of a gold

snuff-box with fifteen louis d'or, for which I, of course, returned my

thanks in writing. I next had to face the question whether, after the

toilsome fatigue of the past weeks, I would add to my disappointments

by attempting to give the proposed concert in Dresden. Many

considerations, practically everything indeed that I had to weigh in

connection with a visit to Dresden, moved me to have the courage to

write and tell Hans von Bronsart at the last moment to cancel all

arrangements and not expect me there, a decision which, although it

must have caused him much inconvenience after all the preparations he

had kindly made, he accepted 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 family insisted

on my spending the day at their little house, where I was entertained

in a simple and friendly fashion. During the day and night I spent here

in the narrow Karthausergasse, I was waited upon with the greatest

care, and from this outpost I assaulted the publishing house of Schott,

though without securing much booty. This was because I refused my

consent to a separate issue of the various selections from my new works

which had been picked out and prepared for concert use.

As my only remaining source of profit now seemed to be the concert at

Lowenberg, I turned my face thither; but, in order to avoid passing

Dresden, I made a short detour by way of Berlin, where, after

travelling all night, I arrived, very tired, early on the 28th of

November. In compliance with my request the Bulows took me in, and at

once began urging me to break my intended journey to Silesia by giving

them a day in Berlin. Hans was particularly anxious for me to be

present at a concert to be given that evening under his direction, a

factwhich finally decided me to remain. In defiance of the cold, raw

and gloomy weather, we discussed as cheerfully as we could my

unfortunate position. By way of increasing my capital, it was resolved

to hand over the Grand Duke of Baden's gold snuff-box to our good old

friend Weitzmann for sale. The sum of two hundred and seventy marks

realised by this was brought to me at the Hotel Brandenburg, where I

was dining with the Bulows, and was an addition to my reserves that

furnished us with many a jest. As Bulow had to complete the

preparations for his concert, I drove out alone with Cosima on the

promenade, as before, in a fine carriage. This time all our jocularity

died away into silence. We gazed speechless into each other's eyes; an

intense longing for an avowal of the truth mastered us and led to a

confession--which needed no words--of the boundless unhappiness which

oppressed us. The experience brought relief to us both, and the

profound tranquillity which ensued enabled us to attend the concert in

a cheerful, unembarrassed mood. I was actually able to fix my attention

clearly on an exquisitely refined and elevated performance of

Beethoven's smaller Concert Overture (in C major), and likewise on

Hans's very clever arrangement of Gluck's overture to Paris and Helen.

We noticed Alwine Frommann in the audience, and during the interval met

her on the grand staircase of the concert-hall. After the second part

had begun and the stairs were empty, we sat for some time on one of the

steps chatting gaily with our old friend. After the concert we were due

at my friend Weitzmann's for supper, the length and abundance of which

reduced us, whose hearts yearned for profound peace, to almost frantic

despair. But the day came to an end at last, and after a night spent

under Bulow's roof, I continued my journey. Our farewell reminded me so

vividly of that first exquisitely pathetic parting from Cosima at

Zurich, that all the intervening years vanished like a dream of

desolation separating two days of lifelong moment and decision. If on

the first occasion our presentiment of something mysterious and

inexplicable had compelled silence, it was now no less impossible to

give words to that 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 well disposed towards

me on account of his great friendship for Liszt, and had, moreover,

been fully informed of my position by Heinrich Porges, who had been

engaged by him for a short time. He had invited me to give a concert in

his small castle to an audience composed exclusively of invited guests.

I was very comfortably accommodated in apartments on the ground floor

of his house, whither he frequently came on his wheeled chair from his

own rooms directly opposite. Here I could not only feel at ease, but be

to some extent hopeful. I at once began rehearsing the pieces I had

chosen from my operas with the Prince's by no means ill-equipped

private orchestra, during which my host was invariably present and

seemed well satisfied. Meals were all taken very sociably in common;

but on the day of the concert there was a kind of gala-dinner, at which

I was astonished to meet Henriette von Bissing, the sister of Mme.

