My Life, vol 2 | Page 2

inclined to become stout,
her manners were awkward and her opinions narrow. Minna's hasty

temper and continual jeering made the girl, who was naturally very
good- natured, stubborn and spiteful, so that the behaviour of the
'sisters' often caused the most hateful scenes in our quiet home. I never
lost my patience at these incidents, however, but remained, completely
indifferent to everything going on around me.
The arrival of my young friend Karl was a pleasant diversion in our
small household. Ho occupied a tiny attic above our rooms and shared
our meals. Sometimes he would accompany me on my walks, and for a
time seemed quite satisfied.
But I soon noticed in him a growing restlessness. He had not been slow
to recognise, by the unpleasant scenes that again became daily
occurrences in our married life, at what point the shoe pinched that I
had good-naturedly put on again at his request. However, when one day
I reminded him that in coming hack to Zurich I had other objects in
view besides the longing for a quiet domestic life, he remained silent.
But I saw that there was another peculiar reason for his uneasiness; he
took to coming in late for meals, and even then he had no appetite. At
first I was anxious at this, fearing he might have taken a dislike to our
simple fare, but I soon discovered that my young friend was so
passionately addicted to sweets that I feared he might eventually ruin
his health by trying to live on large quantities of confectionery. My
remarks seemed to annoy him, as his absences from the house became
more frequent, I thought that probably his small room did not afford
him the comfort he required, and I therefore made no objection when
he left us and took a room in town.
As his state of uneasiness still seemed to increase and he did not appear
at all happy in Zurich, I was glad to be able to suggest a little change
for him, and persuade him to go for a holiday to Weimar, where the
first performance of Lohengrin was to take place about the end of
August.
About the same time I induced Minna to go with me for our first ascent
of the Righi, a feat we both accomplished very energetically on foot. I
was very much grieved on this occasion to discover that my wife had
symptoms of heart disease, which continued to develop subsequently.
We spent the evening of the 28th of August, while the first performance
of Lohengrin was taking place at Weimar, in Lucerne, at the Schwan
inn, watching the clock as the hands went round, and marking the

various times at which the performance presumably began, developed,
and came to a close.
I always felt somewhat distressed, uncomfortable, and ill at ease
whenever I tried to pass a few pleasant hours in the society of my wife.
The reports received of that first performance gave me no clear or
reassuring impression of it. Karl Ritter soon came back to Zurich, and
told me of deficiencies in staging and of the unfortunate choice of a
singer for the leading part, but remarked that on the whole it had gone
fairly well. The reports sent me by Liszt were the most encouraging. He
did not seem to think it worth while to allude to the inadequacy of the
means at his command for such a bold undertaking, but preferred to
dwell on the sympathetic spirit that prevailed in the company and the
effect it produced on the influential personages he had invited to be
present.
Although everything in connection with this important enterprise
eventually assumed a bright aspect, the direct result on my position at
the time was very slight. I was more interested in the future of the
young friend who had been entrusted to my care than in anything else.
At the time of his visit to Weimar he had been to stay with his family in
Dresden, and after his return expressed an anxious wish to become a
musician, and possibly to secure a position as a musical director at a
theatre. I had never had an opportunity of judging of his gifts in this
line. He had always refused to play the piano in my presence, but I had
seen his setting of an alliterative poem of his own, Die Walkure, which,
though rather awkwardly put together, struck me by its precise and
skilful compliance with the rules of composition.
He proved himself to be the worthy pupil of his master, Robert
Schumann, who, long before, had told me that Karl possessed great
musical gifts, and that he could not remember ever having had any
other pupil endowed with such a keen ear and such a ready facility