to concede in return for the favour of possessing this garden salon; every Sunday morning from nine till twelve I have to turn out.  At that hour a clergyman comes from Geneva and performs divine service for the Protestants of this place, in the same locality which I, a godless being, occupy for the rest of the time.  But I willingly make this sacrifice, were it only for the sake of religion.  I fancy I shall meet with my reward.  But the thing is frightfully dear, and without your subsidy I could not have undertaken this expedition.  I have had to make an inroad into the money which I had destined for the copying of the scores; I could not help it.  The money from Vienna arrived exactly on my birthday; accept my cordial thanks for this sacrifice.  I know it is infamous that you have to give me money; why do you do it?  On the same occasion I was gratified by a few very friendly lines from your relative, of whose existence I was not aware; they somewhat sweetened the bitterness of having to take money from you.  Remember me to him, and thank him cordially in my name.

A piano, although not of the first order, stands in my salon.  I hope I shall soon have the courage to begin my “Siegfried” at last, but first of all I must take your scores thoroughly in hand.  How many things you have sent me!  I had been longing to have, at last, some of your new works; but now this wealth almost embarrasses me, and I shall require time to take in everything properly.  For that purpose it would, of course, be necessary for me to hear your poems, or for you to play them to me.  It is very well to read something of that kind, but the real salt, that which decides and solves all doubts, can only be enjoyed by actual hearing.  In that terrible month of May I was able only to look at your scores with a tired eye, and as through dark clouds; but even then I received the electric shock, which none but great things produce on us, and so much I know that you are a wonderful man, by whose side I can place no other phenomenon in the domains of art and of life.  So much was I struck by your conception, and by the design of your execution in its larger outlines, that I at once longed for something new—­the three remaining pieces, and “Faust” and “Dante.”  There you see what I am.  Without having made myself acquainted with the finer details of the artistic execution proper I wanted to go on, probably because I had to despair of recognizing these without hearing them.  For nothing is more misleading and useless than to attempt this by a laborious, halting and blundering performance on the piano, while an excellent and expressive execution in the right tempo at once produces the right picture in its varied colours.  That is why you are so fortunate in being able to do this with supreme excellence.  If I look upon your artistic career, different as it is from any other, I clearly perceive the instinct which led you into the path now trodden by you.  You are by nature the genuine, happy artist who not