Wille of Marienbad, with whom I had been intimate at Zurich. As she had

an estate near Lowenberg, she had also been invited by the Prince, and

now gave me proof of her faithful and enthusiastic devotion. Being both

intelligent and witty, she at once became my favourite companion. After

the concert had passed off with reasonable success, I had to fulfil

another wish of the Prince's next day, by privately playing to him

Beethoven's Symphony in C minor, when Frau von Bissing was also

present. She had now been for some time a widow. She promised to come

to Breslau, when I gave my concert there. Before my departure Conductor

Seifriz brought me a fee of four thousand two hundred marks from the

Prince, with an expression of regret that for the present it was

impossible for him to be more liberal. After all my previous

experiences I was truly astonished and contented, and it was with

pleasure I returned the gallant Prince 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 his acquaintance on my last

visit to Weimar, and had also heard of him through Liszt. Unfortunately

the conditions here struck me as extraordinarily dismal and desperate.

The whole affair had been planned on the meanest scale, as indeed I

might have expected. A perfectly horrible concert-room, which usually

served as a beer-restaurant, had been engaged. At the rear of this, and

separated from 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 me that my first

impulse was to dismiss the seedy-looking musicians on the spot. My

friend Damrosch, who was very much upset, had to promise me that at

least he would have the horrible reek of tobacco in the place

neutralised. As he could offer no guarantee as to the amount of the

receipts, I was only induced in the end to go on with the enterprise by

my desire not to compromise him too severely. To my amazement I found

almost the entire room, at all events the front seats, filled with

Jews, and in fact I owed such success as I obtained to the interest

excited in this section of the population, as I learned the next day,

when I attended a mid-day dinner arranged in my honour by Damrosch, at

which again only Jews were present.

It was like a ray of light from a better world when, on leaving the

concert-hall, I perceived Fraulein Marie von Buch, who had hurried

hither with her grandmother from the Hatzfeld estate to be present at

my concert, and was waiting in a boarded compartment dignified by the

name of box, for me to come out after the audience had left; the young

lady came up to me once more in travelling costume after Damrosch's

dinner and attempted by kindly and sympathetic assurances somewhat to

assuage my evident anxiety respecting the future. I thanked her once

more by letter for her sympathy after my return to Vienna, to which she

replied by a request for a contribution to her album. In memory of the

emotions which had convulsed me on leaving Berlin, and also as an

indication of my mental mood to one worthy of the confidence, I added

Calderon's words, 'Things impossible to conceal, yet impossible of

utterance.' By this I felt I had conveyed to a kindly disposed person,

though with a happy vagueness, some idea of the secret knowledge which

was my sole inspiration.

But the results of my meeting with Henriette von Bissing in Breslau

were very different. She had followed me thither, and put up at the

same hotel. Influenced, no doubt, by my sickly appearance, she seemed

to give her sympathy for myself and my situation full play. I placed

the latter before her without reserve, telling her how, ever since the

upset following on my departure from Zurich in 1858, I had been unable

to secure the regular income necessary for the steady pursuit of my

calling; and also of my invariably vain attempts to bring my affairs

into any settled and definite order. My friend did not shrink from

attributing some blame to the relationship between Frau Wesendonck and

my wife, and declared that she felt it her mission to conciliate them.

She approved my settling down at Penzing, and only hoped that I might

not spoil its beneficial effect upon me by distant enterprises. She

would not listen to my plan of touring in Russia, in the coming winter,

in order to earn money for my absolute necessities, and herself

undertook to provide from her own very considerable fortune the not

unimportant sum requisite to maintain me in independence for some time

to come. But she explained to me that for a short while longer I was to

try and get along through thick and thin, as she would have some

difficulty--possibly a good deal--in placing the promised money at my

disposal.

Greatly cheered by the impressions of this meeting I returned to Vienna

on the 9th December. At Lowenberg I had been obliged to remit to Vienna

the greater portion of the Prince's gift, part of it for Minna, and

part for the payment of debts. Though I had but little cash I felt

thoroughly sanguine; I could now greet my few friends with tolerable

good-humour, and among them Peter Cornelius, who looked in on me every

evening. As Heinrich Porges and Gustav Schonaich sometimes joined us,

we founded an intimate little circle and met regularly. On Christmas

Eve I invited them all to my house, where I had the Christmas tree

lighted up, and gave each one an appropriate trifle. Some work also

came my way again, for Tausig asked me to help him with a concert which

he was to give in the great Redouten-Saal. In addition to a few

selections from my new operas, I also conducted the Freischutz

Overture, for my own particular satisfaction and entirely according to

my own interpretation. Its effect, even upon the orchestra, was truly

startling.

But there did not seem the slightest prospect of any official

recognition of my abilities; I was, and continued to be, ignored by the

great. Frau von Biasing's communications revealed by degrees the

difficulties which she had encountered in the fulfilment of her

promise; but as they were still hopeful in tone, I was able to spend

New Year's Eve at the Standhartner's in good spirits, and to enjoy a

poem specially written by Cornelius for the occasion, which was as

humorous as it was solemnly appropriate.

The new year 1864 assumed for me an aspect of gravity which soon became

intensified. I fell ill with a painful and increasing malady due to a

chill, which often made demands on Standhartner's care. But I was yet

more seriously threatened by the turn of Frau von Bissing's

communications. It seemed she could only raise the promised money with

the help of her family, the Slomans, who were shipowners in Hamburg,

and from them she was meeting with violent opposition, mingled, as it

seemed, with slanderous charges against me. These circumstances upset

me so much that I wished I could renounce all help from this friend,

and I began once more to turn my serious attention to Russia. Fraulein

von Rhaden, to whom I again applied, felt she must vigorously dissuade

me from any attempt to visit St. Petersburg, in the first place

because, owing to the military disturbances in the Polish provinces, I

should find the route blocked, and secondly because, roughly speaking,

I should attract no notice in the Russian capital. On the other hand, a

visit to Kieff, with a chance of five thousand roubles profit, was

represented as undoubtedly feasible. Keeping my thoughts fixed on this,

I arranged with Cornelius, who was to accompany me, a plan for crossing

the Black Sea to Odessa, and going from there to Kieff, with a view to

which we both resolved to procure the indispensable fur coats at once.

Meanwhile, the only course open to me was to see about raising money by

fresh bills at short dates, wherewith to pay all my other bills, which

were also short-dated. Thus I became launched upon a business system

which, leading, as it did, to obvious and inevitable ruin, could only

be finally resolved by the acceptance of prompt and effectual help. In

these straits I was at last compelled to request a clear declaration

from my friend, not as to whether she COULD help me at once, but

whether she really WISHED to help me at all, as I could no longer stave

off ruin. She must have been in the highest degree wounded by some

notion or other, of which I was ignorant, before bringing herself to

reply in the following tone: 'You wish to know finally whether I WILL

or not? Well, then, in God's name, NO!' Not long after this I received

from her sister, Mme. Wille, a very surprising explanation of her

conduct, which seemed at the time perfectly inexplicable, and only to

be accounted for by the weakness of her not very reliable character.

Amid all these vacillations the month of February had run to an end,

and while Cornelius and I were busy on our Russian plans, I received

news from Kieff and Odessa that it would be unwise to attempt any

artistic enterprises there during the present year. By this time it had

become clear that, under the conditions thus developed, I could no

longer reckon on maintaining my position in Vienna, or my establishment

at Penzing. Not only did there seem no prospect of even a temporary

nature of earning money, but my debts had mounted up, in the usual

style of such usury, to so great a sum, and assumed so threatening an

aspect, that, failing some extraordinary relief, my very person was in

danger. In this perplexity I addressed myself with perfect

frankness--at first only for advice--to the judge of the Imperial

Provincial Court, Eduard Liszt, the youthful uncle of my old friend

Franz. During my first stay in Vienna this man had shown himself a

warmly devoted friend, always ready to help me. For the discharge of my

bill-debts he could naturally suggest no other method than the

intervention of some wealthy patron, who should settle with my

creditors. For some time he believed that a certain Mme. Scholler, the

wife of a rich merchant and one of my admirers, not only possessed the

means, but was willing to use them on my behalf. Standhartner also,

with whom I made no pretence of secrecy, thought he could do something

for me in this way. Thus my position was for some weeks again most

uncertain, until at last it became clear that all my friends could

procure me was the means for flight to Switzerland--which was now

deemed absolutely necessary--where, having saved my skin so far, I

should have to raise money for my bills. To the lawyer, Eduard Liszt,

this way of escape seemed specially desirable, because he would then be

in a 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, I had

kept up a lively intercourse with my few friends. Cornelius turned up

regularly every evening, and was joined by O. Bach, little Count

Laurencin, and, on one occasion, by Rudolph Liechtenstein. With

Cornelius alone I began reading the Iliad. When we reached the

catalogue of ships I wished to skip it; but Peter protested, and

offered to read it out himself; but whether we ever came to the end of

it I forget. My reading by myself consisted of Chateaubriand's La Vie

de Rance, which Tausig had brought me. Meanwhile, he himself vanished

without leaving any trace, until after some time he reappeared engaged

to a Hungarian pianist. During the whole of this time I was very ill

and suffered exceedingly from a violent catarrh. The thought of death

took such hold on me that I at last lost all desire to shake it off,

and even set about bequeathing my books and manuscripts, of which a

portion fell to the lot of Cornelius.

I had taken the precaution some time before of commending into

Standhartner's keeping my remaining--and now, alas! exceedingly

doubtful--assets which were in the house at Penzing. As my friends were

most positive in recommending preparation for immediate flight, I had

written to Otto Wesendonck requesting to be taken into his house, as

Switzerland was to be my destination. He refused point-blank, and I

could not resist sending him a reply to prove the injustice of this.

The next thing was to make my absence from home a short one and to

count upon a speedy return. Standhartner made me go and dine at his

house in his great anxiety to cover up my departure, and my servant

Franz Mrazek 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 accompanied me to

the station, the one in grief and tears, the other inclining to a

frivolous mood. It was on the afternoon of 23rd March that I left for

Munich, my first stopping-place, where I hoped to rest for two days

after the terrible disturbances I had gone through, without attracting

any notice. I stayed at the 'Bayerischer Hof' and took a few walks

through the city at my leisure. It was Good Friday and the weather was

bitterly cold. The mood proper to the day seemed to possess the whole

population, whom I saw going from one church to another dressed in

deepest mourning. King Maximilian II.--of whom the Bavarians had become

so fond--had died a few days before, leaving as heir to the throne a

son aged eighteen and a half, whose extreme youth was no bar to his

accession. I saw a portrait of the young king, Ludwig II. in a shop

window, and experienced the peculiar emotion which is aroused by the

sight of youth and beauty placed in a position presumed to be unusually

trying. After writing a humorous epitaph for myself, I crossed Lake

Constance unmolested and 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 up for a

few days, which she very kindly agreed to do. I had got to know her

very well during my last stay at Zurich, while my friendship with him

had somewhat cooled. I wanted to have time to find what seemed suitable

quarters in one of the places bordering on Lake Zurich. Dr. Wille

himself was not there, as he had gone to Constantinople on a pleasure

trip. I had no difficulty in making my friend understand my situation,

which I found her most willing to relieve. First of all she cleared one

or two living rooms in Frau von Bissing's old house next door, from

which, however, the fairly comfortable furniture had been removed. I

wanted to cater for myself, but had to yield to her request to take

over that responsibility. Only furniture was lacking, and for this she

ventured to apply to Frau Wesendonck, who immediately sent all she

could spare of her household goods, as well as a cottage piano. The

good woman was also anxious that I should visit my old friends at

Zurich to avoid any appearance of unpleasantness, but I was prevented

from doing so by serious indisposition, which was increased by the

badly heated rooms, and finally Otto and Mathilde Wesendonck came over

to us at Mariafeld. The very uncertain and strained attitude apparent

in these two was not entirely incomprehensible to me, but I behaved as

if I did not notice it. My cold, which rendered me incapable of looking

about for a house in the neighbouring districts, was continually

aggravated by the bad weather and my own deep depression. I spent these

dreadful days sitting huddled in my Karlsruhe fur coat from morning

till night, and addled my brain with reading one after another of the

volumes which Mme. Wille sent me in my seclusion. I read Jean Paul's

Siebenkas, Frederick the Great's Tagebuch, Tauser, George Sand's novels

and Walter Scott's, and finally Felicitas, a work from my sympathetic

hostess's own pen. Nothing reached me from the outside world except a

passionate lament from Mathilde Maier, and a most pleasant surprise in

the shape of royalties (seventy-five francs), which Truinet sent from

Paris. This led to a conversation with Mme. Wille, half in anger and

half with condemned-cell cynicism, as to what I could do to obtain

complete release from my wretched situation. Among other things we

touched upon the necessity of obtaining a divorce from my wife in order

to contract a rich marriage. As everything seemed right and nothing

inexpedient in my eyes, I actually wrote and asked my sister Luise

Brockhaus whether she could not, by talking sensibly to Minna, persuade

her to depend on her settled yearly allowance without making any claims

on my person in future. In reply I received a deeply pathetic letter

advising me first to think of establishing my reputation and to create

for myself an unassailable position by some new work. In this way I

might very probably reap some benefit without taking any foolish step;

and in any case I should do well to apply for the post of conductor

which was now vacant in Darmstadt.

I had very bad news from Vienna. Standhartncr, to make sure of the

furniture I had left in the house, sold it to a Viennese agent, with

the option of re-purchase. I wrote back in great indignation,

particularly as I realised the prejudicial effect of this on my

landlord, to whom I had to pay rent within the next few days. Through

Mme. Wille I succeeded in getting placed at my disposal the money

required for the rent, which I forwarded at once to Baron Raokowitz.

Unfortunately, however, I found that Standhartner had already cleared

up everything with Eduard Liszt, paying the rent with the proceeds from

the furniture, and thereby cutting off my return to Vienna, which they

both considered would be positive ruin to me. But when I heard at the

same time from Cornelius that Tausig, who was then in Hungary and who

had added his signature to one of the bills of exchange, felt himself

prevented by me from returning to Vienna as he desired, I was so

sensibly wounded that I decided to go back on the spot, however great

the danger might be. I announced my intention to my friends there

immediately, but decided first to try and provide myself with enough

money to be in a position to suggest a composition with my creditors.

To this end I had written most urgently to Schott at Mayence, and did

not refrain from reproaching him bitterly for his behaviour to me. I

now decided to leave Mariafeld for Stuttgart to await the result of

these efforts, and to 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 at

Mariafeld alarmed him. He probably feared I might rely on his help

also. In some confusion, occasioned by the attitude I had adopted in

consequence, he made this confession to me in a moment of agitation. He

was, he said, overpowered by a sentiment with regard to me which

amounted to this--that a man wanted, after all, 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 some one else. This sentiment was merely

excusable, he thought, in a man who, though he might reasonably suppose

himself of some account among his fellows, had been brought into close

contact with another to whom he felt himself in the strangest manner

subordinate. Mme. Wille, foreseeing her husband's frame of mind, had

come to an agreement, with the Wesendonck family by which they were to

provide me with one hundred francs a month during my stay at Mariafeld.

When this came to my knowledge, I could do nothing but announce to Frau

Wesendonck my immediate departure from Switzerland, and request her in

the kindest possible way to consider herself relieved of all anxiety

about me, as I had arranged my affairs quite in accordance with my

wishes. I heard later that she had returned this letter--which,

possibly, she considered compromising--to Mme. Wille unopened.

My next move was to go to Stuttgart on 30th April. I knew that Karl

Eckert had been settled there some time as conductor at the Royal Court

Theatre, and I had reason to believe the good-natured fellow to be

unprejudiced and well disposed towards me, judging by his admirable

behaviour when he had been director of the opera in Vienna, and also by

the enthusiasm he exhibited in coming to my concert at Karlsruhe the

year before. I expected nothing further of him than a little assistance

in looking for a quiet lodging for the coming summer at Cannstadt or

some such place near Stuttgart. I wanted, above all, to finish the

first act of the Meistersinger with all possible despatch, so as to

send Schott part of the manuscript at last. I had told him that I was

going to send it to him almost immediately when I attacked him about

the advances which had so long been withheld from me. I then intended

to collect the means wherewith to meet my obligations in Vienna, while

living in complete retirement and, as I hoped, in concealment. Eckert

welcomed me most kindly. His wife--one of the greatest beauties in

Vienna--had, in her fantastic desire to marry an artist, given up a

very profitable post, but was still rich enough for the conductor to

live comfortably and show hospitality, and the impression I now

received was very pleasant. Eckert felt himself absolutely bound to

take me to see Baron von Gall, the manager of the court theatre, who

alluded sensibly and kindly to my difficult position in Germany, where

everything was likely to remain closed to me as long as the Saxon

ambassadors and agents--who were scattered everywhere--were allowed to

attempt to injure me by all kinds of suspicions. After getting to know

me better, he considered himself authorised to act on my behalf through

the medium of the court of Wurtemberg. As I was talking over these

matters rather late on the evening of 3rd May at the Eckerts', a

gentleman's card with the inscription 'Secretary to the King of

Bavaria' was handed to me. I was disagreeably surprised that my

presence in Stuttgart should be known to passing travellers, and sent

word that I was not there, after which I retired to my hotel, only to

be again informed by the landlord that a gentleman from Munich desired

to see me on urgent business. I made an appointment for the morning at

ten o'clock, and passed a disturbed night in my constant anticipation

of misfortune. I received Herr Pfistermeister, the private secretary of

H.M. the King of Bavaria, in my room. He first expressed great pleasure

at having found me at last, thanks to receiving some happy directions,

after vainly seeking me in Vienna and even at Mariafeld on Lake Zurich.

He was charged with a note for me from the young King of Bavaria,

together with a portrait and a ring as a present. In words 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. Herr Pfistermeister informed me at the

same time that he was instructed to conduct me to Munich at once to see

the King, and begged my permission to inform his master by telegram

that I would come on the following day. I was invited to dine with the

Eckerts, but Herr Pfistermeister was obliged to decline to accompany

me. My friends, who had been joined by young Weisheimer from Osthofen,

were very naturally amazed and delighted at the news I brought them.

While we were at table Eckert was informed by telegram of Meyerbeer's

death in Paris, and Weisheimer burst out in boorish laughter to think

that the master of opera, who had done me so much harm, had by a

strange coincidence not lived to see this day. Herr von Gall also made

his appearance, and had to admit in friendly surprise that I certainly

did not need his good services any more. He had already given the order

for Lohengrin, and now paid me the stipulated sum on the spot. At five

o'clock that afternoon I met Herr Pfistermeister at the station to

travel with him to Munich, where my visit to the King was announced for

the following morning.

On the same day I had received the most urgent warnings against

returning to Vienna. But my life was to have no more of these alarms;

the dangerous road along which fate beckoned me to such great ends was

not destined to be clear of troubles and anxieties of a kind unknown to

me heretofore, but I was never again to feel the weight of the everyday

hardships of existence under the protection of my exalted friend.

Transcriber’s Notes:

- New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.